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The flower of espionage is a human intelligence.

Japan, measuring for the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Soviets who were testing the waters right next to the Nazis, and the German Empire digging trenches to fight France all made good use of human intelligence.

During the Cold War, intelligence agencies of various countries sent spies to engage in messy wrestling, but in modern times, they utilize human intelligence in a rather sophisticated manner.

They exploit civilians unrelated to intelligence agencies—such as recruited informants, company overseas branch staff, international students, overseas Koreans, and travelers—as information assets, safe from diplomatic tensions if discovered.

However, truly valuable data mostly falls under confidential status, and access to such secrets is limited to high-ranking officials.

In other words, to easily extract confidential materials, we must recruit insiders.

Thus, we judged this situation to be a leak of information by an internal researcher who was recruited.

But that wasn’t the case.

“In this case, it’s a bit unique. It appears to be a leak of information by a trained spy rather than a recruited insider.”

The investigator in charge wiped the sweat from his brow at the mumbled words of the dispatch team leader.

“A-spy, you say?”

“I can’t be sure whether it’s an information leak or not yet. But at the very least, this incident is not the work of an industrial spy.”

“Ah…”

The middle-aged man’s brief sigh was mixed with strange emotions. I could understand—it was apparent his head might soon roll.

“Using a radio proficiently and even employing codes means this is no ordinary civilian.”

Even without the random numbers, a communications expert who can type a thousand characters in nine minutes is certainly not your average civilian.

“What on earth…?”

“Are you okay, sir?”

“J-just a moment.”

The middle-aged man was in a panic, sweating profusely. I understood perfectly well. He belonged to the investigation division, and if a security issue arose at the research institute, he would bear the responsibility. He would likely be out of a job once the investigation concluded.

Of course, I was an outsider without any accountability, only receiving official reports on the investigation’s progress. So, I spoke to him in a rather ordinary voice.

“For now, I’ll head out to make a report. And I think we need to reclassify the suspects; you two can discuss for now.”

Let’s get on with the work.

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**Episode 3 – A Fantastic Vacation**

I reported the state of the research institute to Clevenz and classified the researchers who had come under suspicion by morning.

Criteria were added for people with foreign travel experiences, those who studied abroad, folks who lived overseas, and children of immigrants, among others.

Some previously excluded seniors and former researchers moved onto the list of suspects. Now, there are 479 suspects.

We needed to add details like interpersonal relations and past actions, scrape financial transaction records and immigration logs, search accommodation for suspicious items, etc.

There was a lot more to do. We spent the whole night sharing detailed work agreements and managed to have breakfast.

Hearing from the official, it sounded like his child was about to graduate from the academy. Facing the prospect of losing his job while his child was graduating, the middle-aged man’s expression was dark.

In truth, it wasn’t just the official who was troubled; everyone was suffering.

Researchers who couldn’t go home were being treated as spies. Inquiry division employees who were soon to face disciplinary actions. Even intelligence agency agents working through sleepless nights on the investigation.

Everyone was withering away in the stuffy underground research institute, though it was said magic was somehow keeping the environment relatively pleasant. Yet sometimes, the air seemed stale and smelly, as if something was off.

I’m simply dying from all this work.

Maybe it’s due to lack of sleep, but I felt something heavy, lethargic, and weary. A headache pounded at my temples, and taking a walk was futile, so I chewed on some painkillers I had gotten last time.

“The examination is complete.”

“…Understood.”

The guard’s voice broke my train of thought.

I gathered my strength and welcomed Camila Lowell, whose eyes were fluttering shut as she emerged into the hallway.

“Did you have a good examination?”

“Yes!”

She smiled brightly and nodded. I noticed she had something like candy in her mouth, probably given by a researcher.

Usually, they’d advise against eating such food recklessly. The guards must have handled it well.

“Is your health alright?”

“The researchers said there are no particular issues.”

The examination conducted today was a simple one. They checked for any illnesses, normal blood sugar levels, and whether there were any problems with her organs.

Originally, dozens of chief researchers were supposed to figure out why she fainted, but since they all got detained, they couldn’t identify the cause.

Soon, a deal will be struck with the guard team to conduct controlled tests, so the reason would be found out shortly.

Meanwhile, Camila Lowell continued to munch on her candy.

“After you eat and take a short break, you’ll be moving to the inspection room.”

“Am I finally going to use some magic?”

“Yes.”

Currently, all ongoing examinations were focused on data accumulation. They decided to accumulate data on her abilities and health status first, with analysis being done later.

They couldn’t risk leaving her in the research institute while spies were running amok; after three days of testing, once she departed, they would commence analyses alongside the full-fledged investigation.

Once the chief researchers who escaped the suspect list joined, results would likely be out within a week.

And the reason for conducting the tests this way wasn’t merely for safety.

“I hear the saint election is today. The results should come out in a day or two.”

Lucia’s visit is just three days away.

We plan to take a picture at the train station to announce that both the hero and the saint are present in the kingdom.

“What, are we holding the election all day?”

“It can take as long as three days,” she replied. “How can an election last three days?”

Whether the cult holds the election for three days or an entire week doesn’t really concern me. I’m more worried about the tasks I need to complete in those three days.

“Ha…”

With the schedule so tight, I couldn’t help but sigh.

At the end of the day, my role only involves saying a few words and looking over documents.

Most of the suspects have already been detained or are stuck underground, and there are dozens of guards protecting Camila Lowell. The risk of escape or assassination has been completely eliminated.

Moreover, to prevent leaks, communications are being disrupted, the intelligence agency is deciphering codes, and a thorough investigation will begin soon, making the task of identifying spies go smoothly.

Everyone is doing their best. Although there are many tasks to accomplish, the fact that I’ll soon be on vacation is comforting.

“Is there anything difficult for you? Why are you sighing…?”

“Nothing! Just disregard it.”

I tried to put on a smile.

“You look really tired. Are you taking the nutrition supplements I gave you last time?”

“Of course.”

I passed that nutrition supplement to Pippin and Jake. They really struggled when dodging the cult. But now it seems I should be the one taking those supplements.

I guess there’s a reason behind the saying that good things should be enjoyed alone.

“Honestly, it seems like Miss Camila Lowell needs that nutrition supplement more than I do. She snacks almost daily…”

“I-I don’t snack every day!”

“Oh, but I heard about the marshmallows you roasted this morning. People were worried it might catch fire!”

At times, it feels like Camila Lowell is a bit of a dork. She eats alone and stays cooped up.

After hearing, it seems she used to solve all her meals in her room while staying at a hotel.

I can’t help but worry—might she end up eating lunch on a park bench?

As I shared various thoughts, we soon arrived at the restaurant. A long line was visible, and Camila Lowell pouted her lips as she picked up her plate.

She seemed a bit sulky. Did she get uncomfortable when I mentioned food? I need to be cautious moving forward.

Just as I was about to sit down with a generous serving of meat…

“Colonel.”

One of the agents approached me.

“What is it?”

“The team leader is looking for you.”

C-Couldn’t I at least have my meal first if it’s not urgent?

Looking grumpy while seated, the agent glanced around before lowering his voice.

“The code decryption was successful.”

—

The military intelligence agency’s code-breaking team succeeded in cracking the code.

It’s quite astonishing that it didn’t even take a full day to solve the random number encryption.

Surprisingly, the decryption process was very straightforward.

“We input all the coding systems we’ve collected so far.”

“Impressive.”

It’s indeed impressive, although it feels romantic in a lackluster way.

Whether rehashing broken codes or matching known codes, all I could say was ‘impressive.’

However, upon deeper reflection, it was hardly special. Until the war ended, the Nazis had no idea their Enigma was hacked, and other intelligence agencies had worked similarly to uncover spies.

“I heard you gathered university professors to decrypt the code, and luckily it was solved quickly.”

“We were lucky.”

The professors called upon at dawn to match the numerical puzzle must have returned home by now. Maybe they’re even decrypting other codes for the intelligence agency.

Anyway, that has nothing to do with me.

The fact that the code is broken means we can understand what the spies were communicating, and that any response document we collected could help us speculate on where the rabble causing trouble in the research institute belong.

“What’s in that?”

The dispatch team leader pointed at the binder he was holding. He handed the document to me.

“It’s the decryption result report.”

“Nice.”

Receiving the report felt like unwrapping a gift.

“Let’s take a look.”

I flipped the cover and rapidly read through the text.

Extracting some key phrases from the well-organized 500-character report felt like a self-introduction paper.

No access to confidential materials.

Failure to recruit Professor Fernan.

Exploring other options.

Hero expected to arrive.

Request to issue a command.

The spies seemed to have infiltrated here to recruit someone and extract research data.

From what I gleaned, while the attempts to recruit and access research data were failures, it appears that recruiting the professor is a significant objective. It seems they received word that Camila Lowell would arrive, leading to them communicating for orders.

They seem to be quite motivated. What a tenacious little bastard.

Even if they haven’t been caught by the neck yet, they have caused quite the mess. We need to find and capture him before he pulls any more foolish stunts.

As I continued reading the report, my gaze fell on a phrase at the bottom.

“What does the 3-5 code referenced here mean?”

I tapped the report and asked. The team leader replied.

“It’s a code used at the Magic Tower.”

—

The Magic Tower’s origin is a secret society.

A society resisting the oppression of the church for centuries. It would be more accurate to refer to them as a self-defense group or armed faction.

With the development of communication media represented by newspapers, they successfully rallied mages scattered across the continent, leading to the expansion of their secret society.

And mages began to resist against the church’s oppression.

For several years, battles akin to inner wars raged across the continent, and those in politics and military who took note of the practicality of magic began to support them.

Mages fought with the backing of various social strata. While the state aimed to reduce the church’s influence, mages fought for survival, leading to nearly a decade of war for both groups with different goals.

Through this process, a trend began to form, accepting magic as a branch of academia, and we witnessed the dawn of an era of intellect and reason where science and magic coexisted.

The emperor, who noticed the potential inherent in magic, provided support to the mages establishing a base of operations—this eventually became the present Magic Tower.

The headquarters that once commanded wars transformed into a cradle for producing outstanding mages and scholars. Recently, it has even developed into something of an enterprise, engaging in external contracts to research and develop magical arts and tools.

But I never imagined they would pull such adorable antics.

“…So the Magic Tower sent a spy to our research institute.”

The intelligence agency staff nodded.

“Does it have its own intelligence agency?”

“Officially, the Magic Tower does not possess a military organization or intelligence agency.”

“Huh.”

In this line of work, the term ‘officially’ isn’t to be trusted.

The Magic Tower might indeed have its own private intelligence agency. Just like how modern companies plant industrial spies among competitors and outsource private intelligence firms when establishing overseas branches.

“Do you think the Magic Tower has an intelligence agency, Colonel?”

“Well, I can’t really say for sure since I’ve never dealt with them before.”

I had never dealt with the Magic Tower before, so I wasn’t well-informed. Although there is a Magic Tower in the southern Kien Empire, it is a different department that manages construction there.

Anyway, what’s crucial now isn’t whether the Magic Tower has a private intelligence agency.

“Why in the world did the Magic Tower send a lackey to the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute?”

The issue is that these bastards dared to attempt to infiltrate a state-run institute, especially a military research facility.

“We don’t know the reason yet. All we know is that the target for recruitment is Professor Bruno Fernan.”

“What business does that Fernan fellow have?”

The team leader handed me a file. A personal card was inside.

“Bruno Fernan. Chief Researcher at the Biological Analysis Division of the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute.”

Chief Researcher, huh.

“Being someone with classified clearance, he clearly has recruitment value; what was his previous occupation?”

“He worked as a professor at a university. And… he was even invited as a professor to the Magic Tower.”

The Magic Tower.

“What kind of research does Researcher Fernan usually conduct that makes spies want to recruit him? Biology and the Magic Tower don’t seem especially related.”

“I wouldn’t know that either.”

The dispatch team leader shrugged. He seemed uninformed about the circumstances of the research institute.

At this point, I fell into contemplation.

Why on earth would the Magic Tower send a spy to a military research institute?

“….”

The Magic Tower monopolizes magic, while this facility is a secret hub for researching it.

Although I can’t fathom the magic folks’ intentions, they’re clearly aiming for something in this institute’s research on magic or magical tools.

The ‘confidential materials’ mentioned in the report are presumed to be research data from the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute.

From my experience in espionage, they are not trying to make Researcher Fernan an informant. The objective is recruitment itself, separate from the extraction of research data.

I scrutinized the report closely and suddenly noticed something odd.

“…Something feels off.”

“What do you mean?”

The dispatch team leader looked back at me with a puzzled expression. I showed him the report, tapping on a particular line.

“Doesn’t the report state they failed to recruit Professor Fernan?”

“….”

“If they failed to recruit him, that means the spy at least attempted to make contact with him, right?”

The encrypted report was sent out a week ago.

As soon as the inquiry division received communication from the surveillance unit, they detained the employees and sealed the research institute.

And throughout the past week, questioning of the researchers was ongoing.

Yet we knew nothing of it.

“But we had no idea the spy ever met with the chief researcher, right?”

The team leader took off his glasses and placed them on the desk. He seemed angry at a glance.

“Two possibilities. One is that we haven’t investigated Chief Researcher Fernan yet, and the other is…”

“….”

“Chief Researcher Fernan concealed the fact that he met the spy.”

If the dispatch team leader’s assumption is true, this could be a major incident.

Generally, we describe such situations in a certain way.

Treason.

 

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