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head was still spinning from the absurdity of the situation.

The thugs dragged me out of the vehicle and brought me somewhere.

Based on the texture of the floor, the noise, and the sound reverberation, this seemed to be a hallway inside a building.

It reminded me of SERE training.

“دلته کښېنه,” one of the thugs muttered.

It was a language I had never heard before. It sounded somewhat like Pashto. It must be a tribal language from the Mauritania region.

A deep voice, presumably from a man in his 40s, echoed from a distance, and moments later, the thug holding me sat me down in a chair. Not knowing the exact meaning, I guessed it was telling me to sit down.

What on earth is going to happen now?

“……”

Perhaps the guys who kidnapped me are part of the Mauritania Continent’s Information Agency. They might even be an armed group acting on orders from the Imperial Guard HQ or the Reconnaissance Command, or they could simply be terrorists holding me hostage for ransom.

If they were the type to cut off people’s heads in front of a camcorder, that would be really unlucky.

Any hypothesis could be entirely plausible.

The problem is not who kidnapped me, but how quickly the Military Intelligence Agency can figure out where I am and send a rescue team.

Given the vehicle didn’t seem to have moved that far, it shouldn’t take more than three days to track down.

“……”

I heard voices.

It was a much younger male voice and a much thinner, awkward female voice.

“خپله خولۍ لرې کړه,” said one voice.

“ہهو,” responded another.

With a whoosh.

Someone pulled away the cloth covering my head. In an instant, my vision cleared, and under the soft light, there was Francesca Ranieri—

“Administrator?”

“It’s been a while, Colonel.”

She greeted me.

Episode 6 – All-Knowing Spy Perspective

I had absolutely no idea what was going on.

I had just clocked out and was on my way back to the hotel from the embassy when I got kidnapped. For 48 minutes, I was stuffed under the backseat of a vehicle and dragged to who knows where.

And there, I met a colleague.

“It’s quite a busy day, isn’t it? Don’t you think so, Colonel…?”

“……”

Correction.

“Colleague” shouldn’t be used.

*

Francesca Ranieri.

Administrator of the Economic Management Department at the Magic Tower Secretariat and an Alchemist.

She looked at me with a wistful smile.

“You look surprised. Not as much as I expected, though….”

The cape I usually saw her in was nowhere to be found. Francesca Ranieri was wearing a bathrobe, sitting comfortably in a chair as she gazed at me.

“…Sometimes when someone is too shocked, they can’t speak.”

“That’s also true….”

The Alchemist nodded with a smirk.

I turned my head to see who had brought me here and where I was.

Before my eyes were luxurious chairs and tables. In the distance, a bartender was wiping glasses at the front bar, and right next to me was a swimming pool. And standing at a disturbingly close distance were what appeared to be Mauritania natives, armed with guns.

The thugs exchanged words in a language only they understood. A brief conversation passed, and they cut the rope binding my wrists before exiting through the door.

I had no idea what kind of bizarre situation I had stumbled into. As I wondered how the hell things were going, the Alchemist opened her mouth at just the right moment.

“The way here was a bit, noisy, wasn’t it…?”

…A bit?

“You were blatantly breaking the law, yet you seem rather at ease, Administrator. Surely you know that kidnapping and detaining a diplomatic envoy is a serious crime.”

The current situation was clearly seen on any screen. I didn’t know the specifics, but the first person I met after being kidnapped was this woman, so it was clear that the Alchemist was involved in the kidnapping.

And the act of kidnapping a diplomat would be a serious crime in any country.

“Me…?”

But Francesca Ranieri didn’t erase her smile. She glanced around before saying this.

“Well, it’s just you and me here. The kidnappers are no longer present. I don’t see much connection between me and the people who kidnapped you…?”

“The police might think that, but Abas won’t.”

“Abas… well, if you stay quiet, Colonel, there shouldn’t be any problems…?”

“Do you think I’d let that slide?”

Well, who knows?

Francesca Ranieri casually laughed as she walked toward the front bar. She picked up a cocktail shaker from the shelf and began to shake it gently, continuing her words.

“I heard you don’t like alcohol, but… I recently learned how to make a new punch, so I’d love for you to try it today.”

“……”

What is this crazy woman doing? She kidnaps someone coming home from work, gathers armed guys for a show of force, and now wants me to drink the concoction she made?

What a uniquely insane woman.

Why on earth are there no NORMAL women around me? I really don’t understand it.

“How about you drink that punch instead?”

“If you’d like, you can leave for the hotel anytime. It’s quite a long way, but I won’t stop you.”

“Of course, you shouldn’t.”

I tried to get up from my seat.

But even as I stood up, I couldn’t turn my steps back to the hotel.

The voice that held my footstep belonged to none other than the alchemist.

“But if you leave now, you might never hear the answers you seek.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

“La Cardinal.”

“…….”

“…….”

“…What do you want?”

Creak.

The alchemist dragged a chair with a smile directed at me.

“Shall we sit down first?”

*

Francesca Ranieri led me to the table, treating me to a splendid cocktail she had made herself under the gentle lighting.

“Aren’t you going to drink?”

“I have no intention of doing so.”

I hadn’t touched it, after all. What could I trust about the drink concocted by an alchemist? Who knows what sort of trickery she had in mind?

Of course, it wasn’t merely that I found the cocktail’s ingredients off-putting. The fundamental reason I refrained from drinking what she offered was something else entirely.

“What did you kidnap me for?”

“Kidnap? This is an invitation.”

“I don’t recall accepting.”

“But you didn’t refuse either.”

Francesca Ranieri took a sip of the punch she had prepared with an air of nonchalance.

“Who were those people earlier? Mercenaries? Criminals?”

“People bound by a contract to assist the maintenance of order and the streamlining of administrative procedures at the Magic Tower.”

PMC, huh? So they were contractors belonging to a Private Military Company.

To put it nobly, contractors are heavily armed paramilitary personnel; to put it negatively, they’re mercenaries who handle dirty and troublesome jobs for cash.

The employer was the Magic Tower government. The reason for hiring them was ostensibly to assist the police in maintaining social order, but practically speaking, it was to alleviate the burden stemming from the lack of human resources in the police force and to blur accountability. This was about the extent of the information I had regarding PMCs operating at the Magic Tower. Specifically, Pippin had explained it based on data from the Military Intelligence Agency and related organizations during a basic information briefing.

It was common for local or foreign governments and private enterprises to hire PMCs in third-world countries, so I brushed it off as normal.

What mattered was the fact that Francesca Ranieri had moved the PMC.

“It seems the Magic Tower has taken quite a dislike to me, using mercenaries and all.”

Even though PMCs take money for anything, that only applies when a formal contract has been signed and the payment received.

And from my experience, even hiring a bottom-tier, tiny company in the industry came with a hefty price tag. No matter how you slice it, mercenaries are people, and people get paid for the work they do. Whether it’s labor costs or security fees. On top of that, add bonuses and hazard pay, not to mention company premiums, and the costs skyrocket.

The government hires mercenaries to reduce the political burdens coming from domestic opinion and the international community, not to ease economic burdens.

So, it became clear to me that it wasn’t Francesca Ranieri who had mobilized the PMC, but the Magic Tower government. She wasn’t just some ordinary alchemist; she was an administrator of the Secretariat.

“The Magic Tower knows nothing, Colonel.”

That wasn’t true.

“The hiring of mercenaries, bringing you here—everything was my decision.”

“You have some nerve.”

“So, if you keep quiet, Colonel…”

“…….”

“We could keep today’s events a secret, couldn’t we…?”

I didn’t feel the need to respond. I ignored her question and searched for another topic of conversation.

“Where did you hear about La Cardinal?”

Francesca Ranieri didn’t answer but raised her hand to call the bartender. The bartender approached the table silently, leaving behind a brown envelope before departing.

I suddenly wondered whether they could eavesdrop on this conversation from such a distance.

While I was attempting to gauge the distance between the bartender and us, perhaps sensing my intent, Francesca Ranieri slowly tore open the brown envelope and spoke.

“The bartender is deaf. He can’t hear anything.”

“I never asked.”

“I thought you looked worried. Hehe.”

With a somewhat unpleasant laugh that might irritate anyone listening, Francesca Ranieri placed an object from the envelope onto the table.

It was a cassette player.

She pointed to the player and lifted her glass.

“Listen. The answers you seek are right there.”

“…….”

I took a dubious glance at the cassette player, then looked back at Francesca Ranieri’s face.

But the alchemist merely wore a strange smile, showing no emotion. So, I stuffed down the nagging unease in my chest and pressed the play button.

-Clack!

As the button was pressed, the tape began to roll, and soon a voice recorded on the tape flowed over the table.

[Hey, what’s up, Merlo?]

[Are you still in the Empire?]

 

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