A Dark Fantasy Spy

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After completing the investigation of the Magic Tower Police on-site, I returned to the diplomatic mission to report the results of today’s activities.

“Well, it seems the disguise was successful. The local police are proceeding with the investigation based on the angle of robbery and murder by an unknown assailant,” stated one of my colleagues.

“Is the source from the Foreign Affairs Police?” I inquired.

“Yes. They’ve also requested for us to appear for witness questioning soon,” he continued.

“Hm… I see.”

I settled into the unfamiliar office sofa, which had been assigned to me as part of my role as Defense Attaché.

Pippin and Jake sat across from me, continuing their report.

“According to the Counterintelligence Department’s informant, they’ve processed all the collected evidence,” he stated.

“What about the target?” I asked.

“They’re currently being detained in a Safe House,” he replied.

“Don’t touch them under any circumstances. Just keep surveillance without engaging them unless absolutely necessary,” I instructed my subordinates.

As I gave my orders, I leaned back on the sofa and gazed out the window.

The sky above the Magic Tower was painted in soft pink pastels, while the sunset illuminated the buildings of the radiant city.

While I was lost in thought, immersed in the view, Jake asked me a question.

“Um… Manager?”

“Yes?”

“What are you going to do now?” he queried.

I quietly closed my eyes, sinking further into the sofa as I murmured, “What else is there to do?”

I’ve spread out all the bait.

“I just have to wait until the fish bites.”

It was time to reel in Fabio Verati.

—

Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

About a week had passed since my arrival at the Magic Tower.

I was slowly beginning to take on tasks associated with my role as Defense Attaché, in addition to my operative duties.

“Colonel, could you move a bit to the side?”

“Do I have to smile?” I replied.

“It would be appreciated! Now, let’s take the picture! One, two!”

It wasn’t a particularly difficult task.

Although it was my first time dealing with the duties of a Defense Attaché, being a new hire who had been appointed in haste, I received a somewhat special treatment due to my status.

“Thank you for making the effort to come,” said one businessman.

“Haha. No problem, Director,” I replied.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. I was worried because a lot of fierce competitors joined this project…”

The businessman offered his thick hands for a handshake. He was an executive from a company involved in introducing new military gear.

Most of my responsibilities as Defense Attaché involved meeting with military-related personnel and making connections.

It wasn’t too different from my time at the Cult.

I chatted with Suit Men at the banquet hall, got cornered by journalists for non-interviews, and attended events to grace the occasion with my presence.

The form was similar, but the purpose was different.

When I was at the Cult, I worked solely for Camila, but now I am working for my country and its military.

“Manager, um, are you okay? It looks like your schedule is pretty tight,” one of my assistants remarked.

“I’m fine. And after all, I need to look the part of a Defense Attaché, right?” I responded.

Of course, I wasn’t executing my duties sincerely for gathering military intelligence or military diplomacy.

My true essence was as an operative, and the role of Defense Attaché was merely a façade to ensure my safety. My pretense of being a Defense Attaché merely served to avoid raising suspicion from the Counterintelligence Department.

I was neither conducting any truly important tasks in that capacity nor was I assigned any. After all, I was someone who would be leaving soon, and most importantly, I was engaged in tasks bestowed by the Military Intelligence Agency.

I was treated somewhat like a pawn.

As I sat in the backseat of a vehicle adorned with diplomatic plates, I asked Jake, “What’s the next schedule?”

“You’ll be having lunch and then a meeting with the Magic Tower representatives,” he replied.

“Can’t you go in my place?” I suggested.

“Ah, come on! This is a significant event involving a Hero and a Saint!”

My job involved ensuring the safety of Camila and Lucia. In reality, most of my duties as a Defense Attaché revolved around them.

The British Embassy, responsible for protecting British citizen Camila, wasn’t around in this area, nor was there a diplomatic mission of the Cult to manage Lucia—meaning I was the only one who could care for both.

“Sigh. I never signed up for this babysitting gig,” I grumbled.

“Babysitting? Both of them are adults, you know?”

“Be quiet.”

Normally, such matters should be handled by international organizations like the UN, but unfortunately, that organization was in a semi-vegetative state after a recent wave of diplomat expulsions due to espionage charges that swept across the continent.

In simple terms, I was caught in the middle.

“Oh, by the way, about the relief supplies that came from the Cult…”

“What about them?”

“They were being quarantined at customs but apparently got lost—or rather, were stolen? I just got a message from the legal department about it.”

Stolen? Just how does something go missing like that?

I couldn’t hide my bewilderment, so Jake turned to Pippin.

“Did customs get ambushed? Who did it?”

“It’s said to be the work of an extremist group, according to the Magic Tower’s Ministry of Justice,” she replied.

“Ah, is that the place mentioned in the foreign affairs letter?”

“They’re still investigating, but it seems likely.”

That meant customs had been sabotaged by a citizen. I couldn’t tell if it was a civic group or a terrorist organization.

What a mess.

Leaning back in my seat, I asked Pippin, “Any other news?”

“They say Number 51 is currently under police investigation. It seems they have summoned family members as witnesses,” she informed us.

Fabio Verati had finally caught wind of the news. I sensed an imminent bite.

I nodded and continued, “Alright. And?”

“The police requested for him to appear for witness questioning,” she replied.

“Tell them to take a hike.”

“Yes.”

—

The operation to capture Fabio Verati’s youngest daughter successfully concluded.

She was being “managed” by the Counterintelligence Department at the hideout arranged by the employees. Essentially, she was under house arrest.

And the deceitful operation I carried out was proceeding exceptionally well.

The Magic Tower Police interpreted the activities of the Military Intelligence Agency as mere violent crime and had failed to detect the ongoing operations of our Counterintelligence Agency.

-“It seems the line is still alive. Good.”

I was delaying the police’s request for my appearance as a witness.

For a diplomat to be questioned by a foreign police, scheduling with the diplomatic mission has to be arranged first.

-“I’ve heard the word. The Defense Attaché Office is coordinating, huh?”

“Yes, that’s right. For now, I’ve made it clear that official duties take priority, making it difficult to spare time,” I explained.

I was officially a Defense Attaché, and naturally, my schedule was managed by the diplomatic mission.

The mission communicated to the Magic Tower that they would cooperate with the police as much as possible and suggested they coordinate with the Defense Attaché Office, but the office, which had received my request (or rather, an order from the Military Intelligence Agency), was uncooperative, citing my busy schedule as an excuse.

Transferring tasks to other departments isn’t unusual in public service. Given the circumstances, I was ignoring the Magic Tower’s demands for my appearance.

Of course, I had a plan.

-“What is Number 51 doing right now?”

“It has been confirmed that they appeared before the police at 11 AM today and were questioned until 5 PM. We intercepted communications indicating they are currently on leave at home,” Jake reported.

-“Hmm. When are you planning to move on to the next act?”

“I expect they will reach out first soon. They should contact within two weeks at the latest.”

The technical information department suggested that Fabio Verati was frantically making calls after being informed that his youngest daughter had been kidnapped.

To the police, the Counterintelligence Agency, the Ministry of Justice, the Ministry of Communications, and more.

He was trying to gather all the information he could—receiving police records of the incident, collecting information from the Counterintelligence Agency’s domestic informant, querying the Ministry of Justice about the foreigner staying there, and checking with the Ministry of Communications for any suspicious communications that may have occurred at the crime scene.

He was desperately trying to find out where his daughter was.

With some bites evident, I just needed to keep waiting and observe the situation until I could hook Fabio Verati.

“Analysis indicates he seems to be half out of his mind. I’m not an expert in psychology, but I can tell just from the tone of his voice,” Jake said calmly.

When I stated the harsh reality, Clevenz replied bluntly.

-“Would any sane parent be in their right mind if their child was kidnapped?”

“Maybe there’s one out there?” I suggested.

-“That’s utterly ridiculous. Why is your mind so twisted?”

What do you mean twisted? Where else could you find someone as kind-hearted as me?

I was left speechless from the sheer absurdity of his comment.

“Well, what can I say? What have I done wrong? I’m just following orders here.”

-“Weren’t you the one who put the plan together?”

“Well, that’s true, I guess.”

I could hear Clevenz’s disapproval through the communication device.

-“Sometimes, I really think you take things too far. You seem to think capturing people is just too easy.”

“I believe that was you taking down the person, Colonel. You were the Investigator, weren’t you?”

-“That’s not what I meant.”

“I meant it the same way.”

Clevenz was someone who arrests people and brings them to trial, while I was someone who extracts information.

So, it wasn’t too strange for him to not understand my perspective. After all, he had spent a lifetime in a different field. It made sense to have such a reaction from him.

Anyway.

“If we keep dragging this out, they might try to make contact sooner,” I said.

-“Alright. Just leave that to you. What’s the status of Number 51’s relatives?”

“They’re safe and sound, without a scratch,” I assured.

The youngest daughter was just fine. Though she was in custody, I hadn’t even touched a strand of hair; thus, there was definitely room for negotiation.

“I believe we can continue this operation under the condition that we guarantee the safety of the relatives in exchange for the information. At least, that’s what I think.”

In a nutshell, it was a hostage scenario.

If he wanted to preserve his child’s life, he’d have to yield confidential information.

It’s a commonly used trope in movies and dramas, yet it works well in reality, making it a frequent tactic employed by intelligence agencies.

-“A continuous contact… It’s a matter of life and death for his child, but we can’t disregard the possibility of him being uncooperative.”

“…….”

-“So, what’s your plan for that situation?”

“Well, I could always resort to torture or worse.”

“There’s always a way around to make them talk.”

—

After completing all scheduled events, I returned to the hotel.

An extravagant five-star hotel provided by the Magic Tower. Civilian police patrolled the outskirts, carrying out random checks, and armed security guards hired by the hotel were on standby at the entrance.

“Good work. We’ll be maintaining the surveillance system for a while, so starting tomorrow, you’ll be working at the diplomatic mission,” my superior informed me.

“Understood. I’ll take my leave now,” I replied.

After sending Pippin and Jake off, I headed upstairs.

The operation had succeeded, so for the time being, I planned to avoid suspicion and solely focus on my duties as Defense Attaché.

I would meet Magic Tower officials for lunch, snap photos with businessmen, and network with foreign officials—time would fly by quickly.

I planned to keep an eye on Fabio Verati. If they reached out first, I would pressure him through his child while digging up intel on the talent development center.

Then, everyone would be happy.

Fabio Verati would reunite with his child, the Abas government would gain an upper hand in diplomatic relations with the Magic Tower, and I would add a line to my career profile.

A future where everyone would be happy.

Except for the Magic Tower.

“…….”

Looking through the glass window of the elevator, I gazed down at the city where modern architecture blended with classical style homes.

The effort of someone’s blood, sweat, and tears would illuminate each building.

Suddenly, it struck me that my espionage activities could very well dictate the fate of the Magic Tower.

The consequences of violating international law were far from light, and the Magic Tower was currently in a position where they had much to lose.

Of course, the decision regarding the treatment of the Magic Tower would depend on revealing the treaty violations, a matter exclusively for the government and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, not the Military Intelligence Agency. So I didn’t pay it much mind.

It was all irrelevant to me.

Maybe it was just the night, but I felt an overwhelming surge of trivial thoughts.

With those thoughts lingering, I dragged my tired body into the hotel room.

Since I had to focus on my duties as Defense Attaché starting tomorrow, I had plenty of preparations to make.

Thus, when I opened my bag to pack according to schedule.

“……?”

I sensed something was off.

“…….”

Leaving my bag open, I strode over to the closet to check the clothes hanging inside.

Shoulders, sleeves, pockets, and even inside my jacket and shirt.

I searched the room thoroughly for a while.

And then, moments later, an exclamation escaped my lips.

“…What the hell.”

The arrangement of items in my bag had changed, and a hair that had been resting on my clothes was now on the floor.

So that means,

“…Who the hell did this?”

Someone had rummaged through my room.