A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The company’s response was swift.

The Military Intelligence Agency, having received information from the Special Investigation Bureau, immediately dispatched police officers to the families’ workplaces.

In fact, even before the news reached the ears of the Military Intelligence Agency, a report had already been made to the Office of the Prime Minister.

It just so happened to be during a cabinet meeting, and the Prime Minister ordered the Interior Minister to mobilize the police.

-“Security discussions have been ongoing for some time now. They’ve been discussed since the northern crisis.”

I was able to hear the details from Clevenz.

-“The cult warned that it would be wise to keep an eye on the families in case of emergencies. Well, it might be late, but it’s good that it has come to this now.”

“Is everyone safe?”

-“They’re staying safely at the official residence, so don’t worry.”

The government had moved the family residence to the official residence—the one that the general assigned to me by the Ministry of Defense had lived in.

Though technically civilians, there’s no problem with the family residing in the quarters together according to regulations. Thanks to that, they could remain safe. They were struggling with the luggage left behind at the mansion and the townhouse, but for now, they were safe.

With guard units stationed and a police station nearby, no one would dare approach for a while. No matter how skilled the Imperial Guard intelligence agents were, they couldn’t match the heavily armed military and police special forces.

By the way, there wasn’t a specific deadline set.

“When will this be maintained?”

-“Well, it won’t be a problem to stay in the residence until separate instructions come down from the Office of the Prime Minister.”

“I’m not sure if I should be happy about that.”

-“To be honest… it’s not particularly good news.”

A faint sigh came through the phone. Clevenz continued in a troubled voice.

-“You know, right? Being under security is more exhausting than it sounds. Speaking from the perspective of the one being protected.”

“…I understand.”

Although it’s called protection, in reality, it feels more like surveillance. It doesn’t mean that Abas is watching the family, but rather that the family might feel like they are being monitored by the government.

With armed soldiers stationed right at the entrance, how could anyone relax and sleep soundly?

The residence was protected by military police, and as soon as they stepped outside, officers provided by the Interior Ministry would follow them. Meeting acquaintances? Even commuting would likely feel awkward.

Clevenz knew that better than anyone. Security for important persons is one of the official duties of the Military Intelligence Agency’s counterintelligence department. Knowing that, it was only natural for him to feel troubled.

-“The situation is chaotic, and the Imperial Guard has started showing suspicious movements… We’re trying everything we can within the company…”

“…….”

-“It sounds like you are having a rough time.”

I answered in a flat voice.

“No, it’s fine.”

-“I won’t tell you to stop worrying about your family. But it would be troubling if your work gets disturbed. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes.”

-“Good. We must see each other when you return next time.”

—

Episode 17 – The Tree that Drinks Blood

The list sent by the Ministry of Justice’s Immigration Office was relayed through the Special Investigation Bureau to each company.

Individuals suspected of being foreign intelligence agents had entered the country.

Among them were Ekaterina, confirmed as an intelligence agent from the Imperial Guard, and several suspicious foreigners. It was difficult to accurately count how many spies had entered the country with third-party passports.

Surveillance had begun.

The Special Investigation Bureau, an information investigation agency under the judiciary, alongside the Cabinet Security Office directly under the Prime Minister’s Office, took charge of the operation.

Domestic activities were under their jurisdiction, so the Royal Intelligence Department and the overseas branch of the Military Intelligence Agency couldn’t intervene, but since it was a matter related to military counterintelligence, the domestic branch of the Military Intelligence Agency could participate.

While the investigation was underway, Clevenz issued new orders.

It was to find out if there were any intelligence agents from the Imperial Guard who had recently left the Empire. If so, what operations they were involved in.

The recipients of the orders were moles within the Imperial Guard.

These were double agents recruited by the domestic branch of the Military Intelligence Agency.

No one could guarantee how long it would take to receive a reply.

Neither the moles inside the Imperial Guard nor Clevenz, who managed them, were confident.

I was no different. That was a realm I hadn’t engaged in and couldn’t engage in either.

I could only wait and hope for the best.

—

The world is shaking.

The flickering embers reignited.

Countries that seemed to be seeing the end of civil war, and those that were stitching conflicts back together, were no exception.

The prolonged war of attrition, international interventions, and the impending Aramads stirred up the fears that had been momentarily subdued, sweeping through Mauritania.

[The corrupt regime has plunged the citizens into misery. The president, colluding with foreign powers, has sold the gifts left by our ancestors and the Earth God for a pittance.]

[The Kien Empire has invaded this land and violently suppressed the voices of innocent citizens. Therefore, we have decided to topple the presidential palace and embassies—symbols of the invaders and the tyrants, whose oppression we suffer!]

The number of attacked hard targets (military facilities, government buildings, power plants, embassies, etc.) had long surpassed double digits.

Considering the size of the Mauritania continent, that was a small number, but with the local governments’ terrible response capabilities, it was damage they couldn’t manage.

Explosives hit a government army base. A checkpoint came under fire.

Terrorists stormed the presidential palace and government offices, symbols of the dictator’s authority, and a group, indistinguishable as either rioters or terrorists, occupied an embassy and took diplomats hostage.

But that wasn’t all.

[As the situation in Mauritania becomes increasingly unstable due to successive terrorist attacks, a terrorist group has released another statement. General Baramant Al Aqab of the ‘Peraikan Guards,’ claiming the revival of the Peraikan dynasty, has begun marching towards the capital of the former dynasty, stating, ‘If the military doesn’t withdraw from the border immediately, we will attack!’]

Taking advantage of the chaos brought about by the terrorists, local warlords also began to turn against the central government one by one.

The oppression and massacres perpetrated by the mainstream ethnicity composing the central government. The anger of minority ethnicities and persecuted religious believers, who had been groaning under the government’s blade, burst forth uncontrollably.

Years of suppressed outrage turned into chaos under the guise of fear, facilitating a civil war between the government forces and the warlords.

Just four days ago, a rebel coalition was formed in a country located to the west of Mauritania, and today, government army bases near refugee camps were attacked. The guards of the prime minister clashed with former royal guards advocating for a restoration of the monarchy.

Wielding staffs, the shamans whipped up winds, overturning police vehicles like toys.

When the haze of tear gas settled in the streets, soldiers in gas masks poured out.

At one moment, the front page of the morning newspaper displayed the bodies of dead civilians killed by shamans and demonstrators beaten to death.

It was all happening in a distant land.

And that evening, the newspapers spread trivial government announcements, and bodies, unrecognizable, dangled from cranes. What had been occurring in Iran was being replicated in Mauritania.

[Claims have emerged that warlords occupying the Joukeurha region are committing massacres against civilians. According to the local police chief’s interview with foreign media, the number of citizens, primarily from minority ethnic groups, killed by rebel groups exceeds 300….]

[Terrorists attacked a school in the southern region and beheaded teachers. Although the specific reasons weren’t disclosed, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs stated that it appears to be punishment for conducting education that violates religious laws.]

[Amidst economic crises and protests against dictatorship occurring daily, allegations have arisen regarding government forces firing in the capital, Rakai. When questioned by a journalist about the truth, local military authorities evaded answers….]

[As the dangers rise daily, the Kingdom of Abas and the Kien Empire, located on the Mauritania continent, have ordered certain local embassy staff to evacuate.]

[Countries around the world have advised local residents to leave. This precaution is interpreted as a response to the successive terrorist attacks and the civil war, but some analysts suggest that war over local natural resources is imminent.]

The turmoil in Mauritania was also affecting the continent across the sea.

Discussions arose among intelligence agencies and ministries regarding whether local governments could manage the aftermath.

The Defense Ministries, which deployed military advisors, were frantically confirming whether their stationed troops were safe.

In the meantime, intelligence was received that relatively stable countries were deploying troops to the borders, and before long, instructions to withdraw were issued to several embassies.

“…….”

I read the documents from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

There was information about the government reviewing military operations to rescue diplomats taken hostage.

A memo requesting attention due to escalating threats posed by anti-foreign terrorist groups, and more.

When I noticed that there was also content that implicated me, Camila, and other important figures as potential targets for terrorists.

“Ah, these bastards….”

I crumpled the document and cursed.

It was quite a sharp reaction.

Considering the anxiety surrounding family issues, it was unbearable that absurd incidents were piling up one after another. Even considering that, I was sufficiently on edge.

“…….”

Warnings were flying in left and right, but there was nothing I could do.

I couldn’t go back to the home country like this, nor could I intervene in the local situation.

In the midst of the chaotic state of Mauritania, the Holy See and the Magic Tower found rare common ground. Given such chaotic circumstances, they asked if we had any intention of returning.

However, we decided to stay here.

“What does it matter if there are terrorists? They’re just shamans on the streets. I am not weak enough to fall prey to those who haven’t even stepped into the Ivory Tower.”

“I might be exaggerating, but I agree. If we succumb to fear, who will stay here to care for the refugees?”

“…Well! To be honest, I am a bit scared. But I’m not thinking of running away.”

“…….”

“Let’s just endure! Whether it’s rebels or terrorists, let’s fight if we can! If worse comes to worst, we’ll pack up then!”

The group’s reactions were quite the sight. Unaware of the world’s dangers, they insisted on charging straight ahead, completely nonchalant. So fearless, it was almost absurd.

With Camila, Lucia, and Francesca stepping forward like that, the cult and the Magic Tower had no choice but to step back.

While there were cries begging our Saint and our Department Head to persuade them, they were not the type to be easily swayed.

Thus, we decided to remain in dangerous Mauritania.

Some would protect the wounded and vulnerable, some would confront fears head-on, and others would face monsters.

And finally, after repeated preparations and practice, that day had finally arrived.

“Everyone, pack your things.”

I said, shouldering my gear toward the three.

“We’re going to chop some wood.”

—

Despite the rise of threats and flames across Mauritania, not every country was engulfed in the flames of conflict.

The refugee camps where we primarily operated served as prime examples.

A vast range spanning four countries. Each nation had its own varying degree of flares of trouble, but the situation had yet to deteriorate severely.

Central governments in the four countries still maintained a degree of power. The peacekeeping forces dispatched by the World Union were protecting civilians to minimize damage, and government forces were focusing their efforts on military operations to reduce collateral damage.

Like many other nations in Mauritania, this area was indeed a developing country, but it also retained some semblance of stability. At least in places, avoiding a few dangerous regions.

The dominant government forces ensure safety, while areas with influential warlords were dangerous.

For reference, the regions we operated in were mostly classified as ‘safe areas.’ The World Union had taken that into consideration when they dispatched us.

Of course, there were instances when we would come close to areas of warlord activity, but not today.

“Umm.”

As we sped along the road beyond the government checkpoint.

Camila made a strange noise mixed with an odd whistle as she turned her gaze out the window.

People were seen moving against the current, heading back towards where they had come from, towards the direction of the government checkpoint. They appeared to be refugees.

On the now-empty road, there were only refugees. To be precise, only refugees.

Aside from an occasional passing military vehicle or a police car that looked more like a comical relic of its former self, the only beings visible on the road were those moving on their own two feet, refugees.

Observing the weary-looking refugees, Camila wore a solemn expression.

“Everyone’s leaving for safety. They’re probably heading to the refugee camp?”

“The camp might be their destination, or perhaps a relative’s house in the countryside.”

“…Those people. They all seem to be coming from the south.”

Her blue eyes sank into thought.

Capturing the lengthy procession of refugees in her gaze, Camila said, “The south is where the Nabuktu is, right? The area where the tree shows up.”

“That’s right. It’s the city with the man-eating tree.”

And coincidentally, it was also where we were headed.

The endless plains stretched out on either side as the sandstorm billowed from the speeding tires.

When I saw the refugees coughing due to the dust kicked up behind us, I activated the radio installed in the vehicle.

“Lead vehicle, slow down a bit. We’ve closed the windows, but dust is pouring in like crazy.”

After a moment, as the interpreter on the radio spoke, the lead vehicle began to reduce speed.

I nervously placed the radio down and quietly grumbled.

“Honestly, the level of the military in this place…”

After the accident in Nabuktu, many events unfolded. The backlash from the Al-Yabd fundamentalists, who didn’t want to allow the Holy See to participate in the investigation, the local council’s wary stance toward foreign troops, and so forth.

The fact that the incident occurred in Nabuktu, the capital of the southern region of the country, was also one of the reasons for the substantial fallout.

Debates regarding the investigation activities of the Inquisition crossed religious, political, and social lines, but surprisingly, the heated discussions simmered down quickly.

This was partly because, in the course of all the commotion, there had been many casualties once more.

Having been watching the movements of local media and foreign news closely, Camila mentioned a recent event that occurred in Nabuktu.

“I heard that people investigating the tree died. Scholars were taken, and those who went to rescue them were also taken.”

“Yes. It was the police and firefighters. There were also a few soldiers and civilians.”

Immediately after the incident occurred, the governor of Nabuktu sealed off the site and began an investigation.

It was a state-level inquiry, supported by the clerics managing the Al-Yabd in that area.

The problem began when the scholars, who were examining the tree, were eaten alive. It started with the scholar who got closest, and those who attempted to rescue him were dragged in.

The police and firefighters on standby at the scene tried to pull the scholars away, but it was no use.

Indeed, even the officers and firefighters trying to rescue the scholars were dragged in, along with several troops and brave citizens trying to help.

The number of casualties exceeded dozens in under ten minutes—roughly around eight minutes.

Upon receiving the report about the event, the president immediately sought assistance from the Holy See, Al-Yabd, and the World Union. That was how we obtained permission to enter the site.

Francesca placed her hand on her forehead incredulously.

“Must a person die for change to occur… Should I call this natural or sad?”

“Isn’t it the same in every country?”

“Safety precautions always end up being written in blood.”

I stared at the vehicles leading the way. It was a convoy of government forces heading toward southern Nabuktu.

Though relatively stable, this was undeniably a country in the midst of civil war. In a country where civil war was active, the military’s status could only be dominant, and thus, the first grouping to act during a nation-wide crisis would naturally be the military.

Of course, their motives for moving weren’t entirely benevolent. As is often the case with military forces in third-world countries, the military here was somewhat warlordized.

It was an evil mindset attempting to resolve the situation themselves before foreign powers were able to swoop in to claim all the merit.

“Ugh…”

I could hardly think that those idiots would be able to resolve the situation. Not just me but everyone thought the same.

It would be better to trust the cult or Al-Yabd at this point. By the way, vehicles containing people from the cult and Al-Yabd were trailing behind us. Even Rebecca, a priest from the Inquisition assigned to assist Lucia, was coming from somewhere behind.

The simple reason I trusted the priests, who were following from the rear, over the government forces leading the way was clear.

It was a very simple reason.

The person assigned as the regional commander in Nabuktu was nothing more than a figurehead.

“Say, who was the new regional commander assigned to Nabuktu? I think I met him before, but I can’t quite recall.”

“He’s an appointee from the presidential palace.”

Francesca, who had been in contact with various defense ministry officials, smiled faintly.

She summarized the new commander assigned to Nabuktu’s area succinctly.

“He’s the president’s brother-in-law.”

That simple explanation made everything clear.

Damn it. With this chaos, it should have been obvious they still hadn’t gotten their act together. I should have realized that when the president came to the refugee camp for a photo-op. Damn.

There was no excuse whatsoever.

Even a country deemed suitable by the World Union didn’t particularly reflect the integrity of the local government. In fact, corruption exists in every country, but finding a non-corrupt nation on the Mauritania continent was as challenging as finding a virgin who can conceive.

Naturally, it wouldn’t be easy to expect the newly appointed southern commander to have the capabilities on par with the military government headquarters of the Kien Empire.

At least the Emperor didn’t entrust the fate of the north to a figurehead. Of course, the commander appointed by the Crown Prince was in place of the senile old man.

“Ha… I find myself missing Commander Mikhail all of a sudden.”

Francesca sighed, looking completely worn out.

“I never thought I’d say this, but the imperial army really seems good at picking commanders.”

Just as she weakly murmured that, Lucia, who was sitting in the back seat, began to give an awkward smile.

“…Let’s not think so negatively. If you look closely, I’m sure there are positive aspects to the commander as well.”

Indeed, it seemed one could not just be a saint. Even when the situation was obviously overwhelming, Lucia remained positive.

I looked back at her with admiration.

“You’re quite optimistic. But as for the newly appointed commander, I heard he caused quite a stir at his previous post.”

“Stir, you say?”

“What was it? They said he sexually harassed his aide? There was also something about embezzling funds that I’m not sure how the trial turned out, though I heard it was a problem child.”

“…….”

A chilling silence filled the vehicle.

Lucia sat quietly, still wearing her smile. She merely continued to smile.

Though the fact about the new commander’s misconduct brought down the mood momentarily, the group’s spirits quickly revived, and serious discussions about the mission resumed.

“Will the priests conduct the investigation while we handle the security?”

“Yes. While the clergy of the cult and Al-Yabd investigate the tree, we must ensure there are no casualties.”

It was decided that investigating the tree that devoured people would be the responsibility of the clergymen. Those priests from the cult and Al-Yabd would closely examine the tree.

In the meantime, we would take precautions to prevent any unforeseen incidents and prepare to destroy the tree if it came to it. Of course, it was already a foregone conclusion that the tree would be taken out regardless of the findings.

That was the official role we were assigned.

So that meant there was an unofficial role.

It meant that a real mission existed apart from that.

“Before the cult and Al-Yabd examine the site, Ramiel and Nathaniel will go in to check the tree. During that time, we must ensure no one gets close to the tree.”

I explained the plan in a calm tone.

“First, we’ve secured cooperation from the government. Under the orders of the regional commander, the troops will restrict access. No one will be allowed to approach, not even the cult or Al-Yabd.”

Of course, there was also the possibility of someone sneaking through the military’s perimeter and entering. We had to prevent just such people.

As I was methodically explaining, Camila pursed her lips and, after a moment, began to ask me.

“Um… When did you secure such cooperation?”

“At dawn.”

The military attache from the embassy managed to get a commitment from a senior general at the local defense ministry. It was the result of a little bribery. Of course.

It didn’t seem necessary to bring that story up, but everyone seemed to pick up on it. Francesca smiled brightly while Lucia wore a frown, and Camila didn’t seem to mind much.

Camila turned her head to gaze out the window. Rubbish and splinters were suspiciously strewn about on the roadside.

While observing the refugees rummaging through the trash, she suddenly spoke up.

“Huh?”

“What is it?”

“Someone’s standing over there…”

She pointed to somewhere as she peered out the window.

Across the shallow sand-covered asphalt and stretching across the vast plain, someone stood at a distance, at what seemed to be a rocky hill or sand dune.

Though it was hard to see clearly from afar, I could confirm that it was someone holding a long staff. It looked like a wooden staff.

“Ah, it’s probably just an old man passing by.”

“An old man?”

“This area has its fair share of them. Old men taking strolls alone. Occasionally they die after encountering monsters, but those who have lived here long tend to know how to evade danger from robbers or monsters.”

Living long in such a neighborhood means one has weathered all sorts of crises.

It was similar to elderly men residing in Afghanistan, who had faced the Soviet Army in their youth and now shook off the Taliban’s threats, proving their resilience through actions.

I spoke in a nonchalant tone as I watched the front.

However, Camila couldn’t pull her gaze away from the increasingly diminishing figure. Until it shrank into a tiny dot, vanishing from sight altogether.

“Hm…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just…”

Camila turned away from the window, her expression uneasy.

“Strangely, my stomach feels sour.”

It must be motion sickness.