A Dark Fantasy Spy

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A sleepless night.

The civil servant yawned long while staring at the dim waiting room.

Was it because it was a Friday duty, or was it due to the dark lighting? It was a sleepless night, yet overwhelming drowsiness washed over him.

In the dim waiting room.

The civil servant held his post, resisting the urge to sleep.

“…….”

How much time had passed? His head slowly drooped down, and by the time three worms were drawn on the paper, he was roused by the sound of someone tapping on the glass window.

“…Uh, um. How can I help you?”

“I came to find an item.”

“Ah, yes. Please tell me the number and the password.”

He had thought the person had come to catch a dawn train, but it turned out they were here to retrieve an item. The civil servant wrote down the numbers recited by the man on a paper and, feeling weary, trudged toward the locker.

After spinning the dial and opening the door, he handed the heavy bag inside the locker to the man.

Returning to his post, he suddenly thought,

“…Right. The register.”

He realized he hadn’t written down the recipient’s name in the register.

Remembering the regulation too late, the civil servant took the paper with three worms drawn on it and a ballpoint pen and stepped outside.

But the man had already vanished somewhere.

In the dark waiting room drizzling with misty rain, the footsteps of the civil servant searching for the vanished recipient echoed disappointingly.

—

Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

As time passed, I began to adapt to two different lives. To be precise, my biological rhythm started to settle.

Honestly, the lives of a Defense Attaché and an Operative were hard to call comfortable, even insincerely.

And the result was this.

My body felt heavy.

“Ugh.”

Perhaps due to lack of sleep. I always felt sluggish, and my head was heavy.

“Frederick, are you okay?”

“Ah, yes. I’m fine, as always….”

When I stood up from the chair, a slight dizziness struck, and when I turned my waist, a creaking sound emanated from my joints.

Honestly, even I could see that my physical condition was not normal. From Pippin, who spent the most time with me, to Jake, the employees of the Military Intelligence Agency, and even Camila and Lucia, they all worried about my health.

Clevenz even suggested taking a day off, but to be honest, I didn’t think a single day off would make any difference.

“Would you like to receive a healing?”

“Sure, I’d love to. Go ahead and give it a try.”

“This isn’t a major spell, what are you expecting?”

The real issue was my accumulated fatigue, not that I had a sick body, so even if I received healing, it wouldn’t particularly improve. Nevertheless, the priest’s healing felt like washing away something blackened in the corners of my heart.

Well, there would be a chance to collapse from overwork, but thankfully, I wouldn’t be bedridden from illness.

Being able to receive healing from a saint after contributing a huge donation, something that usually took a year, felt like a stroke of luck that was never meant to be mine.

Lucia scolded me, gathering her swirling light.

“At the very least, sleep longer. Your skin is all dark and dull.”

“I have so much work. But I received healing, so I should be okay, right?”

“Sigh… As I’ve repeatedly told you, fatigue and stress cannot be cured by sacred relics. There’s no remedy other than rest.”

Her words were more like a sigh than a scolding. It must be advice derived from her experiences as a battlefield priest. I could tell just by her voice.

I devoured the dragon-shaped chocolate Camila held, humbly accepting Lucia’s scolding.

“Ah! How can you take something I’m holding? There are new ones here too!”

“Nothing tastes better than snatching someone else’s snacks.”

“Hmph….”

It was an overly childish conversation for those who were supposed to be mature. Camila whining about her snacks being taken and me devouring them; we were both equally immature.

Lucia sighed, pinching her forehead.

“Please, maintain some dignity.”

“Who cares, there’s no one watching anyway.”

I sprawled on the plush sofa of the hotel suite, munching on snacks.

Anyone would think, “Is this really the Defense Attaché?” but who would say anything when I just wanted to relax today?

“I saw someone flying around the hotel this morning, a journalist or paparazzi. What if they take pictures….”

“The police took care of it with some dispel magic earlier. They caught them mid-air with a spell.”

“Is that even allowed? Isn’t it too dangerous?”

“Well, as long as they don’t die, they can be saved. If they can pay for the potion, that is.”

The three of us sat on the sofa, idly chatting.

Lucia had come with relief supplies for medical services, Camila had been going back and forth to the library for magic practice, and I was lounging in the hotel room due to my duties as the Defense Attaché and an Operative.

“…Is it still not backing down?”

“Since there’s no contact from the police, it seems likely that it isn’t.”

“Sigh.”

That was because a protest was ongoing around the hotel.

—

There were already rumors of a protest occurring at the Magic Tower.

I had received information from three sources: my long-time acquaintance Sophia, a foreign ministry document from Abas, and the local police.

The protest was led by an extremist wizard group. Their aim was to oppose Saint Lucia’s entry and to press various grievances with the government.

It was a type of protest that would be all too common even from Earth’s perspective. The only difference was that the protesters used magic.

Truthfully, I didn’t worry much. No matter how much they moved, they were still protesters, and it was obvious that the police would suppress them quickly, especially considering they were the ones from the Magic Tower Police.

Most military police wizards were combat mages. While magic varies in application based on specialization, trained military mages consistently carried out their roles wherever they were needed. Plus, the Magic Tower Police possessed a vast number of combat mages, second only to the military.

Moreover, the Magic Tower was already informed about the protest through the information police.

Even if it was an illegal protest reported with no prior notice, the police who were aware of it beforehand would be waiting nearby, ready to fire tear gas (mages are still human) and dispel spells, thus easily suppressing even an extremist group.

The problem was that the protest was much fiercer than anticipated.

And I would experience the heated taste of violent protests in this world.

“Hey! Hey! Pull that broom down! Hurry!”

“Damn it, deploy the cavalry! Just push through them!”

“Molotov! Molotov!”

The green magic shot by the police whizzed through the air, while the magic cast by the protesters blazed and exploded on the road.

The road was littered with shards of glass and fragments of paving stones, and now and then, the oil seeping from Molotov cocktails surged and engulfed the area.

“…Wait, is that a spirit? Why is there a spirit in a Molotov?”

Upon closer inspection, it was not oil but a spirit. The flames spreading outward opened their mouths wide towards the fragments of bricks and eagerly devoured them, growing in size as they moved towards other pieces.

“Why is there a spirit in a Molotov…?”

“The registrant list included a spirit handler too…! Damn it!”

Having received no updates for so long, I had come to check on the protests, and I couldn’t hide my shock at the sight of the wizards protesting.

In my life, seeing spirits stuffed into Molotovs was a first. I’d heard of spirits being shoved into bidets, but never had I heard of spirits being inserted into Molotov cocktails.

The protest at the Magic Tower exceeded my expectations by far. It was shocking. In my 28 years of life, I had never seen such a scene, and I could hardly find words to describe it.

A dense fog of tear gas hung over the road, while dangerous debris and flames littered the ground, and both the police and protesters flew above, swinging clubs and spells at each other.

This wasn’t some archaic metaphor; both sides genuinely soared through the air. It was possible because both parties had mages. Moreover, they seemed evenly matched, conducting a fierce battle in the heart of the city.

Hosted against the backdrop of beautifully preserved historical architecture and modern buildings, the intense protest was an absurd sight.

Yet, I had no time to marvel, as cavalry police surged forward like a tide, breaking the protesters’ formation. It was so seamless that I momentarily mistook it for England.

Like a mad charge of chariots, they stormed in, disrupting the lineup, but the protesters were not novices either; they quickly reorganized and prepared to unleash their magic in resistance.

The police were equally tenacious. A combat mage clad in riot gear used dispel magic to neutralize the protesters’ spells and conjured streams of water mid-air to lash out directly. Naturally, the protesters repeated the same tactic using their own magic.

As the protestor was hit by a water cannon, a Molotov broke, and with wet hands, he seized the spirit flowing out from the Molotov and hurled it into the air, where a protester on a broom caught it and flew towards the police. Then, a police mage plummeted from the air, crashing into the protesting wizard as the action unfolded, other police mages began unleashing spells, causing the road to tremble like an earthquake.

At this point, it felt more like a riot than a protest. I had never seen this kind of protest in my life. This was closer to a civil war than anything else.

Watching the chaos unfold, a police officer approached and pulled me back.

“Let’s step back! It’s too dangerous here, Colonel!”

“What? So it wasn’t dangerous until now?”

“Now that it’s serious, the level of violence is bound to escalate!”

“…You’re only saying that now?”

It was ridiculous, but it was indeed true.

As police avoiding the scene swooped in from an alley (they truly came flying from the air) to crumble the protestors into a corner with roads covered in crimson mist, spells ricocheted everywhere, and the protest became even more intense.

With colored smokes—orange, green, red, and purple—waving over the flaming pavement, it was like a hellscape.

“…I’ve never seen anything so bizarre.”

In the end, after roughly understanding the scene, I strolled under the protection shield cast by a police mage, quietly moving toward the police headquarters.

—

Unfortunately, I couldn’t make contact with the command center. The protests were so intense that all the key commanders were focused on giving orders.

I had planned to ask when the protest would settle, but I had to return to the hotel without any substantial outcomes. However, the police said they would send a messenger to the hotel, so it wasn’t a complete loss.

By the time the sunset painted the sky, the messenger mentioned by the police visited the hotel.

“Nice to meet you, Colonel. We have support from Central.”

“Nice to meet you. Frederick Nostrim.”

The messenger sent by the police had striking bronze skin. Judging by his ethnicity, he seemed to be an immigrant from the southern continent.

He spoke Abas with surprisingly decent pronunciation, allowing us to communicate smoothly without an interpreter.

“May I know your affiliation…?”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I can’t disclose that due to my duties.”

The messenger was from the Information Police.

The Information Police is an internal information organization within the police force. They handle counter-espionage and anti-terrorism operations, collect and distribute public safety information, and manage international cooperation with foreign government bodies.

Generally, the Information Police possess considerable power and authority within the police, often outshining intelligence agencies concerning domestic intelligence.

In any case, unlike other police who capture criminals, Information Police work to prevent crimes. Therefore, this person was undoubtedly well-versed in the protests currently happening.

As I accepted his handshake, I wore a professional smile.

“I understand.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

Like any other intelligence agency, security is key for Information Police.

In the world of intelligence, it’s an unwritten rule not to pry into personal details, so I refrained from asking about his identity.

The messenger followed up with the usual pleasantries and quickly got to the point.

“We’re encountering difficulties in suppressing the protest.”

“Are you saying it’s going to be prolonged?”

“I’m ashamed to say so. For your safety, it’s advisable for all distinguished guests like you to remain at the hotel for the time being.”

That meant the protest was dragging on.

I swallowed my frustration and questioned the information officer.

“Does that mean, in effect, interactions with the outside world are completely impossible?”

“Not to that extent. However, when you do go outside, ensure you have protection. At the very least, it needs to be stronger than the current arrangements.”

“…….”

The tone of the information officer revealed that the situation was getting serious.

He continued with a rather solemn expression.

“The current situation is particularly dire as a radical group is leading the protest.”

“Will I be safe if I am properly guarded by the authorities?”

“It’s not guaranteed. If the situation persists, it may become difficult to manage solely with police forces, so I can’t ensure you’ll be completely safe.”

It seemed the protests were indeed severe.

It wasn’t that the police force covering the entire Magic Tower was genuinely inadequate. However, if they concentrated all their manpower to suppress the protest, it would leave other areas vulnerable.

The Magic Tower Police were likely rallying their forces to calm the situation. Still, given the size of the protester numbers, even adding a few more men wouldn’t put out this fire, that much was probable.

This issue was something best left for the experts; I needed to report to the Military Intelligence Agency first.

I waved over Pippin and Jake, who were loitering nearby.

“Pippin, call the Defense Attaché Office. The situation shows signs of a prolonged protest, making our duties difficult.”

“Yes.”

“And what about today’s schedule?”

The crisis hadn’t just fallen on the Magic Tower. It wasn’t as if they were the only ones showing chaos while hosting diplomats, but our responsibilities were equally hot under the collar.

Right now, I couldn’t perform my duties as a Defense Attaché, Lucia needed to delay her medical service, and Camila had to limit her magic practice to the few tomes she could borrow.

Luckily, it didn’t seem too dire.

Pippin began his report.

“There aren’t any critical appointments, so we can reschedule later. I’ll request adjustments when I contact the Defense Attaché Office.”

“Thank you. Anything else?”

“All supplies needed for medical services are currently stored in the hotel, and except for not being able to go outside, there aren’t any significant inconveniences. Oh, and they also said they could provide all necessary items for the party, so we just need to make requests.”

It seemed that the Magic Tower could handle most issues. They knew they had embarrassed themselves in front of the diplomats and were likely looking for means to swiftly and effectively resolve things.

I quietly moved my gaze and stepped into a secluded area.

Quick-witted Jake engaged the information officer in conversation, diverting attention, while Pippin followed suit into the corners.

Once we entered a secluded spot where no one could overhear, the reporting resumed.

“…How about the operation team?”

“I received word from the exchange unit that everything is normal.”

The participating staffers in the operation faced no issues. What a relief.

“What about the headquarters directives?”

“There haven’t been any specific directives related to the current situation. There was a message instructing not to approach because a counter-espionage operation is ongoing in northern regions….”

“That’s irrelevant to the Magic Tower. What else?”

“The desk conducted an operation assessment, stating there were no issues, so it’s fine to proceed as planned.”

It seemed that the operational analysts concluded there was nothing amiss.

It meant there wasn’t any probability of detection by counter-espionage agencies and that the cover was still valid, thus allowing us to move to the next phase.

Ordinarily, as an operative, I shouldn’t have direct access to the analysts’ evaluations, but thanks to Pippin’s connections, I could sneak a peek at the assessments the analysts had made.

In any case, it seemed that all was good.

“What’s subject 51 up to?”

“He’s been staying at home.”

Fabio Verati had been remaining at home since his youngest daughter was kidnapped.

With how he was making calls here and there, it was evident that he wasn’t staying there of his own will but was rather compelled to stay by the Magic Tower’s delegation. It was likely for security reasons.

I clicked my tongue.

“Meeting at home seems too dangerous… Is there any way to contact him?”

“Not really. Actually, a representative from the Magic Tower delegation came by today, requesting a meeting between the manager and subject 51. It was framed as helping the victim’s family and witness to find peace rather than an investigation.”

“Do you believe that?”

“No. Who would believe that?”

I couldn’t tell if it was genuinely to stabilize Fabio Verati or if it was a ruse to interview him in a secluded room.

I wasn’t some kind of clairvoyant to find that out.

The important thing was that the Magic Tower was unofficially searching for avenues to reach out to me.

As I contemplated the Magic Tower’s intentions, Pippin continued.

“They did say it would be fine to take your time responding, but it seems the diplomats think it would be best to make contact quickly before relations with the Magic Tower deteriorate.”

Typically, a regular diplomat wouldn’t participate in the intelligence agency’s operations.

However, high-ranking diplomats could intervene. In reality, ambassadors or consuls sometimes acted as overseers for the intelligence agency’s operations.

However, I was a somewhat special case. The Military Intelligence Agency had thoroughly covered my identity, so the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was unaware I belonged to the Military Intelligence Agency.

In short, I was just a soldier affiliated with the Defense Attaché Office, with diplomats merely asking me not to complicate their position.

Thus, this was not an official command. I didn’t need to fully comply but also didn’t need to completely disregard it.

Pippin chose his words carefully.

“With the protests occurring, shall we use this as an excuse to try and push back our schedule? Frankly speaking, the ineffectiveness of the Magic Tower to suppress the protests is their own problem, not ours. Moreover, it’s not just you who has responsibilities; you’ve got many people to look after.”

“Making me sound like the head of the household feels too real.”

“More like a babysitter, isn’t it?”

“That hit home.”

Indeed, Pippin’s words were correct. It was common practice for bureaucrats to toss problems to other departments and conveniently ignore flagrant missteps; an even more absurd act could easily slip under the radar in diplomacy.

But my thoughts were a bit different.

“Tell the delegation to start adjusting the timetable.”

“Uh, what?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“Are you planning to meet them immediately?”

It seemed Pippin misunderstood something. Just because I was setting an appointment with Fabio Verati didn’t mean it would be finalized a second later.

“I said to start the adjustments; I never said we’d meet tomorrow. Besides, who knows how things will unfold?”

I didn’t bother to express that I wasn’t rushing them. After all, my schedule was known to both the diplomats and Pippin and Jake.

There was no need to hurry. As the saying goes, the more urgent the matter, the farther the road ahead. It wasn’t our customs to yank the line just because it was tugged. Taking more time and moving slowly was fine.

I rubbed my weary eyes and told Pippin, “Have them send over the briefing materials I requested from the Ministry.”

“What materials…? Ah, yes. Understood.”

“Good. Let them know we are continuously monitoring the trends of the cult and other countries. Also add that currently, there are no unusual occurrences.”

“Yes.”

Since we were ahead of the game, there was no need to be anxious.

Building an information network for the Inquisition would take quite a while, and the means to pull Fabio Verati was already in our hands.

The Military Intelligence Agency was significantly ahead of other intelligence agencies.

For now, at least.

“…….”

After sending Pippin off, I silently gazed out at the somewhat noisy city’s evening scenery, lost in thought.

The alchemist, Francesca Ranieri.

It was time to meet her.