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Nostrim is a rather humble noble family from the outskirts of Abas.

Thanks to a bizarre political system where constitutional monarchy and absolute monarchy are intricately mixed, they enjoy some privileges that nobles receive, but they’re definitely not the kind of family that has left a significant mark in history.

Why, you ask? Because the Nostrim family is a civil servant family, that’s why!

They’ve served the royal family for generations as civil servants, and as a token of appreciation for their hard work, they’ve been granted noble titles. They’re not the type of family that produces politicians or expands their influence through astonishing business acumen.

Anyhow.

The Nostrim family has been given noble titles for their long-standing service as civil servants over the generations, and this trend continues even today when the royal family is under the parliamentary checks and balances. So, as of now, every member of the Nostrim family, except for one, is a civil servant.

Father, Mother, Older Brother, Older Sister, and me.

Except for my younger sister who graduated from a prestigious university and is currently idle, everyone is living in the public service sector.

Father and Older Brother work in the Ministry of Finance, while Mother is a maid serving the female royals. My Older Sister works in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. And me? I’m just a soldier by trade.

Of course, it’s said I’m a soldier, but in reality, I’m an information agent under the Ministry of Defense, so my parents don’t know I’m a spy. Only my Older Brother and Older Sister know. There’s no law or internal regulation preventing me from hiding my identity from direct family members, but I just felt it was a bit awkward to mention.

The fact that information agencies are seen as shady organizations adds to my reluctance. The profession of a spy is slightly looked down upon in this neighborhood.

Honestly, even in the 21st-century modern world, how many parents would applaud and celebrate if they found out their child was a spy? I totally get that feeling. So, I chose not to say anything.

Anyhow, the only people who know that I’m a military intelligence agent are my Older Brother and Older Sister.

The problem is,

“Hey, you bastard! After three years, is this what you call a phone call? You want me to hand over Ministry of Foreign Affairs secrets?!”

“Oh, when did I ever say that?!”

It turns out, my Older Brother and Older Sister also dislike my job.

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Episode 6 – The Betrayer of the Revolution

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I don’t have a great relationship with my family.

It’s truly regrettable and somewhat unfilial, but there are valid reasons for this.

The first reason is that being an information agent requires strict security maintenance.

Given the nature of the job, there are many enemies. If my identity were to be revealed, retaliation could come in some form, making it difficult to perform my normal duties. So, quite a few information agents hide their professions, and often that “security” causes their human relationships to sour.

The second reason is societal perception.

While I always see myself as a patriot, the surrounding people view information agencies quite warily. Even in the modern 21st century, the perception of information agencies isn’t very good, let alone in this place where the Cold War is still ongoing.

Just look at Jake. After finishing training as a rookie agent, when he told his parents, “I actually work at the Military Intelligence Agency,” the first response was, “Are you beating people up?”

According to internal regulations, while he could disclose his affiliated agency, he couldn’t share his specific job or title. So, Jake couldn’t tell his parents he worked in the overseas section, and they still think he’s a counterintelligence investigator. Of course, even if he did mention working in the overseas section, it wouldn’t have made much difference; it’d still sound like he was saying he’s a “spy.”

Information officer, operative, information agent, operative agent, collaborator.

People have no clue about that, nor do they care.

With such a social perception, it’s quite awkward to reveal my profession anywhere.

So, only my Older Sister working in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and my Older Brother working in the Ministry of Finance know that I’m a military intelligence agent.

When they casually ask me what I’ve been up to lately, I get embarrassed, and since I’m busy and don’t visit home much, my family and I have become quite distant. I guess I’ve slightly grown apart from my family since joining the Military Intelligence Agency.

I don’t even contact them much. There was a time when I almost got caught eavesdropping on some Chinese folks, which really freaked me out. The job of an advisor is just too busy.

That was the problem.

“Where the hell have you been? Now you’re calling?! Isn’t it so hard to make a single phone call home?!”

“Why are you swearing at me?!”

Unrelenting curses came through the receiver.

“I might not say it, but you have the audacity to show your face after not calling home or taking any leave in three years?!”

“Not like that! I was busy and couldn’t reach out! Why are you getting all worked up?! I left for overseas right after I got the call, how was I supposed to contact home?!”

“You said it well, bastard. Should Mom and Dad have to find out about you from the news?! Huh? I found out through official correspondence!”

“Official correspondence goes to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, why?”

“They said people from the agency came to the office with official documents, you bastard!”

After three long years, my Older Sister unleashed a torrent of curses over the phone.

The curses from a 32-year-old grade 5 civil servant working in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs were really too much to bear.

“Groups of guys in suits crowded into the office, demanding to sign a confidentiality pledge without even knowing why, and when I signed, they said it was your problem!”

I held the receiver and tried to think.

I remembered when I was preparing to leave for overseas as a fellow hero, the security department asked me who knew about my identity. I heard it was to be forwarded to the Cabinet Security Office or the Royal Intelligence Department…

“Uh, did you not get any explanation?”

“No, you jerk! I saw it on the news with Jerry!”

Jerry, Jerry Nostrim.

That’s my Older Brother’s name. The very one working in the Ministry of Finance.

“Safe house? Why would my Older Brother and Older Sister go there?”

“I couldn’t even leave work and got dragged into a van headed for the safe house! For an entire week! Is that clear?!”

They’d been at the safe house for a week.

It seems the government protected my Older Brother and Older Sister. Or maybe it was confinement. Either way, it’s a good thing. At the very least, it meant the government was protecting their safety.

I’m not sure if that’s because I’m Camila’s colleague or because I’m an operative. It’s probably the former. Other people probably don’t get such perks.

“Ah, anyway!”

I ignored my Older Sister’s shouting and continued the call.

“I’m currently at the Magic Tower, you know? I know you’re still in charge at the Magic Tower. Help me out this one time, just once.”

The one reason I was buttering up my Older Sister after three years of no contact was simple.

Adela Nostrim.

My Older Sister works in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

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Adela Nostrim works at the Abas Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

To be precise, Adela isn’t the type of diplomat who is usually thought of as active in the field; she’s one of the diplomats working at headquarters, known as desk officers.

Her job involves information collection. She isn’t running around like a spy digging for secrets; she collects data necessary for diplomacy—like the political, economic, cultural, and industrial status of the countries she’s assigned to. Similarly, if any issues arise, she provides the information she’s collected to other departments or agencies.

That’s why when the National Intelligence Service or the Intelligence Agency sends out personnel, they often receive basic information from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and conversely, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs occasionally receives ‘useful information’ from the National Intelligence Service.

That’s why there’s a saying that there’s only a fine line between a diplomat and a spy.

Anyhow, Adela Nostrim is affiliated with the Abas Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

I’m a level 5 civil servant. By the time I was commissioned, my older sister was already working in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and when I entered the Military Intelligence Agency, she was preparing for an overseas assignment and attending training. Ironically, her post was in the Kien Empire.

Thanks to having a diplomat sister, I received help on several occasions. Of course, I had permission.

However, since I’m an information agent, I couldn’t reveal my identity overseas. So, I kept my sister, who was working at the diplomatic mission, completely in the dark. And when I returned after completing my mission, I visited her on leave and told her that I was working in the Military Intelligence Agency. I presented her with a modest gift (a white envelope) funded by the agency’s operational budget.

Thus, she became my information source.

-‘Is that something you should say to family?’

“It’s a bit awkward to say, but it’s the truth. And I send you bonuses quarterly, remember? You have to work for what you receive, don’t you, Adela?”

Of course, I’m still regularly sending money. The ‘consultation fee’ I give to my sister sometimes comes from my salary and other times from the allocated operational budget.

For your information, while working as an advisor under Clevenz, most of it came from my salary. Even though I stepped back from the overseas part of my job, managing my informants was standard practice. If I had gathered all that money, I might have been able to secure a house in the countryside, even taking out a loan.

Thanks to this, my sister is willing to help with just about any request.

And that’s precisely why I could shamelessly call after three years and jump straight into business talk.

“I need information. About the Magic Tower-related details stored in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.”

My sister responded with a voice that seemed to have lost its previous anger as if she were shouting just moments ago. It seems money truly is everything.

-‘Aren’t you at the Magic Tower representative office? Can’t you just access their documents?’

“Not the information collected by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.”

-‘Then what?’

I adjusted my grip on the receiver and replied in a calm voice.

“The documents sent from relevant agencies to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Ministry of Finance, the Exchange Association, some foundation, various companies, you know?”

-‘…….’

On the other side of the line, my sister fell silent.

This call wasn’t made through a secured line. In other words, it meant there was a risk of eavesdropping.

And most international calls are monitored by counter-intelligence agencies. Even if it’s not in real-time, telecommunications companies record the call content and send those recordings to counter-intelligence agencies.

Many intelligence agencies, including the National Intelligence Service, have used this method and still do.

Because of that, my sister and I had a habit of speaking ambiguously. Given our professions, at least one of us was always abroad.

-‘…Like materials from private enterprises’ overseas operations?’

She was asking if I needed documents shared by intelligence agencies with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

“Yeah. I just met someone named Francesca Ranieri who’s working in the Magic Tower Secretariat. It seems there’s some political problem here. I feel like I’ll be stuck here for a while.”

-‘…I saw the news. She’s an alchemist affiliated with the Elemental School, right? It’s probably because of the Oracle election. Are you referring to that information?’

“Exactly. I feel like I need to study more about the Oracle selection. Politics, economy, society, foreign affairs—everything like that.”

-‘…Are you really going to help?’

That was her asking if I would interfere in the politics of the Magic Tower. In other words, she was questioning whether the Military Intelligence Agency was going to engage in political maneuvers at the Magic Tower.

I couldn’t say it was because a coup seemed imminent, so I just left it vague.

“What can a foreign civil servant really do? I’m just here to understand the situation. If there are changes with the Oracle, we need to be prepared—both the government and I.”

-‘…How long are you planning to stay?’

“Well, for now, it’s a short-term assignment, so I won’t be here for long. Anyway, I want to help over there, but I really have no idea what’s going to happen at the Magic Tower. I need information. You know how it is.”

-‘…The political contents might be difficult for you to understand. There might be quite a bit of it too.’

That was a slightly confusing statement.

I had no idea what it meant, but I figured I’d have to receive the documents to understand.

“Just send me everything you have. I’ll give them a heads-up on that side, so send it via pouch.”

-‘…Okay. I’ll get that sent out as quickly as possible. It should arrive within two days.’

“Thanks, sis.”

-‘Take care of yourself.’

*

The request for sending it via pouch meant to send the information using a diplomatic bag, a sort of code.

A diplomatic bag cannot be opened by anyone without the consent of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, providing freedom from all inspections and monitoring during transport.

Thus, when the red agents from the Reconnaissance General Bureau transported a bomb to assassinate the president in Burma, they did so using a diplomatic bag. The VX used by Kim Jong-un to send his half-brother, Kim Jong-nam, to join their dad was also transported in a diplomatic bag. Libya faced suspicions when they reportedly shot someone in England and stuffed firearms into a diplomatic bag for export.

Additionally, there aren’t strict limits on the size or quantity of a diplomatic bag.

North Korean diplomats utilized this to smuggle ivory, gold bars, and dollars into North Korea. Some even stuffed people inside diplomatic bags when dealing with Israel and Nigeria. Ultimately, they got caught at customs.

Anyway, the items I requested from my sister have arrived.

Countless documents contained within the diplomatic bag reached the Magic Tower’s representative office of Abas. Now all that’s left is to analyze them.

“…What is all this?”

“What do you think it is? It’s work.”

“…….”

I handed over all the materials to the information analysis team.

“Cross-check everything here with the documents from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Military Intelligence Agency, the Royal Intelligence Department, and the police, and extract only the key points. Remove anything that’s redundant.”

“…We’ve already filled our overtime pay this month. If we exceed it, will we still get paid?”

“You’ll have to ask the finance department about that.”

“…….”

Pippin, who arrived at the representative office, and the analysts started filling a large PET bottle with coffee as they looked at the piles of documents filling the office.

Even I thought it was quite a cruel task, but this was the military. And in the military, rank rules.

“Anyway, hurry up and extract the information. I’ll take care of the report, so just leave a record.”

“…What information do you need? It seems there has been no directive from above.”

“Nothing too concerning, just some simple work. I need to know how the situation at the Magic Tower affects the Oracle election and the Tower’s government, and what issues that might cause. That’s what I need.”

I expressed it poorly, but they picked it up perfectly.

Receiving vague instructions, Pippin began to create information using all sorts of materials alongside the analysts.

I walked over to the window and began to look out at the slowly moving urban landscape of the Magic Tower.

“…….”

Now, I just needed to be patient and wait for answers to come soon.

 

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