NOVEL NEXT Chapter 565
“…I understand what you’re saying.”
Zigmund slowly opened his closed eyes and picked up the Goluaz Corporal.
“That’s an intriguing deduction. Impressive.”
The flames flickered like a snake’s tongue, and smoke danced up from the thin chimney.
Zigmund neatly placed the lighter down and repeated soft kisses a couple of times.
“So, what’s the answer?”
Frederick asked.
“The answer must be ‘correct.'”
That was a straightforward acknowledgment.
Though a gun barrel was pressed against the back of his head, he remained unfathomably calm—a feeling of leisure even seemed to emanate from him.
Frederick gazed at the back of Zigmund’s head, the gun still sharply aimed, ready to blow his skull apart at any moment.
Zigmund held the Goluaz Corporal gently between his lips.
“Have you found it?”
“No. Not yet.”
Frederick readily admitted that he hadn’t been able to uncover the information Zigmund was hiding.
“How could I win against the person responsible for the food being served when I’m the first to visit the Ashtistan Republic? I’ve picked up on Escrow, Kores, and the recent use of Hawala, but where you’ve hidden the information is utterly beyond me.”
“…Is that so?”
“Truly old-school. You never fail to surprise me.”
A smile naturally crept onto his face.
He felt satisfied—not with the content of the answer, but with the other person’s attitude.
If even a hint of a transparent lie like ‘I found it’ had slipped out, Zigmund would have been disappointed in him.
“You’re quite honest.”
“If I were to lie while trying to act like a natural, I wouldn’t just be a coward, would I?”
“True enough. I honestly didn’t expect you to know about Hawala. You’re really quite skilled.”
“I’ve made a foolish mess.”
“You merely embarrassed yourself.”
Zigmund calmly admitted his mistake. He had underestimated this young friend. He hadn’t come easily as expected.
A soft swallow followed.
For a moment, the Goluaz Corporal he had burned himself with filled the emptiness of his lungs, intertwining with the thin, haze-like smoke.
“I should’ve listened to Helen when she told me to quit.”
Zigmund rubbed the cigar stub into the ashtray with a regretful gaze. The last of the Goluaz Corporal spat out its tobacco leaves.
Witnessing this, Frederick lowered his gun and offered Zigmund the cigar he had been smoking.
Returning to his seat while aiming his gun at Zigmund’s side, he said, “Let’s start from the beginning.”
“……”
“This time, why don’t you share your story, Zigmund?”
—
Episode 20 – Who Threatened with a Knife
—
“In 1967, I was visiting my alma mater to meet up with my mentor when I ran into the personnel officer. He was a senior who had graduated from the same university I attended and was currently completing an integrated master’s and doctorate program in management focused on human resource selection and management.”
Zigmund spoke in a calm tone.
“When I went in to see my mentor, he was already in the lab. As soon as he confirmed there was a guest, my mentor told me to relax and enjoy some tea while waiting. After chatting with my friend Dingy for about 20 minutes, that senior came looking for me. It seemed he had already been briefed regarding me by my mentor. He took me to a downtown café, discreetly hinted that he worked for the state, and after running me through a few tests, handed me a business card with just his name and phone number on it.”
“What was the reason the personnel officer showed interest in you, Zigmund?”
“Languages. I could converse in Ashtistani, Patalian, and Kien. I studied Ashtistani as my elective and did pretty well on it. I naturally picked up Patalian as my grandfather was Patalian, while I lived there for seven years. However, Kien was something I learned in my secondary academy, and I had mostly forgotten it by then.”
“Continue.”
Frederick gestured for him to proceed.
“Ashtistani has always been a foreign language outside the mainstream. Back when I was young, I had some concerns about my future, but I became intrigued by the idea of becoming a civil servant. The business card fascinated me.”
“What was the content of the tests?”
“The personnel officer assessed my language skills and then asked me a few simple personal questions before leaving me the card. A few months later, he called me to his office, asked some questions, and then provided me with a recommendation letter. That’s how I joined the Royal Intelligence Department.”
He said that his first assignment was in Patalia.
“Thanks to my Patalian language skills, which were nearly on par with a native speaker, I was assigned there. My active period lasted about a year. At that time, Patalia was an ally of Abas, and all overseas assignments for intelligence agents including identity changes, training, and education were done there. During that year, I lived as a Patalian while going through the identity-changing process and in the autumn of ’70, disguised as an employee of the Abas trading company, I was sent to Shizuya.”
“Who did you go with?”
“Werner Heydrich, Jean Roche, Renald Keen. We operated under a superior named Nigel. Nigel was a veteran who had been living in Shizuya since ’65 and was a member of the original guard party involved in the establishment of the branch. He was someone I had once admired and looked up to.”
Frederick pulled out an personnel record file transferred from the Royal Intelligence Department. The aged leather cover with a declassified stamp was impressive.
“Nigel is dead. August 3, 1973. Location: Number 5 Nastaranga, near a hotel in Shizuya.”
“At that time, Nigel was investigating enemy intelligence agents operating in Shizuya. He had gone to collect a list from a general from North Trolia, who wished for asylum to the West… but the general never showed at the meeting.”
“Why?”
“When we reported the general’s intention to defect from our embassy to the homeland, they were eavesdropping on us. Nigel’s identity was exposed, the agents from the Imperial Guard HQ moved, and the general was arrested by the North Trolian public security.”
With a cigarette in his mouth, Zigmund spread out his ten fingers to examine the wrinkles on his hands.
“According to a later convert from the Imperial Guard HQ, they said there weren’t any nails left. He was a tough man but would have struggled to withstand torture in an elderly body. In the end, he confessed; the information leaked, and Nigel unknowingly walked into the trap set by the Imperial Guard HQ.”
“……”
The declassified documents described the fate of a Grade 4 intelligence agent who fell victim to a retaliatory operation at that time.
Waited for 15 minutes in the hotel. After a failed contact, a report was made to confirm the general’s status and prepare for a second meeting. During the leak, gunfire was exchanged, resulting in a fatality.
Tracking the assassin’s vehicle failed; one officer along with another person died at the scene.
Realizing a firefight had erupted in the capital, akin to the heart of the nation, the Ashtistan royal palace was infuriated. The Abas Foreign Ministry and the Kien Foreign Ministry both demanded explanations.
The command acknowledged the miserable failure of that operation, and the intelligence chief and the director of grades 1, 2, and 3 all resigned to take responsibility. The Royal Intelligence Department took institutional steps to strengthen vigilance against the counterintelligence operations of the Imperial Guard HQ.
Frederick tore his gaze away from the documents.
“The day Nigel was killed, Renald also died with him. Were you at the scene?”
“…I was.”
Sucking on his darkened cigarette, Zigmund gazed vacantly for a moment.
“It was a day of bad luck. It felt ominous right from the start. The tire suddenly blew, and the newly issued gun was too stiff to shoot. We were supposed to keep watch while Nigel and the general contacted one another, but… due to the tire blowing, Jean and I arrived late.”
“Did Renald head to the scene first?”
“He was in another car. The Peugeot that Nigel was driving.”
“According to the original plan, once Nigel secured the general, Renald would have moved both of them after Nigel got out. You and Jean were to confirm the tailing vehicle in a separate car, right?”
“……”
“Where were you and Jean when Nigel was killed?”
“At the scene. We had just arrived.”
Having replaced the previously blown tire with a spare, Zigmund arrived at the hotel with his colleague. Since they arrived through the main entrance, they didn’t see Nigel, but they certainly heard gunfire and the radio.
The moment the shots rang out, Zigmund instinctively felt something had gone awry. Jean ended up speeding along the circuit while pushing the seat back, and Renald, yelling, ‘Nigel got shot!’ left a radio message saying that he would chase the assassin team and instructed them to retrieve Nigel.
Zigmund halted his storytelling, brushing back his thinning hair with a wrinkled hand.
“…Nigel was covered in blood. The instant I turned over his body, there were bullet wounds that had pierced through his shirt. Instinctively, I felt he had been shot with a submachine gun. The gunfire was continuous and prolonged. Jean trembled as he checked his pulse and breathing, but Nigel was already dead. He must have died instantly. Over twenty shots had hit him directly.”
“Why did Renald die?”
“He was chasing after them. He pushed himself too hard in the pursuit. The agents from the Imperial Guard HQ likely predicted someone would follow if the assassination was successful. You know, predicting risk factors is basic, right?”
“Renald must have known that as well. What I mean is, why did someone who knew this push forward recklessly alone?”
His hand, which had been grooming his back hair, dropped abruptly.
Zigmund placed his hand on the armrest and stared at Frederick intently.
“What would you have done in that situation? Would you let those bastards who just killed your comrade and superior escape before your eyes? Just because there was no support?”
Frederick stared blankly at Zigmund with an impassive expression. His calm voice continued.
“Even a seven-year-old child knows that if you chase alone, you might get surrounded in return. You know there are enemies lurking somewhere.”
“…So it seems you are a born information officer.”
Zigmund muttered lightly, as if he didn’t want to continue the conversation any longer.
“Renald must have known that fact too. He certainly did. He was the smartest among the four of us. But he couldn’t remain calm like you. He chased, he pushed, he rushed in until there was no way to escape.”
Zigmund wouldn’t explain how his comrade had died; he seemed to know something.
Frederick asked, “Did you see it? The scene where Renald died.”
“……”
There was no answer.
Frederick searched the materials kept by the Royal Intelligence Department and found the report from September 1973. It had been a month since a branch officer and an agent who were supposed to meet the general had died.
A vehicle that had been battered on the side.
The body frame intruded upon the driver’s seat.
Crimson matter and cloth-like remnants were stuck on the torn fragments. And two holes left in the passenger seat.
Putting together the photographs, Frederick envisioned the incident scene at that time.
An intelligence officer who began to push himself too hard in the chase.
The expected enemy awaiting to be pursued.
A designated escape route and a colleague to break from the tail.
Someone waiting for the call rushed toward Renald, collided with the driver’s side, and while hitting the steering wheel with his head, would have pointed his gun at Renald. And pulled the trigger.
The autopsy report explained that two shots fired from close range passed through the occipital lobe, exiting at the right eye and above the eyebrow.
The now eliminated observer would have fled in a car, while the assassin group Renald had been pursuing could have strolled away easily from the scene.
“……”
Frederick confirmed that, in the September 1973 report, there were two agents who had testified to Renald’s death. Their signatures were noted at the bottom of the report drafted by the intelligence division.
Turning the report upside down to hide it, Frederick continued his inquiries toward Zigmund.
“An officer was killed, one of the branch’s top agents at that. Only you, Jean, and Werner remained in Shizuya. What did the headquarters say at that time?”
“Jean and I, who had taken part in the operation, were summoned back to the homeland for investigations. We never thought the embassy would be eavesdropping. They probably assumed that information leaked from someone among us.”
Despite its nature, they didn’t suspect betrayal. Information doesn’t have to be leaked only due to someone’s treachery.
Careless verbal missteps, flaws in encryption, and documents that hadn’t been completely shredded could also leak information. The Royal Intelligence Department’s intelligence division was looking into exactly that.
“Jean and I were investigated for five months. Or maybe four? I can’t remember well. I was frequently going in and out of the intelligence division.”
“In that span of five months, the Shizuya branch was completely vacant. Employees didn’t attend, and only Werner was active,” Frederick noted.
He began questioning about Werner.
While Nigel, Zigmund, and Jean had been assigned to their duties in the Shizuya branch, what had Werner been doing alone?
He had remained in Shizuya even after Zigmund and Jean had been recalled to the homeland. The intelligence division had never summoned him.
Regarding this, Zigmund opened his mouth, beginning with, “He was a special man.”
“Were there any prior experiences with him? His enrollment date appears to be before yours at the Royal Intelligence Department.”
“He was from the military, a sergeant, a veteran who served as a staff sergeant in the special forces. Werner was already deployed as an instructor in the special forces of the Ashtistan Kingdom and when he entered the Royal Intelligence Department, he collaborated with those he had trained to train local guerrillas. By the way, he was referred by Nigel. They lived together here a long time ago.”
Zigmund elaborated that Werner was dispatched as an operation officer in Shizuya and had been sent to the mountain valleys two months prior to Nigel and Renald’s deaths.
“It was a challenging period for him. It was a time when pro-republican guerrillas were rampant. Though he managed to prevent the Ashtistan Kingdom from falling to the guerrillas, he couldn’t stop the kingdom from becoming a republic under revolutionary rule. The Kien Empire was backing those bastards. He spent a lonely and tough time, it seems.”
Frederick was somewhat aware of the local warlords trained by Werner.
“The Royal Intelligence Department had put considerable effort into nurturing paramilitary organizations for a long time. They recruited instructors from among the special forces, and Werner was among them.”
“Right. He was just like the subordinates he took around with him. Jake or something? He was supporting warlords in the Mauritania Continent.”
“That was indeed his capacity. In any case, Werner stayed in Shizuya. Alone. And…”
Frederick laid down the documents he was reading.
“Two weeks after both you and Jean returned from your investigations, he passed away.”
“…It was an accident. Those idiots from the harbor mistook one another for enemies and ended up shooting Werner. He had a habit of wearing his cap backwards, but his face was wrecked by shrapnel, so we had to identify him by his cap. His remains were recovered and buried by Jean and me.”
“Date of death was 1974. Just four years before your defection.”
Many things that had surrounded Zigmund changed during those four years.
Nigel and Renald had died, Werner had perished due to friendly fire during an operation, Jean had remained here for about a year but requested a transfer and retired shortly afterward, citing personal reasons.
The Shizuya branch, once comprising three, ended with only Zigmund remaining.
Frederick checked why the Royal Intelligence Department’s overseas operation division (the previous name of the national operations agency) did not send reinforcements to the Shizuya branch.
It turned out that due to the rarity of the Ashtistani language, selecting agents was a challenge, and in the end, they brought a few diplomatic employees assigned to Shizuya from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but issues arose.
“The monarchy collapsed.”
A revolution occurred.
“The citizens, unable to tolerate the tyranny of the monarchy, rose up. The secret police sworn to loyalty attempted to suppress them with force, but it was a futile effort.”
“……”
“The opening fire from the secret police stirred the demonstrators, the foreign nations turned against us, and the special forces trained by Werner rallied to the pro-republican guerrillas, their former allies.”
“……”
“The monarchy had long traversed a tightrope between Abas and Kien, but in the end, it was abandoned by both sides. The Abas cabinet ordered the embassy’s evacuation, while the Kien royal family moved the military to end the tyranny, inciting a coup. Thus, the isolated Shizuya eventually fell as the king fled overseas.”
In the year the flag of revolution soared over the Azadi Palace.
Zigmund helped with the embassy evacuation and then escaped himself.
To be precise, the agents he had planted within the Ashtistan Kingdom were discovered by the Imperial Guard HQ, leading to a manhunt.
“The beginning was a person who handed over military secrets to the Imperial Army. While I had been managing some of the agents Nigel, Werner, Renald, and Jean had planted, it proved insufficient. I was younger than Jean, less mature than Nigel and Werner, and not as wise as Renald, so gaps in the network eventually led to my identity being exposed.”
“I eliminated two agents and then fled. What happened to the others?”
“When Shizuya was like a giant pressure cooker. Discontent and resentment bubbled over, eventually exploding. Many of the agents were caught in that. Some were executed by the firing squads or were victims of the demonstrations.”
“Survivors?”
“The few I managed to gather after I returned were less than 30% of those I had. After purging the betrayers who sided with the Imperial Army and the revolutionary government, only five were left.”
“What happened to the betrayers?”
Zigmund laughed.
“What do you think?”
Frederick did not respond.
Ultimately, the intelligence officer who had left Shizuya with everything lost eventually returned to Shizuya. With the republic’s new banner, as the most senior member of the branch, he would need to rebuild everything from the ashes.
He succeeded.
Rebuilding the broken intelligence network and establishing a foundation for future successors.
Now he had dealt with his former allies who had turned foes, confronted those he had once trained, and dismantled everything the Imperial Guard HQ had planned here.
Zigmund thus became a legend of Shizuya.
And he defected in 1978.
—
All the stories before and after his defection had been revealed.
But Frederick had learned the process behind Zigmund’s betrayal of the Royal Intelligence Department; he had yet to hear the reason he had decided to betray them.
“74 to 78. There must have been quite a bit of change during those four years. The deaths of respected superiors and comrades, the burden of standing alone against enemy intelligence in Shizuya. Right after your return, you had to handle the implicated agents while opposing the Ashtistani intelligence department.”
“……”
“And this is why you decided to defect?”
Frederick asked Zigmund the reason behind his betrayal.
He didn’t think an answer would come easily; the human psyche is complex and not easy to categorize.
However, Zigmund replied immediately, contrary to Frederick’s expectations.
“That’s right. I was disappointed, and that’s why I defected.”
Frederick nodded, watching Zigmund answer. He thought there must have been a lot of contemplation before he decided to execute his defection.
Without such deliberation, he wouldn’t have been able to speak so freely as he did now.
“Disappointed in the country?”
Frederick asked whether Zigmund was disappointed in the Royal Intelligence Department or the Abas government.
Zigmund answered.
“Close enough, but it’s a bit different.”
“What do you mean by different?”
“My disappointment stemmed from the duplicity and immorality of the intelligence department and Abas.”
Zigmund unveiled the rationale behind his defection.
The Abas kingdom had lost its moral high ground.
Though the Abas cabinet and intelligence department firmly believed they had gained an upper hand in the ideological competition against the Kien Empire, paradoxically, their moral decay became the very reason Kien surpassed Abas to dominate Mauritania.
“Kien Empire has been shaking the Mauritania Continent for decades. The Abas intelligence department fervently believes that the Imperial Guard HQ and the Kien Foreign Ministry gained favor from the tyrants of this land without a shadow of a doubt, but from my perspective, it’s just the result of picking the outcomes they wish to see. All the democratically elected presidents were decidedly pro-imperialists, weren’t they?”
“You’re not unaware that all those elections were conducted using unfair methods?”
“Of course, I know. It’s true now, but all of them were supporters of the people and had dominant victories and didn’t want to let go of the power they had and thus fell into dictatorship. You know as well.”
Zigmund explained that witnessing countless governments turning their backs on Abas during his time in Shizuya was a clear realization.
And that was an obvious fact, both at that time and in modern terms.
“Our diplomatic policies have failed in this land for decades. Military interventions emphasized by brute force have only incited resentment. Do you remember those special forces soldiers and warlords trained by Werner in the Ashtistan Kingdom?”
“I remember.”
“They now occupy key positions within the Republican Army and the Law Enforcement Corps.”
The revolution, which the Royal Intelligence Department deemed a plot by the Imperial Guard HQ to overthrow their allied government, had successfully transpired.
The Ashtistan Kingdom had collapsed, and the revolutionary government established the Ashtistan Republic here.
The special forces soldiers trained by the Royal Intelligence Department had sworn allegiance to the revolutionary government and now held significant positions in the republican military and the law enforcement corps.
“During a revolution that turns a whole country upside down, loyalty doesn’t remain. When the generals pointed their guns at the royal family, the others turned their guns towards them too. Of course, some fled, claiming they couldn’t join the rebels; others stayed to defend Shizuya, yet most of them no longer remain here.”
“They were either executed or went into exile. I know. A few came back to Abas.”
Zigmund let out an uncomfortable sound, shaking his head resolutely.
“Those in exile exist, but most of them were high officials in the secret police or the intelligence department. As soon as the king fled, they swiftly discarded evidence and fled like cowards.”
“The lower ranks fled mostly to neighboring countries. Well, a few stayed and were integrated into the republican intelligence department.”
“My agents, whom I had been taking care of, were largely made up of such individuals. They had neither the status to accompany the king nor the resolve to abandon a precarious capital. So, I promised to help them seek asylum and asked the embassy for documentation. But do you know what the ambassador said?”
He had a hunch he knew.
Frederick briefly closed his eyes as Zigmund spoke.
“They said they couldn’t help me.”
“……”
“They claimed they had no time to write up documents since withdrawal was imminent? When I asked for provisions since they would take care of it themselves, they burned all confidential materials while shredding them. I was advised to call the Foreign Ministry directly to convince them, but they didn’t even consider listening.”
“That’s why you sought help from Patalia.”
“Fortunately, friends from their intelligence department lent a helping hand. Although I didn’t expect much help due to the chaotic situation while preparing for escape, at the very least, unlike the commanders from the Royal Intelligence Department or the Ministry of Defense, they weren’t spouting nonsensical claims like ‘Shizuya won’t fall.'”
Thanks to this, a few lives could be saved—if not all.
After adding this, Zigmund smiled faintly.
“Isn’t it funny? When I returned to this country, those agents I couldn’t take along were working as public servants in the republic. Nikolai VI, who had executed over ten thousand citizens during the early days of his regime, advised them to just convert instead of having to kill everyone.”
“Some among the newly established intelligence department and law enforcement corps had survived that way.”
“Ironically, the very executioners in Petrogard who once held the moral high ground, now preach ethics. If only they had thought that way earlier.”
“……”
“The greater irony is the moments I couldn’t refute when I heard those agents I met say, ‘Keeping close with the Imperial Guard HQ isn’t so bad after all.'”
“……”
“That’s why I turned away.”
Zigmund spoke, not in anger or frustration, but calmly.
It was merely a recollection of emotions he could hardly articulate now.
“Our Royal Intelligence Department utterly failed in Shizuya, and the Abas Kingdom chose a path of immorality on its own.”
It was tainted.
“We, who once condemned dictators in the name of moral superiority, have lost to them. We who prided ourselves on our moral superiority have now fallen to the same level as they.”
“……”
“Can you explain that?”
Zigmund asked Frederick.
The inquisitors in Lateran, begging for forgiveness for the sins they’ve committed through Sunday prayers.
The secret police in Petrogard, who suppress millions of citizens while calling themselves the sword and shield of the empire.
What makes us better than them?
“……”
“Yes. You likely can’t. Duplicity and indecisiveness are our strengths. That’s why I made a decision. A choice.”
Zigmund smiled.
Probably, this was the first time he truly smiled.
“It was a very… aesthetic choice.”
—
Silence fell.
The eastern sky gradually brightened, waking the sleeping city as noises seeped back into everyday life.
Zigmund looked at Frederick, who remained silent while gripping the gun. The latter was still aiming, yet not budging an inch.
“…So that’s how it was.”
The intelligence officer, sitting quietly, nodded slightly.
“I understand. You’ve made the choice you deemed right. I didn’t expect that expression to come from you here, but indeed, it was an aesthetic choice.”
Suddenly breaking the silence, Frederick was gazed at intently by Zigmund, as if surprised. He hadn’t anticipated such words.
He spoke calmly.
“I found hope in another system. A truly grand decision.”
“……”
“Just to clarify, I’m not being sarcastic. I genuinely respect your choice. To be precise, I think it deserves respect.”
Frederick scratched his sideburns, signaling he wasn’t overly eager about this philosophical debate.
“Well, for me, as this is my job, I couldn’t care less about morality and such. But for you, it seems that’s not the case. How philosophical of you?”
“What meaning is there in living life as someone else has instructed without thought?”
“Like other double agents who made their decisions. Even when the future promised a guaranteed comfort, you sought to resist against a country you believed to be wrong. From my standpoint, it sounds like the whining of a traitor, but at least courage demands commendation. To accept being called a traitor for life.”
Frederick rummaged through his pocket, pulling out something.
It was a cigar.
Zigmund noticed that he had pulled out a different cigar than the ones he usually smoked, having consistently consumed over five packs of Goluaz Corporals. Frederick lit the new cigar.
“Ah… This topic is so philosophical that I can’t think of a response, but anyway.”
As he fiddled with the commonplace cigar in Shizuya, he continued.
“Such a choice isn’t something just anyone can make, you know. Most are cowards. There are always rebellious individuals within the Imperial Guard and Inquisition, yet very few will defect as you did.”
“……”
“Most just turn a blind eye and carry on, just waiting for retirement benefits. Why would they rock the boat and resist? They could just mutter complaints about the company while drinking themselves into oblivion.”
“You couldn’t do that.”
Frederick pressed the filter with his teeth while leaning on the backrest, his posture showing fatigue.
His demeanor conveyed a yearning to escape the workplace, akin to a co-worker desperate to return home. Zigmund thought that attitude felt quite natural.
Perhaps it reflected Frederick’s true inner thoughts.
“As I mentioned previously, I have no personal feelings toward you, Zigmund. Nor toward those from the Imperial Guard HQ hovering around here.”
“Is that so? I heard you dislike the HQ.”
“That’s simply because they attempt to meddle in my work. While I’d want to wipe them all out, they’re effectively foreigners to me once I resign, and so, they don’t pose a problem.”
“Same with you.”
Frederick slumped in his chair, his gun still in hand, but his gaze landed on his own left hand as he checked for any stray hairs.
“They offered to exchange my information for the safety of my family but failed. I genuinely wonder what’s so interesting; nevertheless, you concealed it somewhere. Essentially, the worst injury I’ve sustained is losing sleep chatting with you in this dim, dusty room rather than perishing in a hotel bed, laced with a 140% chance of developing lung cancer.”
“I sincerely express my regrets for that.”
“Thank you very much.”
Frederick lightly laughed off Zigmund’s comical apology.
“Ugh.”
Exhaling the smoke, he leaned forward.
Then, unable to suppress a yawn, he stretched and continued, taking a few puffs of his cigar and opening his mouth again.
“Well… if I ask where you’ve hidden your information, I bet you’ll respond with ‘not a chance,’ right?”
“Precisely. Handing it over could bring me trouble.”
“You must have tucked away the retirement funds you made off before you skedaddle into another spot besides my information.”
“Any information that remains hidden on one side will remain safe on another. Don’t worry. The most crucial data—specifically about you—is kept in a place only I know.”
“Naturally, you would say so. If those from the Imperial Guard HQ had any sense, they’d search for the information you hid.”
It was a kind of treasure hunt.
A treasure hunt hosted by a double agent well-versed in the affairs of Shizuya. Whoever finds it first owns it, yet should something go awry, there’s no issue with smashing a cranium for the spoils in this twisted royale.
As Frederick exhaled the smoke, he asked, “Is that what you want? To pass on my information to this side while protecting your family and smoothly crossing to that side?”
Zigmund, leaning slightly, nodded in agreement.
“It’s a guarantee that you wouldn’t trust me not to dupe you and snatch the backups before you depart.”
“Should I do something so audacious, I’m certain an infuriated you would come after me.”
“A gentleman’s agreement?”
“Yes, it’s a gentleman’s agreement.”
Zigmund demanded assurances of safe passage regarding his defection in exchange for refraining from divulging any sensitive information about Frederick.
He stated that other confidential information would be transferred directly for now, but they could discuss re-evaluating it later.
Frederick narrowed his eyes and muttered, “Disinformation… That should be troublesome for those at the Imperial Guard HQ to endure, right?”
“I’ll have to hide it. Of course, completely false information won’t suffice. Given that they will vet the truths, I need to ensure basic content is true while fabricating plausible trash for the sensitive core information.”
“What will you receive in exchange for sharing it? A medal? A house? A pension? Or did they promise you cash?”
Zigmund stared straight at Frederick, who had tilted his head.
“Nothing.”
He added solemnly.
“I never desired any reward from them in the first place. Of course, when I defected, I initially requested a fortune. Just handing over the information would have made me a suspect as a spy.”
“……”
“I made it clear to Rysichen that I wanted none of the cash I received. Instead, I asked them to either post surveillance or take photos to prevent my identity from being discovered by anyone in the Royal Intelligence Department who might be a double agent.”
“You remained covered for sixteen years? Ah, this is an old trick I haven’t seen in a while. Those SIS folks…”
Frederick rolled his tongue in his mouth with a grin.
SIS, Livingstone, a country beginning with ‘P’—Zigmund felt a bit suspicious of the terms he often spat out but didn’t dwell on them.
He was lounging in the chair, exasperatedly leaning against the armrest.
“After Kowelaski’s craziness nearly jeopardized things, the Imperial Guard HQ finally offered me money. The former head of the Imperial Guard HQ, Semen Yudinchev, held discussions with Oleg Yelichich for days and ultimately decided to wire the funds to me.”
“Why? They were so anxious, worried that you might be leaving they couldn’t sleep?”
“That’s what I heard, but the truth remains uncertain. I believe Ilya Kutuzov might know the details; after all, he was Yelichich’s prized subordinate.”
“Sounds like a touching tale. While they routinely execute their kin, they truly become generous when it counts.”
Frederick grumbled yet didn’t provide further commentary.
He noted in his observations that, upon Zigmund informing him, an agent recording their dialogue from the next room had likely been present.
Zigmund felt an odd sense of familiarity toward the Royal Intelligence Department employee engaged in discussion with Frederick, though he couldn’t recall exactly who that bushy-bearded agent was. They might have crossed paths at the headquarters casually.
“…Oh!”
Frederick settled down with a sound reminiscent of an exaggerated old man.
He slung an arm over the backrest and turned to Zigmund.
“I dispatched people to the hideout you mentioned. They might not have disclosed everything, but they can find out as we go along.”
“I must have something secured, right? If I simply handed all of it over, how could I expect to avoid danger? First, I’ll pass over half; the rest will follow upon confirming my family’s safety and release.”
“Of course, that should be the plan. If everything were sorted at once, it would be terribly inconvenient. One needs some guts to get paid in this industry. Ah…”
Frederick nodded approvingly as if affirming that there was no point in dallying.
“But, I have something on my mind.”
“What do you wish to ask?”
“Concerning Kanikula Holdings, the money laundering front for the Law Enforcement Corps, how did you come to learn about Wali Al-Da’Doon? It seems your influence spreads across Shizuya, but you couldn’t manage agents here personally.”
Zigmund thought there was no more need to hide anything now.
He plainly revealed the truth without breaking a sweat.
“Hawala is primarily used for remittance between borders. It’s commonly employed to send pocket money to relatives living in distant lands. There are several in Abas, run by immigrants.”
“At the Shizuya business trip on November 30, 1985?”
“Well, if you’ve figured that much out, I have no choice but to concede.”
I lost.
In that vein, Zigmund raised his hands.
“The jewelers near the western harbor of the Shizuya range became one of the Law Enforcement Corps’ money-laundering outlets. The shop I visited during the trip on November 30 was one of those places.”
“The commission would have been deducted by the Hawala brokers, and the funds ultimately went to…?”
“Strictly speaking, they were sent to agents inside the Law Enforcement Corps. Many instances exist where money was sent to my agents across various public and security sectors. For the recent Hawala transaction made in Shizuya… the funds you found were given to an officer on patrol in the northern regions.”
“The Royal Intelligence Department must not have received any reports.”
Zigmund nodded, shaking his head.
“The existence of those agents is something only I know. Since they assisted in extracting sensitive information from the Law Enforcement Corps or Wali Al-Da’Doon, I had to protect them, plus they were fundamentally my friends. Unlike the other agents reported to the Royal Intelligence Department.”
“……”
A smiling expression crept onto Frederick’s lips as he quietly observed Zigmund.
He felt it wasn’t particularly odd. As they both knew, people displayed inexplicable behaviors when weary. When extremely tired, Zigmund would often smile empty and absent-mindedly.
Nonetheless, the person before him showed a different response altogether.
Stifling his laughter, he suddenly twisted his body as if he had completely lost his sanity.
The sight of the intelligence officer laughing joyously from the early morning sent chills down the observers’ spines. He continued to laugh at the top of his lungs, resembling a madman.
“…Ha! Huh… Whoa! Just a sec! Hoo, I thought I was about to die there. You madman.”
Frederick wiped his tears, throwing some inexplicable profanity into the air.
To whom it was directed remained unclear, yet Zigmund found it deeply unsettling.
With a frown on his face, still clutching the Goluaz Corporal, he looked up.
“Hey, Zigmund.”
Frederick called his name.
As Zigmund glowered at his visibly displeased expression, a series of questions emerged from Frederick that were hard to comprehend.
“Those shell companies generating foreign currency, those Hawala brokers… Where do they operate from? The financial department of the Law Enforcement Corps?”
“That’s right. The official name is the Financial Management Department of the Law Enforcement Corps. Their external operations primarily oversee salary distribution and retirement benefits for the Corps members, but internally, they facilitate overseas monetary operations.”
“…So when such funds are made or profits arise, who do the people handling that money report to? Surely, there must be a final destination for the money.”
Zigmund raised and lowered his eyebrows, nodding as if that were an obvious inquiry.
“An ordinary general cannot conduct this alone. It requires the upper hierarchy’s approval. You are already familiar with who they are.”
Frederick leaned forward.
“Name them.”
Zigmund met his brown-eyed gaze.
“Darius Ismailzahi—Commander of the Law Enforcement Corps and the second-in-command in the Ashtistan Republic.”
—
*
—
A sharp knock echoed twice before a large, imposing door slid open.
A man clad in a sharply tailored uniform checked his attire before signaling to his subordinates to wait outside cautiously as he stepped inside.
The chamber was constructed using traditional Ashtistani methods, everything perfectly aligned with the customs of old.
Upon entering, the man bowed respectfully toward a woman facing the dawn at the window.
“Priestess, did you call for me?”
“……”
The Priest of Al-Yabd merely nodded silently. The man, having bowed deeply, raised his upper body and spoke in a careful voice.
“I came immediately, as you urgently summoned me.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
The Priest murmured.
“Have you been sleeping well? I told you to come once you woke, but I didn’t want to disturb you unnecessarily.”
The man smiled gently, as if to say there was no need for concern since he had rested deeply.
The priest lifted her gaze toward the direction of the man standing before her and then softly started speaking.
“Commander Darius Ismailzahi.”
“Indeed,” was his respectful reply as he placed his hand over his heart.
“You’ve worked hard. It’s been a long time since the revolution began, and you’ve held steadfast at your post.”
“Not at all. I only do my utmost at this position.”
“And how is Mariam? I feel like I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“She’s always doing well, in good health.”
“I have something to request of you. Will you heed my words?”
The commander nodded deeply, signaling for her to proceed.
The priestess’s voice continued from above.
“Shizuya will soon become tumultuous. However, there’s nothing you can do about it. So, go home now and rest well.”
Do not worry about anything. From now on, forever.