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The world was certainly filled with problems.

While it was an issue that democratic nations and monarchies were splitting the world in half and engaging in a cold war, if you opened the lid, there was an even crazier mess inside.

The Empire was at war with demons, having placed military bases along the border like the Demilitarized Zone of the ’60s. They were regularly exchanging armed spies and shells whenever they felt like it.

The Cult was waging war against heretics, sects, and demons. They were investing money, time, and manpower into a battlefield without clear fronts, like the wars on drugs, crime, or terrorism.

In reality, the excuse was to eliminate figures opposing the Cult, but occasional news trickled in that they were also sweeping up demons, heretics, sects, magical terrorist groups, and multi-species terrorist organizations.

The Lushan Federal Kingdom was dealing with a significant influx of refugees from Mauritania. In the mix were terrorists, rebels, demons, multi-species, drug offenders, political prisoners, and heretics, all being targeted in their war.

Due to this problem, they occasionally carried out joint operations with the Cult, which had differing religious codes, leading to frequent minor political and diplomatic issues stemming from their differences in beliefs.

Moreover, countless nations and races across the continent, along with many countries across the seas, were wrestling with their own issues, mostly political, diplomatic, economic, and military woes. Some were even on the verge of collapse or national bankruptcy.

In any case, it was a romantic-less world.

Maybe it was because it was a dark fantasy, but this chaos was next level.

Still, it felt like things were a bit better than the international community of Earth.

Anyway, the world was vast, and there were plenty of crazies out there.

Thus, this world certainly had a lot of problems.

Of course, I was no exception.

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Episode 6 – The Betrayer of the Revolution

After the operation wrapped up, several issues arose. If you had to label them, they were more akin to changes than actual problems.

First off, there was a personnel change.

The number of members in the 73rd Task Force was halved. The Military Intelligence Agency Counterintelligence Investigators who had been dispatched returned home immediately as soon as the operation ended. Since the Counterintelligence Department was the biggest backbone of the 73rd Task Force, half of the available manpower just vanished in an instant.

There were some people cut off from contact.

I could no longer reach Sophia. When I called her, it was a disconnected number, and the office was already empty. When I asked the landlord, they told me she had completely vacated the place. Everything, including her furniture, had disappeared.

Fortunately, I managed to get in touch with Dmitri, but he also had no idea about Sophia’s whereabouts. As soon as Fabio Verati was repatriated, he went off the grid too. It was clear he had gone into hiding to evade potential tracking from third-country intelligence agencies. Because of that, I couldn’t even say goodbye.

Lastly….

“Jake. I’m screwed.”

As I muttered with a serious face, Jake squinted at me.

“Why again?”

“I have too much time on my hands.”

Time started to drag on.

“Am I Bill Gates or something? Just sitting around and eating.”

I spat those words out as I drooped on the sofa.

“I don’t know who Bill Gates is, but you’re clearly working, aren’t you?”

“What work?”

“Just loafing around.”

I kicked Jake’s shins with my foot. However, instead of the expected dull thud, all I heard was a weak thock.

It was due to my position.

“Come on, get up, please.”

“Not a chance.”

Ignoring Jake’s whining, I slumped on the sofa further.

In front of me was the TV, and in my hand was the remote. In the other, an ice cream tub, and right before me, a half-eaten, cold pizza lay on the desk.

Anyone could see I was the very definition of idle. The only difference was that I was supposed to have a job, and this was my workplace.

Sure enough, Pippin, passing by, chimed in.

“Is this the representative office, or your manager’s home?”

“It’s like a family-like workplace.”

“Not like a hellish workplace?”

“Is there even a difference?”

“Oh god, I can’t handle this….”

Military Attaché Office on the fifth floor of the Magic Tower’s Abas Representative Building.

In a well-located office at the eastern end, I was sprawled out on the sofa, doing nothing.

The reason I was like this at work was simple.

“I have nothing to do, so what can I do?”

There were no duties at hand.

*

With the operation wrapped up, my workload evaporated like a mirage.

I mean, the operation had ended, so what could an operative possibly do? No one in this world would consider an operative without an operation, and all operatives were effectively corpses without their tasks.

Of course, the operative’s duties don’t end just because an operation does.

Debriefings for superiors, preparing materials for debriefings, drafting documents for distribution to other departments, and so forth. Only when all these tasks were completed could the operation truly be considered over.

But I had already finished all of that.

Since I completed everything I was supposed to do after the operation ended, I was no longer an operative. However, I wasn’t a Military Attaché either.

I was officially registered as a Military Attaché, but that was just a façade for my position. Thus, I found myself in an ambiguous situation calling myself a Military Attaché.

Military Attachés engage in military diplomacy and intelligence gathering, but really, what kind of lunatic would assign diplomacy and intelligence duties to someone merely passing through? There were so many Military Attachés here at the representative office. In fact, those attachés were intelligence officers who had been active at the Magic Tower for years.

Therefore, I was doing nothing, with no orders to carry out.

I was just coasting by.

“Jake.”

“Yes?”

“Get me some snacks.”

“……”

“Oh, and some soda too.”

I gestured for Jake to fetch the snacks and drinks.

“Look, everyone. Magic? You don’t need that. With power or a gun, you can do magic that doesn’t even exist.”

Pippin, fiddling with her device beside me, narrowed her eyes.

“Class is the real jerk here.”

“And I have both.”

“A gun won’t hurt if you shoot lightly, right?”

“Why don’t you try getting hit and let me know?”

In any case, I had nothing to do.

Of course, it wasn’t that there weren’t any tasks at all, but mostly it just involved listening to reports and writing documents to pass up the chain.

For example, the status of the espionage network being built by the Inquisition within the Magic Tower, the trends of the Kien Empire’s Reconnaissance Command branch at the Magic Tower, and the conditions around the Magic Tower’s representative office. Of course, there were also updates on the progress of bomb terrorism investigations by the Magic Tower Police and the Public Order Defense Agency. Not to mention, I was also looking into the daily routines of Camila and Lucia, and anyone they came into contact with.

It sounded like a lot when spoken, but most of the information was collected by the intelligence officers or operatives working at the Magic Tower. I barely collected any information myself. At most, the activities of the Inquisition, the Magic Tower Police, the Counterintelligence Department, and the movements of Camila and Lucia.

Since the operation had ended, I had nearly nothing to do. Mostly, I just watched the news, checking how well my actions were concealed. After all, the 73rd Task Force was about to be disbanded (though that’s just my assumption since there was no official order), so there were no commands to follow.

That’s why I was sitting on the sofa, munching on snacks. Watching TV.

Right around the time news broke about the intense protests happening below the Magic Tower, Jake asked me a question.

“By the way, what will happen to the Task Force?”

“They’ll probably disband it. The project is over, after all.”

The 73rd Task Force was a task force.

A team temporarily formed to accomplish a specific mission. The task of the 73rd Project Team was to track down the Magic Tower’s information agency that sent a spy to the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute. After tracking them and even taking revenge, the 73rd Project Team would soon be moving toward dissolution.

As I shared this story, Pippin responded:

“The directive to dissolve hasn’t come down from above yet.”

“Either way, we had to part someday. Does it matter if the dissolution is delayed a bit?”

I tossed the snack bag into the trash can.

“Are the staff doing well?”

“They scattered and fled a while ago. They’re all keeping a low profile.”

Apparently, everyone was preparing to return to their home countries. If they got caught at the last moment, it would be the end of their lives, so they were probably just breathing quietly.

At this rate, the 73rd Project Team would be dissolved. While it’s true that Humint costs less compared to other fields, information agencies needed to manage a limited budget efficiently. Therefore, the dissolution of the 73rd Project Team was inevitable.

Unless a new mission was assigned suddenly.

Pippin handed me the report with a slightly regretful expression.

“This is today’s report on the Reconnaissance Command.”

“Leave it there. I’ll check it at the hotel.”

“Sure. By the way, it’s a bit of a pity, isn’t it? We didn’t work together for long, but we did get along.”

“That’s how it is with intelligence departments. Still, we might meet again someday.”

Of course, that was a lie.

Based on my experience, there was no chance I would ever see anyone who participated in the 73rd Project Team again. The Military Intelligence Agency would not allow it. They needed to maintain security. Everyone would scatter back to their respective positions.

While I was flipping through TV channels, the announcer informed viewers that it was precisely 6 o’clock. Time to leave work.

“Let’s head out. Only the on-duty personnel remain, so turn off the lights when you leave.”

Jake was hurriedly getting dressed, and Pippin was organizing the documents while asking me,

“By the way, who is on duty today?”

I pointed to the board.

The duty roster had the name ‘Pippin’ written on it.

“You.”

*

Pippin stayed behind to handle the night duty at the representative office. Jake had gone back to the office because he left something behind, and judging by the fact that he hadn’t returned to the hotel yet, it seemed he was still at the representative office.

“He went in but hasn’t come out?”

-“Yes. Mr. Jake has gone to the Defense Attaché Office. Do you have any messages to pass along?”

“No, it’s fine.”

I ended the call with the representative office’s security personnel (an outsourced access control staff).

I didn’t need to worry about what they were doing. Whether they were dating or not, what did it matter? As long as they didn’t get stabbed to death on the street, that was all I cared about.

I pocketed my prepaid phone and knocked on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh, come in!”

As I swung the door open, Camila greeted me cheerfully, still the energetic and lively person I knew.

“Sorry for dropping by in the evening.”

“It’s fine!”

“Haha.”

I jokingly joked around and placed the fatigue recovery potion (a premium, Magic Tower branded potion) I brought as a gift onto the table. Then, naturally guided by Camila, I took a seat on the sofa.

“What brings you here?”

“I don’t have any particular reason. Just came to see how you’re doing. By the way, I guess you had guests?”

I pointed to the robe draped over one end of the sofa and the cape hanging on the wall. The cape was obviously a magician’s, and the pure white robe belonged to a priest.

Only two people would leave such things in Camila’s room.

The 59th Saint of the Cult, Lucia.

Francesca Ranieri, the administrator of the Magic Tower Secretariat and an alchemist.

As expected, Camila smiled awkwardly upon seeing the robe and the cape.

“Yes, both of them are here.”

“Is that so? I hope it’s not an imposition.”

Camila shook her head lightly with a smile.

“It’s fine!”

Lucia had been staying at the hotel since she came to the Magic Tower, so that was understandable. Francesca Ranieri was unexpected. Had she already made friends in less than a week since arriving at the hotel?

I couldn’t tell if Camila was just friendly or if Francesca Ranieri was particularly sociable.

Lost in thought, a voice came from a distance.

“Who is it?”

As they say, speak of the devil. I heard Francesca Ranieri’s voice from beyond the partly opened door.

“…Oh, Colonel.”

“Good to see you, Administrator. What brings you here? I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just came to have a chat. It doesn’t hurt to get to know each other better.”

She came to socialize.

As I shook hands with Francesca Ranieri, I briefly recalled the information I had about her.

A descendant of the founder of the Magic Tower. An alchemist affiliated with Trinity. From a noble family in Patalia. A civil servant of the Magic Tower. The administrator of the Secretariat. One of the successors for the Oracle position that would soon be vacant.

Also a subject of the National Security Agency’s watchlist. A family of public security criminals.

“……”

Not exactly an appealing resume.

Without needing to open the Royal Intelligence Department or Military Intelligence Agency’s classified materials, it was clear that this woman had grown up facing quite the hardships.

And I instinctively sensed there was more to her visit than just a friendly chat.

Lucia, at least, was someone who knew how to handle herself, so I didn’t need to worry too much. If the alchemist was trying to use Lucia through friendship, the Inquisition posing as aides would surely end her right there. Physically or politically.

The problem was Camila.

“…Is Lucia inside?”

“Ah. The Saint is inside.”

Francesca Ranieri nodded, pointing toward the inner room.

Right, as long as Lucia was there, it couldn’t get too messy. She was the closest person to Camila here. If things started to go south, she’d step in to resolve it, and if it really got out of hand, she would give me a heads-up.

But just to be safe, I pondered whether I should plant a listening device in the alchemist’s room when suddenly—

– *Beep-beep-beep!*

My phone rang.

Francesca Ranieri and Camila looked at each other with bewildered expressions as I awkwardly smiled.

“It’s my phone. I’ll be right back.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Take your time!”

Watching the two of them leave, I pulled out the phone from my pocket.

On the bright little screen of the prepaid phone, an unfamiliar contact was displayed.

Who could it be?

“Hello?”

I pressed the call button and held it to my ear.

At that moment, a familiar voice came through the prepaid phone.

-“This isn’t your husband, you know.”

“Ah, dammit.”

What a crazy mess.

 

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