A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The birth of a new saint was just around the corner.

Having two saints existing in one era was an unprecedented event in history.

With the papal inauguration ceremony scheduled, the canonization ceremony transcended the realm of a mere event for mainstream religion.

Historically, religious power has often collided with state power.

Religious leaders viewed secularism and materialism as contaminating the human spirit, while political leaders argued that religion, stripped of holiness, should be separated from politics.

This neighborhood was no different.

Conservative clerics and the religious leaders supported by them. A rigid social structure shaped by doctrine and law. A solid backing under the name of faith. Saints, whose very existence lies in the realm of the sacred and inviolable.

Within the religion, changes and reforms were hard to come by, and a complete revolution was even less likely.

Thus, most predicted that even with a new pope, there would be little change religiously or politically within the cult.

However, there was a variable that even prominent politicians and scholars hadn’t anticipated.

That was the birth of a new saint.

In other words,

The emergence of a new saint, breaking the truth that “only one saint can exist,” signified the rise of a new religious power and hinted at the potential for a generational shift within the cult.

—

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

Two days.

Exactly 48 hours remained until the canonization ceremony.

There had been numerous developments over the last few days. No, there had to be.

First, the diplomatic delegates had arrived in Lateran.

“How many have come?”

“I counted up to 117, but then I gave up. It looks like everyone who is going to come has already arrived.”

From the nations of the Mauritania continent and the islands of the distant east, the majority of the delegations invited to the canonization ceremony had set foot in the holy site of Lateran.

The grandeur of the canonization ceremony matched the illustrious backgrounds of the attendees.

There were crown princes and kings of ancient dynasties, a heavyweight president with over 30 years of political experience, a prime minister who had successfully served for nearly ten years, and the leader of a dictatorship elected with a voter approval rating rivaling Russian elections…

And with the believers of the cult arriving from across the globe, the serene holy site instantly transformed into a melting pot of races.

I gazed out the window, observing the bustling streets of the city.

Police managing lanes and crowds, tourists clustered together following guides with flags.

Photographers clicking away and reporters fixing their hair in front of magic imaging equipment. Politicians accompanied by officials and interpreters running around, sweating profusely.

It was as if an expo was being held instead of a canonization ceremony.

“Wow, it feels like a UN General Assembly.”

“Huh, what?”

“Just talking to myself.”

World leaders and officials didn’t arrive early at Lateran for lack of other engagements.

An international event is fundamentally a platform for unity, and especially so for governmental-level delegations that resemble high-end job markets.

The leaders and officials attending the canonization ceremony were managing a bustling schedule.

Every casual exchange of greetings and gestures in what appeared to be an unintentional gathering carried underlying meanings, and interpreters were busily translating the rapid-fire foreign language exchanges.

When such international events occur, the first to get the brunt of it was the local embassy, thus the diplomats stationed at the cult hurriedly darted around, changing shifts.

I was no exception.

“You look quite tired.”

“I lost sleep working through the night.”

The social club favored by diplomats, exhibitions attended by envoys’ wives, meetings with security authorities responsible for the safety of the canonization ceremony, forums featuring professors with international relations backgrounds, embassy-hosted receptions, and more.

As I wandered through the event venues, I stifled a yawn and waved my hand dismissively.

Suddenly, I felt a prickly gaze on my skin and quickly turned my head.

At the end of that stare stood a frowning power figure of the cult, Veronica, glaring at me with her arms crossed.

“…What do you want?”

Veronica eyed me with a look full of dissatisfaction.

“What is it?”

“I heard you partied all night at the embassy celebration yesterday. I guess drinking and partying counts as work in Abas?”

Veronica’s reaction was nothing short of intense.

Her disheveled hair and dark circles around her eyes were hard to conceal, despite her beauty and the magic of makeup. The fatigue was written all over her face.

Transforming into a half-walking corpse, Veronica gripped her fountain pen tightly and mumbled in grievance.

“Some people have to wrangle with old folks without a break… and here I am, just trying to enjoy a drink outside… Ugh.”

“Hey! I didn’t go there to drink and party!”

“I already know you weren’t on the attendee list but asked the diplomats to let you in!”

“Busted.”

“Geez, seriously. Why do you do things without being asked?”

Indeed.

Veronica was bogged down with work. As someone experienced with canonization, she was trying to guide her successor, Lucia, ensuring her younger sister’s ceremony concluded successfully.

Of course, Veronica’s duties extended beyond preparations for the canonization. She also needed to prepare for the upcoming papal inauguration.

With four power figures of the cult in total and three currently absent, the surge of foreign leaders and officials coming in created quite a scene.

When it came to greeting foreign dignitaries, someone with a low workload would need to step up.

And among those deemed fitting for interactions with such dignitaries, it was none other than—

“Why should I do the work…?!”

That’s Veronica.

—

Humans are creatures of adaptation.

However, when environments shift unexpectedly like reeds bending in the wind, people often exhibit two general responses before they can adapt.

They either stubbornly cling to enduring through the change or express their fury when unable to adapt.

Veronica chose the latter.

“Ugh!”

Leaping from her chair, Veronica hurled an object.

The fountain pen she threw went flying! The amount of force and ink splattering all over suggested it had indeed broken.

I stared down at the expensive fountain pen rolling at my feet.

It was worth hundreds of thousands of won, a dream pen desired by anyone who had some experience handling fine writing instruments around here, now shattered by its owner’s outburst.

Should I mourn the loss of a luxury pen? Should I envy the purchasing power of a cleric who could afford to break such pens out of anger?

I wasn’t sure, but one thing was clear: she was still angry.

The cleric of the cult, Veronica, puffed out her cheeks and began venting her frustration.

“Even if I usually do my work half-heartedly, shirking my responsibilities during busy times is unacceptable!”

“Who exactly passed that work onto you?”

“Who? Obviously those old, dusty men!”

Veronica claimed she was burdened by the clerics of the cult. In truth, high-ranking priests, including bishops and cardinals, had piled the work on her.

She explained her situation like this:

“When I said I’d help Lucia prepare for the canonization, everyone was asking what was wrong with me.”

“And?”

“When I started doing the work, suddenly those old folks kept feeding me tasks! It started with canonization-related work. Gradually, they pushed everything onto me, even the preparations for the inauguration they should have handled!”

“Miscellaneous tasks?”

“Budget plans for the inauguration, managing venue landscaping, coordinating festival schedules, meeting with heads of state, and more.”

“….”

Those weren’t just miscellaneous tasks, you crazy woman.

Words of exasperation rose to my throat, but I swallowed hard to keep my temper in check.

“Why were such important matters being handled by bishops or cardinals? Reviewing that should have been your duty—weren’t those your tasks from the start…?”

“Well, originally, yes, but after slacking off for a few years, they begged me to take it on.”

I blinked repeatedly in disbelief at Veronica’s bold claims.

Here she was, the same woman who had come in tears, venting her anger upon the clerics, and throwing her fountain pen just minutes ago.

And it turned out that the cause of this entire mess lay squarely with her.

In other words?

“….”

With frustration boiling over, I inhaled deeply and let out a roar.

“Hey, you crazy idiot!”

Veronica, who had been sulking, jumped in surprise.

“Wh-What’s wrong…?”

“That was a task you were supposed to handle! And yet you offloaded it onto others and act like it’s not your fault?!”

She recoiled slightly, trembling for a moment.

“Wh-What did I do wrong? Do you think I’m the type to seek out tasks like you, Colonel?!”

Veronica moved her hands in front of her chest, yelling back.

“You, Colonel, go to events and parties without anyone asking you to! But I, I’m not just someone who’s going to do others’ dirty work!”

“Is that meant to be bragging?”

“No, it’s not bragging or anything! I’m a saint, not a slave who works day and night!”

“So what am I, then, a slave of the government?!”

“Wait, aren’t public servants technically supposed to be slaves…?”

“This isn’t going to work with words. Come here. Just one slap.”

As I tried to grab Veronica, who was attempting to escape my grasp, there was a knock at the hotel door. Just as I thought it sounded hurried, the voice of a hotel staff member wafted through the door.

“Colonel, I’m sorry to interrupt your rest, but…”

“What is it?”

“We just received a call from a cardinal in the National Affairs Council. He inquired if you knew about the status of Saint Veronica. I didn’t catch the details, but it seems urgent.”

“Yikes…!”

Upon hearing that the Holy See was looking for her, Veronica’s face drained of color.

Just seconds ago, she’d been dodging and weaving to escape me, but now she grabbed my hand and pleaded.

“Please don’t tell them I’m here….”

“….”

“If they try to check in, absolutely do not let them in. No, just don’t open the door!”

Veronica said that and then crawled under the bed. Not just hiding, but actually slinking under the bed.

Seeing her desperately pulling every trick to avoid getting caught, I couldn’t help but sigh.

“Ugh….”

—

After coaxing Veronica to come out, reassuring her I wouldn’t inform the National Affairs Council, I handed her over to the waiting clerics.

“How could you do this to me! Yes?!”

“Saint! This is troubling!”

“Aaah! Let go! What are you touching me for!?”

With Veronica surrounded by nuns as she got into the vehicle, I waved her off energetically.

Thus, my long and grueling time spent with Veronica came to an end.

As I dragged my exhausted body back to my hotel room, I was greeted by—

“Hey!”

Camila, lying on the bed, raised her hand in greeting while reading a book.

“What are you doing? Why are you in my room, Camila?”

“I came to visit.”

Camila grinned and threw a joke my way.

“I heard you were going to your deathbed but came back alive.”

“That phrase has been said days ago; are you still on about it?”

“It’s funny! You looked serious, but barely three hours later, you returned.”

Just minutes ago, Camila had taken over the very bed Veronica had been hiding under, munching on snacks with a look of pure bliss.

While I organized the papers on the table, Camila lazily craned her neck, resting her cheeks on the pillow, and said:

“You seem quite busy these days?”

“When have I not been busy?”

“Not that, though.”

Camila continued with a mischievous expression.

“Ever since you got here, it looks like you’ve been running around working instead. Although you could consider it a form of tourism.”

We participated in the canonization as Lucia’s coworkers, but unlike busy Lucia preparing for it, we didn’t have the necessity to be involved.

As designated to assist in ensuring the northern conflict concluded smoothly and someone who had achieved the deed of slaying demons, the empire and the cult honored our contributions with medals and first invited us to the canonization ceremony.

So, we were essentially guests in Lateran at this point.

“Quit working and take a break. Or at least hang out. There’s way more to enjoy here than it looks.”

Camila rambled while rolling on the bed, sharing her experiences.

In recent days, diplomats had come to her, presenting precious gifts, and she’d received heaps of presents sent to Francesca from the Ivory Tower. She praised the beauty of the historical heritage of the streets and the grandeur of the cathedrals built over centuries.

“The food is nice too, with many sights to see. Yesterday, I went to a restaurant with Francesca, and the pasta we had tasted like ketchup mixed with some pasta. Francesca got really mad.”

“Sounds amusing.”

“Then come out with me. You’ll wear yourself out working all the time. I once got sick from not sleeping while volunteering in Iraq, so I have a bit of experience.”

Thanks to the cult looking after us, we could wash our clothes clean and safely. Not even a listening device had been discovered amidst the suits and accessories.

While checking the suit I had sent for laundry, I replied:

“I prefer working to resting.”

“Isn’t it because you like going to parties, indulging in leisure?”

“Ah, not that again… I don’t go there just to have fun.”

“Really?”

“…Well, maybe a little fun could happen.”

Camila beamed in excitement at my reluctant admission.

“Don’t lie! I know you just went to work all masked up saying you’re there to help. If you keep working like this, you might collapse. Honestly, you deserve a break.”

“People want to meet me so much that I’m busy scheduling appointments. I think I’ll need to sort out a few to meet soon, but could you help review that when you have some free time?”

“Will looking over that allow you to rest?”

“Rest? What are you talking about? I need to prepare for my next deployment.”

“Deployment?”

Camila, who had been lounging on the bed, popped up excitedly at the mention of deployment. Her eyes sparkled with eagerness.

“When? Where to?”

“Nothing has been confirmed yet, but the Mauritania continent seems to be the strongest candidate.”

“Ah, it’s similar to the Middle East?”

“More like a mix of the Middle East and Africa. It’s practically a nest of trouble.”

Rebel groups fortified in the highlands, beasts charging through the plains, and occasional coup d’états every now and then.

It was chaos, but there was something more important.

“I believe the next partner designated by the oracle is in that area.”

On the day Camila was summoned, another individual appeared in the oracle’s prophecy, and they were in the Mauritania continent.

“Is that certain?”

“It’s a strong possibility.”

“What’s the basis for that ‘possibility’?”

“The reasoning has a relatively solid foundation. It’s quite complicated to explain, but it’s a conclusion we’ve arrived at through discussions between the cult and the companies operating in that area.”

“Hmm… Searching for one person in such a vast continent is equivalent to finding a needle in a haystack.”

“This kind of work is typically done like this. It’s best to get used to it.”

“That I know, but… well, let’s tackle the present situation at hand before dealing with what’s to come.”

As she said something seemingly wise, she sat up again, jokingly adding:

“So, will you take time off? The canonization is only three days away, and everyone’s celebrating outside.”

Then she added, half-jokingly:

“If you refuse again, I’ll set something ablaze.”

“That’s just a joke, right?”

“….”

“Please tell me that’s a joke…?”

In the end, I reluctantly agreed to Camila’s proposal.

It was a joke that didn’t feel like one.