A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Despite the many things that happened, the aftermath was handled smoothly.

At the imperial villa, a confrontation between the three parties finally cleared up the misunderstandings.

“…So, there was nothing private between you and the child, and you only came for official duties?”

“…That’s correct.”

A sound of discomfort slipped from the Duke’s lips.

“Ahem… If that was your purpose, then I had no need to intervene.”

Although it wasn’t expressed in words, one could easily interpret his expression as ‘Oh dear, what a mess.’ It seemed he had no words to offer, even if he had ten mouths.

It was a natural reaction. After all, I almost ended up assaulting someone who came for official business.

Having sensed the alarm magic he had set up, the Duke rushed over, teleporting frantically. The moment he saw me glued to Camila, he unleashed a barrage of magic with an indignant, “You rascal!”

Of course, being an honorable noble, he granted me the chance to explain before making rash decisions.

Had she engaged in cross-examination, I might have woken up in the infirmary without a moment’s hesitation.

“…I apologize. Being my first disciple in my old age, I let my imagination run wild.”

He was saying this because rumors of me ‘playing’ with his precious disciple had reached him.

What a ridiculous slander that was.

…Truly.

“That was quite an exaggeration.”

“I regret that.”

We exchanged awkward glances in a somewhat stiff atmosphere.

“So, Professor, why did you just start casting magic out of nowhere?!”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Honestly… I wish you would listen first and decide afterward. What is this nonsense?”

“Ugh.”

Camila began to voice her complaints toward Alexandra Petrovna.

No matter how stern a teacher may be, it seemed no good excuses were coming to mind. The Duke merely nodded along with a hum of agreement to his disciple’s pointed criticism.

“And why should it matter to you whether I meet a man or not?”

“…Nonetheless, it’s troubling, isn’t it?”

Although Camila was somewhat worked up, or perhaps this was her only chance to challenge her mentor, the stern teacher swiftly cut off the spark of rebellion like extinguishing a flame, smacking her behind soundly.

And thus, her cute yet rebellious outburst came to an end.

“What do you think you’re doing, always toying with your mentor!”

“Ahhh— Professor, it hurts! Save me…!”

“Quiet!”

With a short sigh, I shifted my gaze away from Camila, who had been forcibly laid across the Duke’s lap. What an unfortunate scene to behold.

Well, misunderstandings were cleared up, and I had received permission, so all was well in the end. I wasn’t quite sure if “well” was the appropriate term to describe it, though.

Ultimately, everything smoothed over, and today turned out to be another peaceful day.

—

Episode 21 – Peace of Our Time

—

My initial plan to sneak into the Cult before the Northern Duke noticed had long since failed catastrophically.

From the moment we entered the villa, my mentor had already instinctively sensed the presence of a certain dastardly intent aimed at her disciple (a clear misunderstanding).

However, as the saying goes, no matter how the sky falls, there will always be a hole to escape through. After some earnest dialogue, Alexandra Petrovna granted us permission to visit the cult without hesitation.

“I have no reason nor right to intervene, especially for duties related to a Saint of the Cult.”

Alexandra Petrovna was a sorceress who had long since retired.

During the dark ages when sorcerers were persecuted, she had positioned herself as a pillar of the magical community but had returned to the Empire, the place she belonged, after transferring all her authority to the Oracle once the Magic Tower stabilized decades ago.

Officially, the Duke was no longer a pillar of the magical community today.

Nonetheless, the influence and weight of the title Archmage still profoundly affected the present Magic Tower and Ivory Tower.

Thus, Alexandra Petrovna could not visit the Cult without significant reason.

To put it precisely,

“Will you not accompany us, Professor?”

“I don’t particularly wish to go.”

She herself was reluctant to participate in our visit to the cult.

“Though it’s been over 50 years, I am indeed a sorceress. I fought alongside the gods and angels in my youth.”

“The war ended, right? It happened over a century ago! Is there anyone left who would scold you for that?”

“……”

The teacher squatted down and met the eyes of her eager disciple, a faint, wistful smile appearing on her cheeks.

“My child, sometimes people bicker over the slightest things.”

“……”

“My mentor said, ‘Gratitude is as deep as a well, but resentment is deeper than the abyss.’ Do you understand what this means?”

“…Uh.”

Camila scratched her head, pondering, making her lips move awkwardly with confusion.

“Don’t create unnecessary enemies?”

“Exactly. Always remember that a grudge once taken can last, whether ten years or a hundred years, it won’t easily fade.”

“Umm…”

“So what should you do to avoid incurring resentment?”

“Quickly settle the matter without leaving any future troubles?”

“What a clever answer!”

The pristine hand of the sorceress landed lightly on her disciple’s head, causing Camila’s cherubic face to scrunch in displeasure. Underneath the weighty teaching from someone deemed hard to face, the disciple faced the consequences of her ignorance with a sting.

If any issues arose between us, it was likely due to her habitual careless words. This truth was once more verified at that moment.

“Hee…”

“What a lively spirit you are, shame on you.”

Of course, there was no outright refusal of Camila’s companionship out of fear for lingering grudges. Alexandra Petrovna was a senior member of the imperial family, and the duties she had to handle within the Empire were diverse and vast.

Wasn’t managing the enormous northern territories, including Novo Nikolayevsk, the Northern Duke’s job?

Hence, Alexandra Petrovna had no choice but to grant Camila permission to depart.

It wasn’t that she allowed it with ease as if sending her off on a school trip, but rather she did so with extensive warnings and caution, a careful consideration filled with nerves before finally giving her consent.

And, as everyone expected—and precisely as I had anticipated—her worries as a mentor were fully directed toward “me.”

“I believe you will manage well, but please ensure the child faces no danger.”

“Yes, understood.”

“Please ensure she doesn’t sneak away for treats either.”

“Certainly.”

“And just to reiterate, be particularly careful that unnecessary rumors don’t circulate again like last time.”

“…Ah, yes.”

This was a degree of concern that could hardly be described as anything less than overwhelming. It was fair to say there was a strong intent declared that, should any trouble befall Camila, she would pursue it to the ends of the earth.

Suddenly, a scene from an old movie surfaced in my mind: an utterly unhinged father and uncle duo confronting a reckless young man who came to take their daughter.

The look in the Duke’s eyes, as he regarded me, resembled the characters in that movie more than I would have anticipated.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing… Tsk.”

If you’re saying it’s nothing, why the clicking of your tongue?

It was truly maddening.

The Duke, with a persistent look of dissatisfaction, didn’t stop at merely clicking his tongue but followed us all the way to the Warp Gate departure area. No matter how much the royal attendants insisted she needed to hurry, she shook her head with a discontented expression like a spoiled bulldog.

What am I, a rake?

What kind of impression did she have of me that led to such behavior? It was utterly baffling.

As I grumbled inwardly in exasperation, Camila, who was playfully dragging her luggage behind her, began giggling at my expense.

“Why does your mentor always treat me like I’m the worst? What did I do wrong?”

“Oh come on~ Surely she didn’t take a hatred to you. It’s just concern. Worry.”

“Double the worry, and it might as well victimize me.”

“Why do you look so wronged? It makes it seem like you have something to hide. You know, like the old saying, ‘The thief’s conscience burns’.”

“If you keep this up, Camila, you’ll really get in trouble.”

“Who knows? The wise old man’s intuition might just be spot-on…”

No wise intuition, just the ramblings of an old fool.

“Hehe.”

As if intent on turning the tables, Camila burst into fits of giggles. Her laughter was so playful and irritating that I had to sneak in an unexpected flick to the forehead.

The sound was surprisingly sharp, leading me to land another one, but that was a secret between us.

—

Searching for the ‘Blonde Cleric’ in the Holy Land of Lateran is about as easy as finding Mr. Kim in Seoul.

However, seeking the ‘Saint,’ or ‘Blonde Saint,’ is a piece of cake.

Just like the lawmakers of the past showcased riotous behavior with melee, tear gas, and closing doors with pipes—what a barbaric siege it was.

Today, Lucia has emerged as an idol who drives both fans and haters insane by commanding bishops and cardinals gathered from around the world with an ‘all in position’ demand (and it’s seriously maddening).

Attractive attention could lead to danger for anyone who stands out.

One must avoid encountering the Saint at all costs.

Whether inside or outside the conference hall.

High-ranking clerics of the cult scurry to hide at the mere mention of the Saint’s appearance, regardless of whether they leaned traditionalist or progressive reformer. I managed to gather information from a few of them about Lucia’s whereabouts.

As easy as eating cake.

“Do you mean Saint Lucia?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard she hasn’t been seen for days. I received news that she is currently staying at the Cathedral of Tranquille.”

This was testimony obtained from the bishop in charge of oversees charity work.

By the way, this person was one of the close associates with whom Lucia formed a close relationship during her charity work in the Empire and Mauritania, and I had only happened to meet him while circulating public documents.

“…Days? Is she ill?”

“The Saint’s health is a secret known only to a few in the Cult, but at least recently, she showed no signs of trouble. It’s just… she isn’t fighting against illness…”

The bishop’s face twisted in a complex mix of embarrassment and dismay as the sentence trailed off.

The idea that a Saint who lectures bishops and cardinals would appear as a frail patient was preposterous, implying that she wasn’t in seclusion due to health issues.

Well then.

After probing a few close aides, we wasted no time and set out for the Cathedral of Tranquille, where Lucia was said to be.

Preparations were thorough.

“What do you think? Can we persuade her?”

“I must do my best.”

“Are you well-versed in the precedents and materials?”

“Yup.”

“Good.”

Let’s hurry! Camila took the lead, displaying a grim expression. As she had resolved to persuade Lucia, I too, donned a serious look, mentally calculating my approach.

How to calm the rampaging Holy Berserker.

How to raise the beleaguered cult from the depths.

An uncertain venture, but at the very least…

“Let’s go in.”

First things first, I had to handle my duties.

—

The Cathedral of Tranquille.

A newly promoted religious facility commemorating the birth of a new Saint, this sacred place also serves as the operational center for Saint Lucia, where she practically resides.

The Cathedral, which I hadn’t visited in a long time, now bore a more sacred and solemn presence than I recalled. The stone edifice that had once seemed so fresh had evolved into a structure worthy of comparison among great cathedrals.

Deep inside, we found Lucia waiting for us.

“……”

“……”

“……”

“…Um, Lucia?”

“Yes.”

A calm reply resonated, the blonde hair swaying as she nodded. The drip-drop sound echoed like a great cavern, and her curt response reverberated, creating an indescribable resonance against the bricks.

Then, the heavy sound of metal clashing followed.

Camila, who had been spectating from the side, finally couldn’t help herself and managed to ask.

“…What on earth are you doing in prison?”

Believe it or not, the second Saint of the cult was indeed incarcerated.

Location: the basement of the Cathedral of Tranquille.

Condition: Bound by chains from ankle to waist.

“……”

Lucia did not respond, her head bowed in silence.

Rather than the position of a contrite sinner, it resembled a student who felt utterly embarrassed after having her secret diary discovered.

We gawked at Lucia, who was entwined in chains like a sealed monster, and the more we stared, the more she turned her gaze away.

“…I made a small mistake.”

“What sort of mistake lands you here? And who locked you up?”

“That would be… uh… Saint Veronica.”

“…? Wait, why would Saint Veronica imprison you?”

“I, ah, hit one of her allies…”

“You?!”

“Even if we’re talking about being restrained for assault, this is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Exactly.”

Upon my utterance, Camila chimed in, and as she spoke, I echoed her sentiment. The absurdity of it all left us staring blankly at one another.

“Ah, this is why one shouldn’t play soldier lightly. Tsk… so who exactly did you hit?”

“……”

A lengthy silence ensued.

Finally.

With nothing to say other than fidgeting her toes, she quietly replied.

“…The Pope?”