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“Hey.”

At the sound of the voice calling me, my eyes snap open.

Though my eyes are open, my exhausted body refuses to move. Is it because I was thrust into the field without even adjusting to the time difference? Or maybe it’s the in-flight meal from that Iranian airline still sitting unprocessed in my stomach?

Pulling up my windbreaker against the chilly desert night air, I sink deep into the passenger seat and respond.

“Why?”

“What is religion, anyway?”

Unexpectedly philosophical questions thrown into the air. I roll my unhidden eyes to glance at the driver.

There sits a Middle Eastern man with a lean build.

A Jew born in Germany who immigrated to Israel.

He came to Jerusalem, tracing his roots thanks to his Jewish mother, and today, he’s again rambling about nonsense.

“Why are you asking about that all of a sudden? Are you feeling sentimental because it’s dawn?”

“No, just… isn’t it something worth thinking about at least once in a while? What’s the point of living without such ponderings?”

“Dude… have you improved your Korean a lot while I wasn’t looking? You can write and everything.”

“You’re welcome, you kimchi moron. Anyway, just answer the question. I’m bored.”

“Religion is just religion, you know?”

In the cold Middle Eastern night, heavy air weighed down on the Iranian Samand.

The car developed in Iran, a major Shiite power standing against the Sunni powerhouse of Saudi Arabia, occupies a significant influence over the Crescent Belt (an area stretching from Iran to Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon).

The Israeli man gripping the steering wheel stared blankly at the night view of Tehran reflected in the window.

“Did you know? There are Muslims coming to Jerusalem for pilgrimage.”

“I know. Jerusalem is a holy place for Islam. Al-Aqsa is there, right?”

“When I first came to Israel with my mother, the first place I went was Jerusalem. There I met a Muslim for the first time in my life.”

“And?”

“But the acquaintances of my mother who were natives of Jerusalem said this: ‘All Muslims who come to Jerusalem are terrorists.’ They even told me not to talk to them.”

“Guess they’re sensitive about religion.”

The Jewish man leaned his arm against the window frame with a smirk.

“Isn’t it funny?”

“What’s funny?”

“Back when Hitler was alive, those guys wouldn’t have even been able to come to Jerusalem, let alone be pulled to concentration camps. Yet they’ve fought wars to claim Jerusalem, four times even.”

“And?”

“But now they slap ‘reconciliation’ and all kinds of good words on it while dropping bombs over Palestinians and letting Muslim kids brawl it out. Isn’t that weird? In the end, without religion, we’re all the same people.”

“…….”

“Why does religion even exist? If it didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing this in Tehran.”

Silence enveloped the interior of the Samand as a radio crackle breaks through.

A signal from Deputy Seo coming from the tool kit at my feet. I took out the radio and placed it in the glove box, then handed the Iraqi pistol I had pulled from the tool kit to the Mossad officer.

“Vehicle identified. It’s three blocks away, moving in its usual manner, so it should pass by here.”

“Is there a passenger?”

“Just the driver and a bodyguard. They belong to the Revolutionary Guards. And don’t forget.”

I put my hand on the door handle and warned,

“Take out the two non-targets quickly and grab only the target. If possible, also extract any info inside the vehicle. Without that, both your company and ours are done for. I might get away, but if you end up in an Iranian prison, you’ll definitely die. Or become a complete idiot.”

“…….”

“Stop overthinking and focus. We need to grab it before the Rev Guard guys close in.”

“…Got it.”

The door swings open.

“Let’s get to work.”

—

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

My adventurous infiltration into the Cathedral of Tranquille to meet Lucia ended rather anticlimactically.

Hiding from the gaze of the priest and the monk, I slipped back into the reception room, where I was repeatedly bombarded with questions by Camila while stuffing myself into the magical tool.

“What happened?”

“…….”

“Oh come on, I went through all the trouble to get here; you could at least share something, right?”

Despite Camila’s relentless prompting, I struggled to speak.

It was no surprise, considering Lucia had had a confrontation with the Pope, ultimately calling John XVI an old man to his face, creating a rift between them, and how could I possibly convey such news?

Though I wished to keep it a secret, I was forced to disclose the truth since Lucia had asked for help under the pretense of supporting me.

“Nothing significant happened. That’s really it, Colonel?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”

The cult’s saint, Veronica, looked utterly bewildered.

“My sister argued over religious matters with that old man? An 80-year-old who’s supposed to be dying stormed out like a child because of a remark that confession was useless?”

“Lucia said it herself. Didn’t seem to have any signs of lying.”

“Wow…”

Dressed in symbolic pure white garb and red shoes, she sat on the sofa, listening to the situation, and suddenly muttered,

“Of all the times, why call our sister to discuss such a stinky topic? Shouldn’t he be sipping tea with other retired codgers? Is it finally his time to kick the bucket…?”

Veronica wore a look of complete incomprehension.

She resembled a kindergarten child receiving ginseng candy from her grandfather, and I, fatigued, responded dismissively.

“Maybe the Pope was just bored.”

“No way!”

Veronica began banging her chest, seething with anger.

Her ire was directed at the sitting Pope, John XVI, about to retire.

“If he’s bored, he should go for a stroll or something! Why’s he poking around at Lucia, who’s growing up? There’s supposed to be a canonization ceremony coming up—what if he passes his old stench onto her?!”

“…What on earth is going through your mind to say such things?”

I glared at her in disbelief, but Veronica simply avoided my gaze with shameless defiance.

Has Lucia changed because she’s been around people like this since childhood? It seems there’s some truth in the saying that environment matters.

Anyway, my and Veronica’s worries turned out to be for nothing.

I couldn’t comprehend how a disagreement over such a trivial topic could have strained their feelings. Not that I had any emotional stake as a non-religious person.

It didn’t seem to be anything serious, so I decided to not think about it.

“Still, I’m relieved it isn’t as bad as we feared.”

“I mean, it’s a relief like you said, but… I still wonder why the Pope asked Lucia such a question.”

“Well… true, but nothing really happened, right? Let’s look on the bright side.”

I shrugged in response.

“Isn’t ‘good makes good’ the motto?”

—

The political rivalry between Lucia and the Pope concluded as a strange incident stemming from a minor misunderstanding.

Perhaps due to stress from exhaustion, I fell into a deep sleep almost immediately upon entering the hotel.

After a good long inhale, I woke to several noticeable changes.

“How have you been, Frederick?”

First off, Lucia resumed her external activities.

After a big debate with the Pope and entering seclusion, she emerged into the world again in less than a day.

“It’s been a while, Lucia.”

“Glad to see you again.”

Though we had already met in the Cathedral, thankfully, Lucia treated me as if we were seeing each other for the first time in two weeks.

Breaking her seclusion, Lucia began her usual routine of meeting people and handling various tasks.

Amid the turmoil in my heart, she remained as diligent as ever, not neglecting any details about the preparations for the canonization, even when she had been in seclusion.

The bishops and cardinals were all praise for Lucia’s diligent demeanor, a total contrast to the playful Veronica.

Of course,

“How is Saint Lucia so remarkably diligent?”

“She’s got it in her blood.”

“But I’ve heard rumors saying there was some awkward uproar between the Pope and the Saint… Is the Colonel aware of anything?”

“I’m not well-versed in the details of the cult, so I can’t say much about the veracity of such news.”

Most of them appeared only curious to get to the bottom of the scandal about the saint and the Pope having a confrontation.

I took the news of Lucia’s visit as an opportunity to engage with the political figures of the cult who had come to the hotel, methodically gathering their information.

Yet the changes didn’t stop there.

[…A ship with a green flag docks at the cult’s holy site, the Lateran Bay. The Crown Prince Hashem from the Mauritania Continent warmly welcomes the Bishop of the cult.]

[…Prime Minister Asud is set to meet with Cardinal Raphael, who has been selected as the successor to John XVI on the 22nd. After having purged the royal family members via a coup, Prime Minister Asud…]

[Amid the unstable political situation in the Mauritania Continent affecting the global magical stone market and international affairs, foreign ministers from the Mauritania Continent are gathering at the Lateran. We’ll now connect with reporters on the scene.]

Heads of governments and their accompanying delegations began arriving in droves at the cult.

Considering that the canonization ceremony is three days away, it was clearly a politically motivated move.

-‘I heard sand people are sniffing around the cult.’

“Yes, I confirmed it, Director.”

-‘I ordered the staff at the embassy to figure out their motives, so you stick close to the hero.’

Unlike the continent that poses no significant risk, the Mauritania Continent has been shaken by an unstable security situation, causing rapid changes in the political climate.

Thus, those humans who took the time to visit a cult with differing state religion can be accurately divided into two categories.

Strategists who scheme amidst the chaos, contemplating the distant future.

Or, somewhat akin to refugees, there are those who grasp at straws in a desperate attempt to escape their harsh reality.

Regardless of which group they belong to, they are not particularly welcoming encounters. Leoni pointed this out sharply.

-“While there are those noblemen who seem completely oblivious, be cautious of those scheming nefarious plots. There are wicked individuals who would seize a tiny slice of land, trampling over numerous villages for their gains. If anyone pulls any foolish stunts…”

“I’ll report it right away.”

-“It’s good to see you’re quick on your feet.”

I was tasked with controlling the surroundings to prevent the leeches from the desert from latching onto Camila.

Since this was a common occurrence, it wasn’t particularly novel, and given that those fresh arrivals to the cult had very few choices, it wasn’t too difficult of a task.

What truly vexed me was neither the political schemers of the cult nor those from the Mauritania Continent.

“Wow! Look at this!”

What caught my attention was the girl with red hair from England.

It was Camila.

“It’s a glow-in-the-dark dragon!”

Having found her way to the hotel room, Camila raised her hands high and let out a joyful shout. In her gently clasped palm sat a tiny dragon.

When the lights were turned off, the dragon began to glow with a fluorescent hue. Its sculpted scales sparkled faintly in the dark as it twisted and emitted peculiar cries.

“Where on earth did you get that?”

“I bumped into some people who introduced themselves as diplomats on my way to the hotel, and they just insisted I take it as a gift! They said it’s an artificial dragon crafted with great care by the royal family’s personal magician! They promised to show me a real dragon if I visit their kingdom.”

“Those rascals… Camila, do you remember their faces?”

“They were pretty nondescript, and their names were complicated, so I got their business cards. If you’re thinking of doing a background check, here you go.”

Like a bouncy ball that could go anywhere, Camila created commotions wherever she went.

Despite having assigned several guards to her with the help of the Inquisition, foreign diplomats would pop up out of nowhere at just the right moments to cling to her.

Fortunately, Camila memorized all their details and reported back to me. For particularly hard-to-remember figures or anyone suspicious (possibly information agents), she even managed to bring back their business cards.

“That’s so cute!”

Camila was buried under a mountain of gifts and marveled at the glow-in-the-dark dragon (a moving sculpture) she received, while I shot her a disapproving glance.

“At your age, do you really want to be playing with such childish toys?”

“Why not! It’s super fascinating!”

“Oh dear…”

“Come on, crawl under the blanket with me. The sensation is completely different when you watch it in the dark versus under the covers, you know?”

You should pay more attention to yourself.

*

The storm of change that swept through was turning my surroundings into utter chaos.

Lucia, the star of the canonization ceremony, was bustling around to prepare for the event, while Veronica, another saint experienced in such ceremonies, spared no advice in making her younger sister’s fleeting moment shine even brighter.

Seeing the typically carefree Veronica taking charge was enough to raise doubts about whether she was the same Veronica I knew at all.

“They say when a person suddenly changes, something is definitely off. I can’t help but worry that Veronica might end up in a real jam.”

“Hmm…”

Leaning against the bed’s headboard, Francesca let out a strange hum while smiling.

“Why do you think that, Colonel? People can change, you know.”

“From my experience, once a person shows their true colors, it’s impossible to reforge them.”

“Your assessment of your sister is rather harsh.”

“Who do you think is to blame for that?”

Amid the winds of change brought by the ceremony preparations and the influx of distinguished guests from various nations, Francesca smiled with a poised air, like someone watching a match from the stands.

While the storm of change wreaked havoc around me, the true tempest hadn’t even arrived yet.

“Oh dear…”

I tossed a document onto the side next to her. It was the report from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Magic Tower that I had just been reading.

“There doesn’t seem to be anyone from the Magic Tower participating in this canonization ceremony. No one is coming to represent the tower at the cult.”

The canonization ceremony of a saint, usually regarded as a once-in-a-lifetime honor, draws the attention of the entire world, but the Magic Tower was stepping back from this festive atmosphere.

“It seems like their internal issues are still unresolved, huh?”

“With a necromancer appearing, it probably won’t be resolved easily.”

The demonic crisis that erupted in the northern conflict area.

The five necromancers represented by Juan Pablo Martinez were revealed to be the instigators and perpetrators of that massive incident.

The Magic Tower’s public security, upon receiving Francesca’s report, commenced their investigation. After going through several verification processes, they acknowledged that there had been necromancers within the Magic Tower.

The issue lies in the fact that these necromancers weren’t just ordinary mages affiliated with the Magic Tower, but staff members of the Secretariat, which leads directly to the heart of the tower.

Although the public remains unaware of the incident, it’s only a matter of time before the truth hits the news. Lucia is a colleague of Francesca and one of the five people who defeated the demon, yet she is also a direct victim of the demonic incident.

In such a situation, should the Magic Tower participate in Lucia’s canonization ceremony, it would spark significant political and diplomatic controversy.

“If the Magic Tower sends diplomats in this current climate, it would be like they’re asking to be called shameless, as if they have a face that’s thick as steel.”

“Right.”

While it was the necromancers who summoned the demons, the Magic Tower couldn’t plead innocence here. After all, it was the Magic Tower’s government that sent the necromancers to the empire.

The Magic Tower failed to vet candidates for the delegation and couldn’t prevent the infiltration of necromancers into the Secretariat. While the necromancers may be at fault, from another perspective, the Magic Tower’s failure to maintain internal control also contributed directly and indirectly to the current crisis.

In this situation, how could the Magic Tower possibly send representatives to Lucia’s canonization ceremony? When the truth comes to light, it’s certain they’d be twice as reviled.

But the Magic Tower wasn’t the only one caught in a tight spot.

I supported my head with my hands and leaned back.

“But if that’s the case, wouldn’t it put you in a difficult position too?”

“…….”

“You led the Magic Tower delegation, after all. You’re also the top official in the Secretariat.”

Francesca represented the Magic Tower in the northern conflict. Her official title was Head of the Magic Tower Delegation, and she directed the majority of Magic Tower personnel, except for the Magic Battalion.

Moreover, the necromancers also operated under Francesca’s command.

If the Magic Tower had sent a delegation to the canonization ceremony, the arrows of blame would have most likely aimed at the Magic Tower rather than Francesca. The biggest targets always take the brunt of the fire, and besides, Francesca had been performing her duties faithfully under the Oracle’s directives.

However, now that the Magic Tower isn’t sending anyone, if the reality of the demonic crisis were to be revealed to the public, it would undoubtedly draw attention onto Francesca. Naturally, she would end up becoming the scapegoat.

After all, her colleague, Lucia, could potentially be killed, and yet she shamelessly attended the canonization ceremony.

It’s a sensational story, and the material couldn’t be better for a newspaper article.

What matters is preventing such a scenario from occurring in the first place.

Moreover, it’s worth noting that Francesca is more than capable of anticipating the ripples that would follow.

“Time to start polishing your show, I suppose.”

I said to Francesca.

“Given your personality, you surely have a way to manage this situation. Isn’t it time to let me in on your scheme?”

“…….”

Francesca leaned against the head of the bed and suddenly gazed out the window.

An owl landed gently on the terrace illuminated by the bright moonlight, having flown in from somewhere.

Staring intently at the suddenly appearance of the owl, Francesca rolled her eyes until they met mine.

With a faint smile on her lips, she replied,

“Thanks for your concern, Colonel.”

“Yes.”

“The problem seems to have already been resolved, doesn’t it?”

*

A general in a crisp white naval uniform stood at attention and opened his mouth.

“We will arrive shortly.”

The general spoke politely.

As he said this, an elderly admiral nodded from a massive silk chair adorned with golden embroidery.

“Have they already arrived?”

“Indeed.”

A book that had been floating in the air softly folded itself and came to rest on the table. Without lifting a finger, the woman who organized the book turned her gaze towards the window.

The glass window of an airship filled one wall with its view.

Waves of radiant light trickled through the gray clouds, flowing like a panorama.

Her brilliant sapphire-like blue eyes shimmered through the grayish glass.

“…Lateran. I don’t recall it thriving like this in the past.”

The high-ranking duke, with his mystically flowing silver hair, mumbled as he brushed it back.

“I’m visiting after a hundred years.”

 

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