A Dark Fantasy Spy

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I diligently followed the teaching to love all my neighbors.

Lucia always strived to offer equal love and mercy to everyone.

However, the human heart is a treacherous thing.

Even the saint, who treated everyone equally, had a favorite person.

Of course, she had no intention of disregarding or despising others. Before becoming a saint, Lucia was a priest, after all. As a priest, one must love all equally; favoritism cannot be allowed. That simply wouldn’t do.

Yeah.

It was certainly that way.

—

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

“You’re so fitting for the role, Saint! Just take a look in the mirror.”

“….”

Lucia stared at the mirror the nun held out to her in a daze.

The saint reflected in the mirror was objectively very beautiful.

With a height that easily surpassed the average and a slender figure that could give off a frail impression, anyone looking at her rosy cheeks could instinctively understand she was quite healthy.

Especially her eyes.

Eyes resembling the emerald sea. Deep yet warm. It was indescribable, but the sparkling blue beneath her thick eyebrows held something unusual.

Hence, the cardinals and bishops who faced Lucia often judged her to be an extraordinary figure.

At just over twenty, Lucia was acknowledged as a beauty by all.

“…….”

Though she saw her face every day, today her reflection felt somewhat awkward, prompting Lucia to subtly divert her gaze from the mirror.

“Is something wrong, Saint? Is the makeup not to your liking?”

“No, that’s not it….”

Lucia hesitated, her words trailing off in front of the worried nun.

“It’s just… it feels a bit odd….”

“Ah, you never really wore makeup before, did you?”

“That’s right.”

Lucia looked back at her reflection in the mirror at an angle.

With the help of her surroundings, she was trying makeup for the first time, and though it was slight, the change in her appearance felt somewhat stifling and awkward.

Yet the image reflected in the glass seemed sufficiently beautiful even to her own eyes.

To be honest, it wasn’t that bad.

Her skin appeared a bit more translucent, her eyes clearer. Strangely enough, her impression felt somewhat different.

Although she felt some discomfort and awkwardness due to being unaccustomed to makeup, it wasn’t unbearable, and she was sure the awkwardness would fade with familiarity. If only she could get used to it, that should be fine.

Then a thought suddenly crossed Lucia’s mind.

Would she actually like this?

“Um….”

Lucia sat in front of the mirror, deep in thought.

The nuns, watching the saint silently lost in contemplation, exchanged glances, whispering among themselves before shifting to reassuringly comfort Lucia.

“It might just feel unfamiliar since it’s your first time. After doing it a few times, you’ll feel completely at ease!”

There was a slight misunderstanding, but Lucia didn’t correct it.

Instead, she nodded in agreement.

“Is that so…?”

“Of course! However, it is surprising.”

“What’s surprising about it?”

“That you’re wearing makeup, Saint. You usually didn’t pay any attention to it, so is there suddenly a reason for it?”

“…Well, that is….”

Lucia fumbled for words, trailing off after a long silence with a response of ‘I just wanted to try.’

While the nuns and the saint were chatting around the mirror, a soft knock at the door broke the moment.

“Sorry to disturb you, but I have urgent news.”

“What is it, Father?”

“I received a word from the Inquisitor who went to meet you at the hotel. They’ll be arriving shortly.”

Upon hearing the report from the priest, Lucia began to remove her makeup. The change in atmosphere prompted the nuns to quietly put away the mirror and prepare warm water in a silver tray.

As each layer of bothersome and awkward makeup was washed away, the familiar face she had seen every day re-emerged.

After cleanly washing off the last of the makeup, Lucia wiped her face with a towel and stepped out onto the terrace.

The dark night sky.

The blue moon looked down upon the world.

A carriage was approaching, crossing the gravel road toward the cathedral.

—

The moonlit night bore a clear shade of blue.

Blue light hung in the window where the moonlight waned, tangled messily like threads across the night sky. The night sky over Lateran, deserving of the title “Holy Land,” was incredibly beautiful, yet I couldn’t spare a glance at the scenery.

I had no leisure to miss out on such a beautiful view, as a heavy worry filled my mind.

“Who called for me?”

“The Saint called for you.”

I was moving with a priest who introduced himself as coming from the cathedral. He had unexpectedly entered my hotel room to deliver the Saint’s message to prepare myself.

If a priest could freely move in and out of a hotel guarded by the police on the outside and the Inquisition on the inside, he likely wasn’t an ordinary priest. He could be a cleric from a central department or someone sent by high officials.

No matter what, there was no question that his identity was assured.

I directed a question toward the priest visible beyond the seat.

“Where are we going?”

“To the cathedral.”

“Which cathedral?”

The driver’s indifferent voice responded from the front.

“You’ll find out when we arrive.”

His answer was so unfriendly it could be called cold, but I didn’t mind.

The blunt priest slowly turned the steering wheel, and sitting in the back seat, I gazed absentmindedly out the window.

“We’re heading east.”

“Yes.”

There are three cathedrals in Lateran.

The Midous Cathedral, with the Pope’s seat.

The Altiora Cathedral, which has housed dozens of saints.

The Tranquille Cathedral, which was elevated with the birth of a new saint.

Among them, the cathedral in the east is Altiora Cathedral.

And in this era, where two saints coexist, there is only one owner of the Altiora Cathedral.

“…….”

I quietly pulled out a cigarette.

The sharp scent lingered on the tip of my tongue. The bitter Kien mountain tobacco expelled dense smoke forcefully. Like a candle burning itself out, the cigarette kept moving toward its end until it turned to ash and scattered.

In the distance stood a picturesque cathedral atop a low hill.

As I gazed up at the towering cathedral, I lifted my head to glance at the overcast night sky.

—

My relationship with Veronica isn’t as bad as one might think.

People clueless about the situation might guess that Veronica and I maintain a distant relationship due to her nationality (Veronica holds dual nationality as a citizen of the Kien Empire), but that’s not the case at all.

In reality, we get along quite well.

Even though we met as an information agent and an information officer, Veronica often provided me with considerable personal assistance. Of course, it wasn’t one-sided.

She often made personal requests of me.

To be precise, she entrusted me with her beloved younger siblings.

For instance, she’d ask me to make sure Lucia didn’t get involved in any strange matters while in the Magic Tower, or that nothing bad happened to Francesca.

If Veronica had been an ordinary information agent, I wouldn’t have felt obligated to fulfill her requests. Similarly, if I had been an average information officer, Veronica wouldn’t have entrusted her siblings to me.

For over ten years of cooperation with the Imperial Guard HQ, I’ve been ambushed more than a few times.

Veronica walked a path of unwanted clerical duty and suffered through various threats, and when crises arose, the Imperial Guard HQ didn’t provide adequate support.

Of course, that was entirely Veronica’s claim.

Considering the numerous variables in intelligence operations and how vulnerable they are to changes in internal and external environments, it’s conceivable the Imperial Guard HQ found itself in situations where they couldn’t act. Or perhaps they did help, but Veronica was unaware of it.

Originally, intelligence agencies are groups that boast neither pride nor excuses.

Whatever the case, one thing was clear: Veronica was dissatisfied with her treatment.

After discovering that Cardinal Raul had contacted the Empire, she promptly set a plan to escape its influence and seized the opportunity through me. I offered her safety, and thus she became my information agent.

Perhaps it was due to our unusual first meeting.

The bond we formed back then always had a certain peculiarity.

When I answered the phone with a standard “Hello,” she cheekily replied, “This isn’t ‘Hello.'”

She’d sneak up behind me and suddenly cover my eyes, asking, “Guess who?”

There were countless occasions when she brazenly barged into the accommodation I was staying at. There was even a time in Abas when she snuck into the military hospital where I had been hospitalized.

Thus, the relationship between Veronica and me was quite bizarre.

It was horizontal to call it an information agent and information officer, yet oddly vertical to call it friends.

Despite her playfulness, Veronica never crossed a line. Though she would pry into my affairs, she managed the tasks I set well, fetched necessary intel promptly, and even collected useful information without needing to be told.

Yet, she never demanded a price in return.

It sounds funny to say this now. Honestly, I’ve always found Veronica suspicious. An information agent working without compensation?

Having worked as an information officer for over ten years, I’d never seen an information agent do their job without receiving something in return. No one would casually joke with or initiate contact with an information officer without knowing their true identity.

Veronica was a one-off existence I had never encountered and a woman I couldn’t fully comprehend. So instead of pushing her away, I tended to keep a bit of distance.

However.

It seems that now, even that has reached its limit.

—

In the cathedral of the Holy Land, bathed in blue moonlight, I found myself face-to-face with its owner as I asked her:

“Veronica, do you, by any chance, like me?”

“…….”

Clatter.

The thick old-fashioned glass clattered to the floor. Veronica, momentarily forgetting she had dropped her glass, stared at me blankly.