A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The moment everyone had been waiting for had finally arrived.

After a long, dark night, dawn had finally broken.

[…The hours-long gunfight has finally ceased! We are live on the street in front of the Frigies Department Store where armed soldiers are rushing toward the entrance! It seems the suppression operation is finally beginning!]

[People are pouring out of the department store! These appear to be citizens who were taken hostage! Amidst the shouts of police, a citizen presumed to be a hostage’s family member bursts out crying and rushes forward!]

[Yes, we just received word from our correspondent on-site that the military and police have begun their suppression operation. An official briefing from the government regarding this terrorist incident is currently underway.]

[At around 10:30 AM yesterday, hostages at the Frigies Department Store were taken by unidentified armed assailants. Thankfully, all hostages were rescued around 1 AM today. They are now under the control of the Ministry of Defense and police forces, moving to a safe location, and we’ve confirmed that there are no casualties. The government extends its deepest condolences to the citizens who have endured the dangerous and harsh environment imposed by the armed assailants, assuring that all efforts will be made to support the public’s swift return to normalcy. Additionally, we promise to work with relevant departments to ensure such incidents do not occur again.]

After a long and dark night, dawn had finally come.

“Four cargo secured. All four are safe.”

“Prepare vehicles at the back entrance. Destination: military hospital. Clear out the reporters, and tell the medical staff to be on alert at the back for emergency patients. We need to hurry—their consciousness is wavering!”

“Everyone, lower your heads and follow me!”

But as always, just because the incident was over didn’t mean everything was resolved.

“I express my strong regrets, Minister. His Majesty has been deeply concerned about this terrorist act.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I have no choice but to agree today. The stance of the Magic Tower is the same as that of the cult. A terrorist act in broad daylight in the heart of the capital? They assured us they would be responsible for security, if nothing else. So how could this happen?”

“I truly regret it. This includes you, Ambassador, and you, Representative.”

“Are all three of you safe?”

“Yes. We are currently moving to the hospital for health checks. Fortunately, the experts stationed on-site have declared that everyone is in stable condition.”

Diplomacy.

“Where is the terrorist organization from?”

“They came from No Man’s Land. It’s somewhat hard to even call them a terrorist organization; they’re presumed to be just a community.”

“No Man’s Land is essentially abroad. What have the Royal Intelligence Department and the Military Intelligence Agency been doing?”

“How can we have any intel in a place crawling with monsters? And I was under the impression that the Cabinet Security Office and Special Investigation Bureau were responsible for domestic anti-terror intel.”

“Are you shifting the responsibility to us?”

“How do you explain the fact that shabby fake passports got past every checkpoint in the capital? That’s on you—”

“Hey!”

Defense.

“Separately from the government, the parliament is planning to hold a special committee on this terrorist incident. Though the terrorists were successfully suppressed, the impact on society as a whole will be significant.”

“The shock will be huge for a while. By the way, about the stock market. Is a suspension truly necessary?”

“Prime Minister, when something this large happens, it inevitably affects the stock market. Didn’t everyone see the market yesterday? It plummeted, and there’s no guarantee it won’t do the same today or tomorrow.”

“The Minister of Foreign Affairs mentioned that an official complaint came from both the cult and the Magic Tower. You all must have expected it, but we can’t afford any mistakes in the ongoing crisis management.”

Politics.

The terrorist act that occurred in the center of the capital affected every sector. While accurate statistics are hard to come by, it will take a significant amount of time, money, and effort to return everything to normal.

And, I too…

“My heart rate and blood pressure are both dropping. There is no visible trauma, but I don’t know why this is happening.”

“Administer artificial respiration.”

“Breathing is abnormal, and there’s no consciousness. There’s blood coming from the nose; whatever the cause, it seems like there’s an issue with the skull…”

“Hey, hey, the heart is stopping. Get the emergency medication! Bring out the emergency medication!”

“Head to the hospital, quickly!”

It seemed it would take some time to return to normalcy.

A little, or a lot.

Episode 9 – Old-Fashioned

There are no foreshadowings in life.

Novels and dramas flow according to a scripted plot, but life is not like that at all.

Incidents have causes and effects, but accidents do not follow this reasoning. Accidents always arrive suddenly.

One gloomy afternoon, a truck might come barreling in to crush the driver’s seat, or someone might be kidnapped right in front of your eyes.

People always experience unexpected accidents.

There’s no foreshadowing or plot in life.

That’s why I lost my thumb.

*

I woke up in the hospital.

The surroundings were quiet, and the sky reflected outside was dark. It was a calm night.

The night was quiet, but it wasn’t sacred. The hospital room was dark, silent, and empty.

A beeping sound echoed in my ears, and when I looked down, I saw wires and needles stuck all over me. As I looked around the room filled with medical equipment, I cautiously pressed the call button on my stomach.

At that moment, I felt a sudden unease.

I surely pressed the button, but there was no sound of medical staff rushing in. I didn’t even feel the sensation of pressing the button. I lay there in a daze, and only after looking down again did I realize my thumb had disappeared.

“……”

After staring blankly at my stumpy hand for a while, I moved my index finger to press the call button, and suddenly, I heard the hurried footsteps of a doctor coming into the room.

After a brief examination and shining a light to check my body, the doctor hesitated for a moment as if he were gauging my reactions and eventually managed to speak.

“You are currently in a military hospital.”

The doctor told me I was in a military hospital.

Typically, when soldiers go out on a mission, they visit civilian hospitals or military hospitals, but officers serving in the intelligence agency tend to come to military hospitals for various reasons. They undergo health checks at military hospitals, have surgeries there, and even receive rehabilitation.

So, the fact that I was in a military hospital wasn’t unexpected.

As my hazy mind nodded, the doctor informed me of several facts.

First, I was transported directly here from the terrorist scene, that is, the department store. It was said to be an order from the Ministry of Defense, but it seemed more likely I was moved here by the Military Intelligence Agency.

Second, I was now in the intensive care unit. There was no visible trauma, but emergency treatment was attempted on-site. However, due to bleeding and a lack of consciousness, I was urgently transported to the hospital, only to have my medical condition found to be completely broke down. Apparently, my ribs were fractured, I had lost a lot of blood causing low blood pressure, there were cracks in my skull, and my organs were damaged. However, the doctor didn’t mention anything about my lost thumb. I had no idea why.

Third, access to the hospital room was restricted. Due to the nature of the intensive care unit, concerns of infection and the need for mental stability made family visits quite challenging. The doctor mentioned that only authorized personnel could come in, meaning only those approved by the Military Intelligence Agency could see me. Even the medical staff couldn’t just enter. I was left wondering who exactly was permitted, but the doctor didn’t disclose that. He probably didn’t know either; it was about intel work after all.

“……”

As I listened to the doctor’s words, I fell deep into thought. I tried to remember how I ended up in the hospital and what had happened to the terrorists.

But I couldn’t recall anything.

The doctor continued.

“Due to external shock and bleeding, your memory may not be intact.”

“…Is it a temporary condition?”

“We’ll have to observe, but for now, that’s the judgment.”

His words suggested it might not be temporary. It was possible that the internal damage done to my brain from the bleeding or shock could cause lasting issues.

Suspicious of my reaction, the doctor stopped there.

Maybe he felt it wouldn’t be good to explain too much to the patient, or perhaps he instinctively judged that it was best to maintain silence regarding his own situation. Either way, I suspected it was the latter. It could be both.

The doctor continued to speak for a while, discussing my symptoms, that family would come, not to worry, and that everything would be alright.

I nodded weakly, under the influence of medication.

My head was spinning, and I felt like it might break.

My fingers were itchy.

“For now, we will need to monitor and treat your condition. Both the military doctor and military chaplain are on standby, so you need not worry too much.”

“……”

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

The door closed.

With the sound of the wooden door cautiously shutting, I fainted back into sleep.

*

Days passed. Time flowed faster than a river.

I spent almost a week just sleeping. I would wake up to eat, then sleep again. If I needed to go to the bathroom, I would get assistance from the nurses, and then after returning, I would lie back in bed to sleep once more.

I didn’t get up from bed. No, I couldn’t.

Even to go to the bathroom, I had to rely on others, so how could I leave my hospital room? Even going to the hospital yard was out of the question; the hallway felt far and dangerous to me.

I sat up in bed, staring blankly out the window. The sky outside Abbas looked dark with a hint of clouds, adding to the gloom of the afternoon.

Occasionally, unbearable pain would hit me out of the blue, but thankfully, thanks to the painkillers, I managed to endure.

It was about a week later when someone came from the company.

“Were you awake?”

“…Ah, you’ve come.”

It was Clevenz.

“Stay seated. I can see you have an IV needle, so why would you try to get up?”

“Still…”

“Just lie down. Don’t make things uncomfortable for anyone.”

Clevenz, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, appeared noticeably different.

First was the attire.

He used to always wear work clothes or formal wear when working in the Military Intelligence Agency, but this time he was donning scrubs. Given that it was the intensive care unit, I could see that was reasonable.

However, the face told a different story.

Even when he was the assistant director of the Counterintelligence Department, I could tell he was visibly exhausted, but now it was beyond fatigue; dark circles hung beneath his eyes. His hair also had grayed a bit, indicating he had been under significant stress lately.

“You look rough. You’ve been working hard.”

Clevenz shuffled over and sat down in a chair, a weary grin on his face.

“I spoke with the doctor on the way here, and he mentioned you’re recovering well. They said you’ve noticeably improved?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Thanks to a week of intensive treatment, my condition had stabilized.

I certainly wasn’t back to a normal state, but I could now sit up by myself and walk over to the window to look outside.

It was all thanks to the potions.

“I heard the newly developed potion worked well, and it seems true.”

“The new potion…?”

“I remember hearing about it when I was dispatched before. Does that ring a bell?”

“What dispatch…?”

“The Research Institute.”

The Advanced Military Magic Research Institute. The place where we intercepted spies and arrested them with the Counterintelligence Investigators after eavesdropping on unauthorized communications.

“That place developed the potion. To put it simply, it was created during the effort to improve field medical services.”

“Oh, I remember now! It was under research and development in the biological sector, wasn’t it?”

“Exactly.”

Clevenz nodded, adding that it had already resulted in some tangible outcomes.

“With just a few days of taking it, it can heal fractures. That’s how amazing it is. Normally, one would have to stay completely still while taking potions.”

“What an amazing item.”

It all sounded impressive, but I thought to myself, ‘That’s interesting and all.’

I turned my head to look around the hospital room. The awkward silence made me want to turn on the TV, but unfortunately, there was no television in the intensive care unit.

So I momentarily looked out the window and asked Clevenz a question.

“What happened with the terrorists?”

“The investigation is ongoing. While nothing is confirmed yet, the investigation into the terrorist act itself is expected to wrap up.”

“Is the investigation really over that quickly?”

“We can’t send investigators into No Man’s Land. Besides, this wasn’t actually carried out by a properly organized terrorist group. The assailants were largely killed, which makes it difficult to dig deeper.”

It was technically true that I killed the attackers, but Clevenz didn’t mention that. So I, too, refrained from bringing it up.

“What happened to the others? Are they safe?”

“All three of them are unscathed. Not a hair was harmed, so don’t worry.”

Camila, Lucia, and Francesca were all safe.

From what I continued to hear, they somehow managed to signal for external support and removed the barricades to allow the Special Forces to enter the department store.

“They must be impressive. Surviving that pandemonium without external assistance is quite something.”

“…It was a bit tough, yes. They really worked hard. So where is everyone now?”

“They’re staying nearby. Of course, that includes the other saint.”

“Veronica?”

“Yes.”

Veronica had never entered the department store from the start. She mentioned having something important to do and disappeared before we could encounter the assailants.

“She went to the cult’s embassy. It seems she needed to retrieve something important, and the incident broke out before she could rejoin you.”

Clevenz calmly spoke of Veronica’s movements. It was probably the case that someone was following her around.

In any case, all four of them were safe. It was a fortunate outcome amidst misfortune.

After that, Clevenz began to relay the backstory surrounding the incident.

The initial response by the police upon grasping the situation, the deployment of military and police forces, the establishment of a task force, the suppression operation that began after 15 hours, and the ongoing follow-up measures.

I sat up in bed, absorbing each piece of information he shared.

“You must have had a tough time.”

“The hardships are more for the Foreign Affairs Ministry. Once the complaints began coming in from both the cult and the Magic Tower, things became extremely busy.”

“Fifteen hours… I had no idea that much time had passed. I seem to have lost my sense of time.”

“It might be related to some kind of equipment brought in by the terrorists.”

He referred to the cargo.

“Um, did the terrorists bring in some kind of cargo, and have you managed to collect it?”

“We did collect it, but it was completely destroyed, making analysis impossible.”

“Destroyed? How did that happen…?”

“It was completely burnt to a crisp.”

“Oh.”

It must have been Camila who burned it. I never thought she’d actually pull that off.

If only I had some memories left, I could at least provide a statement about it, but unfortunately, ever since that encounter with the beastman, I couldn’t remember a thing, leaving me unable to assist in the investigation.

“My memory isn’t intact, so I can’t help. If something comes to mind, I’ll let you know.”

“You just rest. The technicians are dismantling it. I’m sure they’ll find some answers—where it came from or how it works. Even just the structure would suffice.”

“Is there anything wrong with the company?”

“They’re collaborating with related agencies to prevent future terrorism. They’re currently monitoring trends in major terrorist organizations and paramilitary groups to formulate countermeasures.”

“Everyone seems to be working hard. Getting through the paperwork must be difficult.”

I couldn’t help but think someone, somewhere, was probably bustling about.

Suddenly, my finger itched. I reflexively tried to scratch my thumb but lamentably, due to the absence of my thumb, I ended up scratching the empty air.

For a moment, I wondered why my finger was missing, but then the memory of it being bitten off by the beastman came rushing back, and I helplessly accepted it.

As I scratched my hand instead, I looked out the window and spoke up.

“When can I return to the field?”

It was an unexpected question that made Clevenz chuckle lightly.

“Oh… you, are you already thinking of returning to the company when you still haven’t even removed your IV?”

“It’s not the office I’m talking about; I mean the field.”

“……”

Clevenz fell silent.

Intelligence officers do not return to the field until they recover from injuries. If bones are broken, they must wait for them to heal; if they are torn, they must remain still until the stitches are removed.

However, things change when a permanent disability occurs. Since intelligence officers should not stand out, if they develop easily identifiable scars or injuries, they cannot return to the field.

And I had lost my thumb.

“Can I go back to the field again?”

“…You.”

“Please, tell me. Can I go back or should I step back?”

Clevenz didn’t answer.

That silence was the answer.

“I can’t go back.”

“…It’s not officially confirmed yet. Nothing is certain.”

Though he said that, I could see it was already a resolved issue.

I could not go back to the field.

I wouldn’t be able to, rather I couldn’t because the Military Intelligence Agency would not deploy me back out there. That’s the nature of intelligence agencies.

Of course, while I might not be on the front line anymore, I would likely receive another position. Perhaps I’d be assigned to tasks like information analysis or public information collection, roles I could do while sitting in an office. Maybe I could even transition to being a recruiting officer or a training officer for new recruits. There were many positions within the intelligence agency, aside from the field.

But I could not return to the field.

Since I wasn’t going back to the field, operations would cease.

Given that I was supposed to be a central figure in any operations as one of Camila’s colleagues, my withdrawal from the field vastly increased the chances of things going awry.

With good luck, Pippin or Jake might be the ones on the ground while I manage them from the back, or perhaps every piece of paperwork would be tossed into a shredder, completely ruining the operations.

As Clevenz said, nothing was certain yet.

But there were results that could be predicted.

I lowered my head in silence, and Clevenz placed his hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll cheer you on. If necessary, we can ask the cult to bring in a priest, or even the Magic Tower to bring a prosthetic limb.”

“…Yes.”

“…It seems my time is up. I’ll visit again later.”

Clevenz patted my shoulder in encouragement and then left the hospital room.

I sat still for a while, blankly staring at my hand, then firmly pressed the button and lay back down in bed.

It itched.

The medication rushed swiftly through my veins. Instantly, my mind became hazy and my body felt heavy.

As sleep overwhelmed me, I felt my body sinking, and slowly, I closed my eyes.

Thus, I slipped back into slumber.

*

More time passed. The tasteless hospital food like gruel had long been replaced with regular meals, and my condition improved to the point where I could walk the hospital corridors on my own.

Of course, even if it was regular food, it still tasted awful, and at one point I jokingly told the medical staff that it felt like I might die, not from my injuries, but from the horrible food. The doctor humorously replied, “Well then, how about a delicious meal starting today at the morgue?” The exchange of jokes indicated that my condition had significantly improved.

However, problems still lingered.

First was the rehabilitation issue.

Normally, the Military Intelligence Agency would grant me an extended leave for recovery, but I was still engaged in operations. Considering my position as a resident officer at the embassy, things were complicated.

The decision regarding my return to the field was still pending; how operations would pan out was uncertain. But if I stayed away for an extended period, I might raise suspicions from other intelligence agencies. Agencies like the Imperial Guard HQ, and so forth.

Besides that, there were numerous minor issues (medical expenses, scheduling, progress reports, communication with team or family, whether to continue inpatient treatment or switch to outpatient care, etc.) that needed addressing, but

the most serious problem lay elsewhere.

My brain.

After falling from the third floor and being punched by a beastman, it was suggested my brain might have sustained damage from the shock. Precisely speaking, there was a possibility that some part of brain function had been lost due to fragmented memory loss…

I was incredibly curious whether any issues could be resolved through treatment or if it might remain an irreparable ailment, but the doctor merely repeated that we would have to observe the situation, not providing answers.

As a side note, I got an unequivocal confirmation that my finger couldn’t be repaired.

To elaborate, they had attempted reattachment, but given the state of my thumb and the time that had passed, they concluded that full reattachment was impossible.

Even if by some miracle someone managed to reattach my severed thumb, there would be no blood supply, leading to necrosis, or the nerves might not connect properly, making movement impossible.

Though it bleakly pained me to accept the fact, reality was reality. I was somewhat prepared, so I decided to embrace the truth.

Thus, I prepared to submit for discharge paperwork and thought to apply for military disability pension…

“Damn?”

My thumb had returned.

“I-I-I…”

Looking at the thumb that had not existed until yesterday, no, until just a moment ago, I couldn’t help but curse. I was beyond disbelief. No matter how much I touched, squeezed, or twisted it in bewilderment, it was real.

“Oh, oh.”

“What’s with the surprise? Why the sudden shock?”

The continent’s best healer rested her chin on my shoulder and grinned.

“I thought I had already experienced your healing once before.”

She leaned in, her eyes softening as she smiled.

Veronica spoke.

“It’s a gift, Colonel.”