A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The duties of a spy disguised as a diplomat are varied.

Attending diplomatic events.

Gathering information abroad.

Collecting military intelligence.

Protecting local expatriates.

Analyzing collected intelligence.

Providing protection and guidance for exiles.

Negotiating with foreign intelligence agencies.

Supporting domestic corporations’ overseas branches.

Supporting escorts during high-ranking officials’ visits.

Assisting activities of unofficial disguise agents, etc.

There is no disagreement that the tasks assigned differ based on one’s affiliation and responsibilities, but the sheer volume of work is undeniably immense.

Among these, the second most important duty after information collection is ‘protecting local expatriates.’

It’s not particularly difficult.

You simply check in on them occasionally to see if they’re doing well, discuss improvements in their treatment with the local government if they face discrimination or unfair treatment, collect information when possible, assist overseas voters or expatriates during elections, and inform them of any changes in policies from the Ministry of Justice or Foreign Affairs, and so on.

I believe that staff from the National Intelligence Service dispatched to embassies typically handle such tasks. In particular, because North Korean defectors are citizens of the Republic of Korea as well as refugees, NIS agents dispatched to Southeast Asia used to seek them out to confirm their intentions to defect and suggest ways to enter the Republic of Korea.

In any case, there are an overwhelming number of tasks for official disguises. So many that they are virtually uncountable.

That was the problem.

“You’re doing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m telling you to take care of Saint Lucia’s safety, you fool. Why are you pretending not to understand?”

Under Colonel Clevenz’s gruff command, I blinked in disbelief while holding the receiver. In the midst of packing for a medical service, I was utterly baffled by such a ludicrous proposition.

I interrupted my packing to question Clevenz.

“Is protecting foreigners part of the legal duties? I don’t recall it being mentioned in the Defense Attaché’s regulations.”

“Not an official duty, no. However, a request came from the Inquisition. Since there is no diplomatic mission, they asked us to ensure the safety of the Saint. You know well that the Cult and the Magic Tower are in a severed relationship, right?”

“Who on earth…?”

“Oh, there’s a cardinal among her entourage, isn’t there? Something like Bernard.”

Clevenz succinctly summarized a conversation between the Prime Minister of Abas and Bernard, the director of the Inquisition.

The Cult and the Magic Tower are at a standoff, and since there are no diplomats (or undercover intelligence agents) available in the Magic Tower to protect expatriates, the Military Intelligence Agency requested to keep an eye on Saint Lucia for them. If we just comply, they promised to help fortify the trade agreement in favor of Abas this time.

“It’s a good thing since we’re already busy resent initiating the economic partnership again. We could also pay off our debts to the Cult. Plus, the Saint is a companion of the Hero. Since you’re a Defense Attaché, aren’t you colleagues too? And I heard you’re also going to the medical service together? This all paints a lovely picture.”

They claimed the justification overflowed. Clevenz presented me with the options.

“So, are you going to do it or not?”

Hoping against hope, I whispered desperately.

“Is there any possibility that I have a choice…?”

“Of course not. If you want to collect your pension and be buried in the national cemetery, stop babbling nonsense and get to work.”

—

Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

—

Having ended the call with Clevenz, I arrived at a particular area of the Magic Tower. As soon as I stepped out of the vehicle, a fresh breeze started blowing.

“Wow…. Is this all due to magic?”

“Yes, exactly!”

The guiding official from the Magic Tower wore a rather proud smile.

Autumn leaves had settled on the well-kept road. Each step I took crunched the red and yellow leaves beneath my feet.

“In a tower floating in the sky, winds blowing inside, and now even leaves falling….”

“All thanks to the wisdom and efforts of our great ancestors. Especially the three sages who dedicated themselves tirelessly!”

“Oh, I see…. That’s interesting.”

I felt slightly embarrassed by the sudden enthusiasm of the public broadcaster. It’s common for government officials to praise the nation in front of dignitaries, but the current situation was a little ironic.

After all, members of the Cult were present behind the guide. Being so close, they could easily hear the loud praises, yet the public servant showed no intention to lower his voice. It seemed like an obvious invitation for them to listen.

However, there was no altercation between the Cult members and the Magic Tower officials. The nun, monk, and priest accompanying the Saint were individuals capable of controlling their emotions to some extent.

“……”

“……”

Naturally, the expressions of the entourage were anything but pleasant.

While ordinary religious individuals might not know, the aides assigned were agents from the Inquisition with a historical background of significant conflict with the Magic Tower. I might not possess mind-reading abilities, but I could surely tell that those folks didn’t harbor warm feelings toward the Magic Tower.

As if unaware, the Magic Tower official continued to sing praises for the great wizards who fought during the War of Liberation as we passed each tree and alley.

“This street you are walking on was established by the Druids. It embodies the philosophy of art and nature that Druids adore, so if you stroll by, you might occasionally see bards, Druids, or magicians performing…”

Even I found that excessive. It was reminiscent of the intense flattery I had only witnessed when meeting North Korean individuals.

In such situations, the calmest person was Lucia, who was carrying a medical bag and surveying the surroundings.

“Are we having the medical service here today?”

“No, if you head a little further down this road, we’ll be arriving at the designated location.”

The Magic Tower official pointed cheerfully toward a sketchy alley. Just then, a goblin burning something that resembled either magic grass or marijuana shot us a glance and spat on the ground before trudging into the alley.

“……”

“……”

“……”

The spies couldn’t even manage to open their mouths in shock, their lips flapping as though they were fish out of water.

In any case, Lucia naturally packed her bag and spoke.

“Let’s go. We don’t have time, so let’s hurry.”

“Ah, no, it’s just that…”

“Is there a problem?”

“No… let’s go….”

—

Fortunately, the situation I feared did not occur. The medical service carried out in the Magic Tower’s impoverished area was executed safely and successfully.

“Thank you! Really, thank you!”

A person who had just been treated bent at a 90-degree angle to express his gratitude to Lucia. He threw away the splint he’d been wearing on his foot and started jumping around as if it were no lie.

“Next person, please.”

“Uh, um… over there….”

A child with bandages over their eyes timidly approached. Lucia, seeing that, went ‘tch,’ donned medical gloves, and slowly began to remove the child’s bandages.

“Oh…. My….”

When the filthy bandages fell to the ground, gasps erupted from those around. The child’s face was horrifically disfigured, as if it had been burned. I couldn’t tell whether it was a burn or an infection, but given the flesh that had fallen away and the blackened spots, it seemed the wound had indeed become infected.

Lucia carefully examined the child’s face and asked.

“How did you get hurt?”

“B-because of the fire….”

At that moment, the police, who were loitering nearby, began murmuring amongst themselves.

“Didn’t they say there was a big fire around here…?”

“Yeah, I heard an alchemist accidentally caused an explosion while making drugs, which led to a fire spreading throughout the shantytown, resulting in many deaths.”

“Drugs? What would an alchemist want to do that for?”

“Probably because they’re strapped for cash. I think they mentioned a disciple or something. You know, if someone lacks connections and money, they won’t get taught alchemy.”

They probably thought they were whispering, but the police’s conversation echoed clearly. If they wanted to chat quietly, they could at least do it discreetly. I couldn’t fathom why they spoke so loudly in front of the child.

In any case, it was a world that’s hard to form attachments to, even after 28 years of living in it.

Hearing such remarks, Lucia appeared unperturbed, her serene smile unbroken as she reached out her hand toward the child’s face. A radiant divine light flowed from her fingertips, slowly enveloping the child’s wound.

And shortly after.

“There, it’s all done now. Can you see clearly?”

The fire-disfigured wound had completely vanished. It was astonishingly swift. Even the police, public officials, and the child who had just received treatment were left speechless, gazing at the miracle executed by Lucia.

I couldn’t help but murmur as I observed Lucia, tidying the bandages from behind.

“It’s amazing every time I see it….”

“Um, excuse me, Colonel. I get that it’s awe-inspiring, but could you please help me with this…?”

“Ah, yes. My apologies.”

A monk with a grim expression approached, holding a heavy box, looking pitifully at me. It was one of the Inquisition agents.

I scratched my head awkwardly, having been distracted from my work, and took the box from the monk with a sheepish smile.

“Ugh…!”

“Be careful with that. It’s heavy.”

As I listened to the agent’s warnings, I began stacking the received boxes nearby. Next to the pile of boxes, other agents from the Inquisition were distributing medication and holy water to people from the impoverished area, holding charts.

When they called this a medical service, I expected it would be easier, but this was far from it. The weight of boxes brimming with holy water was no joke. Had I known it would be like this, I would have ignored the instructions of the Defense Attaché’s office and Clevenz’s orders and just stayed at the hotel, escorting Camila instead.

I toiled, feeling like a seasonal worker forced into labor during the harvest festival. Thankfully, a cool breeze was blowing outside, but with each box I moved, I lost track of whether I was a diplomat or a delivery man.

“Where on earth did all this come from? Did we carry it?”

“We brought it using magical tools. They reduce weight and increase capacity.”

“What the hell? Aren’t you supposed to be religious figures?”

The fact that the Inquisition was using products created by the Magic Tower made me wonder; were they not the real heretics? I half-heartedly mixed questions about whether they were truly religious people and complaints about why they brought such useful items and burdened us with even more work.

“Do you think we don’t use magical tools that produce cool winds in the summer?”

“Oh, well, I can’t argue with that!”

You can’t argue against air conditioning.

Half-mentally distracted, I exchanged silly banter with the Inquisition personnel while continuing to move the boxes. Lucia, who had recently reattached a severed finger, turned around and smiled.

“Are you tired? It’s okay to take a break for a moment.”

At the Saint’s suggestion, an Inquisition agent bit down on his resolve and replied.

“No…! I’m still fine…!”

“I’m not fine, you crazy dude.”

Of course, if I blurted that out, it would surely land me on the front page of tomorrow’s international news, leaving me with no choice but to keep quiet.

That was it. The biggest problem with the medical service alongside Lucia wasn’t the overwhelming number of boxes or the endless stream of patients.

It was the foreign journalists.

—

“That’s the last one. Well done, everybody.”

The medical service, which had felt like it would never end, concluded with the treatment of an injured beastman missing half his tail.

Only then could I finally look up at the sky.

“Ugh….”

As I stretched out, a sigh of relief escaped my lips. I couldn’t tell if it was my voice or the groan of the elderly orc I had just treated.

I had no time to contact Priest Rebecca and eavesdrop on the intentions of the Inquisition. If I engaged in conversation, stacking boxes would become a never-ending chore. This was undeniably madness. It could be described as nothing less than madness.

As I stood there, gazing up at the sky while letting out deep breaths, the exhausted Inquisition agents were embracing each other, patting each other’s backs in congratulations for a job well done.

I perched on an empty box, observing the scene of wizards chastising one another like a couple of brain-dead nobles.

“Isn’t this ridiculous?”

“What do you mean by ridiculous?”

“Ah, no, it was just a passing thought….”

As Lucia sorted through the tools used for the medical service, she commented. Her face showed hints of tiredness, yet her mouth and eyes radiated a bright smile.

It was a truly beautiful sight—a smile worthy of being called saintly.

-Click.

And, the journalist with a hawk-like eye didn’t miss that moment. With a massive camera, comparable to what might be wielded in every corner of the globe, the journalist grinned widely.

It was such an eerie sight that I couldn’t help but flinch.

As I blankly stared at the journalist rushing off to their colleagues, Lucia suddenly asked me this.

“Is this your first time seeing a journalist?”

“Um…. I’ve seen many journalists, but I’m not used to being photographed by one.”

Now, I was technically an official disguise posing as a Defense Attaché, but originally, I’d been an undercover agent. Thus, the thought of having my face captured didn’t align with my past or present mindsets.

That’s perfectly understandable. What benefit would a spy gain by being photographed? Hence, I hadn’t taken family pictures even during my only commissioning ceremony in life. My mother had bought a digital camera for the occasion, yet my father’s reluctance kept me from taking a single picture.

Suddenly, I thought of my parents, and my nose tingled.

As I dabbed my dusty hands on my face, Lucia handed me a bottle of water.

“Make sure to wash your hands before touching your face. Please.”

“Oh, yes.”

Perhaps due to her experience as a healing priest in the war zones, Lucia seemed particularly attentive to hygiene. I had seen her sprinkling disinfectant on wounds earlier. Considering how newly inducted healing priests usually neglect hygiene, she appeared to be rather fastidious.

In other words, she was meticulous. Also, not exactly flexible.

As expected, Lucia said while packing up her bag.

“Shall we visit another area?”

Most aides shook their heads vigorously at that.

How could they contradict the Saint’s words? I couldn’t shake the thought that these individuals might genuinely be heretics.

“Oh, let’s wrap it up for today.”

“Yes, yes, that’s right. It’s getting late, and we should head back soon to rest.”

“That fellow is right. Absolutely.”

Just say you’re tired, damn it!

But I couldn’t bring myself to utter such harsh words in front of the Inquisition members. If they decided to visit another location for medical assistance, I’d have to follow along.

So, sticking close to Lucia, I did my best to frame a reasonable excuse around the notion of tiredness.

“Do you see the time? We’ve already been here for six hours today. Given the security concerns, it’s impractical to conduct further activities here. I also need to go take care of my Attaché duties.”

“Hm…. Thinking it over, I suppose you’re right. Then let’s head back.”

“Hallelujah.”

“What?”

Though I wasn’t a Christian, at that moment, I couldn’t help but praise God. I vaguely recalled some similar chant in Buddhism and Islam, but it was too far back for my memory to serve me.

Thus, we concluded the medical service and aided in cleaning up with the help of the police and staff. By then, the sky was painted a vibrant red.

Lucia gazed into the distance at the setting sun and remarked.

“Isn’t it fascinating? The Magic Tower.”

“Indeed. At night, the stars come out, the moon rises, and meteor showers grace the sky, so you should hurry back to the hotel and enjoy that from the rooftop swimming pool.”

“I wish Camila could see this, too; what a pity.”

Whether she was swayed by the atmosphere or simply exhausted, Lucia began spouting nonsense unexpectedly.

I deadpanned and replied immediately.

“Ah, that’s a bit…”

Right now, I had zero intention of bringing Camila to such a place. This wasn’t merely a personal opinion; it was a matter previously agreed upon by the higher-ups.

We must show only the best aspects; while she would eventually come to understand, this might delay the inevitable.

As Camila entered this world, agreements were made between various nations to present her with the most favorable appearances.

Considering the confusion stemming from her arrival in a completely different realm, exhibiting the raw, dark sides of this fantasy world was grossly inappropriate. Such truths had been proven by countless heroes in this world.

It was why the Cult treated Camila with utmost respect, pampering her with a full tour of exquisite experiences, and why the Magic Tower, being magician-driven, hosted her in a luxury hotel suite, treating her like a sacred relic. According to Clevenz, various countries had directed media outlets to not sensationalize social issues or accidents. The same applied to Abas, as the issues with the livestock farms had also been downplayed in media reports.

I speculated that such information control was a futile endeavor.

However, as is often the case in politics, the judgments of those in power were seldom rational or reasonable.

Furthermore, every situation in the world doesn’t unfold according to one’s will.

Having lived in England and seen the monsters use people as snacks, bombs exploding on the streets, and assassinations occurring at banquets, what thoughts would inevitably arise in one’s mind regarding such realities? Camila had already glimpsed the sordid underbelly of this town.

Of course, I could’ve incorporated requests in my report to call for a halt to this nonsense.

But I didn’t. I was simply a soldier who followed orders. And I highly doubted politicians and bureaucrats would pay attention to what I said.

So, I found myself sighing heavily these days.

“Ugh….”

It felt as though my sighs were increasing as time passed. If I was annoyed, I could always just resign. Or perhaps I should just start drinking like my grandfather.

Living as a spy in this darn dark fantasy world was always an uphill battle.

As I contemplated these thoughts while sorting through empty boxes and loading supplies into the vehicle, it happened.

“Wait! Just a moment!”

Some man was waving his hands and sprinting towards us. As this unexpected situation unfolded, the Inquisition agents kept their distance as the Magic Tower police extended their arms to stop him. I nervously reached for my handgun that I had brought just in case. He could be a terrorist.

However, the man was not a terrorist.

“I’m a journalist!”

“Step back!”

“Wait a moment!”

The policeman approached the detained journalist, who was now pointing to someone.

“Colonel! I’d like to talk to the Colonel for a moment!”

That was me.

“Um…?”

I stared blankly at the journalist after he pointed to me. He nodded vigorously, eyes wide with excitement.

Witnessing this, the Inquisition agents helped Lucia into the back seat of the vehicle and shielded the door with their bodies. They told me they’d wait for me to finish whatever I needed to attend to.

“Why is a journalist looking for me…?”

I approached the journalist, who was still being restrained by the police, scratching my head in bewilderment.

Upon my polite request, the police released him.

Once the official force retreated, the journalist, who had run a long distance and battled the police, was panting heavily. Adjusting his crooked glasses, he flashed me a broad smile.

“Frederick Nostrim. It is indeed you, correct?”

“Yes, I am Frederick Nostrim.”

The journalist fished out a sweat-soaked business card and handed it to me.

“Our director would like to meet you.”

“Director…?”

I accepted the business card handed to me by the journalist.

Then, I let out a bemused chuckle.

“…Huh.”

As everyone looked at me with puzzled expressions, I examined the name written on the card under the sunlight.

“Wow… this guy is here?”

The card displayed the name of my informant.