A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Successfully intercepted the wireless communications of Patalia’s National Information Agency, the National Security Agency.

The technical agents from the Military Intelligence Agency’s Technical Information Division began decrypting the codes. They will input the registered coding systems into the server, and if that doesn’t work, they’ll gather some intel specialists who majored in cryptography to crack the codes.

According to the technician, complete interception wasn’t achieved due to the numerous surrounding buildings, but I’m from the humanities and struggle to comprehend anything the sciences say.

In any case, the results are expected today at the earliest and tomorrow at the latest.

And the next dawn,

I received a call via a secure line.

“…Yes, this is the Manager.”

-‘The decryption was successful.’

“Send it to headquarters.”

The sciences have pulled it off.

—

Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

Thanks to the efforts of the techies from the Technical Information Division, we succeeded in gathering information about Fabio Verati.

I summarized the findings into a single document.

“…Report No. 51. Manager, is this it?”

“Uh, yes. Fabio Verati’s personal data.”

Report No. 51.

It encompasses everything from past activities to relevant associates connected to Fabio Verati, key movement patterns, daily routines, tasks handled at the Magic Tower’s representative office, medical records, and even small habits.

The reason it’s called Report No. 51 rather than simply Fabio Verati’s investigation report is due to security reasons.

“Jake, Pippin. I’ve explained to the handlers already, but you two should use code names going forward. Even when it’s just us.”

“Is it for security?”

“That’s right. You’ve memorized the terms, right?”

This operation is designated ‘Operation Opera.’

The team overseeing this operation is called ‘Task Force 73,’ and our first target, Fabio Verati, has been dubbed ’51.’

“What’s with the name…”

“Sounds cheap, right?”

“Seems like it was named by some older folks.”

“It was assigned from above.”

“That makes sense; it has an air of experience about it.”

All naming conventions were directly assigned by the Military Intelligence Agency.

However, the terms we know from the field differ from the formal names assigned by the desk back at headquarters. This is also for security.

As such, many of the personnel participating in the operation don’t know the exact names. Only the handlers who lead the teams and a select few core members are privy to this information.

And just so happens, there were two core members right before my eyes.

Pippin and Jake.

“Pippin, what are the analysts up to now?”

“They’re currently collecting open-source information. We’re gathering news releases and journals related to the Talent Development Center and Report No. 51.”

“Good. Since you’re the lead on that, I trust you’ll handle it well.”

“Yes.”

The information analysis team consists of four analysts and one analyst. They will address all analytical demands arising from the field while collecting open-source information that can be gathered at the office, and at the same time, they will receive and distribute info from the headquarters analysis team.

By the way, Pippin is the lead. The other officers, sergeants, and civilian workers are all team members, and since they’re all familiar with one another, there shouldn’t be any confusion in the chain of command.

As for their skills, they all passed the Military Intelligence Agency’s regular courses with flying colors, so I trust them.

“Any new updates?”

“Ah… We received a memo from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs today. A protest by extremist groups is scheduled, so everyone should stay alert.”

Information I had heard from Sophia.

The memo from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs not only notified of the impending protest but also contained an analysis of trends regarding key factions within the Magic Tower (Executive Branch, Legislative Branch, Judicial Branch, Police, Counterintelligence Agency, Media, Civic Organizations, etc.).

I skimmed through the memo and handed it back to Pippin.

“They say to read and dispose of it. Contact the handlers and destroy it afterward.”

“Understood.”

“Next up… Jake.”

“Yes, Manager.”

“Are you in contact with the employees?”

Next on the list is the Human Intelligence Team.

Jake is in charge of the team. Normally, I would have taken the lead, but as the handler controlling the entire operation, I had too much on my plate.

Fortunately, Jake has a background in espionage, civil affairs, and psychological warfare, making him the best fit for the role.

“Yes, I’ve made contact. They’re currently waiting at a certain location.”

The information agents from the Overseas Information Office are ready.

“Three people, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Report No. 51’s surveillance will be handled by the Special Operations Unit, while the eavesdropping will be managed by the Technical Division, so you’ll be taking them and probing the surrounding individuals.”

“Yes, got it. But what about the Special Operations Unit…?”

“Ah, oh, I misspoke. Not the Special Operations Unit, but the Special Activities Department.”

The Special Activities Department is in charge of directly monitoring Fabio Verati. Conversely, the Technical Information Division handles the eavesdropping.

The Counterintelligence Department relays information sent by headquarters investigators and monitors the movements of other information agencies to prepare for potential operations by counterintelligence agencies. If our activities are detected by the Magic Tower, the Counterintelligence Department will be the first to notice.

Pippin and Jake nodded, seemingly having grasped my explanation.

“Ah, right. Jake.”

“Yes.”

“Keep a close eye on the youngest among the surrounding individuals. Look into their movements, residence, friendships, teachers—nothing left out. And how old did you say they were? 15? 16?”

“17. But why the youngest…?”

Jake asked me with a puzzled look, but I didn’t clarify his question.

“You don’t need to know the details. Just do as I say.”

“Understood.”

“For now, you have to observe. I’ll have to get permissions for the rest.”

“Got it.”

—

Tracking down the spies’ behind-the-scenes is proceeding smoothly without any hitches.

By digging into the surrounding individuals, particularly focusing on superiors and subordinates, we should eventually uncover the higher-ups. The youngest is just a precaution.

In any case,

Today, my duties as an operative are pretty much wrapped up. Now, only the tasks of the Defense Attaché and my responsibilities as a colleague remain.

“Please eat carefully.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Slowly. Slow down. Here, the bottom part—”

Honestly, nothing particularly memorable happened. What’s so special about medical service?

To put it another way, it means there are no harmful elements whatsoever; nothing at all dangerous was involved. However, it was too tedious and repetitive to take joy in.

My body wearing down was just an added bonus.

Being holy water, I expected to become as light as a feather due to the divine power, but it turned out to be heavier than a bundle of 1.5L bottles.

“How many more boxes are left…?”

“Still quite a few.”

“I mean, how many…?”

“Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.”

I set down the heavy box, panting for breath.

My mouth was parched, and sweat poured down like rain. Suddenly, I felt a sweet taste in my mouth.

In an instant, I felt dizzy. I couldn’t tell whether I was at a medical service site or a training ground for the clearance squad.

“When… when will this end…?”

In response to my desperate question, Priest Rebecca, who was distributing supplies mixed with holy water, medical supplies, and a bit of food, answered.

“Lunchtime is in three hours.”

“…Is that really how long we have left?”

“We’ve only been at it for an hour.”

That was horrific news.

I mustered my remaining strength, grabbing and moving the hellishly heavy box. There was no break time or help in sight. Due to the manpower shortage, the Inquisition agents were all out running, but the influx of patients was beyond their capacity.

Just then, an investigator (disguised as an Inquisition agent) who was moving boxes next to me asked,

“Colonel.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Uh, is there any way to request support…?”

I barely mustered the strength to shake my head and simply replied shortly.

“Just give up.”

I had asked the representative office to request manpower support, but after contacting them the day before, I hadn’t heard back. So, I’d asked the Defense Attaché Office, but—

-‘Ah… I’m sorry. We don’t have anyone fit enough to work on a medical service level…’

“What? Then why am I here?”

-‘I’m sorry. They instructed us from above to do so…’

I was rejected. Yesterday, they probably saw me loading and unloading supplies on the news and decided against sending help.

Even the Ministry of Defense seemed clueless about what they were thinking by assigning me to the medical service site. I had tried to avoid coming out, thinking it was going to be some trivial event or a one-off service activity, but I couldn’t refuse when the secretary of the Minister of Defense called.

So, I seriously contemplated resigning.

-‘Are you thinking of leaving the service?’

“No, well, not really at this point. I was just curious…”

-‘Even if you leave, we can hire you back as a civilian worker.’

“…….”

-‘Isn’t it nice to have a job for life?’

“…Absolutely not.”

I hadn’t considered leaving at all before, but considering my current lifestyle, I felt like a break might be necessary. However, hearing the mention of being re-hired as a civilian worker shocked me into tearing up my discharge papers.

Most others face a bleak future once they leave, but having a position as a civilian worker or opportunities at competing firms open up could be considered lucky, or perhaps unfortunate.

It was hard to say. I should probably have experience with resignations first.

While I was lost in thought for a moment, an accident occurred.

“Oh, oh no, take cover!”

“Shit! It’s coming down!”

When I gained my bearings amidst the commotion, I realized that a tower of boxes had approached right in front of me.

“Whoa…!”

Crash!

“…….”

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt anywhere?”

“Open your eyes!”

I found myself pinned under the toppled boxes, staring up at a magically-created sky and pondered.

“…Could someone clear this off me?”

I wished someone would smack my head just a bit harder.

—

Despite the mishap, the medical service ended on schedule.

All the boxes that had pinned me were empty, but in that fleeting moment, I had desperately pretended to be seriously injured, hoping to create a distraction for a brief rest.

And I failed.

“You sure know how to make a scene.”

“…….”

Lucia said, creating a halo of light to treat my abdomen and chest.

“Well, I understand. If a huge stack of boxes fell, it’s natural for your muscles to tense up in surprise.”

“…Ah, yes.”

“Would you like a muscle relaxant? There’s not much that divine magic can do for pain.”

“…Sure, I’ll take one.”

The priestess helping with the medical service was a saint, so I figured she wouldn’t have trouble healing such a minor injury. But if the Inquisition agents were also participating, it was clear they were all having a rough time.

In the end, I was the only one embarrassed for making a scene. The religious folks who joined in the fuss scrambled away once they saw Lucia administering treatment. Those treacherous sorts have no loyalty.

Of course, I couldn’t say anything in front of a typical religious person like Lucia, so I simply swallowed the medicine along with my embarrassment.

“You’re supposed to take that after a meal, you know.”

“Well, what does it matter? I’m eating right now.”

I sat in the private dining room of the Core Restaurant with Lucia, slicing up my portion of meat.

The moment I put it in my mouth, the meat melted away as if it were something incredible.

I savored the flavors of the meat and the aroma of the butter flooding my mouth, focusing intently on my meal.

“Why are your hands trembling so much?”

“I’m just tired. Don’t worry about my health.”

After hauling heavy loads non-stop, my arms trembled weakly.

Though it wasn’t shaking like I was an alcoholic, it was also the kind of tremor that could raise concern in others. Even the Inquisition agents seemed to notice.

“Has Camila eaten yet?”

“She should be eating lunch at the hotel. She practiced magic in the morning and likely spent the rest of her time in the library, so by now, she might be done and resting.”

Camila was still holed up at the hotel. There were suggestions about providing an educator to accompany her, but it hadn’t been easy due to security. Furthermore, there was fierce competition between various governments regarding the educator’s position.

For the time being, we planned to conduct background checks on shortlisted candidates as soon as possible. Since political matters fell under the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, I didn’t pay much mind as a member of the intelligence agency. Camila was keeping busy practicing her magic by looking over her spellbooks, so we weren’t entirely idle.

“What’s the plan for the evaluations?”

“We plan to gather as quickly as possible to conduct the evaluations.”

“That’s a relief. I hope there won’t be any major issues.”

“While I’m neither a doctor nor a magician, I think it’ll be alright. The results should come out soon, too.”

As our conversation came to a close and we resumed our meal, Lucia suddenly spoke up while slicing the meat.

“I don’t quite understand why we were given a room. There are many tables outside.”

She murmured with a puzzled expression.

“Well, considering the status we hold, there’s no helping it.”

“Is that so?”

“N-no, I mean, all the attendants are also in this room.”

Even if we entered the country as private individuals, the fact that Lucia and her attendants are members of the cult remains unchanged.

Moreover, the Magic Tower still remembers the atrocities committed by the cult. Inquisition, demon worship, witch hunts, religious trials, assassinations, kidnappings, torture, and so on.

Magicians tend to record the knowledge they accumulate, and honestly, given that they live in a constant state of uncertainty about when they might be captured and killed, it’s a shared duty, almost a debt of honor for all magicians, to secretly pass down the legacy their ancestors preserved.

And this knowledge also includes firsthand experiences and emotions they’ve witnessed. This is why many magicians tend to tremble at the mere mention of the cult, as some of those matters are still ongoing, resulting in new victims being created all the time.

But imagine cult members dining in the very heart of a tower filled with magicians. What kind of trouble would that stir up?

Despite a representative from the Magic Tower requesting understanding, some restaurants refused entry absolutely to any clergy members, including Lucia and her attendants. At least this particular restaurant provided seating under the condition that they could dine quietly in a room and leave.

Of course, Lucia and her attendants were unaware of this. I had quietly sorted this out with the officials.

Thus, the only thing I could say to Lucia was one thing.

“Don’t worry too much; it’s nothing serious.”

Ultimately, all I could do was assure her to just enjoy her meal.

Neither of us understood what I was saying, but what else could we do?

The world is a strange place.

—

While we were eating, my phone rang.

-Ring ring ring!

“Ah, I apologize. I received a call from the representative office.”

“Yes, that’s fine. Take your time.”

“Then please excuse me for a moment.”

I stepped into the corridor with the communication device connected to a secure line.

The caller was Team Leader 2, leading the Counterintelligence Department’s investigative team.

I quickly scanned my surroundings and stepped into a secluded corner to answer.

“Hello.”

-‘Manager. This is the Counterintelligence Team Leader.’

“Go ahead.”

-‘There’s a problem.’

A problem?

I was momentarily at a loss for words at the sudden unexpected situation.

The investigator spoke.

-‘It’s about the relatives of No. 51. Currently under surveillance.’

Fabio Verati’s youngest daughter.

“…Has something gone wrong?”

-‘It seems we’re not the only ones surveilling her.’

Another information agency is keeping tabs on her.