A Dark Fantasy Spy

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There is no pleasure without responsibility.

Everything comes with a price.

These two sayings have been proven by countless historical examples throughout the ages.

A good example to illustrate this is the carpenter, a former assassin living with a puppy, who exploited a bug involving five loaves of bread and two fish for infinite replication.

On one side, a fool who shot randomly and met his end; on the other, someone who disrupted the market economy and was caught using unauthorized external programs, ending up banned for life.

(Three days later, he returned briefly with a smurf account but was known to have ultimately quit.)

Anyway.

When chasing pleasure, one must bear the responsibilities that follow, and if a crime is committed, one must face appropriate punishment.

Upon hearing about the reverse coup, the Ministry of Defense of Abas swiftly removed me from my post.

“What happened?”

“He was dismissed from his position.”

This decision carried significant political, diplomatic, and military implications and was indeed a very reasonable action.

Is it really appropriate to promote someone who instigated a military coup and overthrew the local government? Especially someone with diplomatic status?

Even the reckless Kien Empire had to take responsibility for such an incident.

Thus, after quickly dismissing me, the Ministry of Defense ordered my return to the homeland.

The problem was…

“But you just caused a coup and you can still eat?”

“No, sister. I told you it wasn’t my idea several times.”

“…….”

“…Sorry. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

This is hell.

—

Episode 19 – HELLDIVERS

—

The sky over the capital of Abas was gloomy once again today.

The atmosphere was entirely different from the fresh sunshine and dryness of the northern Mauritania Continent, known for its typical African climate in the Jamria Federation. This dreariness could very well be considered the true charm of Abas.

It had been a week since I had returned from the hellishly hot neighborhood to the refreshing atmosphere of my homeland.

Life in the homeland, which should have been more refreshing than ever, felt like a living hell.

“Hey. Rebels.”

Lying on the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling, another Abas diplomatic civil servant started trouble with me.

“…Why?”

“Oh, you seem to understand me now? You’ve really grown.”

With hands casually stuck in his pockets and a smirk on his face, he was indeed an annoying combination.

The diplomat looked like someone I wanted to slap. Older Sister Adela approached him like a child who had found a toy she liked.

“Big news! Our family is filled with rebels now!”

“Adela, why are you being difficult again?”

“Then would you keep quiet?”

I swallowed a lump of sorrow. It had only been a week since I last heard this, and yet, for some inexplicable reason, each moment felt like a fresh blow.

“I’m not a rebel….”

“Yes, yes. Oh, is that so?”

Adela couldn’t stop her uncontrollable grin.

“We detonated a bomb in front of the Presidential Palace and captured the interim president to lock him in a pigsty, and you call that a coup, you little brat.”

Such vicious slander was truly despicable. Being factual only made it more cowardly.

“I’m not a rebel….”

I could only cover my face, suffering from the malicious slander of the diplomatic civil servant.

The price of delivering democracy to the Jamria Federation had been harsh.

The Ministry of Defense, starting with my dismissal, formed a joint investigation team consisting of the Inspection Office, Military Police, and Military Intelligence Agency to grill me, and investigators sent by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Royal Intelligence Department detained me overnight without letting me go.

(??? : 30 years in the military and I’ve never heard of tank theft before. Are you crazy? / ??? : What kind of drug were you on to start a rebellion with a metal pipe? Your urine test came back normal.)

—

There was everything from ridiculous misunderstandings and slander to persecution and humiliation. I had to endure countless investigations and inspections.

And all alone.

It was clearly targeted investigation.

(Royal Intelligence Department: What nonsense! You’re the one who staged the coup! / Military Intelligence Agency: When did we ever tell you to start a coup;;;)

Despite having done something good, I faced such a horrible outcome.

Is there such a tragedy in this world?

(Ministry of Defense: We will conduct simulation training for the hijacking of armored vehicles starting next month. Each lesson and staff department should plan and distribute properly to carry out the training. / ?????: How does anyone steal a tank? Be rational here, for goodness’ sake!)

—

“This is slander….”

If others had heard it, they would have immediately demanded accountability. However, surprisingly, Frederick truly felt wronged. He believed he was being slandered.

The reason was simple.

“How can she kick me out of the house?”

“Does it matter that mom kicked you out?”

Adela burst into laughter, recalling a certain dark history that had occurred not long ago.

“You said you’d sneak in without the cameras knowing, but you got caught by mom there.”

“She kicked me out pretty harshly.”

“The reporters who had come to cover the commotion also ran away, shocked by mom’s voice.”

That atmosphere was indeed no joke.

The reporters from the broadcasting station, driven wild by the smell of a hot scoop, stormed our residence only to sneakily moonwalk away from the mighty roar of the royal court maid.

The problem was that all those moments were broadcast live.

[What has that kid, working at the embassy, been doing all this time? Get out!]

[Don’t interfere with other people’s privacy!]

The scene of the royal court maid (high-ranking civil servant/mother) berating the military major (just a civil servant/rebel/son) was vividly captured on national screens through the camera’s manual fade-out.

The military police on escort duty, investigators organizing files, and even the head of the Military Intelligence Agency were all helplessly watching as I was forcibly evicted by my mother.

“Isn’t this embarrassing?”

“Does it look like I’m not embarrassed?”

“Well, everybody saw you being kicked out, so the entire nation knows. Rumor has it that even the royal palace and the Office of the Prime Minister have seen it.”

“…Damn it.”

I cringed as I buried my face in my hands. It was so shameful.

“Even foreigners are going to hear about this…?”

“You might as well be a world star with all this.”

The Abas diplomat grinned, and I roughly interpreted it to mean things had gone downhill.

“I’m totally ruined.”

Now that foreign news reports had come out, my companions must have heard the news. My past mistakes would likely be brought up whenever there was a drinking party, like stale snacks.

Especially Veronica. She probably had a huge grin on her face already. I could tell without looking.

As I lay down in the motel, trying to hide from the world, an annoying acquaintance began poking me with their toes.

“Hey, be grateful this is all that happened. If mom had been in her usual mood, she might have broken both your legs that day. Getting kicked out is a blessing in disguise.”

“Shut up….”

It wasn’t much of a consolation.

Just as I was trying to avoid the foot that had been jabbing me, Adela smacked the back of my head and bluntly said, “Stop whining and eat your food.”

—

While I roamed from motel to motel eating on borrowed time, a perilous yet sweet game of social maneuvering continued on the international stage.

A military rebellion sparked by ethnic-political conflict. A reverse coup instigated by outsiders. Two coups in just a week, and the aftermath was certainly sweeping.

Someone had to take responsibility.

Or shift the blame.

The modern man of the 21st century (??? : The team difference is unreal. / ??? : Politicking is just ridiculous, damn it.) could easily predict the conclusion of this sweet yet perilous game of social maneuvering.

—

However, for some reason, the raucous folks barking like dogs had all become mute as if they had their mouths sealed.

“…Everyone seems quiet? Feel free to share your thoughts, haha….”

“…….”

“Haha….”

It was as if humidity had glued their tongues together, or they had struck their vocal cords with concrete. They had always acted like tough guys, yet now they sat silently like stuffed animals.

The reason was clear.

“Is His Grace the Duke safe?”

“Yes. There are no injuries whatsoever.”

The Kien Empire was in a terribly difficult position.

Why? The Kien Empire was courting the new government of the Jamria Federation.

The military government that seized power through a coup wanted the empire to handle significant projects such as natural resource development and infrastructure rebuilding. It wasn’t because Kien’s companies were particularly skilled or cheap but because companies that had been sharpening their skills back then were now their best options.

The problem was that Her Grace Duke Alexandra Petrovna wasn’t about to let go of the military government.

If this had been something the Abas folks had instigated, the Kien Ministry of Foreign Affairs would have angrily dismissed it as out of line, but since Her Grace was involved, they had no choice but to close their mouths like sheep.

What could they do against the royal archmage participating in a reverse coup?

This was bad news for Kien but undeniably good news for Abas.

Rumors about Alexandra Petrovna staging a coup in a foreign land were simply ear-licking material.

That was not the case at all.

“Reports indicate multiple skirmishes have taken place locally. Can we get an update on the defense attaché’s condition?”

“…Uh, well, for the time being, no injuries have been reported.”

It was simply mind-boggling. Had the defense attaché lost his mind or was he on some drug? One defense attaché’s involvement ballooned this issue way out of control.

Not only had he stolen tanks from the rebel armored unit, but he also fired a tank cannon at the Presidential Palace, and scenes of him smacking local military and police with a metal pipe had been broadcast worldwide.

In other words, he had made a spectacle of national pride (only to see it crash down in reverse).

“…….”

Kien, which was in a frenzy due to a royal kin’s blunder, and Abas, which was just about to explode due to the dynamic problems caused by the diplomatic civil servant.

They had ample grounds to blame each other, but one careless word could lead to their own necks on the line.

Of course, neither of them dared to exchange pleasantries in front of one another.

“How is the Saint doing—”

“Let’s talk about it later.”

“…Ah, yes.”

The gamble the church had undertaken was an abysmal failure. Not even such tragedies could come close to this level of calamity.

The atmosphere in the holy land Lateran was downright dismal. It was gloomier than ever, and it was akin to a cadaver hidden in the bushes that had not been discovered by the search party.

The Pope, who had lost both dreams and hope, gathered the cardinals and bishops only to silently smoke cigarettes.

His prowess in seamlessly transferring the flame from one cigarette to another was impressive, but the craft of the black-haired Saint (not a beast) making donuts was not to be underestimated either.

Whether it was the pope, saint, cardinal, or bishop, they were all smoking in unison, to the point where the ceiling’s frescoes were hidden; the smoke made it impossible to tell if one was in an opium den or a place of worship.

Cough, cough! What’s that smell? The Mediocus Cathedral, which maintained silence on all allegations related to Saint Lucia, was seen consistently puffing out a mysterious, cloudy smoke.

“…….”

“…….”

“…….”

Among the men, there were still those who were compelled to speak their minds, even while casting glances at one another.

Local governments advocating Mauritania-centered perspectives claimed, “Foreign powers have intervened in the Jamria Federation’s coup!”

Of course, they received little response.

This was because the new Jamria Federation government (3rd term) had brushed off the “unpleasant events” that transpired during the suppression of the coup (2nd government). They were effectively saying, let’s ignore it and pretend it never happened.

On the other hand, Al-Yabd firmly maintained a consistently “brothers should not fight,” “peace is important” stance, so…

Although many had grievances to express, they did not want to get into trouble and after lengthy deliberation, they came to this resolution.

“How about we call it a draw…?”

—

After a week of eating on borrowed time while undergoing investigation, the situation suddenly appeared to have changed a little.

The investigators who had been pouncing on me like rats were now going sluggishly, the investigators who meticulously wrote reports were lounging like dried fish in their chairs.

Sniff sniff. A mysterious scent reminiscent of simmering seashells wafted through the corridors of the joint investigation team. What on earth was happening?

With all my instincts firing, I pieced together news from both within and outside the country, my seasoned instincts whispered in my ear.

‘Do you think I’ll get a pension?’

What does it matter if I’m dismissed from my post? As long as I keep getting my salary and my pension is stacking up, I’d be rolling in dough!

Sure, I might miss a promotion, but as long as I can fulfill my pension period, it’s all good!

“Yes, that should suffice. Please sign and you may leave.”

Anyway, the investigation was over. They mentioned it would take some time for the results to come out.

There could be disciplinary measures, or not. To be honest, the possibility of disciplinary discussion just fading into nothingness seemed quite high.

When I stepped outside, Older Brother Jerry was waiting for me. He waved his hand and started talking to me.

“Fred. Is the investigation over?”

“Yeah.”

“Good to hear. You did well.”

Jerry pointed at his car and told me to get in.

“Did you get a new car?”

“It was inconvenient for commuting. To use public transport, I had to first get out of the compound, but that area is just too wide. So I got one.”

While our parents had a government vehicle at their disposal, that wasn’t true for Jerry and Adela. They had to bear it, but some inconveniences couldn’t be ignored, so they had to get a vehicle.

For security reasons, my family had entered the residence and were still there. Meanwhile, I still couldn’t get in. My lady mother was quite upset.

I settled into the back seat and began to grumble.

“How old am I and I don’t even have a home?”

“Then why didn’t you buy a place earlier?… I think mom is starting to cool down; why don’t you just enter?”

“Forget it.”

It’s not like it was even my home.

The rush hour traffic pierced through all directions. The crowds and streams of cars gathered in the city center felt as if I was watching a massive anthill.

As we struggled to escape the downtown and head to the suburbs, the car glided smoothly down the road. We started chatting while looking out the window.

“I heard foreigners are frequently heading to the Mauritania continent?”

“Private companies? They’re frequently branching out now. Untapped land is a scratch-off lottery.”

“Mining, oil extraction, gas extraction. They’re probably going there with the thought that they’ll suck up magic stones too.”

“There’s basically no foundational industry there. They have no choice but to rely on resources. But why the sudden question about private companies?”

“I was curious if there’s a noteworthy business to pay attention to.”

“Hmm….”

As Jerry drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, he turned on the radio and opened his mouth.

“Regional differences aside, the most active ones are mining companies. Numerous countries have entered, but the most active are Kien’s companies, like Rudakoff and Garniak.”

“Aren’t they both state-owned companies?”

“Strictly speaking, they aren’t state-owned.”

“Half of the companies listed on the Petrogard Stock Exchange are effectively state-owned, you know.”

“Yeah, they’re privately owned but almost half belong to the crown. Especially those dealing with magic stones.”

It was an unexpected conversation.

As I flipped through the newspaper, a small article caught my eye. It mentioned new resources discovered in the capital of the Jamria Federation, Umsalka.

“Now where did resources come out of a capital city?”

“They had an oil well burst or something.”

“…They found oil? Seriously?”

“Yeah. Apparently, it erupted while they were reconstructing the capital.”

I couldn’t believe it and tossed the paper away in disbelief.

“I’m losing my mind.”

After navigating through rush hour, we arrived in front of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. There, I met Adela.

She seemed to have just got off work, as she dashed down the stairs the moment she saw the car.

“What’s this?”

“…What do you mean by ‘this’ to your brother?”

Adela frowned when she realized I was in the back seat. I also frowned in response, both of us wearing sour expressions.

“Get out quickly.”

“Fine. I’ll get out since it’s dirty….”

“Who said it’s dirty! Hurry and get out, you rebel!”

Here we go again.

Adela, who was throwing a tantrum, managed to claim the back seat entirely.

“Ahh, how comfy.”

Jerry smiled at his sister sprawled across the back seat, and I began to gather my things, slightly bending at the waist.

“Make sure to take her inside first, bro.”

“Huh? Why are you getting out here? Aren’t you coming home? Ayla’s supposed to visit today.”

“I have someone to meet.”

As Jerry leaned in between the driver and passenger seats, looking curious, he grinned and asked.

“Oh? Are you going to meet a girl?”

Seemingly having found a source of amusement, Jerry wore a mischievous grin, and Adela, as usual, scratched her calves with no pretense and let out a snicker.

I kicked away her annoying foot, closed the door, and replied.

“Yeah.”