A Dark Fantasy Spy

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I have had my share of interrogations, but I wouldn’t say I’m a stranger to such experiences. The Information Agency runs various programs for training and assessment, and resistance training against torture is one of those programs.

However, the scrutiny by a woman has an oddly slimy and subtly poisonous quality to it compared to the inquiries from investigators or disciplinarians. In the face of Francesca’s heated interrogation, I found it hard to open my mouth.

“……”

If someone were to ask whether I had an affair with my sister, anyone would feel their face heat up. Especially if the person accused had really committed infidelity.

A heavy silence settled between us, and Francesca just kept staring at my face for a time, without uttering a word.

Then, after a while, a short sound broke through her lips.

“…Pfft.”

Suddenly, she bowed her head and stifled a laugh. A playful smile that barely contained her burst of laughter.

As she struggled to suppress her giggles, she swept her disheveled hair behind her ear. The icy, pale face she had just moments ago vanished, replaced by a warm blush blooming on her cheeks. Fanning herself as if to cool her flushed face, Francesca’s playful demeanor made me certain of one thing.

This woman was teasing me again.

As if to put a period on my certainty, Francesca wiped the tear that had formed in the corner of her eye and began to speak in her sweet voice.

“Ahaha, I’m sorry, Colonel. I completely forgot that I was just teasing you… I got a bit too serious there. Were you surprised?”

“Huh….”

As a chuckle slipped from my lips, Francesca’s expression brightened considerably. She looked like someone who had just woken from a deep sleep and shaken off exhaustion.

“My apologies for my rudeness. I originally intended to tease you just once, but your reaction was too entertaining!”

Francesca burst into laughter as she picked up her words again.

Though I was slightly perplexed, I quietly noticed that she was leveling a feigned accusation at me. However, the timing and precision with which she interrogated me about my relationship with Veronica was so oddly out of left field that I couldn’t help but feel a sudden chill.

I worried whether Veronica had carelessly spilled the beans about her relationship with me, but thankfully, it seemed I was just being paranoid.

She was purely asking questions to tease me.

With a pleasant smile on her face, Francesca leaned back in her chair and admitted it freely.

“I could see you fumble when I asked about your relationship with Saint Lucia, and you looked flustered when I asked about your relationship with the Hero. So, I wondered what would happen if I brought up your sister… and I got a reaction even funnier than I expected.”

“…Are you for real? You asked me this just to see my reaction?”

“Hmm— well, not exactly… Actually, your sibling was boasting quite a bit!”

“What did she boast about?”

“She came here under orders from the Holy See, but instead of focusing on her duties, she started bragging about meeting you and Saint Lucia. Here I am, stuck with work, and she suddenly shows up to showcase her encounter. I couldn’t help but feel a bit irked.”

So, to sum it up.

She was in a situation where she couldn’t go back and forth freely because of the vampire incident overlapping with her official duties, and suddenly, Veronica showed up boasting about having fun with me, which twisted her stomach a bit, and then she took it out on me… Is that it?

“…Good grief.”

I could only let out an incredulous laugh in response.

Why on earth did that weirdo Veronica choose to brag about it to Francesca? Just when I was pondering it, Francesca’s voice continued.

“To make matters worse, I was already in a foul mood because of Saint Lucia, and then your sister had to go and do that. How do you think I felt? I believe this is practically self-defense, don’t you think, Colonel?”

“No, but it’s not like there’s anything going on with Lucia….”

“You risked your life, and there’s nothing going on? Hmmm….”

Though she said that, she didn’t appear to doubt my relationship with Lucia. Instead, a mischievous spirit of teasing that she was known for shone through her expression.

“Oh dear….”

It seems like the sisterly duo is quite eager to devour me whole. Those cunning ladies. How on earth did I end up in the sights of these women?

As my tension eased, a melancholic feeling began to wash over me.

Letting out a sigh with a glum expression, Francesca approached me.

Her delicate fingers cradled my chin and cheek, gently lifting my face.

– Smack.

She pressed her soft lips against my forehead.

“Take care, and return safe. I’ll be waiting. But please, don’t keep me waiting too long, okay?”

Francesca added with a radiant smile.

“Because anything that misses its timing tends to become less enjoyable.”

—

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

There’s a reasonable time for everything. If you miss the timing, the enjoyment diminishes.

It sounded like a perplexing riddle, but I had no way of knowing what it actually meant. I asked Francesca what she was plotting, but she never revealed the answer.

Instead, she left me with a curious remark akin to “You can look forward to it.”

“……”

“Do you have a worry? Your expression looks dark.”

“Nothing at all, Lucia.”

I let slip a vague response to Lucia’s question. It wasn’t a satisfying answer, prompting her to tilt her head slightly, but she didn’t press for more and instead turned her attention elsewhere.

As I gathered sheets filled with medical terms, a member of the clergy arrived for the handover.

The nun politely accepted the materials handed over by the saint, sanitized her hands, then took out disposable gloves and a mask, raising her voice.

“Next person, please!”

At that, one side of the tent opened, and a group of refugees, guided by an aid organization’s translator, entered and took their seats. The clergy began assessing the refugees’ conditions, classifying the patients, and immediately started invoking the divine for healing.

“My, everyone is busy.”

I muttered to myself as I stepped out of the tent.

Lucia, bending at the waist as she exited, replied, “Hygiene is merely a secondary concern for those whose survival is at stake. That would explain the overflow of patients.”

Even though the church and international organizations were working together to treat the refugees, the number of patients showed no signs of decreasing.

It wasn’t merely the flood of refugees or the unsanitary conditions of the camps. More fundamentally, broader systemic issues were at play.

As is often the case in developing or impoverished countries, the entire healthcare system in the Mauritania Continent was dismally underdeveloped. Wells, rivers, and lakes teemed with parasites and bacteria, and with very few people educated to the extent of secondary schooling, the concept of hygiene was virtually nonexistent.

To improve a healthcare system, a continuous effort and willingness for improvement must come from both the private and government sectors. Yet, the pigs in power who do nothing but accept bribes occupy all the significant positions, meaning hospitals could hardly function properly. In a nation already fraught with problems, public health initiatives were always relegated to the backburner. On top of that, civil wars sparked by the central government and local warlords had raged on for years. The Mauritania Continent’s feeble healthcare system had long since received a death sentence.

With mass casualties from the civil war, victims of monsters, and patients wandering the streets due to the lack of available hospitals, the region was already drowning in patients, and the onset of the rainy season created an ideal environment for epidemic outbreaks, leading to a chorus of wails from every alley and home.

Without facilities capable of providing proper treatment, everyone could only suffer regardless of wealth. Meanwhile, there were whispers of a saint from abroad providing free care to patients.

In such a situation, it was all too easy to predict the choices patients and their families would make.

Roughly a week ago, intelligence reports began coming in that patients were starting to move from all over the continent.

Embassies, consulates, foreign business branches, industrial parks, and so on. Monitoring the movements of expatriates and the local community, each country’s foreign ministries quickly came to inform me that “soon, a large number of refugees will arrive,” and that soon became reality.

“……”

A man dragging a leg with bones protruding through torn clothing, an elderly man being taken off a stretcher from an ambulance, a child crying loudly and parents bewildered, a little one sitting on the stairs, barely fluttering their eyes.

I was struck dumb at the sight of patients sprawled everywhere in the camp. It wasn’t just the sheer number of patients that was alarming; there was a bigger issue at hand.

“This isn’t just happening here, right?”

Lucia nodded quietly.

“Yes, other camps are said to be in similar situations.”

“……”

The embassies of various countries, as well as local governments, could easily find out where Lucia was moving to. They didn’t even need to mobilize the Information Agency; the diplomats dispatched to the World Union could simply visit representatives of the church or conduct inquiries through officials to get the information they sought.

However, the refugees lacked that kind of informational prowess. Families were making their way to camps that might house the saint, relying solely on whispered rumors that passed from mouth to mouth.

The outcome was what we were witnessing now in the camp.

“…This is maddening.”

I rubbed the back of my neck as I murmured incredulously. Lucia, surveying her surroundings, also furrowed her lovely brows.

“I can understand the patients’ sentiment. They’d want to grasp at straws. There were certainly those who traveled long distances seeking treatment for their stomachs. But this…”

“…Is a bit severe, huh?”

“It’s not just a bit.”

“……”

With all the various patients flocking to the camp, the burden on healers and medical staff was becoming unavoidable. Given that we expected a degree of this patient migration to be detected by our intelligence networks from the moment it began, both the clergy led by Lucia and the relief organizations could adequately prepare.

Yet what we didn’t anticipate was the diseases the patients would bring with them.

Perhaps some came carrying family members infected with cholera or slipped into the camp quietly, fearing execution at the hands of soldiers if they were recognized as epidemic patients. Others might be aware that something was wrong but didn’t know what sickness they had, mingling with others before getting isolated…

For various reasons, multiple refugee camps found themselves facing a sudden pandemic.

As I watched the scene of peacekeeping soldiers in protective gear cooperating with medical staff to control the patients, an unexpected intruder approached us, resembling a KKK member.

“Saint!”

It turned out to be knights from the Knights Order, armed with chemical and biological safety equipment.

“I truly apologize for having to say this, but you shouldn’t be here right now. Please move to a safe zone.”

“I could never leave while there are patients here. I just stepped outside to get some fresh air, so I have to go back soon.”

“Nonetheless…”

It seemed the knights were genuinely worried that Lucia might contract some illness. I found their anxious demeanor quite pitiful, and I proposed to Lucia that we change our location. This time, she didn’t raise any objections and agreed without further argument.

As I turned to leave, the knights quietly thanked me. When I waved goodbye, they hurried off to gather their equipment and head towards the refugees.

It was quite a peculiar sight to see religious folks prioritizing their duties over the saint’s well-being, but it was a result of Lucia frequently seeking me out lately.

To put it more precisely, it was her call for aid that had increased. Rather than me seeking the saint, it had become common for her to summon me, and given Lucia’s busy schedule, it was more convenient for both of us that I went to her.

Moreover, whenever I visited her to take a breather, I could sometimes hear useful information, which also served as a pretty good excuse for when Pippin or Jake grumbled at me for shirking my duties.

Of course, most of the conversations I had with Lucia were trivial and not very informative, consisting much more of idle chatter than actual exchange of critical information.

Well, for me, it was great to have some downtime, but it was hard to understand why Lucia would choose to call me rather than just taking a break herself.

So one day, I boldly asked her why she had to call me instead of just relaxing. The memory of Lucia’s face flushing red while she stammered in response is still fresh in my mind.

“W-was it wrong to call…?”

With Lucia reacting that way, I found myself at a loss for words. Since then, whenever Lucia summoned me, I set aside my work to visit her and engage in light chit-chat.

As I walked along, lost in thought about the past, Lucia quietly cleared her throat.

“Hmm, hmm… Today, a support request came in from another camp.”

“A support request?”

“There’s a patient with severe trauma. Though they’ve provided emergency treatment, they say the camp lacks the equipment for surgery. Thus, the medical staff asked me for assistance.”

This sounds like serious business.

Lucia’s healing prowess had always been on par with Veronica since childhood, so it was only natural they’d reach out to her. The physicians would have done their utmost, and if other priests had tried and failed, they were left with no choice but to seek help from the saint.

“Is security going along with you?”

“I believe Priest Rebecca, some knights, and a few combat priests from the Inquisition will accompany me.”

“Combat priests, as in those who escort Inquisition officers and exorcists…?”

“That’s right.”

Lucia nodded with a gentle smile, and I mirrored her gesture.

With combat priests, Inquisition officers, and knights around, I could feel reassured. The Holy See had likely ordered them to ensure the safety of the saint, so cultists wouldn’t dare pull any tricks.

Just as I was about to tell her to be careful and return safely, Lucia averted her gaze and made a cautious request.

“About that… would you perhaps consider coming with me for a bit…?”

“I, um…”

I forced a sheepish smile.

“I actually have somewhere urgent to go, so… I appreciate the offer, but it’s unfortunate.”

“……”

As Lucia, who had been avoiding eye contact, began to stare at me with a soulless expression, I felt a sharp pang in my heart.

It might feel unpleasant to turn her down, but I really had no choice.

—

Despite having a life where lies automatically spill from my mouth, it seems my conscience didn’t vanish just because the quantity of lies increased. Facing Francesca’s mischievous probing and Lucia’s gloomy expression, I hurriedly sought a way out of this situation.

The method I chose? A time-honored retreat.

In simpler terms, I had to book it.

“…Isn’t running away not a solution?”

“Are you challenging the teachings of Sun Tzu?!”

The Art of War, a military treatise completed during the 5th century of ancient China, is divided into six main sections, each containing six strategies, totaling thirty-six strategies, hence the name “Thirty-Six Strategies.”

The last stratagem, “Feigning Retreat,” means it’s not disgraceful to withdraw tactically to conserve one’s strength.

However, considering that Sun Tzu wrote that in BC and that there was no concept of tactical retreat in The Art of War, the phrase “running away” didn’t originate from Sun Tzu, nor did he ever advocate it. Just as Lincoln did not say, “Everything posted on the internet is true.”

Thus, the remark about challenging the teachings of Sun Tzu was nothing more than frivolous nonsense, but when nonsense is wrapped neatly, it transforms into a quote, and power derives not from words but from the muzzle of a gun.

“What sin exactly did I commit to warrant fleeing from Lucia and Francesca…?”

“Shut up, Malfoy!”

“Kyaah! Why are you yelling?! You scared me!”

“Let’s keep it down for this mission. I didn’t even bring any motion sickness pills.”

“…Who forgot to bring them, anyway?!”

“Ugh-”

“Aaaaah! Fine! I’ll be quiet….”

Success! I managed to take Camila down a peg. With my arms crossed, I plopped down onto the bed.

“It’s going to take about six hours to get to the city, so shut your mouth and rest. We’ll have to get right to work once we arrive.”

There are two main ways to infiltrate Necropolis: one is overland, and the other is by sea.

The routes on land are protected by checkpoints and armed guards, while the maritime path, aside from ship inspections, doesn’t present any substantial risk.

To board a vessel permitted to enter the port of Dead Whales, I had to bribe the shipowner and crew, forge entry permits and transit licenses, and pay off port managers, but it was almost a safe method of infiltration, barring those inconveniences.

Of course, during our last infiltration, we had no choice but to use the overland route to secure permits. Given that forging documents for Necropolis was challenging, Francesca had advised that it might be more dangerous, but the overland route was nonetheless a surefire way to go.

But this time, it was different.

“Gentlemen and ladies, how was the voyage?”

“Ah, Captain! Thanks to you, I was able to rest comfortably. Your ship is exceptional.”

“I take pride in its maintenance to ensure it’s always in top condition. We’ll be arriving at the harbor shortly. Prepare yourselves.”

We had indeed secured the cooperation of both the vessel and crew. With carefully managed entry permits in hand, the ship served as our steed, safely transporting us to Necropolis.

Additionally, we had all the necessary documents to move freely within the city, including transit permits and other paperwork. And, of course, the bribe money and plausible identities were also prepared.

I couldn’t claim credit for solving all these issues; that honor belonged to my informants.

To be precise—

“Stop. Stop. Stop. We’ll verify your identities. Please submit your documents. Excuse me, but where are you coming from?”

“Palm Tree Trade Guild, Nation Muir.”

“Paloma!”

The mage cloaked in a cape took out a crystal ball and reported, “Identities confirmed for both the male and female. No issues detected.” A beastman mercenary armed with a great sword politely handed back the documents while I smiled brightly and concluded my farewell before disembarking.

Camila, struggling to balance her bags, looked at me with a hint of amusement.

“Nation Muir? Are you some retired CIA agent or something?”

“And what about you, Camila? Why that name, huh? Don’t tell me you’ve been watching too many movies.”

“Shaken, not stirred. It’s a timeless masterpiece, you know.”

“Good grief….”

Carrying our respective bags, we arrived at the harbor. Seagulls, seldom seen in the desert, perched by the dock pecking at food, while a pig beastman proudly showcased the large catch he had reeled in.

A sharp-suited man stood near the entrance, greeting us with a familiar face.

“Nice to meet you for the first time. I’m Bereda, managing the branch of the Palm Tree Trade Guild.”

This gentleman took a bow in greeting. As he lifted his head, his dark skin shone in the sunlight, and his pointed ears made their appearance.

A Dark Elf.

As I greeted Bereda, who introduced himself as the head of the Palm Tree Trade Guild’s Necropolis branch, I set my bag down momentarily to shake hands and ask after our informant.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Bereda. How is Guild Master Hormuz doing?”

“Of course! He instructed us to ensure that you all have whatever you might need.”

“Oh, there really was no need for that….”

I waved my hand in dismissal and picked up my bag again.

“Shall we be off then?”

“Yes.”

“This way, please. And ladies, you’re welcome to follow me.”

“Sure thing!”

—

The Mauritania Continent, leading north along the coastline, led to a natural cave-like harbor—The Port of the Dead.

From a shabby building by the window, a man held a walkie-talkie.

“…Team Leader. One male and one female have just disembarked. Ship name: Teva. Owner: Palm Tree Trade Guild.”

Through the crackle of his walkie-talkie came a voice in response. Adjusting his binoculars, the man replied again.

“I’m currently with Bereda from the Palm Tree Trade Guild. We’ve boarded the guild’s carriage and are moving towards Krazula Obata Street.”

-‘I will report this to the Director. Keep a close watch, and avoid unnecessary issues.’

As the team leader’s instructions echoed in his mind, the man posed a question.

“What about the rookie?”

-‘What’s she up to?’

“……”

The man, who had taken his finger off the walkie-talkie button, turned his gaze. At the end of his viewpoint stood a woman.

Conscious of the gaze, the woman slowly turned her head, and the man quickly diverted his gaze, continuing his conversation nonchalantly.

“Looks like she’s adjusting just fine. No problems there.”

-‘Got it. Just keep an eye on her and follow their movements.’

“Yes, I will report any unusual findings right away. That will be all.”

Stuffing the walkie-talkie into his pocket, the man pulled down his hat. After checking the magazine of his standard-issue Kien Empire military pistol, he reloaded it and secured the firearm to his waist, giving commands to his subordinates.

“We’re heading out. Only two of you follow me; the rest stay put.”

“What should I do?”

A woman, seated, raised her hand and asked. The man glanced at her, briefly pondering something, but then spoke in a calm voice that suggested all was normal.

“You, just keep reading the materials you were given. If you have questions, ask your superior. And be careful not to slack off; do your job right.”

“Hey- what do you take me for?”

The junior, pointed out by the senior, attempted to retort with an injured air, but her words fell on deaf ears.

As the man walked toward the entrance, the colleagues began to tease the junior.

“You’re too laid-back about your tasks!”

“What kind of havoc have you caused that made the Sub Team Leader so upset? Just accept your karma and move on.”

“Hey! You too?!”

“Should’ve done your job properly. Oh dear… I’ll be right back. Do you need anything, Rookie? I can grab it for you.”

“Oh, I could use some magic herb….”

“Magic herb? Hmm, that’s not easy to come by. Got it! Let me know if you think of anything else!”

“…Seriously, don’t any of you ask me what I need? You’re all just focused on the rookie.”

“You’re a grown adult now. When were you crying about not getting spoiled? Just when do you remember how to whine….”

“Heyyy!”

After the duo that dashed out the door, the junior sat pouting in despair.

The closed door and the junior were alternately in the man’s gaze, who cautiously asked.

“By the way, who’s arriving today? Isn’t our operation— no, our business, about something else…?”

“…Uhh. No big deal. The Sub Team Leader has just taken on a simple task. Just focus on memorizing the materials given to you.”

“Sure.”

The junior then pulled up a chair and began reviewing the documents provided. Meanwhile, the senior, casting furtive glances between the door and the junior, discreetly lit a cigarette.

Puff- A stream of thick smoke mixed with a sigh slipped from his lips.

“Damn… I’ve never seen anything like this. What on earth are we supposed to do…?”

Unfortunately, no one was available to answer that question.

The pale smoke melded into the air, filling the space between the crystals suspended from the ceiling.