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Francesca’s expression wasn’t very bright for someone who was supposed to be having a conversation.

To be more specific, yes.

“It seems like you have something you want to ask.”

Her face showed a ton of curiosity.

Francesca, sitting gracefully with one arm over the back of the sofa, looked at me with her legs crossed.

I settled into the seat beside her and initiated the dialogue.

“Well, sure.”

“……”

“What are you curious about?”

—

Episode 13 – No Country for Magicians

“Gabi Schneider.”

Francesca stated.

“She was kidnapped, right?”

“That might be so.”

It was a vague answer, yet Francesca didn’t reprimand me.

“I did some inquiries today through acquaintances at the Secretariat. About Miss Schneider and Count Marbo.”

She continued.

“I gathered information about how Miss Schneider and Count Marbo met, what duties they had on the Mauritania Continent, and the circumstances surrounding Count Marbo’s recent disappearance.”

“Were there any findings?”

“A bit.”

I already knew most of the information regarding Gabi Schneider and Jean Marbo. I had investigated through Francesca.

Being an employee of the Magic Tower Secretariat, her investigation was thorough. Francesca reported in detail the activities of the two individuals when they first met on the Mauritania Continent. Of course, their subsequent activities were the same.

However, the information they uncovered this time seemed to be something neither of us had known before.

“Initially, I thought they just bumped into each other while working, fell in love, and started dating. I thought so myself, and that’s what everyone else believed too.”

“And then?”

“While investigating the missing Count Marbo, I uncovered facts about their meeting that I was unaware of.”

Francesca explained that Jean Marbo and Gabi Schneider’s first meeting was highly premeditated.

“Count Marbo personally investigated Miss Schneider before departing for his trip. At that time, Miss Schneider had been dispatched to the Mauritania Continent as a diplomat, and Count Marbo was supposed to travel to the same region about a month later.”

Francesca uncovered that he had been asking friends at the Ministry about Miss Schneider’s preferences and hobbies.

The friends who recalled the meeting between the two testified that they were complete strangers at that time.

In other words, Count Marbo had been investigating a person whose face he didn’t even know.

But the most important part wasn’t that.

“According to a friend from that time, Count Marbo was intensely inquiring about Miss Schneider’s research results.”

I asked.

“What was that research about?”

“It was research concerning souls.”

Research about souls?

Momentarily questioning the altogether unexpected topic, the explanation from the alchemist continued.

“Necromancy is the study of animal souls and spirits. Thus, the School of Necromancy is quite active in researching souls. Humans are included in that category too.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

The reason why necromancers are often scrutinized both within their countries and even within the Magic Tower is that they frequently conduct experiments that infringe upon ethical boundaries.

The religious community views the act of researching souls as transgressing the lines drawn by the Creator for personal gain. This perception is similarly held by foreign nations. No matter how beneficial soul research may be to the world, biological and human experimentation were unavoidable for any significant results to be achieved.

Yet, some mages still crossed those forbidden lines, and their fates diverged into two categories.

First, those who compromised with reality and produced minimal results in limited environments.

Second, those who crossed the lines they shouldn’t and ended up exiled from society as they pursued the realm of truth.

Gabi Schneider belonged to the former.

Francesca spoke.

“Miss Schneider was researching methods to handle bindings—the ‘contracts’ related to souls.”

Bindings related to souls. When those words fell from her lips, a certain spell flashed into my mind.

I muttered the name of that spell.

“Oath.”

The Mage’s Oath.

During the time of the Magic Tower-Cult war, it was a powerful spell developed to prevent numerous betrayals and conversions. It was conceptualized directly by the ‘Priest’, one of the seventeen great archmages.

The essence of the spell was simple. The mage pledges to uphold their promise, betting everything they have.

Francesca nodded gravely.

“The Mage’s Oath is a prime example of a contract bound to the soul. It’s the most famous and, thus, the most brutal.”

Historians assessing the war later used expressions like this to describe the oath.

Chains filled with souls.

A metaphor for the lack of rewards, yet the heavy burdens of responsibility and the consequences of contract violations.

The very term “chains” becomes irrelevant when the price of a breach is death, akin to a bomb collar.

The most significant advantage of the oath is that mages must inevitably fulfill their promises, while its main drawback is that they ‘must’ keep their promises.

Magic is an occurrence in itself and does not pause for the circumstances of the caster; it holds no mercy in its hands.

Using the loophole that bound the sworn mage to uphold their contract, the Inquisition sought to make mages violate their oaths by any means necessary during the war.

Since magic was originally created to prevent betrayal, there was no method to nullify the contract.

This became regarded as one of the most groundbreaking assassination methods in the history of intelligence agencies. All traces of the assassination could be pinned on the mage who violated the oath and the Magic Tower that bestowed the oath.

As a side note, even 100 years after magic was recognized as a science, ways to invalidate the oath remain shrouded in mystery. Even with the archmage who founded magic alive.

Thus, neither the Magic Tower nor any nation truly compels mages to swear oaths unless it’s a very special case. The fact that even the Patalia government tailing and eavesdropping on the Ranieri family mages doesn’t require them to take oaths demonstrates how modern magical society treats oaths.

Despite these drawbacks, many mages willingly accepted the oath, as scholarly opinions suggest their situations were desperate.

If the Magic Tower lost, all mages would face annihilation at the hands of the furious Inquisition.

However, alongside the oath, there was one more famous contract among mages.

“The Blood Contract.”

The descendant of the archmage declared.

“The Blood Contract is an agreement made between a mage and a demon. When a mage pays their blood as an advance payment to the demon, the demon grants their wish first, and then the mage pays the remainder later.”

“And the Blood Contract also influences the soul like the Mage’s Oath, right?”

Francesca nodded, and the conversation returned to the starting point.

“Miss Schneider was researching ways to nullify magic like the Mage’s Oath and the Blood Contract. It had significant results to the extent that even some mages from the Necromancy School and other schools showed interest.”

“Why are you bringing this up now?”

“Who do you think is a mage capable of forming a Blood Contract?”

“Since it’s a contract made with a demon, it must be a necromancer.”

“When did Count Marbo go missing?”

“……”

The moment I recalled the day Count Marbo disappeared, a chill ran down my spine.

I stared into the darkness, fixated on a pair of shining violets. Then I cautiously began to speak.

“…Are you implying that Count Marbo was that necromancer who died?”

“He went missing that day, and now he’s dead—doesn’t that seem like a reasonable suspicion?”

“No, wait. What are you saying?”

Count Marbo is dead?

“Weren’t they missing?”

“They’re dead.”

“How did that happen?”

Francesca sighed lightly while leaning her arms on the back of the sofa.

“Explaining that might complicate things….”

“……”

“I’ll just take it slow.”

—

It was a strange day.

A magician at the Secretariat had gone missing, and spies from foreign governments also vanished. The café owner, who had chased out customers for some urgent reason, disappeared as well, and when I returned from the restroom, I found myself standing in the dark café.

Sensing something was off, Francesca decided to visit the Patalia-based Magic Tower Embassy.

Having sorted out her thoughts on the way, revealing her purpose and sending a formal request to the Tower was easy.

“This morning, I requested the use of the observatory. The Oracle approved it.”

The observatory.

An ancient magical tool installed at the highest point of the Magic Tower by the great archmage and founder of the astrology school. It possesses the characteristic of reading the stars in the sky to reveal something.

There are various ways to use the observatory, but the most famous and useful method is tracking exiles.

“Sometimes it is used to pursue mages who committed crimes and faced expulsion from magical society, yet its maintenance is so challenging that it’s only employed if malignant criminals’ traces become apparent.”

“The Oracle approved that for you.”

“Yes.”

Francesca used the observatory to track Count Marbo’s location. The initiation of all these incidents stemmed from a magician’s disappearance.

The Oracle willingly granted the use of the observatory for the descendant of the archmage. Even though it was a magical tool that even the astrology school, which held ownership, couldn’t handle carelessly.

The observatory absorbed his magical power from the belongings left at Count Marbo’s home. It then produced results immediately.

“But it showed he’s dead?”

Francesca nodded.

“To be precise, the observatory didn’t even start its tracking. At first, I thought it was a machinery error, yet there have been several instances of using it on already deceased exiles in the past, so we concluded it couldn’t be an error.”

In simpler terms, the missing Count Marbo was already deceased.

“A mage who was secretly investigating another mage researching ways to nullify a contract with a demon—while falling in love with her—disappears, and this happens to coincide with the day a demon reappeared after several decades. And, conveniently enough… that day, a necromancer met their end at the hands of a demon.”

“……”

On the table in the villa, documents lay scattered. As Francesca casually summoned the papers from the air, she continued her explanation.

“The day of the battle with the demon, there are confidential materials detailing the testimonies of the mages who fought with us in Orventzku.”

She settled back down into the sofa and asked me.

“Colonel, do you remember the mage who fell to their death from the sky?”

“Yes. They fell into an unnatural position.”

“It wasn’t a fall.”

At that time, the fallen mage did not die from a fall.

To be more precise, they weren’t an accident; someone had killed them.

And the reports indicated that there was more than one death of mages.

Although obscured by thick darkness and blizzards, the surviving mages testified that something like a green magical barrier had appeared before them mid-flight.

Over a dozen mages experienced something similar in various places around Orventzku. All of this happening while we fought against demons and monsters.

Francesca’s lips parted.

“The mages said that the green barrier blocked their path during flight. Those who collided with it all fell to the ground.”

This she recounted as having been extracted from the solitary survivor who had collided with the barrier while flying with colleagues. She added, “The reason we couldn’t rely on the Tower’s support was that the mages in command issued a flight prohibition order.”

“What’s the source for that?”

“My sister told me. She was investigating the joint investigation unit of the Empire and the Cult regarding that day’s battle in the North.”

I skimmed through the report.

At the end of the report, annotations from the investigative bodies indicated that the Tower suspected that the mages had died due to barriers from the Protection School or a similar type of magic. Given that deploying protective magic unsuitable for combat was deliberately done as a means of killing, it was written that they suspected a highly skilled mage from the Protection School.

Protection School. Green barriers. Experienced mages dispatched to the North.

As my suspicions began to weave into a complex pattern, I put down the report and looked at Francesca.

“Are you suspecting Martinez?”

Francesca didn’t respond. And that silence became the most clear answer.

“Are you sure? There can’t just be one person in the Protection School handling green magic.”

“Among the mages deployed to the North, there are few who handle green magic. Among those, even fewer are experienced mages. Crucially, Sir Martinez displayed enough behavior to raise my suspicion.”

“Such as?”

“The disappearance of Count Marbo.”

The magician from the Magic Tower stated.

“It has been nearly three weeks since he went missing, yet he hasn’t reported to me.”

…Right. Looking back, that’s quite odd.

Why hasn’t Martinez informed Francesca of the missing magician?

After the Inquisition started stationing in the North with the Duke’s permission, he was the one gathering opinions for the Tower.

Considering that he consistently reported even amidst the busy tasks of managing the Secretariat and sewer cleaning, it was indeed suspicious that he didn’t inform Francesca about an employee from the Secretariat who went missing in a martial law zone.

While pacifying my complicated thoughts, Francesca’s voice resounded.

She began formulating her deductions.

“Miss Schneider, who was researching contracts bound to souls, is missing. Meanwhile, the Count, who had disappeared during the chaos, is now dead. Sir Martinez, his superior and my subordinate, neglected the report. All three share the commonality of working on the Mauritania Continent. And they are the individuals you were investigating.”

A very reasonable deduction. Simultaneously, it holds legitimate suspicion.

She inquired of me.

“I’ll ask once again. Truly, do you have no idea why Miss Schneider went missing?”

I didn’t respond immediately. Instead, I activated the record player in the corner of the villa.

As the gentle melody of classical music resonated, I lifted Francesca from the sofa. Quietly, I embraced her and whispered in her ear.

“I picked you up from the company.”

“…….”

“According to my superiors, Gabi Schneider is said to be a terrorist.”

Her violet eyes cautiously regarded my brown ones. Francesca, locking her gaze with mine, posed another question.

“What do you think, Colonel? Does Miss Schneider truly seem like a terrorist?”

“I’m not sure.”

However,

I gently released her and added,

“We should at least question those we trust.”

“…….”

“The most dangerous thing in this field is giving trust without verification.”

It’s pointless—all the informants I’ve personally recruited, the foreign agents I trusted, the colleagues I shared meals with. It’s all in vain. How many informants have met their demise for having one bad connection?

Betrayals are ever-present. That’s why I don’t trust Gabi Schneider, whom I met for the first time yesterday.

From experience, those entangled with intelligence agencies are always the suspicious type.

As I turned the volume down on the player, Francesca’s voice suddenly broke through.

“Yesterday, before you disappeared, Colonel.”

She continued from behind me.

“Gabi Schneider asked me for help. You followed me to the capital, and that’s where you went missing.”

“And so?”

“Why did you do that?”

Her question was laden with implications, but deciphering its meaning wasn’t too hard.

Why get involved in something with no real benefit?

Why did a person I should be cautious of move without any preparation?

Why take the risk to follow me?

Francesca was asking that now.

It didn’t take long to recall my answer.

“Because it’s my job.”

I adjusted the volume and spoke without turning to her.

“Wherever you go, whatever you face, if problems arise from it, it’s my job to resolve them.”

Francesca prompted a follow-up.

“Are you saying that as my superior or as a colleague?”

“Is there a difference?”

I shot back without glancing at her.

Camila’s colleague, chosen by the Oracle. An information officer connecting the Information Command with the Military Intelligence Agency.

All those aspects define who I am; there’s no need to separate the two.

“If you treat me as your superior, then I will be. If you see me as a colleague, then I will always remain one.”

“…….”

“Of course, if you consider me a friend, I won’t stop you.”

Intelligence agencies always emphasize not harboring personal feelings towards informants, yet there are far more officers who break that rule than one might think.

It’s likely because the human heart is too complex to be simply defined by a word or a sentence.

“I have an obligation to protect you as a superior and a responsibility to rescue you if you’re in danger as a colleague.”

“… How does that benefit you, Colonel?”

“Well.”

I paused to consider.

“If I were a humanitarian, I’d probably say it’s because every life is precious. There’s intrinsic value in saving lives, and I’d find fulfillment in preserving that value.”

But I am no humanitarian.

Under the pretense of protecting the 50 million citizens’ lives and the nation’s safety, I’ve committed atrocious acts against many people. That’s an undeniable fact.

To some, I might have been a person aiming for the light from the shadows, while to others, I was a spy who needed to be captured on the spot.

That is still the case now.

“If I were a diplomat, I’d answer that it would lead to Abas’s interests. No matter how much you are a defendant of public security, the benefits I could extract from you outweigh that risk of diplomatic friction—the political stakes with ally nations.”

But I am not a diplomat.

Though I wear a diplomat’s guise, at my core, I am an intelligence officer. Neither the Military Intelligence Agency nor Abas’s intelligence services—or even the government—require results from me as a diplomat.

Having the title of diplomat is merely a means for guaranteeing my safety in emergencies.

It doesn’t mean I’m a principled humanist or someone with a hero complex. Even if I had such tendencies, they wouldn’t become a representation of who I am.

I took my time to choose a response, pondering over it thoroughly. My tongue, usually quick-witted, felt sluggish today, likely because I had never faced such dilemmas before. It could be that I was overthinking it, making it difficult to clarify my thoughts easily.

Either way,

The only answer I could provide to Francesca now was simple.

“So if you ask why I followed you, I can say it was for your safety.”

“…….”

Only then did I finally meet her gaze for the first time.

Turning to see Francesca, she appeared just as regal as ever. I could find no distinctive traits about her as she stood with her arms crossed.

However, one thing was clear.

Standing in the dim moonlit room, her tightly sealed lips and soft gaze were forming a beautiful curve.

*

As the story concluded, the atmosphere of the villa shifted considerably.

A picturesque villa with striking white walls and a red roof. The terrace adorned with marble that was a different caliber from the hotel tiles.

“Um….”

I sipped my wine while admiring the crashing waves upon the coastal cliffs.

“It’s nice.”

“Because it’s selected wine.”

Francesca, tilting the decanter to pour the wine, raised her glass with a smile.

It was undoubtedly an exquisite product from Patalia, the primary wine-producing region, offering delightful taste and aroma.

The temperature on the terrace, suitably maintained by the magical tool, felt just right, and sipping wine while gazing at the night sea was extraordinary. As the soft classical music wafted through the glass, I set my wineglass down and cautiously spoke up.

“I spoke with Saint Veronica.”

“With my sister?”

Francesca reacted immediately to the unexpected news of Veronica. Lowering my body, I leaned over the table and whispered.

“It seems the Empire’s military intends to launch an offensive operation without us. The timeline has been accelerated.”

“But they can’t be entirely ready for an offensive yet.”

“There are apparently officials criticizing the military’s incompetence regarding the demon purge.”

“Oh, that makes sense then.”

The Imperial Ministry of Defense operates as a power group separate from the government. Being the Emperor’s most significant ally and the beneficiary of the regime, the military has amassed wealth and influence over the past few decades.

Brightness and darkness, after all, often coexist. There are plenty of government officials resentful of the military’s corruption.

Francesca began her response with an understanding nod.

“When foreigners purged the demons, it likely made the military look incompetent. True, Commander Mikhail isn’t entirely incompetent, but perspectives can vary by person.”

“The opinions of the military generals are similar. Regardless, they’ve exposed their weaknesses, so they intend to abandon the failed demon purge and take charge of the upcoming offensive themselves.”

Of course, no one knows whether they would actually advance the offensive timeline. Nonetheless, the military’s options are limited at this point.

“Although nothing is set in stone, please be prepared.”

“Understood. Thank you for the information, Colonel.”

“Oh, and.”

I paused, as if a thought sparked in my mind, lifting my glass to speak.

“I heard about this villa from Veronica.”

“What story was that?”

“She said it looked just like the villa you stayed in before—with your mother.”

The sudden mention of my mother seemed to unsettle Francesca. She began to radiate an air that suggested she didn’t wish to discuss this topic anymore.

Noting her changed demeanor, I continued nonchalantly.

“I somewhat understand your situation. Revenge.”

“…….”

“That’s likely your ultimate goal, right?”

Francesca seemed to avoid my gaze, turning away. As she stared at the crashing waves, she finally opened her mouth slowly, as if reluctantly responding.

“… Yes.”

I set my glass down and crossed my legs. She was still staring off into the distance, and I took in her profile.

“If vengeance is why you seek my partnership, I have a piece of advice to give.”

Her gaze, previously focused on the horizon, gradually shifted toward me.

Looking into her melancholy amethyst eyes, I spoke.

“Don’t prolong your revenge. Finish it as quickly as possible. The longer it drags out, the more trouble it will cause you.”

“…….”

“And make sure you identify your target clearly. Don’t take out your frustration on someone innocent and then regret it later.”

“… What about you, Colonel?”

Francesca managed a weary smile.

“It seems you know me well. You speak as if you’ve been through something similar.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“I have.”

“Whom did you deal with?”

“I had my share. Those annoying bastards up north.”

“Why did you seek revenge?”

“Because they took something incredibly precious from me.”

Francesca’s expression subtly shifted, perhaps dissatisfied with my vague response, yet she appeared intrigued enough not to let go of the conversation.

“What did you lose?”

“My father.”

In that moment, I instinctively realized I had misspoken, chuckling as I added, “Well, he was like a father to me.”

“…….”

A cool breeze brushed against my skin. Francesca, who had been gazing with a peculiar expression, suddenly posed a question.

“Were you successful?”

At that simple inquiry, I could only smile wryly, putting my glass down.

“Half a failure.”

“Why?”

“Because I chose the wrong person.”

And with that last sentence, our conversation came to an end. Thankfully, Francesca did not feel the need to add anything further and spoil the atmosphere.

Upon the terrace where the cool breeze gently blew, she suddenly set down her glass and began speaking again. This time, it was about work.

“I’d like to talk about the matter I couldn’t cover the last time.”

Francesca initiated with her clear tone.

“The business I’m handling in the northern regions is proceeding without a hitch. Thanks to a smooth conversation with you two, I believe I’ll be able to continue operations even after the conflict resolves.”

She was referring to smuggling.

With signs of the conflict nearing its end, it seemed discussions had occurred among Hormoz, Victor, and Francesca regarding the future of the northern black market.

Fortunately, it appeared the business discussions had concluded favorably. Given that I had dealt with Mikhail in a tactful manner to clean up the criminal organization, it would indeed be comical if the business were to go awry.

However, the concerns didn’t lie within the business.

“Victor keeps asking about my relationship with you, Colonel.”

“How so?”

“Just various things. Whether the Colonel is doing well these days, if there are any issues between us….”

Francesca trailed off, as if feeling unsure. Slowly organizing her thoughts alone, she cautiously lifted her gaze to mine.

“He’s curious about relationship matters that might be typical for a couple, but it’s uncomfortable to answer. Regardless of how much I’m a fake girlfriend, I don’t know the personal details about you.”

“Are you wondering how to resolve that? Is that what you want to know?”

Francesca nodded.

After gulping my wine in a single motion, I noisily set my glass down and turned to face her, answering while looking out at the sea.

“The best approach is to act like a fake couple regularly. There’s only so much you can fabricate to maintain the façade.”

“Um….”

Francesca nodded, seemingly in agreement.

“So, you mean I should continue pretending to be your girlfriend from now on. All the time.”

“What’s there to worry about?”

“I don’t have much to worry about… just the attention from others. The Hero, the Saint, my sister….”

I looked at Francesca, who wore a worried expression, and casually replied.

“What’s the concern? Just don’t get caught. Who suggested walking around with your arms crossed in front of others? We’re merely acting.”

Thereafter, Francesca leaned on the table, resting a hand on it. With a rather bold attitude, she asked me point-blank.

“… Colonel, you aren’t developing any other feelings, are you?”

“…….”

I stopped mid-reach for my cigarette, regarding her. Francesca, with a teasing smile, appeared like a painting bathed in moonlight.

As we gazed at one another in silence, I couldn’t help but chuckle softly at her audacity before speaking up.

“Would you like to check?”

What happened next was an impulsive action.

My hand slid through her silky hair, lightly cupping her cheek. For a fleeting moment, I felt the softness of her skin, and then I leaned over the table and pressed my lips to hers.

In that instant, my breath caught. Time felt as if it had stopped.

As that warm sensation slowly faded away, what came into view was Francesca’s lightly closed eyes. She had a soft curve etched on her lips.

When she cautiously opened her beautifully arched eyes, she smiled pleasantly.

“That just now, was the first kiss.”

“…….”

“I wonder if that falls under the fake couple play too.”

Against the backdrop of the azure waves crashing against the white cliffs, soft music floated through the slightly ajar door, as I tasted the flavor of wine in my very first kiss with Francesca.

 

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