A Dark Fantasy Spy

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A dimly lit night. I sat on the hospital bed, staring blankly at the delivered document.

But it wasn’t just any document.

It was an intelligence report.

Though a week had passed since the terror attack had been suppressed and I was hospitalized, I regrettably had no memory of how I ended up here or what had transpired. To be precise, I had no recollection since I collapsed into Camila’s arms.

So I had to find out.

What happened to the terrorists?

How did the hostages manage to stay safe?

What was I doing before I lost consciousness?

How did the Special Forces breach the mall?

By what means did Camila, Lucia, and Francesca get out of there?

And why did I lose my memory?

Under the harsh white lights, I flipped through the report drafted by the Military Intelligence Agency’s Counterintelligence Department.

Overview of the terror incident. Timeline. Information about the terrorist organization. Details on the terrorists. Statements derived from the recovered corpses and interrogations of captured terrorists. CCTV footage inside the mall and testimonies from civilian hostages. Acquired evidence. Activities of the major organizations. Eavesdropping records on the embassy led by Abas. Media and civic organizations’ reactions. Polling details, and so forth.

The extensive document spanning hundreds of pages contained a wealth of information, yet it didn’t take me long to read. After all, it was something I was used to. So, I went through the report like usual.

In the midst of it, my gaze landed on a particular section.

‘Information on the Officer.’

The report drafted by some executive in the Military Intelligence Agency’s Counterintelligence Department contained my details.

‘…The Officer suffered a severed right thumb during an engagement with terrorists. According to the attending physician’s opinion, reattachment of the thumb is impossible, and a permanent disability is expected.’

‘…The Officer is currently unable to recall the circumstances of the attack due to short-term amnesia. They are unable to provide testimony or respond to inquiries. There are concerns of dissociative amnesia and post-traumatic stress disorder, not merely simple short-term memory loss.’

‘…Furthermore, damage to the brain and other vital organs is anticipated to hinder future performance.’

Severed thumb, fractured ribs, ruptures, bleeding, diminished brain function, decreased motor abilities, short-term memory loss. The report explicitly informed me that I would not be able to return to work.

It wasn’t just simple memory loss.

I sought to understand what had transpired by obtaining this report, but I ended up feeling bitter without any substantial results.

Frustrated, I carelessly closed the report and lay back on the bed.

“Haa….”

Though the terror had ended, nothing was resolved. Responsibility shifted back and forth, the cult and Magic Tower were protesting, and political parties and organizations across the world were engaged in a game of taciturn stares.

What will happen now?

The operation was on the verge of collapse, and my workplace was contemplating if I should clear my desk. I couldn’t contact family or acquaintances, let alone leave the ward. On top of that, I had disabilities to carry for life.

Everything was predictable, yet I couldn’t foresee my own future.

My vision was dark.

Like the night sky outside.

“……”

In the sleepless quiet of the night, I tossed and turned in bed, my mind swirling with random thoughts until I finally drifted off.

However.

What I hadn’t anticipated was.

“…Who is it?”

“Oh, you’re awake?”

“…Veronica?”

Veronica showing up at my hospital room in the early hours.

And,

“What are you doing here?”

“Ta-da!”

There she was, waving her wrist where her thumb had grown back.

—

Episode 9 – Old-fashioned

When people are surprised, they usually lose their words.

That’s what happened to President Bush when he heard about the twin towers collapsing, to the National Intelligence Service agent who couldn’t sell falling Bitcoin because he was supervising the exam question setters, and to me when I learned from a colleague that Kim Jong-il had died while on vacation.

What was it again? I remember the KOSPI and KOSDAQ dropping, and the exam setters gathered around the TV, biting their teeth and crying. When the news of Bitcoin crashing hit, it was reported that professors and high school teachers were suddenly lying on the ground together.

It was such a long time ago that I can’t recall the exact details, but I distinctly remember a senior calling me out to a soju house after the exam, where I sobbed my eyes out. They complained about how the stocks tanked while they were in the military, and how Bitcoin crashed once they joined the NIS. Hearing that was so ridiculous that I just drank.

My current situation was exactly like that.

Absurd.

“…N-no. This finger…”

I stammered in shock, unable to articulate my thoughts.

The finger that had been chopped off was perfectly attached.

“Ah, uh, um….”

“Why are you surprised by something like this?”

Veronica chuckled.

Waking up just now, I wondered if this was a dream and pinched my cheek.

“……”

“…Colonel.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you pinching my perfectly fine cheek…?”

Veronica was as sassy as ever, appearing without notice and throwing snappy remarks.

Guess this is reality.

“Whoa….”

Staring at my thumb that was intact, I marveled as if to say, “What on earth happened?” Even though sleep still clung to me, it was certainly reality.

Dumbfounded by my own words, I finally expressed my gratitude to Veronica.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you, Veronica.”

“Got it. Can we please stop pinching my cheeks now…?”

“Oh, yes.”

*

“I heard from the siblings that you got hurt while fighting.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

In the early dawn, not quite late at night, I was sitting in the hospital bed, listening to Veronica narrate her tale.

“When I heard, I thought the Colonel was on the verge of dying. There was so much bleeding, broken bones, and not a single intact place. We didn’t even know which hospital you were in so we couldn’t reach you, and everyone was in a panic…. Even asking the Ministry of Foreign Affairs got us told it was the Defense Ministry’s responsibility, and the Defense Ministry was just shrugging their shoulders.”

“Aha…”

She wore a priest’s robe that was neither the cult’s usual attire nor casual wear.

It wasn’t odd for a priest to roam a military hospital, but Veronica wasn’t just any priest—she was a saint of the cult. Moreover, the four of them, including Veronica, had no formal entry records. So, to hide their identities, it was inevitable she wore a priest’s robe.

Though hardly anyone would think she was a saint wandering about a military hospital at dawn. In case someone happened to recognize her as she passed by, I had drawn the curtains tightly shut and dimmed the lights as much as possible.

“I was in a, don’t-know-the-condition panic. I called the ambassador and waited, and after about ten minutes, they finally told me the hospital name and address.”

“I see. I was wondering how you found your way here.”

She’d gotten the representative of the embassy led by Abas to uncover where I was. I had wondered how she found this place, but now it didn’t even surprise me.

Veronica paused her narrative and slumped her shoulders. She seemed drained.

“Ugh, so annoying. Do you realize how much I have to deal with these public officials? The Empire, the cult, Abas, why is everyone such a mess?”

“Hahaha…”

“Ugh, I’m drained…”

“Would you like a chocolate?”

I unwrapped a chocolate and handed it to Veronica. It was a chocolate the hospital distributed to lift spirits at year’s end.

Receiving the chocolate, Veronica chewed silently.

“It tastes awful. Is it military supply or something?”

“It’s homemade; why would it be military supply? You just have high standards.”

“Hmmm…. That doesn’t seem right.”

Not right? What a joke. It’s ridiculous to hear someone who eats exquisite meals every day say that.

Veronica, with her droopy face, pulled out a leather case from her pocket. She opened the case and produced a thick cigar.

“Care for a smoke?”

“Are you really going to smoke in front of a patient? Especially in a non-smoking area?”

“What does it matter? It’s not like I’m terminally ill.”

“Seriously, you’re a real piece of work….”

“Don’t worry; I’m here.”

With a smirk, Veronica pulled out a cutter. With a snip, she trimmed the cap of the cigar, took a few puffs, and casually lit it with a match.

Smoke poured into the intensive care unit.

Dressed in a priest’s robe, Veronica sat cross-legged, puffing out smoke. It was a good thing this was an isolation room; had it been a multi-bed room, I would have heard complaints about the smoke by now.

Anyone from the 21st century would be horrified, yet in this place, where smoking was too lenient, I couldn’t say a word.

“In a one-eyed nation, two-eyed folks are deemed fools….”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s nothing important.”

After finishing her cigar, Veronica exhaled smoke and laughed. The way she seamlessly handled cutting, cold-drawing, and toasting the cigar made her a proper smoker.

I didn’t particularly dislike smoking, and knowing she was a smoker, I let it slide—except for the fact it was in the intensive care unit.

But since she was the one who reattached my finger, I couldn’t say much, so I just looked at Veronica in silence.

“So, Colonel. What on Earth happened that led to your finger being severed?”

“Aren’t you the one who heard about it from the saint earlier, saying she heard it from Lucia and Francesca?”

“Ugh… Hearing something second-hand is completely different from hearing it directly from you.”

“It’s probably not the most pleasant story to tell….”

“So are you just going to keep it bottled up? Just spill it out. It’s not like there are many people who can hear it anyway.”

“…Sigh.”

Listening to her, I admitted she wasn’t wrong. So I began to tell Veronica.

How we got locked up while splitting into pairs to scout the mall,

How I stumbled upon a black curtain while wandering around with Camila,

The moment I met Francesca after I’d separated from her while fighting the beastman terrorists on the emergency stairs.

How I was treated by Lucia,

How I conversed with the terrorists over the radio,

And how I tried to fight alone after sending the three away,

Only to get smashed by a beastman in the end, losing my finger in the process.

I just laid it all out. After all, Lucia and Francesca probably had heard it by now.

“Hmmm….”

Veronica, crossing her legs, rested her chin on her hands and fell into thought.

“From what I heard, it’s way more serious than I thought. Falls, lacerations, gunshot wounds, bruises, abrasions, and getting bitten by a beastman. How on Earth did you survive?”

“Because it’s my job.”

“Bravado… tch. Either way, thank you for doing such a great job protecting our siblings.”

For a rare moment, Veronica complimented me. While we often joked about downgrading each other, I couldn’t remember a time we genuinely praised each other. It felt refreshing.

Just the day before, I’d been worrying about operations collapsing, memory loss, whether to resign as an information officer or not, and all sorts of concerns. Yet, waking up today, my finger had returned, and I even got thanks from Veronica.

It was a mixed bag of relief and absurdity. The situation itself was just so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but chuckle.

I leaned back against the bed, smiling.

“I feel like I’m being honored. Just treat me as normal from now on, okay?”

“Watch your tone; say it nicely. Say thank you quickly.”

“Ah, thank you, Saint…!”

“Do you think today is such a gracious day? Where can you find someone who gets treated for free by a saint?”

“Is it something to brag about for a priest to get paid?”

“Then do religious people dig up dirt to eat? It’s not volunteer work; we need payment to live as well.”

“Seriously ridiculous.”

We laughed and teased each other like we usually did. My bones, having just cracked from laughing, ached again, but noticing that, Veronica quickly attended to my side.

Approaching me, she took a look at my wound.

“I can treat most things adequately, but I’m currently unprepared to perform a perfect treatment. So, for now, I’ll do a rough job, and I’ll treat you properly later.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

While I gazed at the fleeting light winking in and out by my side, I curiously asked,

“I heard it’s hard for military priests to reattach fingers, and they need to summon someone from the cult. How did you manage this?”

To my mumbling-like question, Veronica replied. Slightly parting her lips to inhale and then exhaling the smoke, she tilted her head.

“Why wouldn’t I be able to?”

“……”

“Why do you look at me like that? I’m genuinely asking.”

Veronica gave me a puzzled look. Thanks to her fluent Abassian, I understood what she meant but found it a bit hard to grasp.

“I heard that among priests, there are even bishops and cardinals who can’t reattach fingers…?”

“That’s just the story of those low-level old folks. People like me and Lucia are different. Do you think the titles of saints are gained through politics?”

“Yes.”

I nearly blurted out before recalling that she had reattached my finger and shut up.

But Veronica was a step ahead.

Narrowing her eyes like an inquisition officer smashing the head of a heretic with scripture, she glared at me.

“Colonel, you just thought something heretical.”

“Me? No, I didn’t…?”

“Tsk- Ah, this is so wrong…!”

With a mischievous smile, Veronica muttered. Though she murmured in Kien, I understood her words perfectly thanks to my experience from the Empire, most of which was her throwing shade at me.

She mumbling for a while, Veronica pulled out a portable ashtray to tap the ash off the cigar she was holding and pointed it at me.

“People think a priest’s position correlates with the amount of divine power they wield, but that’s a misconception. Whether they’re a bishop, archbishop, cardinal, or even the pope, it doesn’t matter how much divine power they can manipulate.”

“Divine power isn’t important? Then what is?”

“It’s nothing much. To become a bishop, one needs degrees in biblical studies, theology, and canon law. Plus, they need zeal, wisdom, and virtue. They must be suitable for their duties and maintain a good reputation, and they must undergo ordination and wait for a specific period. Oh, and firm faith, too.”

If one can wield divine power well, then isn’t it a given they have firm faith? A question bubbled up, but Veronica clearly differentiated the two.

“Higher faith means more divine power, right?”

“Not necessarily. Of course, a priest with outstanding divine power tends to get promoted quickly, but being promoted quickly doesn’t guarantee reaching a higher position.”

Also, not every priest can heal people, right? This is a specialized field after all.”

“Wait, what…?”

“Anyway!”

Veronica continued with a confident tone.

“But people like me and Lucia are different. Unlike bishops, archbishops, cardinal, and the pope, saints must have a talent that doesn’t shy away from the term miracle. You know about our divine qualified abilities, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“It’s a bit tricky to explain to ordinary people, but… just know that both Lucia and I have an outstanding talent in healing people. Of course, the virtues I just mentioned—good reputation, suitability for duties, zeal, wisdom, devotion, virtue, faith—are also absolutely necessary.”

“Saint, you’re not bragging right now, are you?”

“Yep.”

What a nonsense!

I wanted to say something, but all I could do was bob my head in silence. Maybe it was the effects of the medication and waking up. Talking with Veronica felt draining.

But Veronica didn’t stop babbling.

“With what I did to your finger, do I need any more proof? This should be enough to show I’m wise and gentle. Especially since I treated you without charge. You should appreciate that.”

“True. Thank you. So when are you heading back? You seem to have sneaked in here.”

I gently prompted her to leave and lay down in bed.

Now that my finger had reattached, I’d need to ask Clevenz to allow me to resume work after finishing rehabilitation. I also needed to reach out to my concerned party, Pippin, Jake, and family.

Throwing away the paperwork I had been scribbling about my discharge, I met eyes with Veronica, who was merely gazing at me.

“Still here? You should hurry and leave. Shoo.”

Veronica tilted her head as if to say, “What nonsense is this?”

“Huh? Why do I go alone?”

“Do I need to escort you?”

“No, wait a moment. Colonel, have you lost your reading comprehension because you got hurt? What are you talking about? We should go together.”

“…Huh?”

“We’re leaving the hospital.”

“…Huh?”

“Enough with the blabbering; quickly take out the IV and get up. We need to head out before dawn.”