A Dark Fantasy Spy

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There are three taboos in the Information Agency.

Alcohol,

Gambling,

Romance.

Despite the Information Agency balancing precariously between legality and illegality, these three are generally avoided, even by company personnel.

Honestly speaking, outside of gambling, having a romantic relationship or drinking isn’t too closely monitored by the agency. However, romantic entanglements that flout social norms (like infidelity) and excessive drinking are looked upon with suspicion. Since there’s always a need to be cautious during operations, going abroad and conspicuously getting drunk or getting caught in a romantic relationship with a foreigner could lead to big trouble.

So, I generally stayed away from gambling and romance as much as possible.

For reference, drinking and smoking are exceptions.

Especially smoking. In over ten years at the Information Agency, I’ve seen many quit gambling, but I’ve never seen anyone successfully quit smoking. I know that because I’ve failed myself. Of course, now I’ve succeeded.

Fortunately, in this area, the Information Agency has many married personnel, and the culture is relatively permissive regarding drinking and romantic issues. In that sense, I could be considered an oddball.

I drink very little, don’t smoke, and have absolutely no desire for marriage, let alone dating. Even Clevenz, who usually doesn’t pry into my private life, occasionally asks, “Are you ever thinking about getting married?”

Anyway.

I tend to stay away from alcohol, smoking, gambling, and romance. I’ve completely quit smoking and now only drink occasionally.

The problem is,

“Saint! Why did you fill my glass with whiskey to the brim?”

“I don’t know. Just shut up and drink!”

“No, please, at least try to maintain some decorum….”

“Drink up!”

People around me keep trying to pour alcohol into my glass.

—

Episode 9 – Old Fashioned

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As per Veronica’s suggestion, a small party was held to celebrate my discharge from the hospital.

Calling it a party might be a stretch considering only five people attended, but given the attendees, it was hard to dismiss it as anything else.

The Saint of the Cult, a high-ranking civil servant from the Imperial Guard HQ, a precious guest from Earth, and a spy.

It was quite an odd combination, but no one dared to comment on it.

“To the Colonel’s health!”

Veronica exclaimed, raising her Old Fashioned glass high. The glass featured a thick bottom and thin walls.

Veronica downed the dark-brown rum in one swift gulp as if it were soju and let out a loud gasp.

“Drink! Come on, drink!”

“But I’m a patient….”

I looked down at the glass with an uncomfortable expression. The rum swished as my hand trembled. The rum that skated across the glass left behind traces like an afterimage.

Instinctively, I could tell that this rum was quite potent. There was no need to smell it; just its color made that clear.

In the past, it wouldn’t have mattered, but now, as someone who avoids alcohol, this rum felt a bit overwhelming. I never particularly liked rum, to begin with.

Still, out of politeness, I needed to take the first sip. Just as I was about to merely moisten my lips before putting the glass down—

Crack!

The sound of splintering wood?

Did I just hear that?

—

Ding!

The terrace door swung open wildly as the other guests began filling the room with laughter. I couldn’t help but glance back, curious about the ensuing chaos.

“What the hell!”

My gaze locked with Veronica’s in a moment of shared surprise.

“Get back in there and drink!”

Wait, what? Is she actually expecting me to partake in this madness?

—

And so began my unintentional descent into a night filled with alcohol and laughter.