A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Just before leaving the room, Ekaterina sat on the sofa, her expression still weary from fatigue.

About a week ago, they had remodeled the guest room into a situation room with the help of the operatives from the 6th Department.

The hotel in the center of Shizuya was situated on prime land, allowing easy access in any direction within an hour, with adjoining tables and communication equipment. The situation board reflected the constantly changing statuses of the Republic of Ashtistan.

“…Should I have moved to a bigger place?”

The fleeting thought that the room was cramped crossed her mind, but it was a futile concern at this moment.

The situation room was adequate as it was. As soon as they made a bigger toast, the Government of Ashtistan would likely notice it. They would become aware that employees from the Imperial Guard HQ, whom they had not been informed about, had entered Shizuya. That would not be a welcome situation for either the Guard HQ or her.

Ekaterina shook off the distracting thoughts by splashing cold water on her dry face.

“Manager Ekaterina.”

Oksana, an operative from the 6th Department, spoke up.

“Domoboy is on the move.”

“Where to?”

“He’s just headed down to the lobby. It seems he’s heading toward the annex spa.”

The clock pointed to 9 PM, and the scheduled spa time was rapidly approaching.

Zigmund was making his way to the already reserved spa, dressed comfortably and walking lightly.

Even then, he was scanning the corridor and the surveillance equipment in the elevator with cautious eyes.

“……”

As Ekaterina stared intently at Zigmund on the screen, she asked Oksana.

“Which information agent is around Domoboy? You know, the assets we have recruited from the 6th Department.”

“There are four staff members under Giorgi. One from the front desk who took the reservation call, two staff members responsible for laundry delivery and room cleaning, and a technical staff member managing the hotel’s internal phone network and security systems. That’s the four of them.”

The field senior was the front desk worker. A superior who relayed orders from Giorgi of the Guard HQ to other informants within the hotel. In a way, he could be seen as the instigator.

Did Zigmund know? That the staff member who always smiled and kindly accommodated the customer’s requests was actually collecting information and passing it on to the Guard HQ using his authority and position.

He probably didn’t. At least, not yet.

The field staff from the front desk was still useful. There were many tasks to accomplish for the time being, so it was necessary to extend his usefulness.

“Oksana, send a text to Giorgi and Kiril.”

Ekaterina instructed. To contact Giorgi and see if they could send external surveillance personnel.

She also directed Oksana to send Zigmund to Kiril and Sandor, currently out for communications interception.

Oksana then paused, typing a message with the security program active, and voiced her doubts.

“Kiril and Sandor?”

“We need two people for close monitoring inside the annex spa. If we send an informant into the spa, it’s clear Domoboy will notice.”

The operative from the 1st Department’s response made Oksana from the 6th Department nod.

“I understand. I’ll inform them to keep external surveillance until Giorgi’s informants arrive and then come inside.”

“Good. Let’s proceed like that.”

“But what if our personnel’s identities are exposed in the process? The other party is the head of the intelligence department, after all.”

Oksana looked at Ekaterina with a worried expression.

And Ekaterina answered, putting on her coat.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“……”

“Even if they do catch on, they won’t be able to act on it.”

—

Episode 20 – Who Wielded the Knife to Threaten?

A phone call came from those presumed to be from the Royal Intelligence Department.

They claimed to have Henya, Lucy, and Helen, and had thoroughly investigated their contact person, William.

The mention of a severed finger indicated that William had undergone severe interrogation. The Royal Intelligence Department, which loved to appear pristine on the outside, had labeled the process “information extraction,” a euphemism for what is commonly known as torture.

How long did William manage to endure?

He likely didn’t last long.

The reason the Imperial Guard HQ designated William as a contact was only because of his experience in the Empire.

He was easy to approach as a retired diplomat and a former intelligence executive who could evade suspicion within the Royal Intelligence Department, making it hard to believe that William had withheld information under torture.

Moreover, there was no bond between William and myself that would compel him to risk his life to defend me.

From the start, he wasn’t the kind of person to gamble his life for my safety.

He must have spilled every piece of information he knew. If he held out for two hours, it’d be praiseworthy.

“…I’m glad he didn’t reveal too much.”

Adjusting his collar against the chilly desert night air, Zigmund began to analyze his situation from an objective perspective.

What did they intend by approaching the traitor?

What scheme was the Royal Intelligence Department hatching?

For decades, Zigmund had been the spokesperson for violence. As a field operative and head of intelligence, he knew well how much the Abas intelligence department despised traitors.

And he also knew how the intelligence department treated traitors.

He didn’t entertain the thought that they would forgive the sin now. The intelligence department seemed equally unwilling to hide that fact. Did they not send a clear message by sending William’s ring finger along with Helen’s wedding ring?

Zigmund was well aware of the meaning behind that gift.

It was no different than the gifts he had sent to the traitors.

“Ugh, heh….”

Zigmund hurriedly moved towards his destination after extinguishing a cigarette with the heel of his shoe.

The Royal Intelligence Department had ordered him to cooperate promptly to retrieve his captured family members, but if he complied with Abas’s demands, he would be doomed.

A traitor who once turned his back on his homeland could easily betray someone again, and the Guard HQ knew that well.

Moreover, the arrest of his contact had strained the relationship with the Guard HQ. Like Zigmund worried about the leak of confidential information, the Guard HQ was equally likely to be concerned about his defection.

If news reached the Guard HQ that Helen, Henya, and Lucy had been kidnapped…

Petrogard would surely take Zigmund away and leave his family behind.

That was how the Guard HQ had “rescued” double agents for decades.

This was also why Zigmund was intent on getting his family out first.

“Here we go again. I’ve come to buy some snacks for the kids, but are you busy, Nasrin?”

“Oh, Dryman! Busy? Come on in! We just got a shipment of seasonal fruits; you’re in luck!”

“Fruits sound good. Pack a few for me. Can I borrow the phone for a moment?”

“Of course! It’s in the kitchen, so feel free to use it.”

“Thanks a lot. Oh, and pass my greetings to the manager while you’re at it.”

Entering the restaurant near the hotel, Zigmund casually exchanged greetings with the owner, then turned her gaze away.

With the Royal Intelligence Department approaching, it was becoming hard to regard this place as safe. Nasrin was a kind and generous restaurant owner, but she knew his face and the faces of his family. If an officer were to investigate Zigmund, there would be no better informant than Nasrin.

Even after entering the kitchen, Zigmund kept a close watch for anyone’s eyes on him. He wondered if Nasrin was eavesdropping, whether the chef was stalling out of suspicion, and so on.

Then, as soon as he found the right moment…

“It’s me. Where are you now?”

Zigmund quickly dialed, lowering his voice.

– ‘I’m on a business trip to the west. Why?’

“Today, a tail has been attached to me. Can you track them down?”

– ‘If I have the communication records, it’s possible. But it’ll cost a bit of money. However, I can’t use the Republic National Bank right now; the Rabdari folks are cracking down on the anti-corruption unit.’

“Send it via Hawala.”

Hawala is a remittance system derived from a word meaning trust in Al-Yabd.

Customers entrust the money to a broker and provide a code to an acquaintance, who then visits the broker with the code to retrieve the funds.

Only adherents of Al-Yabd can use it, allowing them to easily send money to relatives abroad, but Hawala bypasses formal international currency exchange systems, making it a haven for illicit activities like slush funds, currency speculation, and terrorist financing.

In other words, it’s hard to trace.

“An initiation fee of 300.”

– ‘You’re generous. Fine, let’s do that, my friend.’

Zigmund wrapped up the brief call and checked the time. 9:16 PM.

He had to hurry to take the next step.

Zigmund exited the store and entered an alley he had memorized. His destination was a jewelry store. The brokers of Shizuya were also involved in Hawala.

The reason it was hard to trace funds flowing through Hawala was precisely that they utilized gemstones instead of transferring cash directly, and money moved secretly between brokers.

Even the Royal Intelligence Department would find it difficult to catch on to the fact that Zigmund had used Hawala.

Even if he were tailed, they would only suspect that he exchanged large sums of cash for gemstones to use as escape funds.

“Welcome-”

“Hello. I’d like to send some money over.”

The jeweler, a Caucasian man, shot a suspicious glance at Zigmund as he approached for Hawala but did not question the money he handed over.

“…A foreigner like you?”

“Money knows neither sin nor borders.”

“True words. Let’s see.”

In Ashtistan, where economic sanctions are enforced, foreign currency is always sought after. Moreover, judging by his fluency in the Ashtistani language, he seemed to be a foreigner well-versed in the nuances of this underground world. Perhaps he was of mixed heritage.

It was uncertain whether the jeweler trusted people or money, but for now, Zigmund successfully used Hawala. The funds he handed over to the broker had already flowed into the Ashtistani informant’s hands.

This was an informant he had known since working in the Shizuya branch. Of course, this was not an asset he reported to the Royal Intelligence Department.

Ashtistan had long been marked by chaos, and Zigmund had been here, recognized as an Ashtistan expert by the Royal Intelligence Department. Hiding away a couple of informants without reporting them wasn’t too difficult.

At least, it hadn’t been for Zigmund.

“The time…is about right.”

Glancing at his wristwatch, it was already 9:23 PM. If he hurried now, he could utilize the annex spa without being late.

He would sweat a little, but that was irrelevant as he planned to change anyway.

Zigmund quickly gathered his wallet and began to stride toward the hotel.

—

If there’s a similarity between the Al-Yabd culture and the Kien culture, it’s the positive perspective on bathing.

Historically, the Kien Empire had frequently deployed expeditionary forces to the Mauritania Continent, making public bathhouses popular since ancient times.

In the era of armor and knights, centuries ago, a preceding emperor once imposed a tax on ‘home bathhouses’ to fund the reconstruction of the expedition fleet, affecting nobles, merchants, and peasants alike.

Of course, it’s only natural that the Smirnov royal family, too, built lavish bathhouses in the villas established across various provinces, making bathhouses beloved features that were indispensable.

This was true in the Al-Yabd region as well. Influenced by doctrines emphasizing cleanliness, a bathing culture had early on cemented its place there. Believers in the Earth God took cleanliness for granted, and bathing became an essential ritual before meeting the deity.

The sanctity of this was so profound that even notorious desert tyrants known for their madness would never commit unclean acts within the bathhouse—especially bloodletting of any kind. Whether it be violence or debauchery, it was considered a major crime without exception.

Thus, the perspectives on bathing from both cultural realms held no novelty for Zigmund.

After all, he had been a supervisor in the intelligence department, witnessing the collapse of monarchies and the rise of the republic in Shizuya, and had served as a double agent who attracted the attention of Petrogard. He frequently utilized both Al-Yabd-style and imperial-style bathhouses since his youth.

– Ding!

Upon arriving at the destination using the annex elevator, the generous smell of wood wafted to him.

On the wall behind the reception desk, metaphysical patterns carved from wood adorned the surface, and the logo “Mandala” illuminated gently under soft lighting.

Zigmund approached the reception desk.

“Welcome to Mandala Spa. How can I assist you?”

“Nice to meet you.”

The staff welcomed Zigmund with a radiant smile, turning their back to the logo.

Zigmund greeted back and then casually leaned his arms on the desk to scan the surroundings.

Ever since getting in touch with the Royal Guard HQ and the Royal Intelligence Department, he had been suspicious of being watched, yet he noticed no one so far. Locals who briefly crossed gazes with him hovered around the lobby but didn’t venture inside the spa.

“I’ve booked room number three. Is it ready for use?”

“May I have your name, please?”

“Dryman. I made the reservation under the name Dryman.”

“Ah, Mr. Dryman. Yes, you can use the room from 9:30 to 11 PM. Please follow me.”

The receptionist concluded the conversation perfectly, guiding him to room number three with a well-crafted courteous smile while providing a brief explanation.

Checking his wristwatch in front of room three, a sudden thought struck him like someone who had just recalled something late, so he walked over to the reception desk and called to the staff.

“Goodness, I forgot to greet you. Thank you for your kind guidance.”

“Customer? Ah…. Thank you.”

After going over to the desk, he shared a sheepish grin and handed over a tip, his demeanor resembling that of someone who had completely blanked on the act of tipping.

The receptionist, clearly surprised, smiled at his unexpected gratitude. Zigmund exchanged casual banter about a friend arriving, asking her to notify him when that person showed up, before chatting about trivial matters while entering room three.

There was no real reason for Zigmund to have extended a gesture toward the spa employee. He just sensed that she wasn’t an informant working for someone else.

If that staff member had been bribed by the Royal Intelligence Department or the Royal Guard HQ, she would’ve led him to room three only to immediately pick up the phone as soon as she returned to the desk to relay good news to the operative who hired her.

However, the staff remained seated at her desk long after returning, absorbed in checking her appearance in a handheld mirror, seemingly oblivious to any phone call.

In that case, it would be better for Zigmund to recruit her before someone else approached. While a tip might not be enough to fully bribe someone, he had garnered enough goodwill that she would at least provide him assistance while he stayed at the spa.

Anyone would likely behave that way to a foreigner who had handed them their salary for three whole months at once.

“……”

True to being an imperial establishment, the Mandala Spa took on the typical Kien-style sauna layout.

A log cabin structure, one wall featured a stove burning wood and a small water container.

Indeed, it exhibited the characteristics of a banya (Баня).

The heated stove raised the temperature, and pouring water on it produced steam that adjusted the humidity and warmth. While it was located within a high-rise building, making it impossible for him to see a chimney, a small window accessible for guests to open and close was on one side.

Entering the steamy banya, Zigmund scooped water with a ladle and poured it onto the stove.

– Chiiing….

Once, he had also been to a banya while working in the Empire, so he knew precisely what to do to appear natural.

Zigmund peered through the window to observe the exterior of the banya.

“No one is here.”

Housed within the annex, the Mandala Spa acted as a huge venue for meetings.

Customers typically expelled enough sweat, then rinsed off their heated bodies in cool water before reentering the banya. Hence, there were multiple banyas lined up shoulder-to-shoulder along the walls, with a communal swimming pool available for customers in the center.

For reference, banyas operated on a strict reservation basis. The Royal Intelligence Department had even urged Zigmund to “arrive without delay” since visiting without prior reservations was impossible here.

In other words, it was possible that someone might be waiting for him.

“Yawn. Mmm….”

A middle-aged man lounged on Arabesque tiles, dipping his legs into the water, looking to be in his 40s.

He stood at around 180cm and embodied the typical taller, round-bellied Kien middle-aged appearance. Next to him was a half-empty bottle of vodka, clearly marking him as a figure from the Empire.

“That’s right! I’m still in a critical meeting now. I’ll be right back… Mmm… yeah, love you, babe.”

A man in his 30s, on one chair, was struggling with his phone while next to him sat a woman who looked to be in her mid-20s.

The man grasped his phone, attempting to juggle the conversation, which he likely dubbed as a meeting, while the woman sounding affectionate appeared to be a mistress or girlfriend.

Youngsters splashed around in the water, women flaunted their figures in swimsuits, and an old man beat his back with a besom (веник) made of birch or oak leaves while gnawing on a piece of bread.

Even as Zigmund naturally utilized the banya like the rest, he remained constantly on guard, watching for anyone monitoring him.

“……”

Thus far, he had not spotted anyone tailing him. Neither inside the banya nor outside.

There were no potential contact persons planning to connect with him here. He would have suspected anyone who had cast a glance his way upon entering or entered shortly after him, but neither case applied.

Perhaps the contact would come later than him? Maybe he would schedule a visit around 10 or 10:30 PM?

That was a possibility Zigmund considered.

– ‘Mandala Spa, how may I assist you?’

“It’s Dryman.”

– ‘Ah! Mr. Dryman! How can I help you today?’

When Zigmund reached out to the desk using the internal phone, a voice he vaguely recognized answered.

Wasn’t her name Nilepfer? He recalled glancing at her name tag while handing over a tip earlier.

The cheerful tip seemed to have lifted her spirits since her voice sounded lively. Zigmund cued in to start asking a few questions.

“I’d like to ask something briefly. Is there a reservation for 10 or 10:30 PM, or 11 PM today? A friend asked to meet at Mandala Spa, but I couldn’t find them.”

The staff member hesitated, saying that informing about reservations was against their privacy policy, but clearly, she didn’t want to insult a friendly customer who had tipped her, so she quickly adjusted her words.

– ‘Hmm… Although I normally can’t provide that information, I’ll check for you. May I have your friend’s name?’

“It’s Ali.”

For the record, Ali is incredibly common in the Mauritania Continent; you could find four or five kids named Ali living next door.

In other words, the fake friend Zigmund just made up.

– ‘Ali, Ali… Sorry, but I can’t find anyone by that name.’

Though Ali was a non-existent name, the staff fervently searched for a guest named Ali.

Zigmund quickly deduced something when the response returned quicker than expected—simply put, within three seconds.

The number of guests reserved from 10 PM to 11 PM wasn’t high.

Zigmund then moved to the next question.

“Oh, that’s troublesome. Was there a last-minute reservation made for today? Sometimes my friend makes reservations under family names—like a wife, sister, or brother.”

– ‘Please hold on a moment. Let me check for today’s urgent reservations…’

Zigmund could hear the sound of someone flipping through a ledger.

After a brief moment of searching through the reservation list, the staff member suddenly resumed speaking to Zigmund.

Her noticeably brighter voice hinted at something exciting.

– ‘For 10 PM, there are two guests for an hour. They just made a phone reservation a little while ago, and it’s a male.’

“Are they a man and woman?”

– ‘Yes, they appear to be acquaintances, potentially a husband and wife, but is that correct?’

Zigmund nodded.

“That’s correct.”

A smile crept across his lips.

“Please call me when they arrive.”

—

At the same moment, in front of the Mandala Spa on the main street.

The driver began to slow down, likely intending to stop near the crosswalk, and Matt turned his head to the back.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Frederick grimaced as he inserted the in-ear monitors into his ears.

Ugh, this antique. This lousy thing feels uncomfortable even though I’ve never used it in Africa. Ugh.

“They should be exhausted by now, right?”

“He’s not the type to waste time with a whore, not that he has such leisure.”

“Do you know him? That Zigmund guy?”

“Well, we’ve crossed paths a few times. Should I say I’ve seen him, but we’ve never been introduced?”

“So, you don’t know him.”

With Frederick’s moans, Matt chuckled and nodded.

Checking the communication strength, Frederick was about to get out of the car. After dropping him off, the van would smoothly and quickly exit the scene, maintaining communication while also dropping off people at different locations.

Some of the operatives who participated in the mission had been assigned surveillance duties. Though Frederick wasn’t part of the operation, he came along to at least have a look at the hotel.

Appropriately, a reason had appeared.

Matt stroked his goatee and began to speak softly.

“Will it be okay? Zigmund might recognize you.”

“I won’t worry about it. I must be too famous.”

“For an uncle?”

“No. For a lady.”

“Sounds like flamboyant nonsense.”

A curious flickering object reminiscent of a long finger passed through the rearview mirror, but Matt simply brushed it off.

As the vehicle slowed down upon reaching its destination, Frederick quickly exited through the open door with another person.

At that moment, halfway out of the car, he turned to the passenger seat and bluntly stated.

“Tell Ayla to stop by and say hi after you’re done here.”

“Whoa.”

Another fight is coming up?

Matt casually asked while turning around, but received no response.

As the loudly closed door echoed, the vehicle seamlessly melted into the moving traffic as if it had never stopped.

Frederick stretched his stiff body, feeling all the tension release.

Just then, he felt someone poking sharply in the side.

“Excuse Me. Frederick.”

Dressed in colorful and vibrant luchari, the flames of her slightly loose red hair danced in the breeze.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Camila’s bright blue eyes sparkled like the clear autumn skies as she inquired of Frederick.

The national agency’s certified junior intern bore a quirky resemblance.

In response, Frederick smacked his lips before gazing at Camila’s face.

“Uh, um….”

“……”

“…Just to see a new house?”