A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The truck driver gazed up at the sky. The empire’s sky is always overcast, but today it feels especially dreary.

“Stop!”

At the signal from the Border Guard soldier holding a red flag, the driver eased off the accelerator and cautiously approached the checkpoint.

Knock knock.

It was a rather careless knock, almost annoyed at first glance. As always, the driver turned the manual lever and rolled down the window, and the Border Guard Sergeant, a cigarette in his mouth, nodded slightly.

The sergeant gave a faint smile. “Long time no see, Grisha. Driving on such a cold day, huh?”

“Well, you gotta do it to make a living. Is the checkpoint okay? It’s snowing heavily.”

“No problem. Snow falls every day.”

The Border Guard Sergeant, with the end of his cigarette bobbing in his lips, gestured as a young-faced soldier stationed at the checkpoint waddled over on the icy ground.

Seeing the soldier’s face, the driver Grisha clicked his tongue in annoyance. It was a pity that a kid barely in his twenties was serving at such a remote border where only logistics trucks, tour buses, and smugglers passed by.

For someone middle-aged like him, it was indeed a sad thing to see a young lad, who could be the same age as his son, stuck in such a place. After all, he had gone through the trouble of sending his son to university, and all the kid did was fool around. What a worthless brat.

Grisha tightened his grip on the steering wheel as thoughts of his son, who had left for the city three years ago, flooded his mind.

The sergeant asked, “What goods are you transporting today?”

“Just the usual stuff. Everyday essentials.”

“So smuggled goods?”

“…Let’s just call them consumer goods for small happiness.”

—

Side Episode – Border

—

The goods Grisha was transporting were foreign products.

He procured them for a bargain from a ‘friend’ through countries accessible by roads (not inhabited by monsters), selling them at a markup.

To put it in more professional and classy terms, Grisha was something like a ‘Dai Kong’—albeit an unofficial one.

Of course, this wasn’t a formally authorized business. Strictly speaking, it was illicit smuggling, and he could be tracked by tax office wizards. Naturally, if caught at a Border Guard checkpoint, he would have no excuses.

However, the world does not always flow according to the rules.

The Border Guard Captain had no hesitation in accepting bribes, and the members gladly waved through the checkpoint after receiving magically enchanted blankets to keep warm.

Thanks to this, the Border Guards managed to make ends meet, and Grisha was able to send his son to college, a mutually beneficial arrangement and a testament to Grisha’s know-how.

But today, something felt different.

“I’m going to check the truck.”

“…Huh?”

Grisha looked at the Border Guard Sergeant in shock. The sergeant, with an unlit cigarette between his fingers, yawned and explained the situation.

Recently, fine guests from abroad had come to visit the empire. They all were of a distinguished stature, so in order to prevent any unforeseen accidents, orders had been issued to tighten border checks.

“Who are these guests?”

“I don’t know. Some say a Saint has come, others say a Hero has arrived… But it’s not my place to know that out here in the sticks.”

Grisha’s head began to spin. His fingertips trembled, and his vision turned a sickly yellow.

If he got caught at the checkpoint, it would be a disaster. The items in the truck would be discovered and even the Border Guard Captain wouldn’t be able to cover for him.

Having calmed his racing thoughts, Grisha hurriedly exited the driver’s seat and approached the sergeant.

“What is all this? Out of the blue.”

“Just hold this for a moment….”

Grisha extended his hands tightly gripping a bundle of cash. The cigarette that had been rhythmically swaying stopped abruptly.

Cold sweat turned to ice on his brow. The familiar barricade of the Border Guard checkpoint loomed like a castle wall today. The rifle slung over the soldier’s shoulder felt particularly menacing.

The Border Guard narrowed his eyes, frowning. “What’s this?”

“No, it’s a matter of livelihood… I’ll be seeing the Captain soon enough.”

“This isn’t about the Captain, Grisha. This is an order from Headquarters.”

Seeing Grisha’s despairing expression seemed to soften the edge of the Border Guard, who cleared his throat and spoke in a gentler tone.

“I understand there have been dealings in the past. Whatever’s inside, I’ll turn a blind eye. Just open the truck door for now.”

“…….”

“I’ll check with my eyes only and get you through quickly. If you’re worried about something breaking, I promise I won’t touch anything this time.”

Grisha clenched his eyes shut.

He bit down on his lip hard, pondering, then rummaged through his pocket to pull out another wad of cash.

The sight of a few months’ salary in cash lit up the Border Guard’s face. In this rural town, where even cultural facilities and decent restaurants were absent, seeing this amount was almost miraculous.

As the Border Guard hesitated for a moment, the smuggler presented a matchbox made from the Magic Tower.

“These were made at the Magic Tower. They don’t easily go out in strong winds or cold.”

“…….”

The Border Guard’s arm moved.

For a split second, Grisha feared he might be beaten and forced to surrender his vehicle for inspection, but that didn’t happen.

The sergeant pulled a match from the box, lit his cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled, “Grisha.”

“…Yes?”

“What about that kid over there?”

The sergeant nodded towards the soldier, questioning how he’d silence him.

Naturally, bribing the soldier at such a moment would require giving him a cut from the cash Grisha just offered, but the sergeant was not inclined to do so.

No one would pick up only a single coin when there were bills and coins scattered on the ground.

As this thought crossed his mind, Grisha quickly pulled out cash from his wallet. This wasn’t his usual stash for bribes, but his personal money.

The sergeant’s expression brightened as he pocketed the stack enthusiastically.

He pocketed not only the two bundles Grisha offered earlier but also half of what was meant to grease the soldier’s palm. What a downright highwayman.

As the sergeant smiled broadly, Grisha could only force a smile in return, while the young soldier, who had received unexpected pocket money, was left utterly perplexed.

The smoking Border Guard sergeant cheerfully announced, “Alright! You can pass!”

The formidable checkpoint barrier lifted, and Grisha scrambled back into the driver’s seat, hitting the accelerator.

“Damn it, today is just lucky or what….”

The old truck rattled as it passed through the checkpoint. Grisha’s curse was drowned out by the howling wind and engine noise.

In fact, getting caught this time wouldn’t have been all that bad. The Border Guard Captain managing this border and even the local police were known to turn a blind eye to bribes.

Even if he had been snared at the checkpoint, his friends would have likely just kept him in an office for a few hours, allowing him to pay a paltry fine and return home.

But today was different.

Grisha’s gaze shifted towards the rearview mirror.

“…….”

There were well-built men seated in the shabby truck bed. Amidst the foreign smuggled goods were electronic devices of unknown purpose, heavy bags whose contents he couldn’t identify, and the tip of a military uniform peeking from beneath a hiked-up pant leg.

The ‘friend’ who had sold him the foreign products had recently asked Grisha to smuggle a few people into the empire a few days ago.

Although he had refused, fearing they might be shot if caught, the amount offered as compensation was astronomical. It was money that his university student son could only dream of earning in ten months of work.

So, it was terrifying.

That much money for just transporting a few people and their belongings was far too disproportionate.

Grisha knew neither their names nor their nationality.

In fact, it was probably better not to know.

“…!”

As Grisha stole a glance in the rearview mirror, his eyes met those of the cat beastman. The beastman fiddled with a brick-like electronic device, and their gazes locked.

The beastman, with gleaming fur on his dark skin, cat ears bobbing between his black hair, and vertically slit green pupils, was a typical sight.

Of course, like the others among the illegal immigrants, Grisha was unaware of where the beastman came from or their name.

It was likely better not to know.

“…!”

As their eyes met, the beastman, whose nose crinkled as if sensing something awkward, scowled, and Grisha hurriedly averted his gaze, looking down.

Sounds of conversation came from the truck bed amidst the roaring engine.

“…@#%@#%?”

“#$%@#$@.”

He didn’t understand their foreign language, which only intensified his fear. Grisha bit back an overwhelming urge to escape the truck while gripping the steering wheel tightly.

It seemed wise to forget about this transaction altogether.

With that thought, the smuggler Grisha focused his gaze straight ahead and pressed on the accelerator.

The truck surged forward, pushing aside the falling snow, its tires concealed in the mud.

Thus began the truck carrying Abas’s information officers, delving deep into the territory of the empire.