A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The daily commute is the arch-nemesis of every office worker.

Jake, passing through the main gate of the Abbas representative office at Jumatap, stamped in for work with such idle thoughts.

He was working abroad, supposedly a coveted position as a diplomat that everyone envied, but after a few months on the job, he realized it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.

“Ah, I don’t want to go to work…”

“Are you whining about that again?”

A familiar voice returned, one he was glad to hear.

Jake waved at his colleague who had come through the door.

“Hey, Pippin. Did you get here early?”

Pippin, staggering like a zombie, responded with a lifeless nod. She looked more like a zombie than a human.

With her hair unkempt, she’d definitely be mistaken for a madwoman if let loose.

“Rather than that, isn’t it better to ask when you finished work…?”

“When did you finish?”

“Two days ago.”

“Wow.”

Episode 9 – Old Fashioned

No wonder those dark circles were down to her chin.

“Why couldn’t you finish work?”

“Too much piled up…”

“Analysis?”

“Yeah…”

A chronic issue in all intelligence agencies is the shortage of personnel. And this manpower shortage is especially severe in the field of analysis.

Intelligence piles up daily like mountains, but it’s up to humans to analyze it.

While intelligence gathering isn’t easy, the real problem is that supply can’t keep up with demand. This phenomenon is called ‘information flood’ in intelligence circles.

Of course, one might ask if hiring more people would solve the issue, but honestly, that’s challenging too. Training competent analysts takes time—generally estimated to be around three to five years. And considering people drop out, transfer departments, or resign during training, cultivating analysts is quite a feat.

Thus, Jake clicked his tongue in frustration.

“Want some help?”

“I’d appreciate that…”

Entering the office with Pippin, Jake sat down and opened his terminal.

On the bluish screen of the terminal, real-time updates were rolling in from various agencies: Military Intelligence Agency, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Royal Intelligence Department, Ministry of Finance, Ministry of Internal Affairs. Jake rubbed his sleepy eyes as the overwhelming intelligence flooded in.

Apparently, a dozen people froze to death in the northern ‘Mazdanskaya’ of Ratwan due to an unusual cold wave, Rushan state-owned enterprises and Patalia’s major corporations entered a bidding war for a large-scale project ordered by the Magic Tower, and Kien Empire military forces were spotted redeploying to the north in preparation for an offensive—each piece of news was worse than the last.

Just as a sense of dread washed over him about the harsh winter ahead,

Pippin came with a steaming mug.

“Drink this.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Jake received the coffee mug and shared it with Pippin. Though the coffee was loaded with sugar, neither of them cared much for the taste; they were more in it for the caffeine boost.

Pippin perched on the desk, sipping her share of coffee.

“What are you looking at?”

“Empire news. Might have to dispatch soon.”

“Ah. I heard there are many deaths from exposure there lately? Seems the weird climate and the northern mines closing have disrupted the heating supply.”

“The northern mines were where they mined coal and magic stones, right? Why did they close?”

“Probably due to the demon tribes. They’re in a fierce battle right now.”

“It seems the situation on the front is pretty dire. They even sent tanks to the north last time.”

The two chatted as they replenished their caffeine levels, just like any other day.

“Pippin, do you know anyone in the Empire? A junior or colleague?”

“I had seniors who were in charge of the Empire, but they’ve never been dispatched. They did their analysis work back home.”

“I don’t have any close contacts there either…. Hmm.”

Jake placed his mug down and leaned back in his chair. The bright white light was irritating his eyes, but he didn’t mind.

“How about asking the manager?”

“The Colonel?”

Right. He was indeed someone who had worked there for three years and had been active in the field from day one, so he’d likely have some knowledge.

The problem was…

“I can’t get in touch with him.”

“…That’s true.”

It was common for people to ghost their workplace phones during vacation, but not even a call letting them know he arrived, so there was no idea where he was or what he was doing.

On top of that, he had more than ten contacts stored, yet not a single one was connecting. It raised the question of why he had bought so many SIM cards; he almost wondered if he had some mild paranoia.

“I’ll just drop by when I get back. I’ll return this week.”

“Yeah, you should.”

Pippin and Jake sat in the office, exhaling deeply.

“Ugh…”

“…Sigh.”

And at that moment,

A former information officer of the Military Intelligence Agency, currently recovering at a government-owned hotel, suddenly recalled something he had forgotten.

“Oh.”

I fried all my SIM cards.

*

While pondering why Pippin and Jake hadn’t contacted him, a sudden realization hit—he had no means to reach out to them.

His phone wasn’t even activated, all the SIM cards he carried during operations had been destroyed, and the secure terminal provided by the Military Intelligence Agency was submitted as soon as he got back. He wasn’t even in his residence but was staying at a hotel in the southeast.

In other words, he couldn’t contact them even if he wanted to. They had no idea where he was.

So he quickly contacted the Military Intelligence Agency to inquire about Pippin and Jake.

—“Pippin and Jake… Are they listed as being on overseas dispatch?”

“Yes. This is the Magic Tower representative office.”

—“Currently, they are reported to be at the Magic Tower. They’re coming back for vacation on Thursday. Shall I contact them at the representative office?”

“Please do.”

He sent word to the Magic Tower Abbas representative office where Pippin and Jake were. He heard they were returning this Thursday. If the timing works out, he might be able to meet them in the capital.

Living without a mobile phone can lead to such situations.

Once he ended the call, he lay back down on the bed and contemplated.

Had he been so caught up in the struggle of everyday life that he forgot to have a means of contact? He ought to at least have a phone. Should he activate one? But he didn’t have money in his account. Last time Col. Clevenz mentioned a medal, would that come with a bonus? How would he contact his family? When would the performance bonuses be released? Would he be fired due to the disciplinary action? Surely all the accolades wouldn’t vanish just because he got called to a disciplinary board. He felt uncomfortable asking friends for help. Should he take out a loan?

As these thoughts swirled, a feeling of despondency struck him. How did he end up in this situation?

His bank account was empty, his health was shattered, he had stress-induced hair loss, and his stomach was aching. His relations with his family had grown distant, the cost of living kept rising, but his paycheck remained stagnant. And that’s not all. Despite frequently traveling abroad, he wasn’t getting proper vacations. Now, he even received a disciplinary action.

If given the choice, he’d prefer to switch to a desk job but that wasn’t permitted from above. He didn’t know the exact duration, but he was stuck living in the field for at least another five years, possibly ten.

“…Fifteen days.”

Looking at the calendar, he saw he had a total of 15 days left. Considering it was 11:18 PM now, waiting for just 42 more minutes would leave him with 14 days.

The committee… that is, the higher-ups had given him a month-long deadline, so he had to mentally prepare for that. They’d be asking if he had made any decisions—whether to make calls, write letters, or send someone. It was basically a nudge to start wrapping things up and get ready for a new position.

“…Ugh.”

“Why are you groaning like an old man when you’re getting up from bed? You’re a young man, you know.”

“Because I feel sick?”

Even as he said that, there was no pain; it was just that his fingers weren’t moving right, and the wounds had healed hours ago. He merely felt a bit tired.

“Is your finger feeling better now, Colonel?”

He wiggled his fingers slightly. The stiff thumb still struggled to move but was way more flexible than it had been before—a far cry from the clumsy caterpillar movements of the past.

“It’s much better now. Thank you, Saint.”

“You should thank your sister for that. But anyway, I’m glad you’re okay.”

As Veronica said, the one who helped him heal was Lucia.

It was Lucia who borrowed the high priest’s bed and brought the holy water and various holy relics.

To be precise, it was Veronica, highly proficient in administration (rather than pressing the Cardinal and Bishop), who helped to get them through the National Affairs Council.

I had heard it was tough to take out holy relics, holy items, and even holy water. Where was the censer used during Mass at the Cathedral, the basin used at the monastery where Inquisitors skilled in healing lived, and the holy water created from a spring blessed to have religious significance…

Each and every item was of such quality that one would feel unworthy to even mention a price. It was difficult to put a value on religious items, but according to Veronica, they were things that would be hard to find even if one offered gold equal to the weight of an adult male saint.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to bring those over? Your sister worked quite hard.”

“Is that so?”

“Those items were meant for royalties, so it was hard to get them. I had to throw in some water and bargain my way to get them.”

“…You diluted holy water? That’s fraudulent—”

“Shh. If we just keep quiet, no one will ever know.”

“……”

Veronica pressed her lips together with her finger, grinning widely. Is she really insane?

“Anyway, since your sister worked hard to prepare all this, make sure to get your treatment done properly. The longer this takes, the harder it’ll be for her.”

“Okay.”

Honestly, it seemed that Veronica had the biggest share in healing his finger, but since she passed the credit to Lucia, he let it slide.

It’s all good as long as it works out.

“And stop whining and complaining about being tired all the time. Why are you acting so feeble for someone your age?”

“Well… Work’s tough…?”

“I’ve never seen anyone as young as you from the Imperial Guard HQ or the Inquisition. What are you usually doing at odd hours?”

“……”

He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he had insomnia, so he just fumbled the conversation.

“Maybe it’s just because I’m approaching my thirties?”

At the sudden mention of age, Veronica shot him a look of displeasure.

“Come on, you’re making a big deal over that?”

“What do you mean? Oh, by the way, what age are you, Saint…?”

In an instant, Veronica’s expression darkened, as if a monster from hell had burst through the gates. He instinctively realized he had touched a nerve and clamped his mouth shut.

“If you bring up age one more time, Colonel, you’ll die, understand?”

“Yes.”

*

Once the brief incident ended, time flew by in the blink of an eye.

Camila, Francesca, and Lucia each focused on their own tasks, trying to learn or practice as much as they could. Meanwhile, he used every trick in the book to hound Veronica until, at last, she completed the overdue affairs.

By the time day turned into night twice,

They left the familiar retreat and returned to the capital.

“Why not stay there a bit longer?”

“Vacation’s almost over, isn’t it? I think it’s better to come back early and rest than rush at the last minute.”

“There’s still just under two weeks left, you know?”

The truth was, there was nothing left to do.

As pleasant as a vacation was, just lounging without doing anything was starting to feel a bit unbearable. This sentiment was shared among all four of them, including him, so they returned far earlier than scheduled.

Of course, there was Camila’s training to consider. But that could happen in the capital, where professional military training facilities were gathered nearby.

Additionally, Lucia and Francesca both insisted that they needed items located in the capital, so naturally, they found themselves returning there.

“What on earth do you need that requires coming all the way to the capital?”

“Not sure… but I guess I’ll find out someday.”

Although he didn’t know what it was about, that’s how it turned out.

“Then it would be best to part ways here.”

“You speak as if we’ll never see each other again.”

“What kind of joke is that, Saint? People are waiting, so hurry up and go. Those diplomats over there are waiting.”

“I’ll see you soon again. We need treatment too… Do you remember the hotel location?”

“Yes.”

“Make sure you come before it’s too late. We should be on our way now.”

“See you later, Colonel.”

“Saint Veronica, don’t just come back, head straight to the cult.”

“…Tsk.”

Lucia, Veronica, and Francesca vanished, escorted by the diplomats waiting for them. Seeing a secretary carry a suitcase and a diplomat hold the door open left him with a strange feeling.

The cars carrying the three disappeared out of the train station, presumably heading to the embassy then to the five-star hotel provided by the government.

After packing his bag, he began to stroll the streets of the capital as sunset fell.

He wasn’t alone.

“Where are we going?”

“Good question.”

Next to him stood Camila. Having undergone some intense training in recent days, the slightly thinner Camila looked a bit tired. Could riding the train have worn her out?

“Are you tired?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you just go with the group from earlier? I’ve told you I have no car, so I’ll have to walk.”

“Eh, I was just joking. Who doesn’t have a car here? I found out that more than 70% of people commute by their own vehicles…”

“……”

“Seriously, you don’t have one?”

“……”

Camila looked at him in shock, like a child realizing Santa Claus wasn’t real.

“Why wouldn’t I have one…?”

“I just commute from the official residence. It takes just 30 minutes with public transport.”

“Still, as a civil servant, you’d think you’d at least have one if you change departments frequently…”

“We usually go abroad. Even when sent abroad, vehicle taxes, insurance, parking fees, and maintenance fees keep piling up. It just felt wasteful to buy one.”

“…Oh.”

Going abroad didn’t mean they’d cover the vehicle maintenance fees. They just set up direct deposits for everything.

“I remember setting up direct deposit for payments back when I was sent on official business abroad too. Now I have to pay everything directly…”

Hearing this, Camila seemed to find it ridiculous and said:

“That’s poor welfare benefits. Guess you don’t have a union either?”

“The French intelligence agency has a union and even goes on strikes. It’s hard to find that culture in other countries. Whether in the West or East…”

“Then is there anyone to pick you up, like family or friends?”

“Uh… probably not.”

“So no one has time to come pick you up?”

“No, I don’t think they even know I’m on vacation. I can rarely keep in touch.”

“…”

Camila’s look shifted to one of pity.

For a moment, the image of soldiers returning home from overseas, being embraced by loved ones in viral YouTube videos flashed through his mind, but unfortunately, those stories didn’t apply to him. After almost ten years in intelligence, he had worn the thresholds of Incheon Airport and Gimpo Airport thin, yet he had never witnessed such moments. The Military Intelligence Agency was not so different.

“Don’t look at me like that; like I’m some homeless person…”

“When did I look at you like that?”

“Never mind…”

Exhausted, he decided to sit on a bench for a moment. The trip across half the Abbas territory on a train had been tiring.

He lightly thumped his thighs as he spoke.

“Ah, back in the day, I could handle a week-long drive across the desert with just four hours of sleep. I can’t believe I’m worn out after a few hours on a train.”

“The desert is brutal. When you’re driving for hours with the scenery not changing, you feel like throwing up.”

“It’s dreadful. The desert.”

Having spent a considerable time in the Middle East, those memories were still vivid. Though it had been nearly 30 years, it could feel like it happened just yesterday.

An endless stretch of desert. The scorching heat. The sunlight stinging his skin and the sandstorms. The wildly rattling unpaved roads.

Each border crossing he faced was met with armed checkpoints. From a distance, it was hard to tell, but up close, he learned the forces guarding those spots weren’t government troops but tribal militants.

The first thing an armed tribal soldier does upon spotting a white man is to unholster their weapon. If they were suspicious of a white person, how much more so for an Asian? When a soldier approaches and taps on the window, the very first thing they ask, right after the greetings, is to see the documents.

Upon handing over the paperwork, the soldier examines it. Of course, he should focus his attention elsewhere right after passing the papers. That’s when intelligence gathering begins.

The state of the checkpoint. The combat readiness of the soldiers guarding the checkpoint. Just by observing the soldiers’ gear, one could glean a rough idea of what kind of faction the warlords siding with.

Those fixated on their own militia,

those rotten to the core,

the ones attempting to hide their military might,

the ones too caught up in ostentation,

or those maneuvering independently, searching for a coup opportunity.

The worst-case scenario was encountering a situation where he had been briefed that “these guys invest little in weapons and gear,” yet they showed up all decked out. That’s a disaster. It means they knew someone was coming for a visit beforehand.

Piecing together the information in his head with what he saw right in front of him usually led to the correct conclusion. The company trained him to work that way and when out in the field, he was expected to implement those skills. It took a few months to adapt, but eventually, it all comes naturally.

“……”

The time he spent in the Middle East rolled through his mind like a movie reel. Damascus, Raqqa, Kabul, Islamabad, Miranshah, Baghdad, Tehran, Mosul, Beirut…

Speaking of Beirut, he remembered the night in a hotel arranged by a local intelligence officer. A madman blew himself up in the city center with a vehicle full of explosives. The explosion startled him out of his wits from blocks away. He even called American and Israeli friends that dawn, asking if they were conducting airstrikes.

At that moment, he truly thought he was about to meet his end at the hands of the Israeli air force.

But come morning, a senior colleague from the embassy casually invited him out for a meal, celebrating an initiation of sorts.

That was his first dispatch to the Middle East.

“……”

While he sat lost in thought, someone tapped his shoulder. It was Camila.

She had a concerned look on her face as she gazed at him.

“Are you alright? You’re not sick, are you?”

“…Just a little deep in thought.”

The conversation faded there. He found himself too empty for anything else to say, while Camila just stared at him silently.

Feeling the weight of her gaze, he broke the silence with an unexpected question.

“Uh, um… Camila. The next dispatch should probably be to the Empire. How about we look into it in advance?”

“Suddenly? Why would you give such instructions without any context? Get a grip. It’s vacation time. Who thinks about work during their time off?”

“Well, I do.”

He figured that suggesting that would ruin the atmosphere, so he instead said something else.

“Uh… Then, where should we go now?”

“You’ve been asking that since earlier. What do you want to do?”

“Um… Well?”

He wanted to head to the official residence or a townhouse to unwind—unpack and shower. But he had a hunch that Camila would insist on following him. After all, she was essentially homeless right now.

On the other hand, going to the hotel felt like an odd choice.

He had just spent over two weeks lounging at the hotel earlier today. Heading back there again? That felt off.

Right now, the hotel was no longer a space for relaxation. Having been assigned tasks related to Camila, Veronica, Lucia, and Francesca by the government, he was practically a public servant designated by the state. He’d be catering to their needs, providing security, managing annoying errands—all of it.

Though everyone was kind enough not to impose unreasonable demands or abuse their powers, it was exhausting.

Honestly, he just wanted to rest in peace now.

If that’s the case,

What should he do right now?

“…….”

One thing was for certain.

He craved alcohol.

“Are you suggesting drinking?”

“I’m going solo.”

“Let’s go together!”

“…….”

Camila jumped up excitedly, urging him to lead the way, insisting they go quickly to a place that serves unique and exotic beers like butter beer.

With her pushing from behind, he found himself reluctantly searching for a bar with her.