A Dark Fantasy Spy

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I shoved the tear-soaked bread into my mouth and dashed towards the Military Intelligence Agency building.

Before even an hour had passed, I returned to the unit and felt the strength drain from my body as if I had been hit with a confession drug.

“Shit…”

If you dislike it, then you should write a discharge request, what else can be done?

Letting out a deep sigh, I turned on the communication device.

“Yes, Colonel. I’m currently in front of the building.”

— ‘You’re already here? Good. I’ve got an advisor waiting down there, so let him come up.’

“Where are you right now?”

— ‘Room 503.’

The Military Intelligence Agency’s 5th-floor small conference room.

— ‘You can take your time coming up; we haven’t started yet.’

This is bad.

—

Episode 4 – Why Am I the Only One Like This?

After careful consideration, I realized that I was indeed in big trouble.

That’s because the place Clevenz summoned me to was exactly Room 503.

Our Military Intelligence Agency is made up of several buildings.

The eastern wing, which consists of the domestic part comprising security, intelligence, and counterintelligence; the western wing, which consists of the overseas part for foreign intelligence and operations; the northern wing, holding technical departments and various support divisions; and lastly, the main building, where the Director and all his advisors gather.

Among them, the 5th floor of the main building was a place all employees dreaded going.

Because that’s where the Director’s office and the conference room were located.

The highest point of the Military Intelligence Agency.

Commonly referred to as Room 503. Its official name is the small conference room of the Military Intelligence Agency Director.

It’s the place where the Director presides over daily morning meetings and financial reports, and where he gathers commanders for discussions. Usually, Colonels attend frequently, and occasionally Lieutenant Colonels and Majors are called in to present.

Typically, being summoned to such a place like I was, as a field officer (below Lieutenant Colonel), could mean you had done exceptionally well and were being praised, or you had messed up terribly and were being interrogated.

And the only time someone without any prior notice, presentation materials, or reports gets called to Room 503 is one.

“……”

“What’s wrong? You don’t look well.”

“…Hey, do you know why I’m going to Room 503?”

“I don’t know.”

Such a useless punk.

“Fine, you go ahead and live your life.”

“…? I didn’t catch that?”

Wiping the sweat from my dress pants, I took a moment for a self-reflection.

Did I fail to correct typos in the report I sent? Absolutely not.

Since I entered the military in this area, I’ve never been careless with paperwork to miss typos. I’ve had too many instances where I got chewed out for not spotting typos in PPT presentations, so correcting mistakes has become second nature.

So, did someone manipulate the report or skim off operational costs? Nope.

I managed all operational funds myself, and aside from Pippin, Jake, and me, no one else had participated with the Cult. I had never set up another higher-up besides Clevenz, so there’s definitely no lunatic stealing operational funds. Plus, it wasn’t like I didn’t have results to brag about or that I inflated any reports.

Could it be that they were dissatisfied with the business results?

Hmm. That seemed likely.

After all, aside from the pesky fly (diplomat) Clevenz commanded me to swat dead, I hadn’t successfully completed any tasks he had assigned me from the outset. The circumstances just hadn’t allowed it, so someone had to take responsibility for the lack of results.

Ding-Dong.

“Let’s go down.”

With that, I finished my self-reflection and stepped out of the elevator.

“Have you arrived?”

“Good morning, Colonel.”

“Morning? It’s already noon.”

Clevenz greeted me with a smile as I arrived. He had been looking out the window from the hallway and waved for the advisor.

“Did you eat?”

“Yes, did you have your meal, Colonel?”

“Not yet.”

So he skipped meals and ran a marathon meeting? He could’ve just said he hadn’t had lunch.

My stomach felt a bit heavy from rushing back and forth or maybe it was just returning to the unit.

As expected, Clevenz took one look at me and spat out his observation.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

If I said yes, I’d surely hear a lecture, so I simply replied no.

“Uh, there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“I’m wondering why you called me….”

“Oh, that? It’s nothing special; I just called you in to attend the meeting. Are you ready for a presentation?”

“Are you referring to now?”

“Yep, right now.”

Ah, life.

I stared blankly in a lost daze, and Clevenz kindly moved on as he noted my expression.

“Don’t be too nervous; it’s not a very difficult presentation.”

“Yup.”

“Just in case, keep your expressions in check. There are many people inside.”

Following Clevenz’s advice, I forced a smile while relaxing my facial muscles.

Seeing that, he added, with a strange expression.

“Attending the meeting would benefit you as well.”

“…What?”

“You’ll find out once you get in.”

—

When I first entered the small conference room of the Military Intelligence Agency Director, I found it surprisingly ordinary.

There were several large screens mounted on the walls, and the wooden conference table with chairs placed around it looked just like any command post meeting room.

Since there were significantly fewer people than seats, it seemed that it was probably still break time.

However, the luxurious wooden table and chairs, along with the crystal water bottles placed around, reminded me that this was a world where the oppressive class system truly existed. Nonetheless, this was still relatively nice.

In this dark fantasy world, with plenty of people starving, there were still those who lived well-fed. Not everyone lived in such luxury, but considering this regal structure was adorned with pearls in the Ministry of National Affairs building, where a religion claiming to value integrity resided, it’s clear that this world is genuinely broken.

I couldn’t help but wonder why I had played such a trash game.

If I had been deceived by the stupid sommelier just once or twice, that would have sufficed. Yet, why did I spend such hefty money on this stupid game?

Regretting not cutting my fingers off sooner, I was suddenly interrupted by Clevenz entering the conference room with an air of authority.

“I’m here.”

At that, all the commanders sitting in the room turned their heads to look at us.

“Has Director Hendrick arrived? Who’s that beside you?”

“This is the friend I mentioned last time.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Colonel Frederick Nostrim.”

“Oh, nice to meet you too.”

A colonel with a completely bald head greeted back with a salute. Unsure of who this person was, I fumbled awkwardly until Clevenz leaned in and whispered.

“He’s the Security Chief.”

“Oh.”

The Security Department is the operational division that monitors military secrets to prevent leaks.

It sounds like something cool, but the main job of the Security Department is to keep watch over the military. Though it’s nice to say monitor, from the viewpoint of those being observed, it can feel like surveillance. They often create reports on the activities of key executives, which can influence promotions, so they are regularly watched with hawk-eyed scrutiny.

Of course, that’s an issue that’s completely unrelated to me. The department that monitors our staff isn’t a practical one like the Security Department; it’s the Supervisory Department, which is an advisory body.

As I continued exchanging greetings with the utterly bald colonel, another colonel approached with an air of confidence.

“Is this the friend who submitted the report last week?”

He pointed at me, but he wasn’t asking me. Staring blankly, I was caught off guard by Clevenz’s reply.

“Yes, this is the Intelligence Chief.”

Intelligence Chief, huh.

If the Security Department handles domestic matters, the Intelligence Department deals with foreign affairs. Simply put, they are the operational division gathering military security-related information around the parliament, media, corporations, government departments, and courts.

“I read the report well. It was easy to read.”

“Thank you…?”

With a friendly pat on my shoulder, the Intelligence Chief praised me.

I had submitted so many reports that I had no clue which ones he had been referring to, but anyway, it was good to hear something positive.

In any case, in terms of internal hierarchy within the Military Intelligence Agency, the Intelligence Chief ranks third. For reference, number two is the Staff Officer who oversees all the advisory departments, and number four is the Security Chief, while number five is the Counterintelligence Department.

Under normal circumstances, these two gentlemen should have been locked in a tense stand-off with Clevenz, but looking at their faces, none seemed to show discomfort towards each other.

This was an entirely predictable situation. After all, it would be Clevenz, not those two, who would be promoted to general.

There exists a wall that bamboo and stars can’t cross; the lack of any more positions for advancement in the Intelligence Agency meant that failing in a promotion to general practically equated to dismissal. Therefore, the conversation flowed smoothly and comfortably.

At least, on the surface.

“How’s Lena doing?”

“She’s been pretty bored lately. She keeps saying she wants to go to the sea, but only if the monsters are around.”

“I guess the merfolk are quiet these days. They always stormed the port around this time last year.”

“If you listen to the police, they say so, but it seems the Eastern Fleet is having a different story.”

“Why have we not received any reports from the Security forces over there? Why don’t I know about this?”

As the two colonels began chatting about sea monsters and merfolk, I couldn’t help but ponder why they had shifted the conversation from asking about their wives. It seemed their thought processes were just a bit different.

Regardless, I still had no idea why I had been called here. I glanced at Clevenz who simply looked back and casually remarked.

“It seems not everyone has gathered yet.”

“Is that so?”

As the Security Chief dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief, he suddenly spoke up.

“The Director went to the smoking area with the Staff Officer a while ago, so he’ll be here soon.”

Just how many cigarettes do they have to smoke to take so long? Glancing at the honors seats, two cactus plants made of burnt-out butts sprouted.

They’re chain-smokers, it seems.

I couldn’t help but worry that they might end up with lung cancer before retirement. But then I thought that if they received a few proper heals from the high priests, wouldn’t they recover from cancer?

As I filled my head with such pointless thoughts, the conference room door swung open, and people began to enter.

“Is the Director here?”

“Oh, everyone sit down.”

“The meeting will start soon, so please take your seats.”

The first to walk in was the Director, whose tired face was marked with wrinkles, along with the Staff Officer.

“I apologize for being late.”

“No worries. It’s fine.”

“Haha.”

“Who is this Major here?”

Some commanders who I had seen passing by a few times asked. Following them, a few other colonels entered the meeting room gradually, and lastly, a Lieutenant Colonel came in and closed the door, signaling that everyone who needed to be there had arrived.

“Now, let’s begin the meeting.”

—

The meeting was notably calm and quiet. Since everyone was of higher rank and age, the overall atmosphere was smooth.

Of course, it also helped that this wasn’t an intelligence report or audit meeting but a community time with food.

“Now let’s eat first, then talk comfortably,” the Director said with a warm smile. Participants began to serve themselves first with the light pre-meal bread and soup, with a warm meal following shortly, making the atmosphere even more pleasant.

Perhaps because of their age, the menu was mostly easy to digest.

Yet, I had no intention of eating here at all. I had already eaten lunch and more importantly, this was far too burdensome.

How could I eat in front of my superiors? Especially in a conference room where it was our first face-to-face meeting. So instead, I carefully read through the reports placed in front of me.

For reference, all those reports were written by me. The major personal trend reports I had drafted while hopping between the Cult National Affairs Council and the Inquisition, the report on the internal structure of the buildings I had garnered access to while entering the Empire’s diplomatic missions, reports drafted while meeting with members of the Imperial Guard HQ, a plan drafted to assassinate Cardinal Raul followed by an evaluation report, and so on.

For a moment, I felt my mind go blank. Had I really written so many reports in two months? When would I even read through all this?

Though most of it was information stored in my head (after all, I wrote the documentation), the volume was simply overwhelming. If I were to present, I would at least need to organize the information stored in my head.

While I crammed into a corner of the table, drowning in my thoughts, I suddenly heard the Director’s voice from across the table.

“Colonel Frederick.”

“Yes, Director.”

“It seems Hendrick has frightened you, but there’s no need to be too anxious. I haven’t called you here to lecture you.”

The Director chuckled, reassuring me.

First of all, it didn’t seem like this meeting was meant to be a reprimand. However, I couldn’t be too relieved as getting the presentation wrong would typically mean getting grilled and called up by my superiors.

However, it would also be risky to ignore the Director’s words and have my focus solely on the reports, which would get me laughed at, leaving me with no choice but to awkwardly smile and close the reports that I hadn’t even finished reading.

As I was stuck organizing what to present relying on memory, the commanders began to open up one by one.

“What’s the situation in the Empire’s northern regions these days?”

“It’s dismal. The artillery deployed on the front line seems to be firing without regard to ammunition supply rates.”

“Are we being outmatched by the demon tribes?”

“Thanks to the mountainous terrain, we’re not losing ground on the front line, but we seem to struggle due to the special forces that have infiltrated the rear. The command post seems to be managing decently, but it appears there have been assaults lower than the regiment level.”

The first primary topic was naturally the situation concerning the Empire and the demon frontier areas.

The Empire is a traditionally military-powered nation, and a rugged mountain range forms the border making it hard to easily lose ground. Still, it seems they are suffering significant losses due to special forces disrupting the rear. Even though nationwide martial law has been lifted, the northern region is still under state emergency, so it looks like the Counterintelligence Department will soon launch a large-scale counter-spy operation.

The next subject was the refugee issue.

“How are things in the south? I’ve heard refugees are pouring in across the border.”

“The Border Guard has failed in its surveillance, but they managed to resolve it by punishing the commanders and replacing them with rear units.”

“And the infectious disease?”

“It’s currently under the health ministry’s supervision as medical and chemical units are dispatched to quarantine all domestic infected individuals.”

“What about foreigners?”

“All formally entered foreigners are being quarantined and treated separately. Those who entered illegally have been forcibly deported by the Ministry of Justice.”

According to Clevenz, amongst those refugees were also some rebels, but many had fled from the internal war as civilians. Having forcibly deported them, they would probably end up either getting eaten by monsters in No Man’s Land, drowning while crossing the strait, or getting shot by the coastal patrol’s cannons. Regardless, they’d die even if they returned, being slaughtered by the government army.

Just then, Clevenz spoke up.

“The refugee issue isn’t something we should be overly concerned about since it falls under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Justice. We have plenty of other issues to focus on, don’t we?”

“What would those be?”

“What about the Research Institute?”

“Are you talking about that sorcerer spy?”

An all-too-familiar topic came to the table.

I momentarily paused my thoughts and subtly turned my head towards Clevenz, just slightly.

Clevenz put down his fork and knife, quietly beginning his discourse.

“As everyone here knows, it’s against international law for wizards to engage in intelligence activities.”

“Are you referring to the Nastashiya Treaty?”

“Yes.”

Upon the name of that notable treaty being brought up, my attention was transfixed.

To summarize, the Nastashiya Treaty is an international agreement that restricts individuals with magical or similar capabilities from engaging in spying. One could compare it to the Geneva Convention that global citizens agreed on about not mistreating the wounded or civilians.

Of course, like all international political matters, the treaty’s surface seemed commendable. It had been crafted in order to secure the status and safety of wizards in the international community and to prevent their exploitation in dirty dealings.

The church, which had gone to great lengths to hunt down wizards and even sparked wars over it, was moved with the Pope going to the city where the Magic Tower was located and presenting the draft personally, rallying the entire continent to take immediate action to sign the treaty. Even the Magic Tower wasn’t left out.

The problem was that the international community had meddled with several clauses embedded in the treaty.

“But was espionage ever a crime?”

“It’s a necessary task for the country. One can face punishment if caught.”

The clause itself stated, “Magic that is misused for criminal or inhumane acts is prohibited.” Yet, the aim of that clause was to strictly limit wizards from acting as spies.

I understand that the proposal originally came from the church. After all, it had only been about 20 years since a cardinal started getting their heads chopped off, and Inquisition officers began falling one after another.

In any case, the church had been lobbying various countries’ intelligence agencies and foreign ministries to pass this before the treaty was signed. And when the wizards raised their voices against it, the intelligence agencies that had supported the church to undermine them during their previous uprising accepted the church’s proposal without any conditions.

After provoking a war, the very church that had initially targeted their overthrow didn’t wither away, and meanwhile, an uprising gave birth to an independent state, so the intelligence agencies swiftly aligned with the church to squash the insurrection before it could do any more damage.

Of course, the Magic Tower wasn’t going to let that slide either, working exhaustively to remove those clauses, but by then the situation had already escalated beyond redemption. The pitiable faction in the realm of international politics was left with no power whatsoever. No one even acknowledged their patron, the Empire.

Ultimately, the Magic Tower signed the treaty in exchange for formal state recognition, then had their intelligence agency systematically dismantled. Though the Emperor’s strong opposition had the recognition withdrawn, still…

The signing of the Nastashiya Treaty was a comprehensive defeat for the Magic Tower in diplomatic and espionage matters, sending ripples throughout the continent that quieted the revolutionary winds. This is still remembered historically as the “most successful political operation” in intelligence agency history.

I never thought I’d hear stories I had only heard in intelligence school again.

While I lost myself momentarily in nostalgia, the Director suddenly threw a question at Clevenz.

“Hendrick.”

“Yes, Director.”

“I was quite clear during this morning’s meeting that the decision to proceed with that matter should be coordinated with the relevant agencies. Why are we bringing it up again here?”

The sudden question charged the atmosphere in the conference room with tension.

“……”

“……”

“……”

“……”

In an instant, the conference room fell silent. You could hear a pin drop.

“……”

I thought he might be a toothless tiger before retirement, but generals remain generals. Without raising his voice, the guys who usually swaggered around the Defense Ministry seemed to hold their breaths.

So I held my breath too.

I dared not to draw attention to myself, knowing that might provoke some kind of reaction.

While I counted the decorative numbers carved into the wall quietly, suddenly Clevenz let out a hearty laugh, showing a warm smile as he pointed at me.

“This lad has put some effort into catching that spy,” he said.

Why the hell are you dragging me into this?

Panicking, I whipped my head towards Clevenz as all the commanders in the conference room turned to look at me.

“…What are you talking about?”

“You identified a suspect, did you not? It was written in the reports.”

Huh?

“Did that lad handle it?”

“Yes, Director.”

“The personnel file indicates he has only gained practical experience overseas….”

The Director’s gaze trailed off, and one of the commanders sitting in the middle spoke up.

“He was in charge of the Great Empire matters, Director.”

“Oh? The Great Empire, is that so? Where was his posting? Was it at the Magic Tower?”

“No, Director, it was in the Empire itself.”

“A direct infiltration. Even for an experienced agent, that’s not an easy task.”

I sensed a shift in the atmosphere.

If I messed up here, I felt like I could get hit hard.

I tried to speak up to downplay myself, but I was a step too late.

“What do you all think about letting him take on the task of pursuing the spy behind this incident?”