A Dark Fantasy Spy

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“Hey.”

I jolted awake to the voice calling me.

Though my eyes opened, my tired body struggled to move. Perhaps it was due to being thrown into the field without adjusting to the time difference. Or maybe it was just the in-flight meal I had on the Iranian airline that was still sitting heavy in my stomach.

Pulling my windbreaker up against the chill of the desert night’s air, I sank deeper into the passenger seat and replied.

“What?”

“What is religion, anyway?”

An unexpectedly philosophical question. I rolled my eyes, trying to see the driver beside me.

There was a Middle-Eastern guy with a thin demeanor.

Born in Germany, he was a Jewish immigrant who moved to Israel. He chased down his roots in Jerusalem because his mother was Jewish, and today, like always, he started babbling some scatterbrained stuff.

“Why are you asking that out of the blue? Did the early morning make you more sensitive?”

“No, just… it’s a topic worth pondering at least once in life, right? What’s the joy in living without such concerns?”

“You little… have you improved your Korean while I wasn’t watching? You’re writing too.”

“Welcome, Kimchi brat. Anyway, just answer the question. I’m bored.”

“Religion is just religion, that’s all.”

A cold Middle-Eastern night.

Heavy air settled over the Samand, a car developed in Iran that held the most influence in the crescent belt (a term for Shiite-ally countries spanning Iran, Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon) and stood against the Sunni-superpower Saudi Arabia, which is Israel’s primary adversary.

The Israeli driving the Iranian national car stared blankly at the view of Tehran reflected in the window.

“Did you know? There are Muslims who go on pilgrimages to Jerusalem.”

“Yeah, I know. Jerusalem is a holy place for Islam. Al-Aqsa is there, right?”

“When I first arrived in Israel with my mother, the first place I went was Jerusalem. That’s where I met my first Muslim.”

“And?”

“But my mother’s friends from Jerusalem told me that all pilgrims coming to Jerusalem were terrorists. They said I shouldn’t even talk to them.”

“Sounds like sensitive folks regarding religion.”

The Jewish man leaning against the window chuckled.

“Isn’t it funny?”

“What’s funny?”

“Well, think about it. When Hitler was alive, they wouldn’t even have made it to Jerusalem—might have been dragged off to a concentration camp instead. And now, for just Jerusalem, they went to war. Four times, no less.”

“And?”

“And now they slap on good words like reconciliation, dropping bombs on Palestinians and seeing kids fighting in Muslim quarters. Isn’t that a bit ridiculous? Strip away the religion, and they’re all just the same.”

“….”

“Why does religion even exist? If we had no such thing, I wouldn’t be stuck in Tehran like this.”

Silence blanketed the interior of the Samand as the radio crackled to life.

A signal from Assistant Manager Seo, coming from the toolbox at my feet. I pulled out the radio and placed it on the glove box, handing the Iraqi pistol I had taken out from the toolbox to the Mossad agent.

“The vehicle has been identified. It’s still three blocks away. If it’s moving like usual, it should pass by here.”

“Is there a passenger?”

“Just the driver and a bodyguard from the Revolutionary Guards. And don’t forget.”

I placed my hand on the doorknob and warned him.

“Quickly take out the two people besides the target and extract only the target. If possible, seize any information inside the vehicle. Without that, both our companies will be in deep trouble. I might be fine, but if you’re caught in an Iranian jail, you’ll be dead for sure. Or worse, become someone’s lackey.”

“….”

“Stop daydreaming and focus. We need to grab it before the Revolutionary Guards show up.”

“…Yeah.”

The door opened.

“Let’s get to work.”

—

Episode 14 – One religion, One faith, Two saints

My adventure with Camila as we sneaked into the Cathedral of Tranquille to meet Lucia ended rather anticlimactically.

Hiding from the priest and monk, I returned to the reception room while stuffing myself into the magical tool, and Camila kept throwing questions at me.

“What happened?”

“…….”

“Oh, we went through so much to get here! Come on, tell me. Huh?”

Despite Camila’s insistence, my mouth wouldn’t budge.

Understandably so, how could I explain that Lucia had a fallout with the Pope, calling him an old fart right in front of Pope John XVI? I wanted to keep it under wraps, but Lucia asked me to tell her the situation as part of the cooperation, so I had no choice but to spill the truth.

“Nothing really happened. Is that really all there is, Colonel?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

The Cult’s saint, Veronica, looked utterly flabbergasted.

“Are you telling me our sister had a chat with that old fart about religion and ended up having an argument? That because of saying confession is useless, an eighty-year-old man ready to kick the bucket stormed out like a child?”

“That’s what Lucia said. She didn’t seem to be lying about it.”

“Wow….”

Seated on the sofa wearing pure white attire symbolizing a saint with red shoes, she considered everything before muttering.

“Why would an old timer on the verge of retirement call our sister for such a smelly conversation? Is it finally his time to go…?”

Veronica looked completely lost.

She had the same expression as a kindergarten child receiving ginseng candy from a grandfather, and I, worn out, shrugged it off.

“I guess even the Pope got bored being alone.”

“No!”

Veronica, hitting her chest, was throwing a fit like a child.

All her anger directed at the current Pope, the retiring John XVI.

“If he’s bored, he should go and take a walk! Why is he pestering poor Lucia who’s just trying to grow up?! There’s going to be a canonization ceremony soon—what if he passes his stench onto her?!”

“…What on earth goes through your mind for something like that to come out of your mouth…?”

I shot her a look of disbelief, but she continued to dodge the question without any shame.

I wondered if the reason Lucia had changed was because she was constantly around such a person all her youth. Indeed, the saying about environment being important seems to have its merit.

Regardless, my and Veronica’s worries subsided.

It was hard to fathom why two religious people had a fallout over something like that, but it didn’t seem significant enough to stress over.

“Still, I’m relieved it wasn’t as serious as I feared.”

“While it is a relief, I’m still puzzled why that old fart the Pope would ask Lucia such a question.”

“Well… it is puzzling, but there’s no problem, right? Let’s think positively.”

I shrugged as I answered.

“Isn’t a good thing just a good thing?”

—

Lucia and the Pope’s political rivalry was wrapped up in a minor misunderstanding.

Perhaps due to the tension from the fatigue, as soon as the fuss passed, I fell into a deep sleep the moment I entered the hotel.

Waking up from a solid slumber, I began to notice some changes.

“Have you been well, Frederick?”

First, Lucia resumed her external activities. After having a full-blown argument with the Pope and going into hiding, she stepped back into the world less than a half-day later.

“Long time no see, Lucia.”

“Good to see you again.”

Though I had already infiltrated the Cathedral and talked with her, Lucia treated me as if we hadn’t met in two weeks.

Breaking her seclusion, Lucia wandered around, handling various tasks as she used to.

Even while the atmosphere was troubled, her diligent nature did not dull, as Lucia, despite having been holed up, never neglected any details regarding the preparations for the canonization ceremony.

The bishops were lavish in their praises for Lucia, contrasting her to playful Veronica.

Of course,

“How can Saint Lucia be so diligent?”

“It’s just her natural talent.”

“But I hear rumors that there was some awkward fuss with the Pope and the saint… Do you know anything about this, Colonel?”

“I’m not too familiar with the church’s internal matters, so I can’t really comment on the validity of those rumors.”

Most were just rumors claiming that the saint and the Pope had clashed, trying to dig deeper for the truth.

Upon hearing that Lucia had come to visit, I casually popped into the hotel to deal with the political people from the church, ensuring I had not missed any information about them.

There were even larger changes to observe.

[…A boat with a green flag has docked at the holy land of the Cult, the Lateran. The Crown Prince Hashim from the Mauritania Continent is warmly welcomed by the bishop of the Cult.]

[…Prime Minister Asud is set to meet with Cardinal Raphael, appointed as the successor to Pope John XVI, on the 22nd. Prime Minister Asud, who eliminated royal family members through a coup, is…]

[The unstable situation on the Mauritania Continent is affecting the global magic crystal market and international affairs, and the foreign ministers from the Mauritania Continent are gathering at the Lateran. We’ll connect to the reporters on scene.]

Heads of various governments and their retinues began to arrive into the Cult.

Given that the canonization ceremony was still three days away, it was undoubtedly a politically motivated action.

-‘I heard that sand people are sniffing around the Cult.’

“Yes, confirmed, Director.”

-‘I ordered the employees out at the embassy to find out what kind of schemes they were up to, so you just stick by the hero’s side.’

Unlike the decidedly safe continent apart from magic people, the Mauritania Continent’s unstable security was a trigger for rapidly changing situations.

Thus, people from that continent visiting the Cult were certainly divided into two categories.

Strategists scheming in the chaos, peering into the far future.

Or those reaching out with sheer desperation, like pseudo-refugees wanting to escape harsh reality.

Whichever group they belonged to, they weren’t welcome.

Leoni promptly pointed that out.

-‘Both the ones who seem clueless and those concocting conspiracies are a problem. Be careful of the snakes who’d crush a few villages chasing after a piece of land the size of a palm. If anyone does something foolish…’

“I’ll report it right away.”

-‘Good to have someone quick on the draw.’

I was tasked with monitoring the surrounding environment to prevent the leeches from the desert from latching onto Camila.

Since it was a usual task now, it was nothing new, and there weren’t many options available for newly arrived individuals at the Cult, so it wasn’t particularly hard.

What truly troubled me was neither the political schemers of the Cult nor the conspirators from the Mauritania Continent.

“Wow! Look at this!”

That was none other than Camila, the red-haired girl from England.

“Glowing dragon!”

Camila burst into the hotel room, her hands raised high in joy. Perched on her palm was a tiny dragon.

When I turned off the lights, the dragon began to glow a fluorescent color. As it twisted its body, it let out a strange sound, and the carved scales sparkled in the darkness.

“Where did you find that?”

“I ran into some people who introduced themselves as diplomats on the way to the hotel, and they just wanted to give me a gift! Apparently, it’s an artificial dragon made with great effort by the royal family’s magician! Though they call it a dragon, it’s basically a statue. They promised to show me a real dragon if I visited their kingdom.”

“These jerks… Camila, do you remember their faces?”

“Not really. It was a generic look and their names were complicated, but I got their business cards. If you want to do a background check, here you go.”

An unpredictable ball like Camila always caused a commotion wherever she went. Though I had assigned multiple bodyguards through the Inquisition to keep her safe, foreign diplomats would appear out of nowhere, hovering around her.

Luckily, Camila memorized all their info and squealed on them to me. For anyone who seemed suspicious (I suspected them to be information agency agents), she even managed to bring their business cards back.

“Isn’t it so cute?”

Camila surrounded by gifts, buried under piles of them, was admiring her glowing dragon (a moving statue). I looked at her with a disapproving gaze.

“At your age, do you really want to play with such toys?”

“Why not! It’s super fascinating!”

“Oh please….”

“Come on, get under the blanket with me. It’s a totally different vibe watching it in the dark versus in the light!”

You do you.

—

The storm of change crashed around me, creating chaos.

Lucia, the centerpiece of the canonization ceremony, was bustling about in preparation, and Veronica, who experienced a canonization as a saint, was giving her younger sister advice to make the moment shine even brighter.

Watching the carefree Veronica take the lead was almost enough to make me question if this really was the same Veronica I knew.

“They say if a person suddenly changes, something’s up. I can’t help but wonder if something bad is going to happen to Veronica.”

“Hmm….”

Francesca, leaning against the head of the bed, let out a peculiar hum and smiled.

“Why do you think that, Colonel? People can change after all.”

“From my experience, people can never be rehabilitated.”

“That’s a harsh take on your sister.”

“Who’s fault do you think that is?”

While the winds of change blew through, stirred by the preparations for the canonization ceremony and visits from dignitaries from all over, Francesca observed calmly like a spectator watching a game.

The storm of change had left my surroundings in total disarray, but the real storm was yet to arrive.

“Oh dear….”

I tossed a document onto her side. It was the one I had just been reading from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs regarding the Magic Tower.

“Seems there won’t be anyone from the Magic Tower participating in this canonization ceremony. No one coming to represent the Magic Tower.”

The canonization ceremony is said to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for those who witness it.

It’s a monumental event that spreads a festive atmosphere across the continents, yet the Magic Tower seemed to be stepping back from this celebration entirely.

“Looks like their internal troubles aren’t sorted out yet, huh?”

“With a necromancer surfacing, there’s no way it could be resolved easily.”

The demon incident in the conflict zones of the north.

The five necromancers, led by Juan Pablo Martinez, were revealed to be masterminds behind that large-scale incident.

The Magic Tower’s public security team promptly began an investigation following Francesca’s report, and after several verification processes, acknowledged that a necromancer was indeed present among their ranks.

The real problem was that these necromancers weren’t just ordinary mages associated with the Magic Tower—they were employees of the Secretariat, which leads to the heart of the Tower.

Although this incident had yet to be made public, it was only a matter of time before the truth hit the media. While Lucia was a colleague of Francesca and one among the five who fought demons, she was also a direct victim of that incident.

In such circumstances, the possibility of the Magic Tower participating in Lucia’s canonization ceremony would pose significant political and diplomatic controversy.

“Sending diplomats from the Tower right now would surely leave the mages with no face and end up hearing claims they’ve no shame in the midst of chaos, right?”

“Exactly.”

Though it was the necromancers’ guilt that summoned the demons, the Tower could not absolve itself from this problem. After all, the group that sent the necromancers into the Empire was the Tower’s government.

The Tower failed its suitability verification during delegation formation and could not prevent necromancers from infiltrating the Secretariat. Though it was the necromancers who committed the crime, interpreted another way, the Tower’s failure to manage its internals deemed it indirectly responsible for this incident.

Given such a scenario, how could the Tower possibly send someone to Lucia’s canonization ceremony? It was obvious they’d end up getting double the blame once the truth came to light.

However, the predicament was not solely born by the Tower.

I cradled my head in my hands as I leaned back.

“Yet if that’s the case, your position becomes troublesome too, doesn’t it?”

“…….”

“You are leading the Magic Tower’s delegation. You’re the top official of the Secretariat.”

Francesca had represented the Magic Tower and participated in the northern conflict. Her official title was head of the Magic Tower delegation, and she commanded most of the Tower’s personnel aside from the Magic Battalion.

And the necromancers also had to answer to Francesca.

Had the Magic Tower sent a delegation to the canonization ceremony, the backlash would have likely directed at the Tower itself rather than Francesca. Blame always goes to the big fish and, anyhow, Francesca had merely executed her duties diligently under the Oracle’s orders.

However, now that the Tower was sending no one, once the truth from the demon incident surfaced, all eyes would undoubtedly focus on Francesca. Naturally, she would become the scapegoat.

She’d be attending the canonization ceremony while knowing very well that Lucia might die.

It’s a sensational story, but there couldn’t be a better material for an article.

What mattered was that it was my job to prevent such incidents from occurring.

And Francesca was also more than clever enough to foresee the kind of backlash that would come from such events.

“Let’s prepare for a show soon.”

I said to Francesca.

“There must be a way you can handle this situation considering your personality. So, when will you share how you plan to do so?”

“…….”

Francesca, resting against the head of the bed, suddenly gazed out the window.

A solitary owl arrived softly, landing on the terrace bathed in bright moonlight.

Staring blankly at the unexpected visitor, Francesca turned her eyes to meet mine.

With a faint smile, she replied.

“Thank you for your concern, Colonel.”

“Yes?”

“The problem seems to have already been solved.”