A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The Magic Tower officially holds the title of a democratic republic, but in reality, it functions as an oligarchy led by a small group of power brokers.

However, the leading group in the political arena of the Magic Tower is not a political party but rather a school of thought.

A significant portion of the citizens in magical society are magicians who can wield magic, and these schools operate similarly to parties with their own visions and platforms.

Thus, what drives the political scene of the magical society and propels the Magic Tower forward is not ideology or philosophy, but rather knowledge and scholarship.

Elemental School,
Sorcery School,
Astrology School,
Alchemy School,
Summoning School,
Illusion School,
Spirit School,
Necromancy School,
and Light School.

Since the war with the cult, three schools have dominated and reached the pinnacle of magical society.

The Elemental School, Sorcery School, and Astrology School.

Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

The Magic Tower revolves strictly around these three schools.

The people living in this society hold them in high esteem, referring to them as the “Three Great Schools” or the “Trinity.”

Even the area, which includes the Oracle and the government institutions at the heart of the Magic Tower, is also called the Trinity, so it’s needless to explain how significant the influence of the three schools is on the Tower.

And just then, a member belonging to the Trinity is standing before me.

No, I must correct myself.

It’s standing before ‘us.’

“Nice to meet you. I am Francesca Ranieri, the Administrator of the Secretariat.”

Francesca Ranieri lightly bowed her head with a calm expression.

“It seems we made you, the distinguished guests, wait too long due to our circumstances. I apologize.”

“No, thanks to your consideration, we all had a comfortable wait. We should be the ones expressing our gratitude.”

The alchemist who introduced herself as the Administrator of the Secretariat was wearing a brooch marked with the symbol of the Elemental School.

Her uniform, designated for civil servants, signaled her official status.

The cape resting on her shoulders indicated she was a magician, and the softly glowing emblem within the brooch proved her affiliation with the Elemental School. It was not surprising, given that the ancestors of the Ranieri family were among the founders of that school.

Francesca Ranieri’s appearance was not overly glamorous but appropriately fitted to the unspoken etiquette maintained in the magical society.

However, it would be an understatement to say she was simply formal; Francesca Ranieri’s presence was quite striking.

Dark purple hair and purple eyes.
Slightly upturned eyes.
A sharp gaze.
Skin so clear it could be described as translucent.

Overall, she bore a faint resemblance to Veronica. Especially in the defined features department, Francesca Ranieri presented an image contrasting with Camila and Lucia.

With a warm smile, Francesca Ranieri greeted those present.

“May the blessings of the sky be upon you. It is an honor to meet you, Saint.”

“It is an honor to meet the seeker of wisdom and truth. Please feel free to call me Lucia.”

“How could I dare to do so? I am just grateful to the saint for permitting it.”

Though no translator was present, light pleasantries flowed effortlessly, thanks to magical tools.

If I were to point out something unusual, it would be that Lucia and Francesca Ranieri each used honorifics appropriate to their respective customs. This was a refreshing shock that eclipsed any thoughts of the translator device’s capabilities.

Given that the cult and the Magic Tower were uncomfortable with each other, I had expected some modifications in their forms of address, similar to how two opposing figures might approach one another. Yet, Lucia and Francesca adhered to their respective etiquette without hesitation.

It seemed that the absence of observers allowed for such ease.

Or perhaps both of them were simply adept at wearing masks.

In any case, feeling quite fortunate that there were no journalists around, I realized that my turn was approaching.

“Nice to meet you.”

As I took Francesca Ranieri’s hand and greeted her in her native tongue.

“Good morning. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Administrator.”

“…You speak Patalian?”

“I have a friend from there.”

Francesca Ranieri displayed a slightly impressed reaction.

“That’s impressive.”

Perhaps the ease of our communication left a favorable impression, as Francesca Ranieri’s expression brightened.

Then, she held my hand and gently shook it.

“I think we can get along well moving forward, don’t you?”

“At least since we can understand each other, we won’t hit any snags.”

“I hope that’s the case.”

The hand we held together felt much colder than I had expected.

*

It took us about two weeks to finally meet Francesca Ranieri.

I believed the reason for this delay stemmed from the political tensions between the Magic Tower and the cult. Issues regarding protocol and security also arose from their unique relationship.

In truth, this was the correct answer.

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs provided daily text updates, and Veronica kept me posted via phone, so how could this not be the explanation? Ultimately, all matters derived from the pride clash between the cult and the Magic Tower.

However, Francesca Ranieri insisted that the postponement was due to her.

“I couldn’t come to see you since the handover was delayed. I sincerely apologize.”

In fact, no one was unaware of the true reason for the delay in this gathering.

Even if Camila was a traveler who had only been around for three months (more like an illegal alien), Lucia was a saint who was one of the power holders within the cult, and both Francesca Ranieri and I were officials of the Magic Tower and Abas.

It was impossible not to know.

Yet, despite being fully aware of the truth, Francesca Ranieri took all the responsibility upon herself.

“Due to a heavy workload, I should have wrapped things up quickly, but somehow it turned out this way.”

Lucia and I nodded calmly in agreement.

She was asserting that all responsibility lay with her, so what could we possibly say?

We weren’t acquaintances from yesterday or today; we would be spending not just a few months but perhaps years together.

Since she was claiming she did not want to cause any disturbance from our first meeting as potential colleagues, it would only be polite to play along.

“That can happen. I fully understand your position, Administrator.”

“I’m truly grateful. And please feel free to call me casually, whether in private or at formal gatherings.”

Once we put all political and historical stakes aside, our conversation unfolded in a cheerful atmosphere.

“Well then, how should I address all of you?”

“I think addressing everyone by name would be just fine. If everyone here is okay with it?”

“I’m fine with that.”

“Me too.”

“Then, please feel free to call me casually from now on, everyone.”

Francesca Ranieri smiled gently.

The casual conversation filled with small talk created a comfortable atmosphere, allowing the subsequent dialogue to flow effortlessly.

Reflecting on the ironical scene, given the bitter relationship between the cult and the Magic Tower, I silently observed the group engaged in conversation. It wasn’t that I had nothing to say; rather, I was preoccupied with thoughts of Fabio Verati, who would arrive shortly.

As I sipped tea delivered by some small creature that looked like a spirit or something else, I suddenly locked eyes with Francesca Ranieri.

“…Huh?”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, no… I just thought I saw something in your eyes….”

“In my eyes…?”

Francesca Ranieri tilted her violet-like eyes and smiled.

“Did something get into my eye?”

Under the stare of the surrounding group, I snapped back to reality and recovered the situation.

“…No. I must have misseen it.”

“What did you see that made you say that?”

“…It’s nothing.”

That’s strange.

“I must have just imagined something.”

Clearly, it felt like her eyes had sparkled.

*

After the brief incident, I excused myself from the group and stood up.

It would normally be inappropriate in an official setting, but today was a different case.

While today’s meeting was of significant importance, it was also a function without any special implications.

It wasn’t a meeting between politicians elected to office (excluding Lucia) nor a 2+2 meeting aimed at discussing foreign policies between foreign ministers and defense ministers, so there was no real substance to address.

However, as the saying goes, “Interpretation matters more than reality,” people often focus more on how events happened than their core essence.

Thus, people were more concerned with what intentions the parties involved had when they met rather than the act of meeting itself.

From that perspective, my place of activity was not beside Camila, but rather elsewhere.

So I headed to the press room.

“Yes, chief. I’ll send the article now.”

“Senior, let’s write number eight instead of three. With a slight tweak, it’ll fill the entire front page. Everyone’s face is showing.”

“Wait a minute. Which department are you from? The Secretariat? Then you’re under the Oracle’s practical department. This will fit well with the announcement from the National Affairs Council.”

The press room, set up temporarily for smooth coverage, was bustling.

International department journalists were sitting with translators and editors, writing their articles, and a long line stretched along the wall to send the finished articles.

“It’s hectic. Very hectic.”

If I had to compare the atmosphere, it felt similar to that of the press room during the inter-Korean summit at Ilsan KINTEX. There were just that many people around.

I wasn’t here on business, but since I’d been called in, this could also be seen as a type of work.

Scanning the crowded press room, I lifted the article created by the Abas media journalists to hide my face.

“The press has really gone wild these days.”

I muttered in a voice so soft that anyone nearby might think I was talking to myself.

However, it was far from solitary musings. A response came back as I glanced over my shoulder.

“Isn’t it just as busy for you guys?”

“We’re always busy. Has there ever been a day we weren’t?”

“Unless you get fired, you won’t be busy. Or maybe when the country collapses.”

Sofia, posing as an international department journalist from Patalia media, tossed out a self-deprecating joke.

I heard that only journalists who received permission could enter the Magic Tower as they tightened security, yet seeing an Information Agency Agent swaggering around with a press pass sparked nothing but distrust.

“Why the long face?”

“Is it safe around here…?”

Sofia silently pointed with her chin at the entrance.

Two police magicians with capes were surveilling journalists as they entered and conducting identity checks. They were taking precautions against intrusions via transformations and illusions.

Their statuesque stances, standing at the entrance keeping watch over those passing by, were rather chilling, but Sofia seemed unfazed, smiling lightly while waving her identification.

“In any case, if you’re using magic, you can’t get in here. The entire building is under government control. So, anyone without identification shouldn’t be able to enter.”

Well, it’s not like having an ID guarantees entry.

As Sofia said that, she happily smiled, and I pointed to her journalist ID with my chin.

“Is that real?”

“Of course, or I’d have a fake one?”

That’s her bragging.

In any case, this place seemed safe.

I shook my head and read aloud one of the articles written by the journalists.

“The alliance of clergy and magicians, is spring arriving for the National Affairs Council and the Oracle… What is this?”

“What do you mean? It’s an article destined for the newspaper.”

“This isn’t an article; it’s on the level of tabloid trash…?”

The prospect of improved relations between the cult and the Tower sounded utterly ludicrous.

Would those who stuffed ex-inquisition agents among the saints’ attendants be foolish enough to discuss improving relations with the Tower over a simple meeting between Lucia and Francesca Ranieri?

Dumbstruck, I opened my mouth, while Sofia chuckled softly, tossing a joke my way.

“People’s imagination really… seems more vivid than ours, doesn’t it?”

“It’s more delusion than imagination.”

“Is there really a difference?”

Scritch-scratch. The sound of a pencil moving over paper could be heard.

“By the way, I wonder why our Colonel is here? He’s not a journalist, is he?”

“You summoned me, didn’t you?”

Sofia closed her notepad with a light smile, maintaining her grin as she tilted her head.

“Have you met Francesca?”

I responded with a nod towards the photo.

In the picture, there I was, sitting quietly between the two individuals.

“I came to deliver greetings. I wouldn’t pass up such an opportunity.”

Today’s event was simply a courtesy call with no deeper purpose. Just a chance to see each other and build rapport.

However, the noteworthy individuals in attendance drew considerable attention.

“It seems like everyone’s making a huge fuss over mere introductions.”

“Given the saint and a magician are meeting, that’s understandable. Besides, Francesca isn’t just any magician, is she?”

Francesca Ranieri.

The Oracle leading the Tower, the administrator responsible for the Secretariat serving under her.

She was someone deeply connected to the governance of the Tower, far from just being an ordinary magician.

In fact, the Ranieri family was known to have founders of the Tower among their ancestors. They had produced numerous notable wizards in history and bore many Oracle members as well.

So nobody would think of her as merely a common magician.

Sofia appeared to hold similar sentiments.

“Well… if it weren’t for her family issues, she might have even been engaged to a major political figure already, don’t you think? After all, she is from a prestigious family, skilled, and remarkably beautiful… Merlo. What are your thoughts?”

“If she’s an administrator, at least she’d be ranked 5th-tier, right? A noble daughter from a prestigious family, plus a 5th-tier civil servant. There must be plenty of folks wanting to propose.”

She’s even considered a strong candidate for the next Oracle member. Though she had been sidelined in the succession battle due to her family’s issues, when the most promising noble from the Empire left the Tower (as his house fell), she naturally emerged as a contender.

Of course, Abas’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs believed that compared to the shaman from the Lushan Federation, who had a priest for a father, or the son of a conglomerate from Kien Empire noble, she bore relatively insignificant influence.

And from the perspective of someone who eats spy bread, the reason this daughter from a family that produced Oracles for generations was treated as a backroom elder can all be attributed to the National Security Agency.

She had lived under their watch since she was in kindergarten, simply because she was the child of a public security offender. Thus, her freedom of movement was severely limited.

What a twisted life it is.

Yet, for Sofia, sent to keep an eye on Francesca Ranieri, such trivial matters appeared to be of no concern.

She continued to smile cheerfully while throwing a jest my way.

“What about her looks?”

“Why is that even relevant here?”

“She’s pretty, so just say it honestly; I won’t write it in the report.”

“Do you really think I’d trust a spy?”

“That’s just mean….”

Sofia was relentless, sticking to me.

What started to feel more like a joke turned into a persistent inquiry, invoking familiar feelings of déjà vu. Eventually, I had no choice but to respond to her questioning.

“Hey. You’re not seriously thinking I’d get carried away by her looks, are you?”

“Well…?”

What a non-answer.

“I mean, if that’s the case, just say you suspect me. We know everything about each other; there’s no need to beat around the bush.”

It seemed that Sofia suspected I might be smitten by Francesca Ranieri’s appearance. In polite terms, I was love-struck, or to put it coarsely, bewitched by a woman.

From the start, she had invited me to the press room on the premise of such suspicion. If that weren’t the case, there would be no reason for her to summon me at this exact moment.

Nonetheless, I didn’t feel angry or unsettled.

After all, the National Security Agency must have sent Sofia to glean such information from me.

I was engaged in an identical pursuit, albeit from a different position.

Hence, what spilled from my mouth was not disappointment or irritation, but rather a moan of protest.

“It’s true that the Secretariat holds an important position, and yes, being the child of a public security offender complicates matters, but how much power can a mere 5th-tier civil servant wield to warrant such scrutiny? That’s plain paranoia.”

“Well, Francesca could become an Oracle member someday, you know?”

“As if that’s likely.”

Letting out a small sigh, I turned my head away, while Sofia, crossing her legs as if showcasing her ample figure, slowly swayed her foot and murmured.

“Well, who really knows how people’s lives will unfold?”