A Dark Fantasy Spy

---

Camila Lowell is a troublemaker.

Although she attends a world-renowned university, intellect and character do not necessarily correlate, and being counted among Britain’s finest minds, Camila was always at the center of incidents.

It’s not her fault.

What can one expect from a university student who was prepping for graduation just yesterday?

Left alone in an unfamiliar world, Camila is a foreigner and a lost wanderer.

If her only source of support is the romance she feels towards spies in movies and her longing for the Information Agency, it’s understandable that she’d ignore the life advice from upperclassmen telling her not to get involved in company matters and to look for other jobs, while she lurks around the information industry.

It was an entirely understandable situation. It was something I could empathize with.

That’s why I’ve never really scolded Camila for her impulsive actions. I thought the wandering of a reckless university student would improve with time.

But accidents always come unannounced.

Life never flows as intended.

“No, Camila, what nonsense are you talking about?”

“I want to go too…!”

“…Here we go again.”

When Camila started throwing a tantrum, I regretted leaving my bat at home.

I was serious.

—

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

—

On the very day I successfully crossed the border.

I dropped by my accommodations to change clothes and headed to a nearby hotel café.

There, I’d connect with Camila to check her status and align our stories for when inquiries came later, aiming to achieve at least the mission’s primary objective.

In short, it was a rigged game of Go-Stop.

It was a perfect day.

At least, until just now.

“You want me to take you to the scene?”

At Camila’s ridiculous first line, I quickly lowered my voice and snapped at her.

“Camila, are you out of your mind? What kind of nonsense is that?”

“Just what it sounds like. I want to go with you.”

This incident was a rigged game of Go-Stop between Camila and me.

If she leaves the country without permission, I’d have to be dispatched to the Mauritania Continent to catch her. Camila, alone with military-grade firepower, is not someone to be taken lightly. Her safety is a matter of interest for all information agencies.

Her sudden departure was meant to create an irresistible excuse to send me on a mission; thus, Camila had to return to the Kien Empire exactly three days after I arrived in Mauritania.

That was what we had agreed upon beforehand.

The problem was,

“What if you stab me in the back?”

Camila betrayed me.

“We promised I’d quietly return after three days. How can you just change your mind?”

“No, I mean… I initially intended to return quietly….”

Camila, twisting her body, dropped her gaze.

She looked like a kid lingering in front of a cart, holding onto a toy her parents warned her not to buy. She had leaped forward on a whim but now seemed frightened of the consequences.

“But I did!”

“…….”

Glance. For a moment, her blue eyes swept over my face.

After getting a read on my mood, Camila, in a small voice, blurted out,

“Now that I’ve come this far, I’d feel bad just turning back….”

“…So you want to follow me?”

Camila nodded her head.

I stared at her in silence.

“…….”

As the silence continued, Camila, who was nervously glancing around, shrank her neck. It was quite amusing to see her retract her neck like a turtle, but given the circumstances, I couldn’t laugh.

Silence persisted, and her uneasy glances poked at me. Unable to endure the awkwardness, she seemed to make a decision and peeked her head forward.

Then she said,

“Anyway, take me with you!”

“…….”

Her rather loud declaration made my ears ring. But more than the confusion, anger surged first.

What on earth is she making a big deal about now?

But I didn’t burst out.

“Where do you think you’re getting so loud—urk…!”

While I was about to unleash a roaring response, I grabbed my neck and sank into my chair. My outfit flipped upside down, and my blood pressure shot up.

My nicotine-clogged arteries couldn’t endure the suddenly elevated blood pressure and declared a strike, leaving me looking foolish as I slumped in my chair, holding my neck.

“Hey, what’s wrong all of a sudden? Calm down, calm down!”

“Damn it… I’m calming down… ugh…!”

“Gyaaah!”

Overcome by the gazes pouring in from all directions, I trembled and pointed at Camila with shaky legs.

“You, you. We’ll see each other later…!”

—

Leaving behind that pesky snack I had cleared out, I successfully finished my snack revenge on Camila and returned to my primary duties.

Once out of the accommodations, I notified Leoni of my arrival at the Mauritania Continent via our regular communication line.

Cargo delivery complete.

Safe transaction executed.

The 13-character transmission flew to the Military Intelligence Agency’s communications department through a prepaid phone.

Now that I had completed the communication report, it was time to dispose of the devices.

Since there was a risk of being detected by interception units during communication with headquarters, I made the first transmission from outside. The problem was how to destroy the communication device without any specialized equipment.

This was surprisingly easy.

“…….”

I detached the magic battery from the prepaid phone and the parts from the main device.

Messages exchanged with a fake office were recorded on a magically enchanted storage device, so that needed to be destroyed first.

I smashed the storage device to bits with my boot and swept up the shards with my foot, tossing them into the gutter. Then, I casually disposed of the remaining parts in distant gutters as well.

I checked if I hadn’t been tailed before tossing the mobile phone away.

“…….”

I surveyed the bustling market and commercial buildings for any conspicuous individuals. Sunglasses that blocked out sunlight were a suitable tool for obscuring my line of sight.

Parked vehicles and road mirrors also worked well. The mirrors reflecting the street scene became another eye to glimpse behind, where sight couldn’t reach.

Perhaps because it was the capital?

Security was surprisingly good in a civil war area dominated by warlords. It seemed the government army had a firm grip on the area, stabilizing the situation.

But to engage in ‘business,’ I had to leave this place. The warlord-occupied areas lie far from the capital, so I might have to even change the current lodging.

Having scanned the area for any noticeable humans, I returned to my accommodations after confirming there were no tails.

And as soon as I turned on the light.

“Ah, damn it, you scared me!”

I jumped in surprise.

“…What are you doing here? Didn’t you go back to the hotel?”

“What do you mean going back? I had nothing to do in my room.”

It was Camila.

As she opened the door, she greeted me cheerfully, waving her hands.

I clicked my tongue, placing my accommodation key and pocket knife on the table.

“Even so, how can you just hang around here? It’s my place.”

“I’m an Information Agency person too, you know?”

“You’re an intern. What does an intern have to do with regular employees….”

The red-haired British girl slumped my sofa, hunched over like a soft-bodied creature.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“Help? What help could I possibly need? If you need my help, that would be a different story.”

“Eek….”

“Just hurry to the Empire already. If you’re not helping, then go back.”

“You said there’s nothing to help with!”

“Exactly, I’m telling you to go back.”

For a civilian to suddenly show up at my lodging is something that would make any information officer jump in fright, but I calmly cleared away the drink Camila had left behind. She had invaded my accommodations more times than I could count.

Initially, I had warned her not to visit but it turned out to be futile.

I’d grown weary of arguing with her each time, so now I simply didn’t mind whether she rifled through my belongings or slept on the sofa as long as she didn’t touch my stuff.

“…….”

I pulled out my Military Intelligence Agency terminal to check some documents.

The advantage of being in an unofficial disguise is the lack of restrictions, but there are bound to be many downsides due to the nature of being a civilian.

If it were an official disguise, the embassy would provide lodging and transportation, as well as handle communications and operations with headquarters, but that’s impossible for an unofficial disguise. Everything from communication and operational funds to equipment provisioning—even finding accommodations and feeding oneself—had to be handled independently.

Of course, there are advantages that outweigh those downsides.

I reviewed the operation order I received from headquarters just before departing.

“…….”

As the bluish screen glowed, a Military Intelligence Agency confidential document sat front and center.

I printed the document on paper and set the warm sheets aside for a moment to display a photo of a person on the screen.

“What are you doing?”

It was then that Camila, loitering around the accommodations, walked up beside me with a water bottle in hand. Just as she was about to gulp down some water, she paused at something and then bent down to point at the screen.

“Who is this?”

“This is my target.”

I tapped the photo with my fingernail.

“This is a warlord leader active in this area. The company wants me to contact this person.”

“Is it about recruitment?”

“Well, something like that.”

“What’s the reason behind it?”

With curiosity sparkling in her eyes, I smiled.

“Why would I tell you that? It’s company business. Civilians can scurry away. Shoo!”

By the way, this document was a Class 2 military secret related to Abas. Even though field and higher command units also handle Class 2 secrets, intelligence units’ confidential documents are something even generals cannot view without proper authorization.

There’s no way I would show this to a civilian like Camila. I gestured for her to leave.

Just as I was getting ready to return to work after clearing out the intrusion.

“Oh? I’ve seen this before.”

Camila pointed at the document on the desk. As I hurriedly tried to shove it away, she quickly snatched it with hands that moved faster than a beastman’s.

“Ah, you shouldn’t look at that.”

“Wait a moment… Ah, right. I know this one.”

“What’s this strange talk out of nowhere….”

I verified the content of the document that Camila claimed to have seen.

It was a symbol.

“A warlord mark? This is a symbol used by warlords. Camila, you directly saw this?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you see it?”

“Over there, in the alleyway.”

Camila pointed to the back of the building.

Indicating the direction, she added in a calm tone,

“I saw it when I was sightseeing in the city before. It’s pretty close from here; it was something special.”

“…….”

“I’m not lying; I really saw it.”

With a voice filled with certainty, I asked as I scrutinized the document.

“Do you remember the location?”

—

As Camila led the way out of the accommodations, I grabbed a simple self-defense tool and stepped into the street with her.

After walking for about 20 minutes, we arrived at the alley.

There, I confirmed the identity of the “something special” Camila had seen.

“…A mural?”

The identity of the paintings filling the alley was indeed a mural. Paintings plastered across the building’s exterior walls and fences.

Graffiti may be common even in places like Harlem, New York, but the murals painted in the back alleys weren’t the grimy scribbles liked by hipsters.

Stepping back from the wall, I focused on the overall shape of the mural and was certain.

“It’s propaganda.”

The murals sprawled across the exterior walls and fences were propaganda from a warlord. The chaotic blend of symbolic slogans and patterns made it blatantly clear.

The moment I confirmed the identity of the mural, Camila, who had been guiding me, tilted her head in confusion.

“Propaganda? How do you see that?”

“Right now, it looks just like the photos taken by my seniors dispatched to the Third World since the ‘90s. They were in the Middle East and Africa.”

“But I’ve never seen that before.”

“It’s an old method.”

The murals as a form of propaganda were a technique often used by rebel groups long ago.

“Nowadays, they usually just set up signs for propaganda, but back then it was all like this. Camila, haven’t you seen signs made by rebels during medical volunteer work?”

“Yes.”

“This is the prototype.”

“So, warlord propaganda has appeared in an alley behind the capital. This isn’t exactly a good sign.”

Camila muttered as she surveyed the warlord’s propaganda.

I took out a camera lens for photography and captured the scene. Camila was moving around to avoid obstructing the shot.

For Camila, witnessing a warlord’s propaganda in this neighborhood was probably a fresh experience, but it seemed it didn’t serve as much more than a mere stimulus. She kicked pebbles in boredom and started to engage me in conversation.

“…I can understand you throwing the snacks away, but do I really have to return to the Empire?”

“Are you planning to stay here then?”

Camila silently nodded her head.

“After seeing this?”

“Well, didn’t armed groups exist in Africa?”

“Do you even hear yourself? No! Ugh….”

I continued taking evidence, still holding the lens.

The identity of the warlord leading this propaganda, the slogans he boasts, and the propaganda materials spread across the streets. For a warlord to boast about propaganda in a town where the government army is holding its ground is surprisingly common.

Since this propaganda was instigated by the warlord I was targeting, there was quite a bit of evidence I needed to collect.

While I was still moving around with the lens, I heard the crunch of paper being stepped on beneath me. I bent down to pick up the warlord’s propaganda material.

“…….”

At that moment, Camila came scurrying over to whisper in my ear.

“I won’t do anything dangerous—I’ll just close my eyes and go with you just this once! I really promise to behave in a quiet manner.”

“…….”

“Or if danger arises, I might even be able to help! Just like Gandalf was taken along by the Fellowship of the Ring—who knows? There could be a moment when a wizard’s help could be necessary.”

“…Camila.”

“Yes?”

“Do you really want to come along?”

Camila nodded vigorously with energy.

“Are you sure you won’t regret it?”

“Of course!”

“…Alright.”

I handed over the propaganda material I had picked up to Camila.

The content was simple. Recruitment.

They promised reasonable compensation, inviting anyone willing to fight to join the warlord. If you had certain skills, that would be even better.

For instance, a magician or shaman.

“Camila.”

I stuffed my hands into my pockets and turned to her.

“Let’s do just one job together.”