A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The master of espionage literature, John le Carré. Once a well-regarded information officer in British SIS, he left behind this thought through his works.

In some distant day of the past, a time even he could not remember, his own creation manifested before him. He lives in fear of being judged by it.

Fear is a persistent affliction in the intelligence industry.

Whether a covert operative flitting about the field, an investigator managing countless spies, or a head of an intelligence unit commanding numerous employees, none are exempt.

I am no exception.

“……”

Every so often, really just every so often, I indulge in such imaginings.

I wonder if one of the informants I was responsible for betrayed me out of pressure or temptation.

Perhaps it’s because I witnessed a senior colleague who ended his career due to an informant’s betrayal.

Or maybe it’s because my last phone call with a colleague, who got captured by the Chinese while supposedly meeting with an informant, was my last farewell.

A personal trauma borne from experience. Or perhaps just absurd delusions.

There’s no way to determine if this sudden thought from long ago springs from either source.

When I read the words left by a former agent-turned-novelist who once reigned over an era, I couldn’t easily turn to the next page, likely because his note resonated deeply with me.

Even now.

“… Please have a seat.”

“……”

“You need to talk to me, right?”

—

Episode 17 – The Tree that Drinks Blood

Looking back, I’ve actually kept quite a distance from cigarettes.

Even when delinquent students gathered late at the playground site, or when a drunken classmate stumbled out of a bar offering his last drink—

I’ve only smoked once in my entire life, and that was likely during my training period.

The instructor approached and ordered us to go out for fresh air, stating I had done the best on my shooting assessment, just half a day after it concluded.

Someone came to see me that day—probably my uncle.

No, it was definitely my uncle. Mom received the news about him joining Intelligence a week after my training completed.

I can’t recall what we talked about that day, but I do remember snatching a cigarette from him.

Why did I do that?

Just the smell brought back memories of Dad loosening his shoes after a long day’s work.

Despite my disdain for it.

The acrid aftertaste broke my thoughts, as I exhaled the hazy smoke into the ashtray.

“Ha….”

After silently smoking for a while, I sighed and slowly opened my mouth.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“……”

Francesca nodded.

I had no idea what she wanted, but judging by her atmosphere, this conversation was going to be lengthy.

It didn’t feel like good news, so I lit another cigarette.

“Let’s hear it.”

I set down my lighter and took a deep drag, getting the conversation underway. As is often the case in this world, the beginning was tough, but once you start, momentum quickly builds, and soon we were deep in discussion.

Francesca’s lips parted.

“Are you planning to take the hero to the Necropolis?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“From a call.”

She meant she heard the content of my call with Camila.

The possibility of eavesdropping flickered in my mind, but that hypothesis was dismissed immediately. Even though I was on a commercial mobile phone, the line itself was secure. It was a private line I set up just for her.

The gears in my head began to turn rapidly.

The timing of my call with Camila was right after meeting Veronica, around sunset when she was likely returning from a monster-cleansing operation in No Man’s Land. I suddenly recalled the mix of engine sounds with our chatter.

Perhaps Francesca was nearby then.

As far as I know, Camila has a habit of always sitting next to someone she knows when she gets in a vehicle. She tends to find someone to chat with, even if it’s just for a moment.

So, it was inevitable that Francesca would overhear our conversation.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Having thought it over, I admitted it freely.

There was no reason to lie, and with Francesca’s character, she wouldn’t take action unless she was sure about something. Thus, there was no need for concealment.

Her response came swiftly.

“Why?”

Francesca looked somewhat confused. Her face and voice were the same as always, yet her fingers fidgeted restlessly in her lap.

Pretending to be fine, wearing a mask of calm, she continued speaking.

“I asked why you are planning to take the hero to the Necropolis.”

“……”

With a composed tone and a still gaze, her amethyst eyes sparkled against the backdrop of the darkening sky, fixated upon me.

As the smoke drifted out of my mouth, I dared to inquire.

“Is there any particular reason I shouldn’t?”

Her blush-colored lips tightened into a thin line, and Francesca fell silent.

Taking a drag of my cigarette, I shook the ash off and continued.

“I can’t share specific details, but just know it’s related to cultist problems. I can’t say more.”

“……”

“Is that an answer?”

I asked for confirmation, but it was merely a formality.

“……”

Francesca seemed completely baffled.

I had no way of understanding why she suddenly posed such questions, but considering her personality, she’d likely grasp the situation given the hints I dropped.

If this news reached Leoni’s ears, there’d certainly be an uproar about the breach of security, so I needed to keep her tight-lipped and send her back. She’s not someone so naïve to not understand the necessity of leaving.

In most cases, that’s how it would have gone.

“… Why?”

Francesca’s lips parted again.

“… Why are you taking the hero and not me?”

Her once steady voice began to quaver slightly.

The calm facade she wore was cracking now. She looked at me with a steely expression.

“Are you doubting me?”

Francesca asked, challenging whether I trusted her or not.

I shook my head.

“How could that be? If I couldn’t trust you, who could I trust? It’s just that your identity was exposed, so I said to step back for a moment.”

“……”

“They say Abyssal Devourer, right? There’s a blight among the exiles who are supposed to be mystic holders. If someone capable of seeing through your disguise were to show up, would you really go along?”

I had offered sufficient reasons to persuade her.

This wasn’t a mere utterance; it was a clear fact. Her identity was compromised, and since a mystic holder appeared to be able to see through disguises, the information that she sneaked into the Necropolis had likely spread across the whole city by now.

If Francesca were to sneak back into the Necropolis and get caught again, we’d truly have no answers. Neither I nor the Military Intelligence Agency would know how to resolve it. An exposed intelligence officer must immediately cease all activities and return home, as it’s the principle that they can never work in the same region again.

Just like every other intelligence agency.

However, it seemed that none of this reasoning swayed Francesca. She remained steadfast.

By this point, I was beginning to get curious. Why was Francesca suddenly acting like this?

The clarification of my doubts came from her next words.

“Is it because of the Saint? The reason you’re going to the Necropolis.”

“Yes?”

I let out a surprised voice. Her unexpected statement caught me off guard, and without realizing it, I had answered.

“That’s because….”

Of course, it concerned Lucia’s safety. The cultist Al Kair, who stole the Saint’s blood, might be linked to Al-Yabd, the largest religion in the Mauritania Continent.

But I couldn’t disclose that information to her. It was derived from internal data of the Inquisition, and if news of their documents being leaked reached their ears, it would surely lead to a world of pain for many.

How could I explain while protecting the source and convincing her at the same time? Just as I contemplated this, an impatient question slipped from Francesca’s lips.

“The work is secondary; the real reason is that you’re worried about Saint Lucia, isn’t it?”

“……”

I blinked repeatedly and stared at Francesca. Is it really going that way?

It wasn’t entirely wrong, but the way she phrased it had a peculiar nuance.

Feeling an odd shift in the atmosphere, I glanced at her as she tucked back her hair and exhaled lightly, suppressing her excitement.

“Colonel, I’m going to ask you three things from now on.”

“Uh, yes. Please go ahead.”

Her voice was serious, and Francesca’s tone turned cold as she laid out the first question, sending a shiver through me.

“What exactly is your relationship with Saint Lucia?”

“……”

A question about my connection to Lucia. I felt that if I paused here, the atmosphere would turn awkward.

I hurriedly answered.

“A comrade. Just like you and me.”

“……”

“… Why are you looking at me like that?”

Francesca’s expression darkened slightly, as if she were upset.

I asked if there was any problem, yet no answer came. After letting that question slip, she shifted to the next inquiry.

“What about between you and the hero?”

With her second question, Francesca aimed directly at my relationship with Camila.

The intent behind her question was painfully clear, leaving me speechless.

“Wait, what kind of question is that? What are you trying to do here?”

“Is it hard for you to answer?”

Not particularly, but I stifled the desire to say so.

Upon consideration, it wasn’t the first time Francesca had asked such a question; she’d previously inquired about my relationship with Lucia in the Necropolis. And if I thought back, she had also asked about my relationship with Camila before—right after I had sent my assistant and family into exile from the Kien Empire.

I don’t quite understand what she’s been fixated on, but she came suddenly and seems serious about this.

I would have thought it was something serious, but it turns out it’s just about my romantic relationships.

Frankly, it’s a bit ridiculous and also exasperating, but I felt the need to clear up any misunderstandings.

I answered as honestly as possible.

“Just a comrade.”

“… Like with Saint Lucia?”

“Ah, not exactly. More like… friends?”

“……”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that? You also consider Joaquin a friend, don’t you?”

In truth, Francesca’s relationship with Joaquin is more akin to acquaintanceship, but I couldn’t think of a better analogy.

What’s the big deal about having a friend of the opposite sex? Even if they were romantically involved, you can’t possibly stop adults from cultivating relationships with others, can you? I found it rather strange that Francesca would pry into this kind of matter.

However, regardless of my thoughts, Francesca continued to gaze at me with suspicion, overtly displaying her discomfort with arms crossed, her eyes fixed on me.

“… This is the last question.”

She announced she was going to ask the third question.

I readied myself to answer. Anticipating her last query would be about Veronica’s relationship with me.

And the prediction didn’t stray at all.

“What about your sister? What’s your relationship with her?”

Just as I thought.

I let out a slight sigh and opened my mouth.

“We’re bound by a contract. You and Saint Lucia are sister-like as well.”

It was a roundabout way of describing the informant relationship. Thus I had passed her last question without issue.

Having answered all her lingering questions, I began to prepare to rise from my seat.

Though I didn’t understand why Francesca felt the need to interrogate me about my relationships, I had no more time to worry about it.

What mattered now was to keep her quiet and send her back. Since I wasn’t aware of the ship’s departure date that would take us to the Necropolis, I needed to prepare thoroughly to be ready for whenever we could set out.

Hastily, I tidied up and intended to send Francesca back.

But…

Something felt slightly off.

“Ah… You mean a contractual relationship?”

Her voice squeezed a pink tinge through her lips, cold as frost in mid-summer.

Lowering her hand from her chin, Francesca crossed her legs. Leaning onto the chair with a strange smile that didn’t convey warmth.

“A contractual relationship… Sister-like…”

Francesca started muttering to herself, her voice dropping and taking on an unusual tone.

As I uneasily redirected my gaze, instinctively sensing something from her now-lifted purple eyes, she flashed a grin as if she found this amusing.

“Are you finding joy with my sister while hiding this from me?”