A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Ekaterina from the Counterintelligence Department recognized the overseas operatives.

Since I’ve been working in the Overseas Operations Department, I have a bit of an understanding of the relationship between the Counterintelligence Department and the Overseas Operations Department. Operatives and counterintelligence agents aren’t exactly on familiar terms; they wouldn’t instantly recognize each other just by sight.

The nature of their operational areas doesn’t usually overlap, so it’s rare for them to run into each other.

Yet, Ekaterina recognized the operatives.

How on earth did she do that…?

“Colonel?”

“Yes, yes?”

“Are you alright…?”

Camila Lowell approached me with a bewildered expression.

“Oh, I apologize. I was just lost in thought for a moment…”

“What kind of thought would make you worry people?”

She gave a slight smile.

Before long, High Priestess Lucia, who had come near, greeted us cheerfully.

“It’s been a while, Camila.”

“Lucia!”

“It’s nice to see you again, Colonel Frederick.”

“Ah… nice to meet you.”

We exchanged greetings, and the journalists in the distance, holding cameras, burst out with flashes.

Amid the storm of camera shutter sounds, someone’s voice could be heard.

“Looks like the heroes have gathered in one place.”

—

Episode 2 – Heroes of the Continent

For two hours, we went around the banquet hall, carrying out our official schedule.

We reviewed the official agenda with the cult officials, checked security with the Inquisition personnel, and lined up the diplomats to decide which country to visit first.

Middle-aged men, trying to look grand by putting wax on their thinning hair, kept bothering me.

“Colonel, could I have a moment to speak with you…?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ambassador. I have something urgent to attend to…”

“Frederick? It’s been a while! Do you remember me?”

“Ah— that’s right! You’re the Consul!”

“Haha, how delightful that you remember! Last time we discussed…”

Every time a foreigner I couldn’t even remember the name of suddenly intruded upon me, my heart raced.

In a situation filled with countless requests, suggestions, and discreet bribes, I had very little I could say.

“I will pass this along to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs…”

“That’s beyond my authority…! Ah! There’s the Ambassador…”

“Oh, oh! I can’t accept this…!”

I politely refused as best as I could, maintaining a civil servant’s mindset.

Shifting the workload to another department is a brilliant tactic that works in any world.

What I don’t understand is why they give bribes in the first place.

I managed to prevent all attempts to slip gold bars and jewels, which had no serial numbers, into my pockets.

It wasn’t easy to push away the older men who could be my father’s age.

But I had things to take care of, so I finally wriggled my way out of my seat.

I tried to move carefully so as not to bump into anyone.

“Ahh!”

Of course, a situation like this was bound to happen.

I habitually took out my handkerchief and handed it to the woman.

“Are you alright?”

“Ouch… yes…”

The woman, slightly frowning, gazed longingly at the spilled white wine.

Come to think of it, I’d seen her face a few times in the Inquisition’s press room.

It wasn’t hard to realize that this situation was intentional. Journalists thirsty for scoops would stop at nothing.

I quickly handed her the handkerchief and tried to excuse myself.

“Wait, just a moment!”

The journalist suddenly grabbed my hand.

“Uh, Miss Journalist, why are you doing this?”

“How did you…?”

“I’m currently performing official duties. Please let go.”

“Just one quick interview…!”

Using the hand techniques I learned during agent training, I escaped the journalist’s grip.

“C-Colonel…!”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I just need to pass by for a moment.”

I hurried my steps, glancing back at the journalists being pushed away by the plainclothes agents who had approached quietly.

Suddenly, I felt a sense of disillusionment wash over me about why I became an operative in the first place.

I should’ve just followed my grandfather’s advice and stayed away from intelligence agencies. I ended up like this all because I foolishly decided to become a soldier like my father.

“Colonel, I’m from the Rohana Times…”

“Please, just stop.”

Don’t come any closer, you little pests.

—

The pen-wielding thugs were eventually dragged away by plainclothes agents from the Inquisition, who were patrolling the banquet hall.

At first, they resisted vehemently, but when their IDs were shoved in their faces, they turned pale and walked out on their own.

This is the image of our counterintelligence agency.

They’re a powerful group that does things reminiscent of the intelligence agencies from the Cold War era. No matter how much the fervor of espionage cools down, they still maintain a notorious reputation on par with the CIA and KGB.

Pippin commented while watching the journalist being dragged away.

“The Inquisition is as ruthless as ever.”

“They’ve been smashing heretic heads with scriptures for hundreds of years, so you can’t ignore that.”

At Pippin’s brief mutter, a few plainclothes agents flinched.

It seems some of them still feel a twinge of guilt for being people who smash heretic heads.

Jake, leaning against the wall, chuckled.

“Honestly, when it comes to work experience, aren’t most agencies the same?”

“Exactly.”

In this dark fantasy world, every country is accustomed to media repression and the purging of political prisoners.

Centuries ago, nations maintained their own secret police and public security forces.

These have led to the formation of today’s intelligence agencies.

However, only a few countries across the continent are capable of properly conducting espionage (intelligence collection-analysis/overseas operations).

In other words, for this reason, people hold illusions about intelligence agencies.

Even those living in the 21st century have fantasies about them. James Bond is beloved for a reason.

But the reality is this.

“I don’t want to work.”

“Me too.”

“Bloody idiots. Please keep that kind of talk at home.”

Pippin and Jake burst into laughter at my jibe.

“Of course, we should be able to go home as we please.”

“How can we go home when we have to follow the Hero for several years?”

It’s frustrating.

“Hey, we’ll receive leave in between for reorganization anyway, right? Aren’t you going home?”

“Huh? Can we actually go home?”

I pulled on Jake and Pippin’s ears and whispered to them.

These two seem to be clueless since it’s their first overseas operation.

“For security reasons, we’ll have to go back anyway for regular reports.”

Finally realizing, the two exclaimed in surprise.

Many people misunderstand that spies cannot cross borders easily.

There are plenty of ways to cross borders under the pretext of overseas travel, assignments, or contractual obligations.

“Once this is over, there will probably be a brief vacation. As you both know, our current situation is far from ideal, right?”

Our operative team only had three agents.

Considering that typically an operative team would consist of a dozen or more members including local supporters, it felt like we were just a tiny operative team.

“Baby operative! Someone give me people! Budget me!”

Not that bad, but I do need to have some words with the Colonel.

By now, the Colonel would have completely taken over the Military Intelligence Agency and would be coordinating with the director for a handover. By the time we return home, he’ll likely have become the director.

Pippin and Jake seemed to catch on and nodded knowingly.

“Ah. Understood.”

“Yes, yes. Now go on and report.”

The three spies huddled together, starting to chat.

Since I only had to carry out the official schedule today, the intelligence gathering was up to these two.

Pippin was the first to speak. Her mission was to gather intelligence regarding terrorists.

“According to someone from the Inquisition, explosives transported through a publishing company were delivered to cult members.”

“Did you find out who it is?”

“No. Only a witness’ testimony, which lacks credibility since they only caught a glimpse while going to work in the morning. The books are double-entry ledgers, so tracking the funds is impossible, and nothing came up from questioning the publishing company’s employees.”

Hmm.

It seems like the Imperial Guard HQ’s second office poured quite a bit of effort into setting up a shell company.

The operative responsible for that was executed for some reason, making it hard to follow the trail.

What’s strange, though, is that both parties’ claims match oddly well.

The Imperial Guard HQ says it’s the doing of an “insider from the cult,” while the Inquisition claims it’s the work of the “Imperial Guard HQ’s operative.”

The Imperial Guard HQ’s Second Office delivered the bomb.

Cult members received the bomb.

And,

The First Office of the Imperial Guard HQ was well aware of the entire terrorist plot.

How on earth am I supposed to connect these dots…?

Anyway, now that we’ve got Ekaterina here, hitting the cult side should yield some answers.

“Bring in that witness and have them create a sketch. Once that’s done, distribute it to the agents.”

“Understood.”

As Pippin went off, Jake approached me.

His mission was to gather intelligence within the banquet hall.

“Raul seems to be keeping an eye on Raphael these days. He may be short on popular support, but he appears to be trying to undermine Raphael’s image through targeted opposition.”

“Plan black propaganda, huh….”

I hadn’t seen him that way at all.

Turns out Raul has quite the ambition for power.

“Also, the scheming against the Saint Lucia candidate has intensified. We haven’t identified the main instigator.”

“Why? Wasn’t it Veronica?”

“No. The situation is truly broad and complex. Veronica’s involvement is minor.”

This was unexpected intel.

“Veronica isn’t attacking Lucia?”

“Even counting all direct and indirect means, she only holds about 20% stake in the schemes.”

To say it simply, if the total schemes against Priestess Lucia were set to 100, then only about 1/5 of those would come from Veronica. I had expected her to have at least half, but it was much less than anticipated.

Now that I think about it, I have no information about Veronica herself. Just a few game settings? Most of them are mixed with community fan theories, and they aren’t reliable.

While there’s plenty of information about Saint Veronica, there is no personal information about her.

It seems worth investigating.

“Start gathering intel around Veronica. Watch who she meets with.”

“She’s right here, isn’t she?”

I reflexively turned my head and looked around.

Thankfully, I didn’t see Saint Veronica within a few meters of where I was.

This seems like a rather serious matter to simply give a casual command.

So, I quietly whispered in Jake’s ear.

“We’ll talk about that later and move on to the next topic.”

“Ah, I heard the date for the saint election will be set soon.”

The saint election.

I’m keeping an eye on it, but I don’t see any reason to get involved directly; I’ll just be observing.

“I’ve heard that as well. Apparently, after the saint election, they’ll have the Hero appointment ceremony.”

“Raphael’s faction is pushing for the election to be held as soon as possible, while Raul’s faction argues for a slower pace.”

“Even if the date is decided, we’ll have to wait a bit….”

“What do you mean? The Hero appointment ceremony?”

“Yeah.”

I nodded in agreement.

Even in democratic nations, the pace of elections is akin to a long-distance marathon. In a place where everything is a mess, like this, there’s no way things will move quickly. Soon, bribes will start pouring into the pockets of officials in charge of managing the elections.

The slower the election is, the more profit someone stands to make, and the more political gain someone else earns.

The more prolonged the timeframe, the more cult members benefit. Just a little while ago, the cardinals were discussing a similar topic too.

After a rough mental calculation, it seems like it will take quite some time until the voting.

—

“It’ll likely take at least a month before the voting. Let’s move on for now.”

“Understood.”

Jake took a lengthy time briefing me on the intelligence he had collected.

“…That’s about it for important intelligence. I’ll submit the rest in a report.”

“Got it. You two take a short break.”

Once the two were done with their report, they disappeared, and I stood up, shaking off the formalities as I began to wander around.

Since I had already handled significant matters before getting the report, only minor contractual tasks remained.

With a considerably lighter gait now, I strolled through the banquet hall.

I exchanged glances with our ambassador, and a few secretaries followed closely beside me. They were at least of level four civil servants if it were South Korea. Considering that the military rank of a captain/lieutenant/junior officer is equivalent to level seven, I shouldn’t treat them lightly.

But I could.

Thanks to my special ties as a Hero’s companion and the powerful figures supporting me from behind.

So I roamed freely between the tables with a few diplomats in tow.

I exchanged handshakes with the ambassadors I had seen earlier, passing along foreign documents presented by their staff to the secretaries.

I had a casual drink with some corporate executives while discussing business matters and chatted about maritime trade and the continental economy with the economic bureaucrats dispatched along the promotion route.

After snapping a few photos with a famous singer who just performed, I handed over the clinging journalists to plainclothes agents.

It wasn’t until I had made a significant round of the banquet hall that I could finally take a moment to catch my breath.

“Phew… thank you for your hard work, Secretaries.”

“It’s nothing, Colonel. This is our job.”

The well-dressed secretaries smiled, each holding a stack of documents. Their smiles were not genuine.