A Dark Fantasy Spy

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“So, what is it that you want to say?”

“Let’s step outside the hotel. There might be someone listening.”

“Isn’t it usually safer inside than outside?”

“This is the Magic Tower.”

—

Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

—

A park located near the hotel.

Priest Rebecca from the Inquisition led me there.

“This should do.”

“I don’t think this is the best place for secret discussions.”

“It’s at least safer than inside the hotel.”

We walked along the gravel path in the park as we spoke.

“There’s surveillance. Plainclothes officers.”

“I know. It’s more appropriate to call it protection rather than surveillance.”

Despite being watched by plainclothes police, Priest Rebecca remained completely unfazed. She treated the officers, blending in with the citizens, as just an element in the background.

Anyway.

As I strolled through the park with Priest Rebecca, I thought about who she was.

A priest with mint-colored bobbed hair emanating a haughty aura.

The secretary who stood next to Inquisition Director Petrus.

The agent who would come to drag me to Petrus at any given moment.

A double agent caught up in an undercover spy scheme.

A taciturn shadow who rarely opened her mouth.

A puppet-like figure whose true intentions were hard to discern.

That was the image of Priest Rebecca from the Inquisition. It was hard to grasp what kind of character she truly was.

In general, people like her are the type that are tricky to deal with. I also didn’t feel particularly comfortable interacting with someone like her. Forming a relationship with someone whose inner thoughts you couldn’t fathom was a very dangerous thing.

If she hadn’t been someone deeply associated with Petrus, I would have avoided meeting her as much as possible.

Against the backdrop of the sound of gravel crunching beneath my shoes, I asked Priest Rebecca how Petrus was doing.

“Is Director Petrus well?”

“He is still healthy. Given his age, he is considering retirement, but even if a successor is designated, I don’t think he’ll retire immediately.”

“I heard he plans to be a senior adviser.”

“Yes, you mentioned that too. I suspect he’ll occasionally offer advice in the capacity of an elder statesman.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Rebecca conveyed news of Petrus to me in a calm tone.

As a note, ‘Director’ is just a casual term I used. If they overheard me saying ‘Director,’ it would be clear that I was talking about the Inquisition Director.

Although calling Petrus ‘Director’ seems too informal given his age, it felt strange to attach titles like ‘President’ or ‘Chairman,’ so I wrapped it up in a way that could be casually understood. After all, names hold no significance in the world of information agencies.

In any case, it seems Petrus is doing well.

We wandered around the park, chatting about various topics. The park in the early evening was always crowded, so no one looked at us suspiciously.

There were diverse people in the park. Couples taking pictures against the backdrop of vibrant maple trees, photographers out capturing the beauty of the park, families out with kids, a magician gathering attention with tricks, and a bard singing with a harp that played automatically, among others.

A myriad of crowds. Within them were two spies concealing their identities and a plainclothes informant trailing behind.

“It seems to be a better-off neighborhood than I expected. Is it because it’s a wealthy area?”

“Trinity has always been the center of the Magic Tower. It still is.”

Though calling it a capital doesn’t quite fit, Trinity is undeniably the heart of the Magic Tower. Honestly, I had no interest in the Magic Tower, so I didn’t really know what kind of place it was. Priest Rebecca, on the other hand, seemed somewhat knowledgeable, but considering she was with the Inquisition, that wasn’t particularly surprising.

“So, who searched my room?”

“As I mentioned before, it wasn’t us.”

Priest Rebecca firmly denied that the Inquisition was responsible.

Since it was said in a place with no other Inquisition agents around, it was true that the Inquisition wasn’t the one who searched my room.

“Hmm….”

So that meant someone else searched my room….

Nothing important was stolen, and there weren’t any listening devices planted, so for now, this matter seemed like something to investigate slowly over time.

I looked around the surroundings, changing the subject.

“Well, understood. But what about that stuff? You didn’t bring it all in just for a show, did you?”

“I don’t think I’m obliged to tell a Colonel about that.”

Priest Rebecca remained silent on the purpose of the guns and bulletproof vests.

It wasn’t like I was asking out of ignorance about what they could be used for. Common sense dictates that if an information agency smuggled ‘firearms’ into ‘hostile territory,’ you’d naturally assume they were for killing someone or something similar.

But I needed to know the reason behind it.

“The protection of the High Priestess Lucia is being handled by our representative office at the request of the Inquisition.”

“……”

“If anything happens at all, it’s necessary to have a line of response ready, don’t you think?”

By the request of the Inquisition and the Cult National Affairs Council, Lucia is under the protection of the Abas Information Agency.

But what if the retinue Lucia brought (disguised as the Inquisition) caused an incident and it made the news? That would direct the fallout toward us. Like it or not, we have implicitly taken on the burden of protecting the cult members.

So, what I genuinely wanted to say was not ‘Don’t mess around,’ but rather, ‘If you’re going to make things difficult for me, at least give me a heads-up to prepare.’

Priest Rebecca hesitated for a moment before she began speaking intermittently.

“We have to show results as well, you know?”

—

Words spoken from a person’s mouth hold power.

The goal of every information agency is to safeguard national security and enhance national competitiveness.

Domestic and foreign information gathering, covert operations, anti-espionage investigations, security information collection, protection of advanced technology, support for overseas enterprises, safeguarding citizens abroad, and so on.

While various tasks exist within each department, the ultimate goal is to detect external attacks in advance and protect the nation.

Moreover, every information agency has its own slogan.

Words hold power. Political promises carry visions, and corporate mottos encapsulate management philosophies. So, what do information agency slogans carry?

A sense of direction.

The ideals that information agencies strive for, their goals moving forward. The awareness of objectives going toward those ideals is embedded in the slogans.

That’s why, during the era of the Central Intelligence Agency and the National Security Planning Departments, the National Intelligence Service hung a slogan stating ‘We work in the shadows while aiming for the light’ at the entrance of its main office. While most information agencies present complicated and cringe-worthy slogans, the motto of the Central Intelligence Agency and the National Security Planning Department is a saying that truly pierces the essence of the information industry, perhaps because of the experience Kim Jong-pil had before the Korean War. Regardless of whether it’s for good or ill, he certainly came up with a brilliant phrase.

Anyway.

The overarching aim of information agencies is to protect national security and enhance national competitiveness, and the first task to achieve this is ‘information collection.’

“When firefighters put out fires, police catch criminals when crimes occur, and soldiers defend the country in wartime. But information agencies prevent incidents before they happen. They are not organizations that react to accidents.”

“I completely agree.”

You might have a chance after taking a punch from a fist, but in information warfare, if you take a hit, you often end up in a state of near-death. In many instances, the side that got hit doesn’t even realize it, so no matter how successfully you respond, the information industry often leads to greater losses.

Priest Rebecca mentioned that very point.

“Suspicious movements have been detected at the Magic Tower.”

“Suspicious movements? Where is that sourced from?”

“All-source intel.”

I quickly wracked my brain.

All-source, huh.

It means information gathered from human intelligence, technical intelligence, and open-source information, cross-verified to create a coherent piece of intelligence. Generally, all-source intel tends to be highly accurate. The foundation is solid. The question is whether they have the capability to collect and analyze it….

“The first detection came from the consulate in Nastasia City.”

An information agency like the Inquisition surely has that capability already. In fact, they probably have more than enough.

Priest Rebecca approached a booth with a very calm demeanor.

“One locum please.”

“Yes, would you like it packaged?”

“Yes.”

She started ordering food abruptly in the middle of our conversation.

“Are you having one as well?”

“No, I’m good. I just brushed my teeth.”

“In that case, how about a cup of tea? I’ll order one milk tea, with two spoons of honey and one spoon of sugar. And please add some marmalade.”

What kind of attitude is it to order a bunch of sweet stuff right after brushing your teeth? And she didn’t even ask me what I wanted, just ordered whatever she felt like.

It was a rather baffling attitude, but fortunately, the shopkeeper didn’t mess around and prepared the milk tea as ordered.

I accepted the milk tea with a straight face. What mattered at that moment wasn’t the tea.

“So what were you looking for?”

“We’ve detected suspicious movements centered around immigrants.”

“Immigrants?”

“Yes. Businessmen, students, scientists, office workers. Their identities were diverse, and since their nationalities differed, it was hard to find connections, but it has been analyzed that a significant number are related to the Magic Tower.”

“……”

This sounded eerily familiar.

I buried a sense of unease in the back of my mind and began to speak.

“Is this about information collection?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain?”

“We wouldn’t come here without any grounds.”

“That makes sense. So what information did you collect?”

“It’s varied. Science, magic, economy, society, politics, diplomacy, national defense, security, etc. The majority seems to have been collected in relation to economic and industrial sectors.”

Her voice was laced with confidence.

“Those above want to dig into this incident to build credit. That’s why we’re here.”

A sigh escaped me involuntarily.

“Oh dear….”

It seems those magic-wielding guys really stirred things up on a global scale. Not just one incident, but several. The Military Intelligence Agency, the Royal Intelligence Department, the National Security Agency, the Imperial Guard HQ, the Imperial Army intelligence agency, and the Inquisition. How many information agencies were already congregating around the Magic Tower?

They should at least try not to get caught. Just what kind of work are they doing that all these agencies are convening here?

Rubbing the sore spot at the back of my neck, I turned my head sharply.

“So you’re visiting to investigate?”

“For now, we plan to build a network to hand over to neighboring country embassies. It’s not something that can be wrapped up in a short time.”

It was a statement that implied they intended to recruit informants from the Magic Tower and connect with nearby embassies. Building a network of intelligence—an operation renowned for its difficulty.

“Constructing a network must be a challenging task, right? The cult sees the Magic Tower as an uninhabited territory.”

“Over time, we’ll find a way. We’re just inadequate at the moment, not lacking ideas on how to go about it. Even if we fail, everything is up to the divine arrangement.”

“Oh, I see….”

That was indeed a perspective befitting a religious person. To think that a failure in an operation could be attributed to divine will.

While I could borrow from Arabs, I couldn’t buy their souls, so people who follow their beliefs are often a tough bunch to recruit. Yet they managed to recruit someone like this. Just what method did Petrus use? Did he use some kind of hypnosis app?

As I continued to muse, a thought crossed my mind—perhaps this apparent demeanor was all an act for the sake of deception.

…An act?

A hypothesis flashed through my mind.

“Was the relief supplies ambush incident that occurred today perhaps a staged event?”

“That’s difficult to answer currently as the investigation is still ongoing.”

Priest Rebecca maintained her usual blank expression, neither confirming nor denying. Given the public crowd around us, she seemed cautious. Considering her identity, it was essentially an acknowledgment that it was indeed an act by the Inquisition.

“…Impressive. How do you plan to handle the aftermath?”

“It’s merely preparation for potential unforeseen circumstances. You need at least one kind of insurance, don’t you?”

Priest Rebecca rarely raised the corners of her mouth, offering a ghost of a smile.

“Just like now.”

“…….”

She wiped the smile off her face, picked up a locum, and popped it into her mouth. She then turned and made the sign of the cross toward the booth.

“I believe I can only share this much. It’s getting late, and there are many eyes on us.”

“…Should I find a place to sit?”

“Just as the river flows toward the sea, if our connection here isn’t where it ends, there will surely be another opportunity. Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

With those cryptic, cult-like words, Priest Rebecca announced, “Make sure to watch the trash and separate it properly,” and began walking toward the hotel.

I watched her figure recede among the bustling crowd of the park, before shifting my attention back to the milk tea that had yet to be sipped.

As I inspected the paper cup closely, I separated the cup holder from the disposable cup.

“……”

After staring at the cup holder for a while, I turned my gaze to the booth where I had ordered the milk tea. The owner, while tidying up, made eye contact with me and gently pressed upon his chest to trace a small cross.

Seeing that made me chuckle in disbelief.

“…Destiny, my foot.”

Inside the paper cup holder was the address and password to a storage facility.