A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Capital of a certain country in the Mauritania Continent.

The black sedan leaves the embassy building. The vehicle, adorned with both the Kingdom of Abas’s flag and the host country’s flag, is undoubtedly a diplomat’s car.

In the backseat, behind the passenger door, a man clad in a green military uniform murmured into his phone.

“…Yes. I’ve confirmed the orders. In case of an emergency, I will mobilize branch personnel and spare no effort in providing necessary support. Yeah. Understood. Please come in, Director Leoni.”

The military officer carefully set the phone down, took off his cap, and brushed his hair back.

Though several years had passed since he was promoted to Colonel, he still could not adapt to receiving calls from superiors.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, the branch chief spoke to the advisor driving.

“Hey. How much operational budget do we have left in our branch?”

“Are you referring to the special activity funds?”

The advisor glanced back briefly. Next to the military intelligence branch chief sat a bag full of cash.

It was a bribe intended for an executive at the counterintelligence agency. After finishing the calculations, the advisor opened his mouth.

“Excluding the budget designated for the commander, we have approximately 300,000 shillings left.”

“Really? Take out 100,000 shillings and put it in the account I told you about.”

“Is there any specific reason for that?”

Instead of answering immediately, the military officer swiftly turned his head.

“There’s someone from headquarters coming.”

“An employee? But why would anything happen in this backwater area…?”

“Don’t know.”

The branch chief sighed lightly and cast his gaze out the window.

“They aren’t saying anything from above. No information about what the operation is or who’s coming.”

“……”

The advisor held his tongue at the complex expression that swept across the branch chief’s face. The regional dialect that was hard to understand was flowing from the radio, and the black sedan came to a halt in the middle of the road.

After glancing at the traffic situation, the branch chief clicked his tongue lightly. What kind of a workplace was this? People were strolling down the road where cars were zipping by.

Kids darting across the streets and merchants banging on the windows, offering goods. The branch chief couldn’t help but spit out a curse in disbelief at this absurd combination.

“What the hell kind of place is this? Why are people roaming freely in the middle of the road? That damn general is brashly asking for bribes… Plus, he’s actually receiving amounts more than my salary. What the hell….”

It was a familiar lament of his situation.

Ah, the branch chief is sulking again. The information officer, smiling softly, changed the subject while dodging a pedestrian appearing in front of the car.

“Sunny days will return someday. Surely, your next position will be in a good place, right?”

“Shut up. Just clear the way. That guy loses it if he’s late for the appointment.”

“Yes, sir.”

The black sedan exited the congested street and smoothly entered the counterintelligence agency headquarters.

As the commander approached with a wide smile, the branch chief spat out a sigh mixed with regret.

“Whatever it is, I hope nothing goes wrong…”

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

Back at the residence, I placed the printed documents on the table.

“What’s this paper?”

“It’s the operation report.”

Camila slowly glanced over the document prepared by the military intelligence agency with a dazed expression. I pulled the chair and opened my mouth.

“My mission consists of two parts. One is securing and protecting you, Camila. The other is making contact with the tribal leader here.”

Her striking blue eyes followed the direction of my finger. Inside the device’s display, there was a person with an exotic appearance.

“The ultimate goal of the operation is not just to meet that man. This contact is merely a preliminary task for preparing the next operation.”

“…What operation are we talking about?”

“Operations happening in war-torn regions are basically the same, aren’t they?”

Camila didn’t need to worry about that yet. Just as I didn’t. Moving on to the next operation only mattered when we succeeded in contacting the tribal leader.

“But right now isn’t the time to think about that.”

I started organizing the equipment and slowly rose from my seat.

As I was getting ready to leave, Camila began to gather her belongings and came closer.

“Where are you going?”

“Let’s go.”

I gestured while opening the front door.

“We need to prepare before heading to the site.”

At intelligence agencies, the concepts of a superior and a junior officer exist.

Every year hundreds of new recruits are hired through various channels, and after undergoing training, they are assigned to different operational departments.

During this time, it’s the senior information officer who trains the newly onboarded junior information agents.

Thus,

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Camila naturally became my responsibility in terms of training.

“I myself am unfamiliar with the Mauritania Continent, but ultimately, it’s not much different from the Middle East or Africa. Just follow what I say, and you’ll be fine.”

I spread my fingers wide towards Camila.

And like a teacher softly instructing a child, I emphasized gently.

“Earlier I mentioned something important. What was it?”

Camila confidently replied.

“Safety!”

What kind of place is the Middle East and Africa?

It’s a hellhole where everything is a mess.

Security is terrible. Infrastructure is broken. The citizens’ consciousness is something you couldn’t even hope to expect.

And the region we were about to visit was a particularly carefully selected hellhole among the many.

Thanks to that, Camila had to repeatedly hear the safety precautions drilled into her head.

Even if she found it unappealing, I would have pushed them into her until they were ingrained in her memory, but fortunately, Camila remained intrigued and followed along with my story.

“If you’ve lived in a war-torn area, you’ll understand how dangerous this place can get. Safety is crucial.”

“First safety, second safety, third safety?”

“Exactly.”

As we stepped outside, we were welcomed by the sweltering climate. As I looked at the dry winds swirling with dust and the blistering sun scorching my skin, I suddenly longed for a humidifier and air conditioning.

Leaving our residence, we began wandering the streets.

“Hmm.”

I placed my hands on my hips and scanned the streets.

On the road where sidewalks and roads were separated, pedestrians and vehicles melded together, with a thrilling collaboration of jaywalkers and traffic lawbreakers.

Street vendors rattled their goods as they weaved between stagnant vehicles. Groups of children laughing as they trailed a few individuals casually lugging bags. Police officers sprawled out asleep in the shade.

The air filled with the smell of spices mixed with grains of sand poked at my lungs, and it was then that I finally felt it.

“Hmm.”

I’m back.

To this hell of a workplace.

“Camila.”

“Yes?”

“Should we just go back?”

“Eh…!?”

With her eyes widening as if they were going to pop out, Camila bounced up.

“No, I said I already felt like going home…”

I lamented to her with a cry.

After witnessing the citizens’ stark reality as they delved into the underground, memories of my days rolling in Africa and the Middle East washed over me.

“I used to learn French, you know? I was looking forward to being sent to a place where I could actually use the French I taught myself through self-study, thinking I’d be going to Paris.”

“And then?”

“But when I got off the plane, it wasn’t Charles de Gaulle International Airport; it was right in the midst of Algeria.”

The sense of betrayal I felt at that moment was indescribable.

It turns out that the senior colleague who traveled with me had stuffed his carry-on with kimchi and ramen. I wondered why he had so much food when there were plenty of Korean restaurants in Paris… Damn.

And, tragically,

The situation I now found myself in was identical to when I went on that business trip to Algeria.

“Back then, I went on a trip with my senior, and both of us went through all kinds of hardships. This time, I’m on a business trip with just you.”

“Hehe.”

But anyway.

Camila is a magician who can look after herself, but I had to prevent her from finding herself in dangerous situations.

So, I began educating her about the Mauritania Continent.

“As I mentioned before, Mauritania is quite similar to the Middle East and Africa. The climate is the same, the security is like that, and the food is somewhat similar too.”

The issue is that both the good and bad qualities are strikingly alike.

“You know that the conditions here aren’t exactly pleasant, right?”

“I learned that through my research.”

“Care to share?”

“Hmm! To start, let’s talk about security….”

Camila gently closed her eyes and began to wave her fingers.

“The security level in the Mauritania Continent varies depending on the country and region, but compared to other continents, it’s an incredibly dangerous area. To put it bluntly, if you get pickpocketed, it’s usually treated as just an unfortunate day. Right?”

That was an accurate comparison.

Unstable security levels symbolize Africa, the Middle East, and particularly, Mauritania.

In this town, getting pickpocketed in broad daylight doesn’t trigger an investigation; the police would respond with something like, “Just treat it as an unfortunate day.”

I shared a few examples.

“I once got pickpocketed three times on one day when I was dispatched to Morocco. I had hidden my cash in the same spot on the same day, and it got stolen. So when I complained to my senior, guess what they did?”

“What did they do?”

“They handed me a bag with a heavy lock.”

By the way, the bag was something my senior had bought after they got pickpocketed.

“Once, I even caught a pickpocket on the scene. After having a meal with my junior and coming back, a kid snatched my smartphone.”

“Your personal mobile phone?”

“Not mine. It was the phone I was supposed to use for work during this trip. But anyhow, I chased after that guy for 20 minutes and finally caught him.”

Camila crossed her arms, clearly intrigued.

“Oh! If you caught him, you must have gotten your smartphone back?”

“I did. I also gave him a taste of karma.”

“Gave him a taste of karma?”

I showed an open palm to Camila, tapping my middle and index fingers together and then snapping them back forcefully.

Suddenly, her blue eyes, previously filled with fascination, widened like the full moon.

“Wait, wait a minute. Are you implying you broke his fingers?”

“I did. You understood that correctly.”

“…What?!”

It wasn’t just a small break. I planned to purposely cripple him.

“Is that even something you should be saying? You should have turned him over to the police!”

“Those criminals operate organized. In a rural area far from town, it would take at least two hours for the police to arrive; before they could get there, I would chance upon the pickpocket gang first. How could I possibly wait that long?”

While it’s conceivable that he could stab me and run away, the difference between simple assault and murder is huge. If a murder occurs, the police will start an investigation, so it’s best to avoid killing during operations.

“The smartphone contained company data, so I had no choice. They said they wouldn’t return it even if I paid.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

“A little? I got scolded for causing unnecessary trouble. But I’m lucky. My seniors have had it even rougher.”

“How so?”

“One time, I heard gunfire outside my accommodation in the early morning, and when I checked, there were people sprawled out in the driver and back seats, riddled with bullets. Also, once I complimented an Arab about my sister being pretty and ended up getting killed for it….”

If my memory serves me right, the local militia must have dealt with the bodies during that time. The corrupt local police likely accepted bribes and didn’t even show up at the scene.

It was a cartel dispute, after all.

By the way, Muslims don’t like it when you compliment their family. To put it more specifically, if a man compliments women such as his wife, sister, or daughter, it’s considered a major insult.

There have been several cases where information agents (mostly from cultural backgrounds unfamiliar with Middle Eastern culture) made comments thinking they were compliments, only to find themselves in a predicament, sometimes facing threats of murder or worse.

I narrated a hundred and one chilling situations I had nearly faced abroad for Camila, who was so curious that I feared she might end up in trouble.

“Hmm….”

Though it might sound uncomfortable, Camila listened carefully. She looked like a model student wholeheartedly paying attention to a professor’s lecture.

Suddenly, Camila, who had been listening intently, posed a question.

“By the way, is all of this something you experienced personally?”

I felt a little caught off guard.

My shoulders flinched, but thankfully it seemed I wasn’t caught. Camila was deep in thought, resting her chin on her finger.

If my response took too long, she might think something’s off, so I hurriedly denied it.

“No, I told you it’s a story I heard from my seniors.”

“You’ve been explaining it strangely in a way that makes it sound personal, haven’t you?”

“How would you know that?”

Camila raised her head slightly, matching her gaze with mine, beaming a shy smile.

“Hmm, I guessed it since you also got where I’m from!”

“……”

“What’s the answer, then? Is it something you experienced?”

“N-No, it’s not.”

“Come on, don’t lie! I promise I won’t tell anyone!”

Honestly, her perception was too sharp.

I shook my head vigorously and entered a traditional teahouse in the Mauritania Continent.

—

Camila seemed to want to shift to another topic soon, but there was no way I could skimp on safety reminders. Moreover, considering we were in a war zone.

So I devoted an entire day to educating her about safety.

What actions to avoid and what are acceptable.

Expressions to refrain from using and expressions that would be to one’s benefit.

How to safely manage meals and bathing.

And how to respond if things went wrong.

“When visiting a local’s home as a guest, it’s customary to at least take a sip of the tea they offer. Refusing is often considered offensive.”

“Be cautious with your words and actions that may dishonor others. Demeaning someone’s honor here is an act best left for enemies. Conversely, praising someone as highly honorable will leave them thrilled. After a few high praises, it’ll be easy to get closer.”

“Try to drink bottled water in the Mauritania Continent as much as possible. You can’t trust the tap water here. As an alternative, you can collect water from rain or wells, boil, purify, and filter it, but… it’s unlikely you will even manage a bath with that.”

“Just like in the Middle East, there’s a culture of bribery here too. You’ll need to be ready to hand out cash even for minor tasks, so make sure you have enough. You don’t need to pay solely with cash, but generally, they’ll prefer cash. Having about $2,000 should suffice to bribe two unit commanders.”

“…What if they don’t accept bribes? I assure you, there are no such people. I’ve spent over half my time in Africa and the Middle East, and only a handful of people have refused bribes. As a point of reference, let me clarify that the ones who didn’t accept bribes weren’t rejecting them; I just didn’t offer.”

As I rambled, memories from the past began to resurface.

When Camila asked me to teach her how to spy back at the Magic Tower, I had trained her in a very similar manner.

I wasn’t the only one thinking of that; as she was sipping our ordered traditional tea, Camila suddenly gazed at the sunset.

“It’s reminiscent of the old days.”

“Thinking about the Magic Tower?”

“Yeah. Back then, we traveled together like this too.”

Those were good times.

The food was delicious, and the weather just right. I chuckled as I scooped some sugar.

“It’s already been a year. Those days were good.”

I relished the flavors of the tea, balancing the bitterness with sugar and savoring the essence.

My initial plan was to send Camila back to the Empire by the day after tomorrow, but somehow, we ended up on a local business trip together.

“I’ll report that I couldn’t find you in the capital for now.”

“Is that really okay?”

“I don’t know.”

Lying on reports and violating regulations would put me at risk of severe punishment. But even if I got reprimanded, my company was already in jeopardy.

Now I didn’t know what would happen to me. Whatever happens, happens.

“As long as we don’t get found out, it should be all right. Just as long as we don’t get found out.”

I mumbled words that would reassure anyone.

Whether it was to ease Camila’s worries or to comfort myself, I didn’t know.

“Since we’ll need to start moving from tomorrow evening, you should slowly start packing. And don’t just fill up on snacks; prepare properly.”

“Hehe…”

With the tip left behind after finishing the cup, I left the shop.

The desert’s night air was in stark contrast to the warmth of the day. Pulling my collar tight, I handed the keys to Camila in the alley near our residence.

“Head inside first. Lock the door carefully. I have some business to attend to.”

“Where are you going?”

Well, I hesitated briefly before responding.

“I’m going shopping.”

And added briefly,

“To the black market.”