A Dark Fantasy Spy

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When you step out of the elevator on the fifth floor, the dimly lit corridor dominated by iron doors, faintly illuminated by flickering fluorescent lights, comes into view.

A modest signboard inscribed with ‘Hanbyeol World Tour’ hangs awkwardly on the thickly painted gray door.

‘Hanbyeol World Tour’ was a small travel agency that managed to survive amidst the collapse of large airlines and travel agencies caused by COVID-19, consistently generating revenue.

However, aside from the building manager who drops by daily to complain about the high utility bills and the delivery riders who come in with their arms full of food, almost no one visits this agency for personal matters.

The Section Chief Kim of Hanbyeol World Tour was a man who didn’t fit into any of the previous examples. He was indeed an employee of this travel agency.

However, those who personally knew him from the military academy and those who visited the office for official business sometimes referred to such a small travel agency in this way.

Information Command Branch Office.

Kim, the section chief of Hanbyeol World Tour and a junior lieutenant at the Ministry of Defense’s Information Command, called out to his senior with a polite posture, holding a yellow binder.

“Manager! Manager, wake up! It’s lunchtime.”

I, sitting at my desk with my chin resting in my hands, groggily checked the time with bleary eyes.

“…Lunchtime, huh.”

Lunchtime. The rare joy that employees in South Korea look forward to at work.

Normally, I would have dashed off to devour a hearty meal of Korean food prepared by the cafeteria lady, but today, even moving felt bothersome.

“Let’s order delivery.”

“Delivery again? Didn’t you just order kimchi stew yesterday?”

“Then let’s get Chinese food. I want jjajangmyeon.”

“What about sweet and sour pork?”

“Just remember last time when we poured the sauce on it; it was a mess.”

Leaving my card on the desk, I sighed while gazing at the mountain of operation plans before me.

“…Sigh.”

Another business trip, it seems.

Extra Episode – Same day, same place, different exploits.

A business trip was scheduled.

The destination was Sudan, located on the African continent. A country devastated by the third civil war triggered by a coup by rebels.

I twirled the pen between my fingers as I flipped over the documents. It was a new operation description sent from headquarters.

The hundreds of pages contained comprehensive details, including an overview of the political, social, cultural, and economic situation in Sudan written by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, alongside data collected by the National Intelligence Service regarding the civil war.

Most of the document was filled with photographs and personnel information.

From colorfully decorated flags bearing Arabic inscriptions to the rebels donned in mismatched military uniforms picked up from who knows where, and the key leaders and executives apparently shared by the British SIS. There were even documents created by the intelligence agencies of surrounding countries.

At a glance, the materials looked like a headache waiting to happen.

Conflict zones are the perfect neighborhood for weapon trading. And the security in these conflict areas is as dangerous as the slums of Latin America, the countryside of Afghanistan, or the foreigner enclaves of Central African nations.

With the government’s influence loosened, such chaotic areas mean that North Korean operatives and our own wouldn’t hesitate to apply force.

Going in like this would likely lead the operation down a messy path. So what can I do? Gotta prepare before entering.

I called out to Section Chief Kim over the desk.

“Kim!”

“Yes, Manager! Did you call for me?”

“Contact the workshop and warehouse in Sudan.”

The workshop refers to the local branch office of the Intelligence Command, while the warehouse is a slang term for the embassy.

Delegating the task to my junior officer, I redirected my gaze back to the operations manual.

Besides checking the necessary arrangements for the mission, I couldn’t ignore verifying the identities of the targets: the red scum and the bodyguards dispatched from that embassy. That was crucial.

While doodling on a notepad and rummaging through documents, a particularly important piece of information caught my eye.

“What? Why is the deadline like this?”

The deadline stated in the explanation was set for the end of this month. That meant there wasn’t even a full three weeks left.

Time was tight. There was no room to set up an information network after sending in the advance team. It meant either recycling existing networks or I’d have to jump in personally on-site.

“…Tsk.”

What kind of trouble has that red scum stirred up again to warrant this? Tossing my pen into the corner of the desk, I grabbed my smartphone and impatiently dialed a number.

Considering that Cairo is seven hours ahead of Seoul, it was likely still early morning there. Yet even with just a few rings, the other end picked up eagerly.

“Peace be upon you (ٱلسَّلَامُ عَلَيْكُمْ). This is Team Leader Choi from Dongil Trading.”

-‘May peace be upon you too (وعليكم السلام). Long time no see! What’s up?’

“I called because I urgently need to discuss a business matter. Is now a good time to talk?”

I reached out to a friend in the Egyptian intelligence agency for help.

-‘Of course! How could I refuse when a friend needs assistance?’

“I’ve heard that the rebels in Sudan have recently been looking for military electronic equipment. Do you happen to know anything about it?”

*

Information gathering for the Khartoum trip was nearly complete. I arranged flights suitable for the team size and checked the emergency contacts and escape routes, as well as contingencies.

As evening approached and office hours drew near, I stepped outside to smoke on the rooftop with a view of the city’s nightscape.

It was at that moment that I received news that our smoothly progressing trip preparations had hit a snag.

“What? We don’t have the equipment?!”

“That’s right.”

The news was that the equipment meant for the trip wasn’t available locally. As I dialed around, the section chief arrived on the rooftop and started explaining.

“I asked the workshop and warehouse, but they said all the supplies have run out.”

“What have they been doing all this time, not restocking?”

“They took everything from the last operation, leaving not a single dust particle behind. Not even enough for themselves… What should we do?”

“We’ll have to go to the factory and get it. You take the kids and get the car going.”

We hopped into the section chief’s car and headed to headquarters. The Information Command, situated in a certain location in Gyeonggi-do. The employees called it ‘the factory.’

After crossing the Han River and hitting the highway, we finally arrived at the factory where a familiar face awaited us.

“Oh, Manager, you’re here?”

“Beom-soo! Long time no see! How have you been?”

“I’ve been good. I was surprised to get a call out of the blue at quitting time. You’re here to pick up gear, right?”

“Yup.”

“Hurry inside.”

The plump and affable senior, with a warm smile, held the RFID access card to the iron door.

Inside the material storage room set up in the factory, various electronic devices were stacked high.

With skillful hands, my senior pulled out a hefty Pelican case and, tapping the exterior with his thick fingers, said:

“This is the Israeli eavesdropping equipment you requested. Shine a laser on it, and it’ll analyze sound waves on its own. You know how to use it, right?”

“I’ve used it a few times.”

“Right, right. The counter-surveillance gear is over there, and the radios you’ll be using are here. They jump frequencies, can send messages via keypad, are capable of remote monitoring, disabling, and even intercepting other people’s communications.”

“Cool.”

As I received the radio, I asked my senior about other equipment.

“What about the others?”

“The others? You wouldn’t need a gun, would you?”

He pointed to a sign that read ‘Armory’ further inside the warehouse. I shook my head.

“Guns are everywhere on-site.”

Unless it’s something like a sniper rifle requiring precision, you could find just about any regular weapon in the black market. If you need reliability, assembling from good parts would also work.

However, I wasn’t looking to borrow firearms today.

“I’m just here to get body armor.”

“Body armor? Didn’t you buy one last time? What was it, the heavy-duty stuff from the enthusiast group?”

“I’ve got the plate carrier. But I don’t have the plates.”

I had used up all the plates I bought last time. Sure, I could find more locally if I sought it, but…

“What if you buy some lousy ones and they cause a problem? You don’t want to end up like SpongeBob, do you?”

It would be a huge loss if something went wrong. I must avoid loss at all costs.

In the end, my senior brought over the body armor plates from the warehouse.

“I’ve brought plenty. Don’t get hurt out there.”

“Thanks, senior. I’ll contact you once I’m back.”

“Just make sure you get the gear back in one piece, you brat.”

*

The day after the equipment was issued, the higher-ups issued passports and ID cards. From that day forward, I communicated with the local branch office while finalizing last-minute checks.

The day of departure finally arrived.

“We’re going to be late. Let’s hurry and board.”

“I want a window seat.”

“You had a window seat last time. Have some conscience and take the aisle this time.”

The plane carrying many Joseonjok with Chinese passports ascended into the airport sky.

The destination was Cairo.

Once we arrived in Egypt, the plan was to cross the border into Sudan within two days. In a way, this was the starting point for this trip.

“Grab some in-flight meals and catch some sleep. Once we land, we’ll have to dash south.”

“Okay.”

“Unjeong, make sure to prep ahead. Don’t end up struggling like last time due to jet lag.”

“Oh please. Jet lag is just eating a meal when you arrive and going to bed.”

“That’s nonsense.”

I sipped the beverage served by the stewardess and popped in my earphones.

The video downloaded just before boarding featured an Al Jazeera anchor discussing the civil war in Sudan.

An international flight bound for Cairo from Incheon Airport.

The massive silver wings soared through the clouds towards the dark continent.

*

The London sky was nothing but gloom upon gloom.

Infamous for its dreary gray skies, London was perpetually overcast. The misty rain from dawn mingled with the noxious air released by factories and homes, painting the city in shades of gray.

Though I wake up to this view every morning, adapting to an English morning with not a single ray of sunlight proved difficult.

Once I graduate, I must land a job that sends me to sunny countries for business trips, no matter what.

Even while half-asleep, the university student buried himself under the blankets in resolve.

“Wake up.”

A familiar voice accompanied by a knock on the door rang out.

“Wake up. We need to leave now.”

“Ugh… Just ten more minutes….”

“You’ll miss the flight at this rate.”

Muffled noises resembling baby talk trickled from deep within the covers.

The room, where the sleepy mumblings echoed, wasn’t lacking in scenic views either. A suitcase filled to the brim, as if it might burst at any moment if nudged, sat there.

On the desk behind the suitcase sat an array of colorful frames. Pictures taken against the backdrops of Eastern Europe, the USA, Canada, Hong Kong, Afghanistan, and South Sudan.

Though the backgrounds varied, it was seemingly simple to deduce the identity of the protagonist in the photos.

If you were to stop any passing citizen in London and ask who the owner of those pictures was, without fail, they would answer it was a girl with radiant red hair bearing a beaming smile.

Ugh.

A deep sigh escaped from beyond the door.

It wasn’t a very loud sigh, but it was enough to disturb someone seeking a good night’s rest.

Thus, checking the time on the screen of the Apple smartphone charging beside him, the university student kicked off the blankets and got up.

“Ahhh! The plane, the plane…!”

With her messy hair tousled by her hands, Camila plopped down on the bed and screamed.