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The Intelligence Officer has various ways to take a vacation, but the most common one is traveling.

However, international travel is off the table.

Due to the nature of the information agency, having personnel travel abroad carries significant risks.

Therefore, intelligence officers tend to travel domestically during their active duty and save overseas trips for special moments like honeymoon or after retirement.

In that context, my vacation spent traveling within Abas shouldn’t raise any concerns, but it would be a different story if I am traveling with my colleagues.

Camila, Lucia, Francesca, and Veronica were far from ordinary civilians.

Nothing was certain yet.

One thing was clear.

“…I’ll just make a quick phone call.”

This vacation was not going to be restful.

Episode 8 – Say Hello To My Little Friend

Two saints, a high-ranking official from a prestigious magical family in the Magic Tower, a hero, and now an intelligence officer—

I was about to travel with four people who were bound to stir up trouble wherever they went.

Honestly, the group trip my colleagues proposed was fraught with issues—mainly political, diplomatic, and security-related.

Lucia and Veronica required escorts and protocol arrangements just to move around, being associated with the Inquisition and the Knights, while Francesca, a high-ranking official of the Magic Tower, was no exception. Of course, the same went for Camila. Naturally, this meant heightened security and protocol would be a concern with all four moving together.

Additionally, the relationship between the Cult and the Magic Tower was so adversarial that they could go to war at the drop of a hat. Even though Lucia and Francesca were bound as allies by the Oracle, there were plenty of people who would feel uncomfortable just having the two of them in the same space.

And Abas certainly didn’t want to be caught in the middle.

Being stuck between the Cult and the Magic Tower was one thing, but if an incident involving the four occurred on Abas territory, it would be Abas that took the blame first.

Regrettably, I was currently a civil servant living off Abas government salary.

I decided to report this matter to my superiors.

At the very least, the government needed some information to make a judgment call and take any necessary decisions to resolve this situation smoothly. I had a feeling of impending doom, but I was under the impression that I should at least report it.

About half an hour later, I received instructions from the Military Intelligence Agency.

—“After discussions, we have decided to leave the matter in your hands.”

“What?”

—“Sorry, Frederick. It just turned out this way.”

The Military Intelligence Agency decided to dump all the problems on me.

I stared blankly at the ceiling, clutching the receiver. Why does my bad feeling always turn out to be right?

Clevens briefly summarized the conversations exchanged between the Abas government and various countries, as well as discussions among government departments.

—“We received a request from the Cult and the Magic Tower’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They’ve asked us to handle the situation as quietly as possible, with a minimal number of personnel to avoid issues.”

The Abas government, having received this formal request from the Cult and the Magic Tower, decided to proceed unofficially with the schedule. Since they didn’t enter the country on official government business and wished to enjoy their vacation quietly, the Abas government consulted with other countries and decided not to provide formal protocol and security.

Of course, while they didn’t offer formal protocol and security like in a typical state visit, Clevens explained that they took all possible precautions.

—“For now, their entry will remain a secret. We are currently adjusting it to prevent any leaks to the press.”

“Is that feasible?”

—“Uh, well, isn’t there a way to do this when diplomats are going back and forth?”

The Abas government kept information regarding Camila, Lucia, Francesca, and Veronica’s entry into the country absolutely confidential, much like when high-ranking officials from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs or government representatives are sent as envoys.

This was good news. If news of their entry hit the press, it would lead to a storm of rumors and speculations.

Fortunately, the Abas government flexibly concluded to deploy minimal personnel after negotiations with other countries.

The problem was,

“How on earth do you expect me to handle this alone?”

The minimal personnel was me.

—“Well, why did you mess it up? If you look at it closely, you seem to always stir up trouble. Of all things, you cause a ruckus just a day into your vacation…”

“Is that even something you should be saying?”

—“Don’t overthink it. It’s not like anyone’s telling you to prepare proper protocol and security. Just act like you usually do.”

“Just do anything, you say? What am I, a nightclub performer putting on a show?”

I was at my wit’s end, and while I was stuck unable to respond, I heard Clevens’ blunt voice through the receiver.

—“It’s an unofficial schedule anyway. It’s not a formal agenda, plus considering the positions of the Cult and Magic Tower, we need to keep things as quiet as possible. The thing is, the government doesn’t have anyone else except you to handle this.”

“What does that even mean?”

—“The Saint of the Cult, the magician from the Magic Tower, and a hero. You’re the only one capable of hosting all of them at once.”

It meant I was the only one who could manage such a diverse group without drawing any unwanted attention, be it in terms of diplomatic or social issues.

—“If someone from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs makes a mistake and receives complaints from the Cult or the Magic Tower, it’ll put the government in a troublesome position. Although you’re an intelligence officer representing the Abas government, you’re also not in an official capacity as they are, right?”

“Ah, yeah.”

—“Even if you make a mistake, at least they won’t rear their heads about it. Since you’re colleagues, you’ll be seeing each other often, so it’s not like you won’t get along.”

“That’s true, but…”

If a Foreign Ministry official messed up while hosting, it would be an absolute diplomatic disaster. Yet, if I, as a colleague, made a mistake, perhaps I could smooth it over due to our personal connection.

Would the Cult and Magic Tower view my mistake as a minor issue? Or was the Abas government just using me as a scapegoat and hoping to brush past the issue? It was unclear, but that’s how things were now.

They say that entering the military makes you shrewd in politics, and it seemed true, especially with Clevens at the helm of Military Intelligence.

—“Of course, I didn’t delegate this to you solely for that reason.”

“Excuse me?”

What on earth did he mean?

The head of counter-intelligence in the Military Intelligence Agency continued to speak with a tone that indicated he was about to reveal something significant.

—“Hmm… You might not be aware, but there are very few individuals in the government who know about those four as well as you do. The hero, the two saints, and the magician—there is hardly any known information about them.”

“Ah…”

—“Since both the Foreign Ministry and the Intelligence Department lack information, it is inevitable that issues will arise regarding protocol and security. In that sense, having spent several months with them, you are the most suitable candidate. You could even be considered an expert in this field.”

That much was true. Hardly anyone in the Abas government knew Camila, Lucia, Francesca, and Veronica better than I did.

Clevens advised me in a voice laced with concern.

—“Though you’re an intelligence officer, today you’re one of those four’s colleagues. At least on the surface.”

“….”

—“So don’t think of it too complicatingly. At the end of the day, as long as there aren’t any problems, that’s what matters, right?”

“….”

—“Anyway, stop worrying and enjoy your vacation.”

Amidst a stormy period, peace finally arrived. I assigned the rooms to the guests who had come according to government policy (Military Intelligence Agency’s orders).

“The rooms are upstairs, and beddings are provided in each room, so feel free to use them. If you need anything, just let me know. Please, try to refrain from actions that might identify you while going out. Always carry means of communication, and remember the emergency contact numbers for the embassy, police, and hospitals.”

As I communicated the guidelines provided by the Abas Ministry of Foreign Affairs (safety notices for international travel) and introduced the townhouse, lunchtime arrived.

“How do you plan to have lunch?”

Camila, who was exploring the rooms, responded.

“I’m fine with whatever. Let’s keep it simple!”

“Are you really going to eat after munching on snacks?”

“Tch…!”

I left Camila, who pouted at my teasing, and turned to Francesca.

“How about you, Administrator?”

“It would be difficult to go outside, wouldn’t it?”

“Going out unprepared is a bit…”

Even though the Abas government kept their arrival confidential, it was still too risky to start outdoor activities immediately.

To avoid any potential scandals or controversies, they had deployed a spokesperson to hush media coverage, and requested that we suspend our outdoor activities until a safe location was secured.

So here we were, stuck in the townhouse instead of a hotel. The hotel had too many prying eyes.

“The government is looking for a secure hotel, so please bear with us for a little while. It will be resolved soon.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps this was too much of a hasty visit.”

“Oh, don’t worry about trivial matters… That’s what civil servants are for.”

I spoke cheerfully, cursing the government internally. How dare they hand over national issues to someone on vacation? I thought about reporting it to the Labor Department.

But I was a civil servant receiving a salary from the government. I couldn’t dare vocalize my dissatisfaction.

“Just treat this as your home and feel free to stay.”

“By the way, whose place is this? It seems way too spacious for one person.”

“It’s where my brother and sister stay since their jobs are nearby. Both are civil servants. I stay at the official residence.”

“Oh right, you’re a military man.”

I answered Camila as she walked around the townhouse with wonder, when Francesca, who had gone downstairs, returned with her luggage.

To help her carry the many bags, I took a few from her.

“Let’s carry them together.”

“Thank you, Colonel.”

“You sure have a lot of bags. What’s in that one?”

I pointed to the long bag slung over Francesca’s shoulder while lifting a suitcase. The bag, resembling a slender suitcase, clearly contained something unusual.

Francesca cast a sidelong glance at the bag and opened it to show me what was inside.

“A military sword…?”

It was a sword. To be precise, it was a type of ceremonial sword used in military service.

Even though many militaries replaced ceremonial swords with bayonets after the rise of firearms, and only a few select ones were kept for ceremonial use, here in this fantasy world, ceremonial swords still remained prevalent.

For half-baked mages who could only enhance their physical bodies with magic, swords were indeed nice weapons. Thus, in countries where the ownership of firearms was restricted to a select few like hunters or residents near border areas, civilians still wielded swords quite often.

Francesca gently caressed the handle of the sword, adorned with its unique pattern, and smiled softly.

“Indeed, this is a sword I inherited since childhood.”

“I didn’t know you could wield swords. I thought you were from a prestigious magical family?”

“Just because I’m a magician doesn’t mean I can only use magic. To be honest, I’ve heard that a lot growing up.”

Francesca said this while still gazing at the sword with a smile.

It was a fact absent from the Royal Intelligence Department’s records, so it piqued my interest. I wanted to ask where she got the saber but sensed she wouldn’t share that detail based on her demeanor.

I silently nodded and carried the luggage without further inquiry. It felt like I just added another task to my reporting list.

While I was organizing the bags with Francesca, I suddenly remembered that Lucia was no longer in sight.

“By the way, where did Saint Lucia go?”

“Oh, Lucia?”

Camila, who was carrying her light load, pointed towards the back of the townhouse.

“I think I saw her going out to the backyard a while ago.”

“…Is that so?”

So that’s where she went.

“I’ll step out for a moment. If you need help, just call me.”

“Okay.”

*

The townhouse, owned by the maternal side located in an affluent area, is a single-family home that embodies…

Due to the regulations of the Ministry of Land Development in the Abbas Rock region, there is no front yard (because having a front yard would require additional taxes due to limited land), but instead, there is a backyard.

Originally, homes with backyards used to be subject to a separate “yard tax” several decades ago. However, thanks to persistent petitions and complaints from the wealthy citizens who had settled in the capital, insisting that “private spaces separate from living quarters are absolutely necessary,” the regulations were relaxed.

Opening the door leading to the townhouse’s backyard reveals a spacious area. The low red brick wall surrounds the yard like a fortress, and neatly trimmed shrubs and herbaceous plants stand tall, forming a natural fence.

In that secret backyard, reminiscent of a small garden, there was someone present.

“Saint Lucia?”

As I called her name, Lucia flinched slightly. She turned her head just enough to glance at me, like a child caught misbehaving, hurriedly bringing her left hand to her waist.

“Did you call for me?”

“I couldn’t see you, so I came looking.”

I slipped my hands into my pockets and slowly approached Lucia. She smiled kindly, though she seemed a bit uncomfortable.

I had expected it, but what she was hiding was a cigarette.

Perhaps because she had quit smoking for 28 years. The faint smell of tobacco was surprisingly noticeable.

“You don’t have to hide it. You can continue smoking if you like.”

“…Did you know?”

She didn’t ask what I knew, but there was no one here who didn’t know what it was.

I nodded slightly, and Lucia revealed a bittersweet smile, like someone caught in a lie, as she brought her concealed hand forward.

I recognized the cigarette in her hand at a glance.

“That’s a cigarillo, isn’t it? I guess you don’t carry a cutter with you.”

“You recognized it!”

“I used to smoke cigars. I switched to cigarillos halfway through because I didn’t have a cutter or a knife.”

“Haha….”

What Lucia was smoking was indeed a cigarillo. Unlike the thick cigars one might think of, cigarillos are thin and can be easily found in convenience stores.

Due to its small size, it’s designed to be smoked in a shorter time frame compared to regular cigars, lasting about 30 minutes to an hour, and there’s no need to carry a cumbersome cutter or punch to make holes in both ends.

Moreover, it doesn’t require special toasting with a dedicated lighter to ensure a clean burn. That’s why cigarillos are often called mini cigars.

I used to buy them in bulk every time I went on business trips to Cuba.

I didn’t expect to see one here.

Lucia, holding the cigarillo, awkwardly smiled and asked me, “Were you a smoker?”

“I was. I’m currently trying to quit.”

“Oh, I see. So you’re smoking even though you’re trying to quit… I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. It’s been so long that I’m fine now. You can smoke freely.”

With it being my first encounter with a cigar in 28 years, I was tempted to ask for one, but asking for a cigar right after saying I was trying to quit wouldn’t look good, even to me.

I briefly went inside the house and brought out some Scotch whiskey (the one Jerry always cherishes) and two glasses.

“Please, have some.”

“You really don’t have to… but thank you.”

Lucia accepted the glass with an apologetic expression. I sat with her, sipping the drink while admiring the well-kept yard.

Lucia inhaled the aroma of whiskey in her glass and exclaimed, “This is Scotch, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

Whiskey and cigars. It became a hobby I enjoyed for quite some time after learning from a British friend I met through an American acquaintance.

“This is the first time I’ve ever had someone else’s drink.”

“I thought it wasn’t your first time?”

“Who told you that?”

“Saint Veronica.”

“Oh.”

Lucia pressed her forehead and let out a small groan. It must have been awkward to have a secret shared with others via her sister.

“I told you not to say anything…”

“She’s just chatty, so I doubt she’d keep it quiet.”

“I don’t mean to pry, but can you keep a secret?”

“That’s part of my job, after all.”

“True, since you’re a soldier….”

Upon hearing my answer, Lucia smiled gently. Although I was indeed a soldier, I was an information officer belonging to the information agency, but since she wasn’t wrong in her assumption, I decided not to correct her misunderstanding.

As we sat under the sunny sky in the backyard embraced by warm sunlight, we chatted about various topics.

“Are you very close with Saint Veronica?”

“As you might have heard, yes, we are quite close.”

“I’ve heard that you served Saint Veronica before she was canonized.”

“Actually, I’m not officially a canonized saint even now. But I’ve followed Sister Veronica since childhood. I’ve learned a lot of things.”

The main subject of our conversation, of course, was still Veronica.

I wasn’t a deeply religious person capable of having spiritual conversations with her, and since Lucia and I were merely acquaintances, we really didn’t know much about each other. So, bringing up Veronica, whom we were both familiar with, made the conversation easier.

Since I usually spend my time verbally sparring, the discussion flowed smoothly.

“How close are you two?”

“We’ve known each other since childhood, so we’re pretty close.”

“So you’re tight-knit, then.”

“That would be accurate. By the way, how did you get to know Sister Veronica?”

“Saint Veronica has healed me and provided me with accommodations before.”

“Ah….”

Lucia mumbled in apology.

“I’m sorry. That must be an unpleasant memory.”

“No, not at all. I’m quite used to getting injured on the job, so you don’t have to worry.”

“…Really?”

“What I’m saying is, you don’t need to concern yourself with it. But how do you two spend your time together?”

“Well, my sister and I… just.”

Lucia seemed to ponder for a moment, lowering her gaze slightly. After a brief pause in our conversation, she cupped her chin in thought and eventually opened her mouth to answer.

“While we’ve shared stories about scriptures and history… we mainly discussed faith and non-work-related topics.”

“Oh, gossip about the Cardinals?”

“Yes. My sister has always called them old geezers. Though she often told me not to say bad things about others, it was quite amusing.”

Lucia had maintained a close relationship with Veronica even before she became a saint. She mentioned what she’d heard from Veronica, particularly her tales from her travels around the world.

“We talked about a variety of topics. I learned a lot.”

“Then was it Veronica who taught you about drinking and smoking…?”

“Ah, that’s a bit touchy to discuss directly….”

I hadn’t noticed it before, but now I saw that Lucia was someone who could easily be teased. Her reactions were quite diverse.

Veronica often teased me in a roundabout way, while Francesca wasn’t close enough for casual banter due to her intense first impression. Although our relationship had improved now, they shared a professional connection, so they maintained a certain distance with me.

Of course, there were exceptions like Camila. Although we had some professional ties, we weren’t strictly formal with each other.

Camila was also quite responsive to teasing, but recently she seemed a bit desensitized and less reactive.

In contrast, Lucia was always a bit distant, which made her reactions all the more entertaining with just slight teasing. It seemed wise to nurture my friendship with Lucia alongside Camila, as long as it wasn’t strictly work-related.

But looking back now, it seemed like I only had eccentric people around me.

A saint playing the role of a spy, a magician, an arsonist, a British girl who’s dreaming of becoming a spy, and a saint hiding away to secretly smoke and drink while treating people.

Why am I the only normal one? Could this chaotic world have made me the only sane one?

While I pondered this odd web of relationships, Lucia pulled out a portable ashtray and placed her burnt cigarillo inside.

“Do you carry an ashtray around?”

“You shouldn’t just litter around.”

“…But why are you taking out another cigarillo?”

“Just one more….”

“…….”

A serious smoking saint; what a ridiculous sight that was.

Lucia anxiously pulled out another cigarillo, wary of how it looked to smoke in someone else’s backyard.

“Just smoke freely. There are plenty of people smoking out here anyways.”

“Is it really alright?”

Lucia asked, the saintly figure looking a little sheepish. I didn’t understand why she was so shy given she had already been caught smoking.

“If you’re worried, I’ll just join you.”

I took a cigarillo from Lucia.

Lucia confidently lit it with her lighter. Lacking a lighter, I had to borrow fire from her.

“Can I have a light?”

“Oh, here it is.”

“That’s a bit far.”

“Then, let me get closer….”

Failing to quit smoking after 28 years and my first cigarette being the one handed to me by a saint was an ironic scene, even I had to admit.

Just as I was about to lean in for a light with Lucia’s permission, someone suddenly clung to my back and whispered in my ear.

“What are you two doing?”

“Ah, damn it! You scared me!”

“I want to join in too!”

“Could you at least knock before coming in, you madwoman?!”

It was Veronica.

 

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