A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Francesca’s expression wasn’t exactly bright for someone wanting to engage in a conversation.

To be more specific, yes.

“…It seems you have some questions.”

Her face seemed filled with curiosity.

Francesca, elegantly seated with one arm draped over the backrest and legs crossed, looked at me.

I took a seat beside her and decided to open the conversation.

“Well, let’s hear it.”

“…….”

“What’s on your mind?”

Episode 13 – A Land for Wizards Does Not Exist

“Gabi Schneider.”

Francesca spoke up.

“She was kidnapped, right?”

“Perhaps.”

It was a vague response, but Francesca didn’t scold me.

“I inquired personally through acquaintances in the Secretariat today. About Miss Schneider and Sir Marbo.”

She continued speaking.

“We looked into how Miss Schneider and Sir Marbo came to know each other, what duties they were handling on the Mauritania Continent, and the circumstances surrounding Sir Marbo’s recent disappearance.”

“Did you gain any insight?”

“A little.”

I already knew most of the information regarding Gabi Schneider and Jean Marbo. I had investigated through Francesca.

Being a staff member of the Magic Tower Secretariat, her investigation was thorough. Francesca reported in detail the activities of the two during their first meeting in the Mauritania Continent. Naturally, their activities after that were just as well documented.

However, this new information seemed to reveal facts unknown to both her and me.

“At first, I thought they met simply by chance while working, fell in love, and started dating. That’s what I thought, and everyone else seemed to think the same.”

“And then?”

“When I investigated the missing Sir Marbo, I discovered a fact between his meeting with Miss Schneider that I was unaware of.”

Francesca explained that Jean Marbo’s first encounter with Gabi Schneider was decidedly premeditated.

“Before leaving the country, Sir Marbo personally investigated Miss Schneider. At the time, she was assigned as a diplomat to the Mauritania Continent, and Sir Marbo was scheduled to depart there about a month prior.”

In querying Sir Marbo’s friends, Francesca learned that he had been asking acquaintances in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs about Gabi Schneider’s tastes and interests.

Friends who recalled the encounter said that the two were complete strangers at that time.

In other words, Sir Marbo had conducted a background check on someone whose face he didn’t even know.

But the most crucial point wasn’t that.

“According to the memories of a friend from that time, Sir Marbo focused intently on asking about Miss Schneider’s research accomplishments.”

I inquired.

“What kind of research was it?”

“It was research about souls.”

Research about souls?

For a moment, I had difficulty comprehending the unexpected subject, but the explanation from the alchemist continued.

“Necromancy is the study of animal souls, spirits. Therefore, research on souls is actively conducted within the necromancer’s realm. Of course, that includes humans as well.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

The reason why necromancers from various nations and even within the Magic Tower itself were under scrutiny was due to the experiments frequently infringing on the realm of ethics.

The religious circles viewed the act of researching souls as crossing the line set by the Creator to fulfill human desires. And this sentiment was echoed in other nations too. No matter how beneficial soul research might be to the world, for such research to yield results, biological experiments and human trials were unavoidable.

Yet, there were mages who dared to tread the forbidden territory, and their fates tended to fall into two categories.

First, compromise with reality to produce meager results in a limited environment.

Second, either crossing lines they ought not to cross and getting ostracized from society, or venturing into the realm of truth.

Gabi Schneider belonged to the former.

Francesca opened her mouth.

“Miss Schneider was researching methods involving contracts tied to souls.”

Contracts tied to souls. When those words flowed from her, a particular spell flashed in my mind.

I murmured the name of that spell.

“Oath.”

The Oath of a Mage.

During the time of the Magic Tower-Cult War, a powerful spell developed to prevent numerous betrayals and conversions. It was personally devised by ‘the Priest,’ one of the Great Seventeen Archmages.

The essence of the spell is simple. The mage swears to uphold a promise at all costs, wagering all they possess.

Francesca nodded heavily.

“The Oath of a Mage is a representative example of contracts tied to souls. It’s the most famous and, as such, quite brutal.”

Historians evaluating the war of that time often used this expression regarding the Oath.

A shackle filled with souls.

A phrase suggesting that while there is no reward, the weight of the responsibilities and penalties for breaching the contract is immensely heavy.

Despite being called shackles, the penalty for violation being death makes it indistinguishable from a bomb collar.

The greatest strength of the Oath is that the mage must absolutely fulfill the promise, while the greatest weakness lies in the fact that they must keep the promise.

Magic, being a phenomenon in itself, doesn’t care about the circumstances of the caster, nor is it merciful in hand.

Taking advantage of the weakness that a sworn mage must abide by their contract, the Inquisition made every effort to induce mages to breach their Oaths during the wars.

After all, since magic was created to prevent betrayal, there was no way to nullify the contract once made.

This method has been regarded throughout the history of intelligence agencies as one of the most groundbreaking assassination techniques. All evidence of the assassination could be pinned on the mage who died breaching their Oath and the Magic Tower that bestowed the Oath upon them.

To point out, even today, after a hundred years since magic was recognized as a domain of study, there remains no clear way to nullify an Oath, even with the greatest archmages who founded magic still alive.

Thus, neither the Magic Tower nor any nation would compel mages to take Oaths unless under very special circumstances. Just looking at the fact that the Patalia government is tailing and wiretapping the magicians of the Ranieri family without requiring Oaths, one can glimpse how the current magical society treats Oaths.

Despite these side effects, the reason so many mages eagerly accepted Oaths is believed to be due to their dire situations.

If the Magic Tower were to lose, the mages would be slaughtered by the infuriated Inquisition.

However, among mages, there is another contract as famous as Oaths.

“Blood Contract.”

Descendants of the Archmages spoke.

“A Blood Contract is an agreement between a mage and a demon. The mage pays their blood as an advance to the demon, who then fulfills a wish before receiving the remainder later.”

“That Blood Contract, just like the Oath of a Mage, also affects the soul, right?”

Francesca nodded, and the conversation circled back to its origin.

“Miss Schneider was researching a method to nullify spells like the Oath of a Mage and Blood Contract. They bore significant results that even some mages from other realms found noteworthy.”

“And why are you telling me this now?”

“Who do you believe is the mage making the Blood Contract?”

“Since it’s a contract with a demon, it must be the necromancer.”

“When did Sir Marbo go missing?”

“…….”

The moment I recalled the date Jean Marbo vanished, a chill ran down my spine.

I focused on a pair of violet flowers glowing in darkness. Cautiously, I began to speak.

“…You’re not suggesting that Jean Marbo is the necromancer who died, are you?”

“He went missing that day, and now he’s dead. Isn’t this a reasonable suspicion?”

“No, wait. What did you just say?”

Jean Marbo is dead?

“He wasn’t missing?”

“He’s dead.”

“How did that happen?”

Francesca leaned on the back of the sofa, letting out a light sigh.

“Explaining that seems to make the story complicated….”

“…….”

“I’ll go slowly.”

*

It was a strange day.

The magician from the Secretariat went missing, and foreign government spies disappeared as well. The cafe owner, who had chased out customers for some urgent reason, vanished, and upon returning from the restroom, he found himself standing in a cafe where the lights were out.

Sensing something was off, Francesca visited the Patalia Magic Tower embassy.

Having organized her thoughts on the way made it easy to reveal her visit’s purpose and send a report to the Magic Tower.

“I requested the use of the observatory early this morning. The Oracle approved it.”

The observatory.

An ancient magical tool installed at the highest point of the tower by the great archmage and founder of the Astrology realm, the Priest. It is known for reading the stars and uncovering hidden truths.

The observatory serves various functions, but the most famous and useful one is tracking down exiles.

“It’s occasionally used to track down magicians who have committed crimes and been expelled from magical society, but because maintaining the magical tool is difficult, it’s only activated when the traces of a particularly vile criminal appear.”

“The Oracle approved that?”

“Yes.”

Francesca used the observatory to track down Jean Marbo’s location. This entire chain of events was ignited by the disappearance of a magician.

The Oracle willingly granted permission for the use of the observatory for the descendant of the archmage. This approval was given even for a magical tool, which even the Astrology realm, who owns it, dares not misuse.

The observatory absorbed Jean Marbo’s magical energy from discarded clothing left in his home. And promptly, it provided results.

“And it said he’s dead?”

Francesca nodded.

“Technically, the observatory didn’t even begin tracking. At first, I thought it was a machine error but, since there have been previous cases of using the observatory on dead exiles, I determined that it isn’t faulty.”

In other words, the missing Jean Marbo was already dead.

“While secretly investigating a mage who was researching a method to nullify a Blood Contract, he fell in love with her, and the mage disappeared. Coincidentally… that day a necromancer was killed by a demon.”

“…….”

A document lay on the table of the villa. As Francesca waved her hand in the air to pull the paper closer, her explanation continued.

“On the day of the battle with the demon, this is a confidential document from the Public Security of the Tower that contains testimonies from the magicians who fought alongside us in Orventzku.”

She sank into the sofa, looking at me.

“Colonel, do you remember the magician who plummeted from the sky and died?”

“Yes. He fell at an unnatural angle.”

“It wasn’t a fall.”

At that moment, the fallen magician hadn’t died from falling.

To be more precise, he hadn’t met with an accident; someone had murdered him.

And the report documented the deaths of not one magician.

Though visibility was obscured by deep darkness and snowstorms, the surviving magicians testified that something resembling a green magical barrier appeared in front of them during their flight.

Over a dozen magicians noted they had similar experiences while fighting demons and monsters at that very moment.

Francesca revealed.

“Magicians stated the green barrier blocked their flight paths. Those who collided with it all plummeted to the ground.”

This had been recounted to a magician who was flying alongside colleagues and survived the impact. She added.

“The reason we couldn’t receive support from the Tower was because the commanding magicians issued a no-fly order.”

“What’s your source?”

“My sister informed me. In the North, she was investigating the battle on that day alongside a combined task force of the Empire and the Cult.”

I scanned through the report.

At the end of the document, an analysis from investigative agencies appeared as a footnote. The Tower concluded that, based on circumstantial evidence, the magicians likely died due to a protective spell set by the Protection realm. Given that they employed a protection spell unsuitable for battle as a means of murder, there were also suspicions about a rather seasoned wizard from that realm.

Protection realm. Green barrier. An experienced magician deployed to the North.

As my conjecture spiraled further, I set the report down and looked at Francesca.

“Are you suspecting Martinez?”

Francesca didn’t reply, and her silence was the clearest answer.

“Are you sure? There can’t be only Martinez who can handle green magical power in the Protection realm.”

“There are few magicians from the Protection realm deployed to the North who can handle green magical powers. Among them, seasoned magicians are even rarer. More crucially, Count Martinez acted in ways that raised my suspicions.”

“What ways?”

“The disappearance of Sir Marbo.”

The magician from the Magic Tower Secretariat said.

“It has been nearly three weeks since he went missing, yet he didn’t report to me.”

…Yeah. Reflecting on it, that was odd.

Why did Martinez fail to inform Francesca about the missing magician?

When the Inquisition had started operating in the North with the approval of the great Duke, the one who gathered public opinion for the Tower was him.

Taking into account that he hadn’t forgotten to send reports even amidst the busy work of the Secretariat and waste management, it’s certainly puzzling that he didn’t alert Francesca about a missing Secretariat employee in a state of martial law.

As I calmed my complicated thoughts, Francesca’s voice sounded.

She began to theorize.

“Miss Schneider researching contracts tied to souls has gone missing. The missing Sir Marbo is dead. His superior, Count Martinez, has omitted reporting. The commonality among the three is that they all worked in the Mauritania Continent. Also, they are exactly the people you requested to investigate.”

That was a pretty reasonable conjecture. At the same time, it was a valid suspicion.

She posed the question to me.

“I’ll ask again. You truly don’t know why Miss Schneider went missing?”

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I turned on the record player in the corner of the villa.

As the classical music mingled with the gentle melodies of the master played softly in the background, I gently pulled Francesca to her feet and softly embraced her, whispering in her ear.

“They took her from the company.”

“…….”

“According to the higher-ups, Gabi Schneider is a terrorist.”

Her violet eyes, resembling violets, cautiously gazed at my brown ones. Francesca looked into my eyes and posed another question.

“What do you think, Colonel? Does Miss Schneider seem like a terrorist?”

“I’m not sure.”

But,

I quietly let her go and added.

“Even those we trust should be questioned once in a while.”

“…….”

“The most dangerous thing in this field is giving trust without verification.”

A directly recruited informant, a trusted foreign intelligence officer, a colleague sharing the same roof. All are futile. How many informants have died because they chose the wrong person to ally with?

Betrayal always exists. So, I don’t trust Gabi Schneider, whom I met only yesterday.

In my experience, those entangled with intelligence agencies often had sordid backgrounds.

As I turned to adjust the player’s volume, Francesca’s voice suddenly reached me.

“Before you disappeared yesterday.”

She spoke from behind.

“Gabi Schneider asked me for help. You followed me to the capital and then disappeared.”

“And then?”

“Why did you do that?”

Her question was heavily laden with implications, but interpreting her intent wasn’t difficult.

Why had I involved myself in something with no tangible benefit?

Why had I acted recklessly, unprepared, toward someone I ought to have been cautious around?

Francesca was essentially asking that.

It didn’t take long to recall an answer.

“Because it’s my job.”

I adjusted the volume while facing away from her.

“No matter where you go, whom you meet, or what you experience, if something goes wrong because of that work, it’s my duty to resolve it.”

Francesca asked.

“Are you saying that as my superior, the information officer? Or are you saying it as a colleague?”

“Is there a difference between the two?”

I threw back, not turning to her.

A comrade of Camila, as determined by the prophecy. An information officer in the intelligence unit that connects the Information Command to the Military Intelligence Agency.

All of those things define who I am, so is there a need to separate the two?

“If you regard me as a superior, I’ll be your superior. If you regard me as a colleague, I’ll always be your colleague.”

“…….”

“Of course, if you consider me a friend, I won’t stop you from saying so.”

Though intelligence agencies always emphasize that one shouldn’t harbor personal feelings for informants, many officers break that command.

It’s because a person’s intentions can’t be easily defined by a word or a sentence.

“I have an obligation to protect you as a superior, and I have a duty to save you from danger as a colleague.”

“…What benefit does that bring you, Colonel?”

“Well…,”

I pondered for a moment.

“If I were an altruist, I might say that lives are precious, and that would be why I’d want to save lives. Saving lives has its value, and I’d feel fulfilled protecting that value.”

But I am not an altruist.

Under the guise of safeguarding the lives of fifty million citizens and the safety of the nation, I have done terrible things to countless individuals. That is an undeniable truth.

For some, I may have been someone aiming for the light while, for others, I may have been a spy that needed to be captured immediately.

That remains the case even now.

“If I were a diplomat, I’d say it’s because it serves Abas’s interests. No matter how much you’re deemed a public offender of an allied nation, it’s worth more to extract benefits from you. It would be worth risking diplomatic friction for the sake of those benefits.”

But I am not a diplomat.

I wear the guise of a diplomat, but I am essentially an intelligence officer. Both the Military Intelligence Agency and Abas’s intelligence agency do not demand diplomatic achievements from me.

My role as a diplomat is merely to secure protection in case of emergencies.

Yet, I’m not a humanist with beliefs or some noble soul driven by heroism. Even if I possessed those traits, they wouldn’t represent something to define me.

I mulled over my response for a long time. I kept thinking.

Perhaps my tongue, which usually flows easily, struggled to move this time because I had never pondered such things before. Or perhaps, I had thought too deeply, making it difficult to settle my thoughts.

In any case,

The answer I’ll share with Francesca is singular.

“So, when you ask why I followed, I can answer that it’s for your safety.”

“…….”

Only then did I finally face her.

Turning my body to check on Francesca presented no different sight than before. She stood with her arms crossed, exuding her usual poise, but I couldn’t sense anything unusual.

However, one thing stood clear.

In the soft glow of the faint moonlight, her lips remained tightly pressed, and her soft gaze traced a curve.

*

Immediately after the story concluded, the atmosphere in the villa shifted dramatically.

Innimpressive with its white walls and red roof, and flaunting marble that far outclassed the hotel’s tiles, the terrace was indeed picturesque.

“Hm….”

I sipped wine while gazing at the crashing coastal cliffs.

“It’s delightful.”

“It’s a carefully selected wine.”

Francesca, having poured the wine from the decanter into her glass, raised it and smiled.

Indeed, it was excellent, befitting a product selected from Patalia, the largest wine-producing region.

The temperature on the terrace, adequately maintained by magical tools, complemented the view of the night sea. The soft classical melody wafting through the glass from the living room prompted me to set down my glass and cautiously strike up a conversation.

“I spoke with Saint Veronica.”

“With my sister?”

Francesca immediately reacted to the unexpected mention of Veronica, setting her glass down. I leaned closer over the table and whispered to her.

“It seems the Empire’s military is planning operations excluding us. The timeline has advanced.”

“Surely they haven’t completed their preparations yet.”

“It seems there are bureaucrats rebuking the military for its incompetence concerning the demon hunt.”

“Oh, that would explain it.”

The Imperial Ministry of Defense operates as a power group parallel to the government. Being the Emperor’s biggest ally and the recipient of power, the military had accumulated wealth through various interests over the decades.

Where there is brightness, darkness deepens. Many bureaucrats harboring grievances against the military are not few in the Empire.

Francesca began to speak, seeming to grasp the situation well.

“The demons were hunted down by foreigners, so the military might have appeared incompetent. Though looking at Commander Mikhail, they weren’t wholly incapable, but perspectives can differ.”

“The military officers probably share a similar sentiment. Regardless, having revealed weaknesses, they wish to take the initiative in the upcoming operation, dropping the failed demon hunt.”

Of course, no one knows if they’ll hasten the timetable for an offensive, but the military’s options are limited at this point.

“Nothing is confirmed, but just be prepared.”

“Understood. Thank you for the information, Colonel.”

“Oh, and…”

Just as I recalled something, I raised my glass and began.

“I heard about this villa from Veronica.”

“What about it?”

“She said it looks exactly like the villa you used to stay in with your mother.”

Suddenly reminded of her mother, Francesca began to exhibit signs of discomfort. She started showing that she no longer wanted to discuss the subject.

Noticing her changing reaction, I pressed on casually.

“I understand your circumstances. Revenge.”

“…….”

“That would be your ultimate goal, then?”

Francesca turned her gaze aside, seemingly hesitant to respond. Staring at the crashing waves, she responded as if she were forced to.

“…That’s correct.”

I placed my glass down and crossed my legs. She continued to stare off into the distance, and I gazed at her profile.

“If revenge is why you joined forces with me, I’d like to offer some advice.”

Her gaze shifted toward me, looking as if she was about to embrace the coming words.

I spoke while gazing into her wistful purple eyes.

“Don’t drag revenge out too long; try to finish it as quickly as possible. The longer it stretches, the more trouble it’ll cause for you.”

“…….”

“And make sure to clearly define the target. Avoid unleashing your frustration on the wrong person, or you’ll regret it later.”

“…You seem to know me well. It’s as though you’ve experienced something similar.”

I shrugged nonchalantly.

“I have.”

“To whom?”

“I have my own stories. Those irritating bastards up north.”

“Why did you seek revenge?”

“Because those bastards took the most precious thing from me.”

Realizing I’d let something slip, I chuckled and quickly added.

“Well, it was someone like a father.”

“…….”

A chilly breeze brushed against my skin, making me feel slightly ticklish. As the strange glint came into Francesca’s eyes, she tossed a question my way.

“Did you succeed?”

With that single sentence, I found myself unable to hold back a laugh as I placed my glass down.

“I only half succeeded.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I chose the wrong person.”

With that, the conversation reached its conclusion. Thankfully, Francesca refrained from adding anything that would create an uncomfortable atmosphere.

On the terrace, where a refreshing breeze pleasantly blew, she suddenly set her glass down and began to speak again. This time, it was about work.

“I want to discuss something I couldn’t mention last time.”

Francesca started with a clear tone.

“The project I took on in the North is going smoothly. Thanks to the two of you, I think I can continue my business even after the conflict ends.”

She was referring to smuggling.

As signs of the conflict winding down emerged, it seemed discussions concerning the future of the Northern black market circulated between Hormoz, Victor, and Francesca.

Fortunately, it seemed the business matter had concluded favorably. Since I had effectively cleared out the criminal organizations under Commander Mikhail’s guidance, it would be comical if the business went awry now.

Yet the issue lay elsewhere.

“Victor has been prying into my relationship with you.”

“How so?”

“He’s just asking various questions. He wants to know how you’ve been and whether everything is alright between us.”

Francesca trailed off ambiguously. After taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she hesitantly raised her gaze.

“He seems to wonder about topics that a lover should know, but it’s hard for me to answer. Even if I am your fake lover, there’s no way for me to know your personal matters, right?”

“How would you like to resolve that? That’s what you’re curious about, isn’t it?”

Francesca nodded.

After downing the wine in one go, I clinked the glass loudly against the table while staring out over the sea, contemplating my response.

“The best way is to maintain the act of being fake lovers even during regular times. There’s only so far one can go in fabricating stories for the sake of appearances.”

“Hmm….”

Francesca seemed to consider this point seriously, nodding along.

“So you mean I need to keep pretending to be your lover even in the future?”

“What’s there to worry about?”

“There’s no particular concern… Just the eyes of those around us. The Hero, the Saint, my sister….”

I cast a nonchalant glance at Francesca, whose worried expression made her look concerned.

“What’s there to worry about? Just don’t get caught. Who suggested we openly walk around arm in arm? We’re only pretending anyway.”

At that, Francesca leaned her arms against the table, resting her hands atop, adopting a somewhat forward demeanor.

“…You’re not secretly harboring different feelings for me, right?”

“…….”

As I took out a cigarette, I glanced at her. Francesca smiled like a fox, illuminated by the moonlight, making her appear stunning.

In the silence, as we simply stared into each other’s eyes, I found myself chuckling at her boldness as I began to speak.

“Would you like to test that?”

What followed was a decision made impulsively.

A hand, threading through silky hair, gently cupped her face. For just a moment, I felt her soft skin. I leaned across the table and kissed her lips.

At that instant, it felt as if my breath had ceased. Time seemed to freeze.

As the warmth began to recede, I saw Francesca’s face, her eyes closed lightly in bliss. The arch of her eyelashes and lips formed a delicate line.

When she carefully opened her beautifully shaped eyes, she flashed a pleasant smile.

“That was my first kiss, though.”

“…….”

“I’m curious if this counts as part of our fake relationship as well.”

Against the backdrop of the frothy sea cliffs, the gentle melodies drifted in from behind a slightly ajar door as I savored the taste of wine amid my first kiss with Francesca.