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Camila Lowell is a troublemaker.

Although she attends a prestigious global university, intelligence and character aren’t always related, and one of the brightest minds in England, Camila, was always at the center of chaos.

It’s not that I blame her.

What could one expect from a college student who was just preparing for graduation until yesterday?

Left all alone in a world she had never heard of, Camila was an outsider, a wanderer who had lost her destination.

If her only support was the romantic notion of spies in movies and her longing for the Information Agency, it made sense why she was peeking curiously into the world of intelligence despite being warned by life veterans not to get involved in company matters and to look for other jobs.

It was something I could understand. It was something I could empathize with.

So, I had never truly scolded Camila for her impulsive actions. I thought that the wanderings of an immature college student would eventually improve with time.

However, accidents always come without warning.

Life doesn’t go as expected.

“No, Camila, what nonsense is that?”

“Please take me with you…!”

“…Here we go again.”

When Camila started throwing a tantrum, I regretted leaving my bat at home.

And I meant it.

***

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

On the same day I successfully entered the country, I stopped by my accommodation to change clothes and headed to a nearby hotel café.

There, I was set to meet with Camila to check on her status, and if any inquiries popped up later, we could have our lines straightened out, which would mean our first operational goal was achieved.

In other words, it was a set-up for a cheating game.

Everything was going perfectly—at least until just now.

“Take me to the field?”

At Camila’s absurd first words, I hastily lowered my voice and pressed her.

“Camila, are you out of your mind? What nonsense is that?”

“Just as it sounds. Take me with you.”

This incident was a cheating game that Camila and I had set up.

If she were to leave the country without permission, I would be dispatched to catch her in the Mauritania Continent. I cannot underestimate the threat posed by Camila, who alone could project military-grade firepower. Her safety was a priority for every information agency.

Intentional departure was essentially a pretext that would be hard for the higher-ups to refuse, so Camila had to return to the Kien Empire exactly three days after my arrival in the Mauritania Continent.

That was what we had agreed upon in advance.

The problem was,

“What if you stab me in the back?”

Camila betrayed me.

“You promised to quietly have fun and return in three days. How can you suddenly change your words?”

“No, I… At first, I intended to return peacefully…”

Camila, who had been twisting and turning, suddenly drooped her words.

Her attitude was reminiscent of a child loitering in front of a cart with a toy her parents warned her not to touch. Although instinct drove her to leap first, she seemed apprehensive about future consequences.

“I did…”

“……”

She glanced at me. For a moment, her blue eyes swept over my face.

Carefully gauging the atmosphere, Camila spoke up in a timid voice.

“Since I’ve come this far, I feel it would be a waste just to look around…”

“…So you want to follow me?”

Camila nodded her head.

I stared at her in silence.

“……”

As the silence dragged on, Camila, who was carefully observing me, tucked her neck in like a turtle, which was amusing but, given the circumstances, I couldn’t laugh.

Silence continued, and the sharp gaze pierced through the air. Unable to stand the awkwardness, she appeared to have made up her mind and cautiously leaned her head forward.

Then she chirped.

“Anyway, take me with you!”

“……”

Her relatively loud voice rang in my ears, amplifying the noise around us. But instead of surprise, anger surged inside me.

What are you getting loud about for doing nothing?

Still, I refrained from bursting out.

“Who’s making noise here—cough…!”

As I was about to let out my anger, I grabbed the back of my neck and slumped into my chair. My outfit had gone topsy-turvy, and my blood pressure had risen.

My blood vessels, clogged with nicotine, couldn’t withstand the sudden spike in blood pressure and declared a strike, leaving me awkwardly sprawled in my chair.

“Oh, what is going on all of a sudden? Calm down, calm down!”

“Damn it… do I look calm right now, ugh…!”

“Kyaaa!”

Struck at the center of the ruckus, unable to bear the eyes on me, I pointed at Camila with trembling legs.

“You, you. I’ll see you later…!”

***

Meeting an enemy and promising to get revenge in the future is a common media cliché.

Not taking revenge is a disgrace in any culture. The Italian vendetta, Albanian kanun, and the cultures of the Middle East that regard honor as life, and the Chinese that emphasize face.

Isn’t there also the proverb, “A gentleman’s revenge is not too late even after ten years”?

As the old proverb indicates, such cultures have deep-rooted customs that have existed since ancient times.

To give up on revenge is to no longer be a gentleman. People who only endure are often mocked as fools.

Thus, in cultures that value face and honor, revenge is not a choice but a necessity, and the customs of revenge appear in similar forms in modern 21st-century society.

Sometimes to the degree that they are willing to commit crimes that spill blood.

Of course, the current situation wasn’t that serious.

“Frederick! Someone stole all the snacks in my hotel room!”

“Oh, that was me.”

“Kyaaa!”

The next morning, Camila stormed in and complained that a thief had broken into her room overnight.

Of course, that thief was me.

Upon learning the truth, she slumped to the floor and wept.

“My cookies, my cookies…!”

It seemed she had piled snacks high around her room—maybe the local cuisine suited her palate quite a bit.

Curious about what she had been doing while I was away, I had received intel from the staff that “there’s a bizarre guest buying snacks in bulk,” so I slipped into the hotel during her absence and cleaned out her stash.

And this was the result.

“They were cookies I hadn’t even tasted… They’re things I can’t get in the Empire…! Kyaaa!”

Camila was wailing as if the world had collapsed around her. Her sobs were so mournful that one could mistake her for a dupe who had ruined her life through gambling.

“Th-this is a crime! Breaking and entering! Theft! Huh? Do you know this!?”

“Camila.”

I asked in a low voice.

“Where do I work?”

“At the Information Agency.”

“What’s your job?”

“I’m an information officer?”

“Right.”

I nodded.

Camila was correct. I was a spy.

“But is there a need to follow the law?”

“Huh…!”

Camila, still slumped on the floor, bawled her eyes out. As I packed my belongings and files, I spoke casually.

“But, seriously, why did you stack a tower of snack boxes? Is this a Christmas tree? When are you going to eat all that…?”

“I didn’t buy them to eat; I bought them as gifts!”

“Not even Santa, what gifts are you talking about? Cut the nonsense.”

As I disposed of her mountain of snacks, I fulfilled my small revenge against Camila.

I left her sobbing in her chair and savored a freshly brewed cup of tea.

“Hmm…”

It was just ordinary black tea, but today it smelled enticing.

Drinking tea brewed with heated sand sold at a street stall while gazing at the exotic view beyond the terrace.

Maybe it was because the scenery was nice.

It tasted quite good.

After completing my minor retaliation, I raised my teacup towards Camila.

“Stop crying and come join me for a drink.”

“Give my snacks back…!”

“Oh, I already threw them away.”

“Ughhh!”

***

With the pesky snacks all cleared away and having succeeded in a small revenge, I returned to my main work.

As I left my accommodation, I informed Leoni via a regular communications line that I had arrived at the Mauritania Continent.

Cargo delivery complete.

Safe transaction success.

The message with the 13-character code was sent to the Military Intelligence Agency’s communications department via a prepaid phone.

Having completed the communication report, it was time to dispose of the devices.

Considering the risk of my accommodation being discovered by eavesdropper units during communications, I made the first contact from outside. The problem was how to dispose of the communication device without professional equipment.

Surprisingly, it was an easy task.

“……”

I detached the magic battery and components from the prepaid phone.

The messages exchanged with the disguised office were recorded on an alchemical storage device, so I needed to break that first.

I smashed the storage device with my shoe into pieces and swept the shards into the drain with my foot. Then I casually disposed of the other components in distant drains.

I also checked if no traces were left while getting rid of the mobile phone.

“……”

I perused through the bustling market and commercial buildings, keeping an eye around. Sunglasses blocking the sunlight were fitting tools to hide my gaze.

Vehicles parked by the road and reflective mirrors were also good tools. The mirrors reflecting the scene of the street became another eye to reflect what was behind me without my notice.

I was surprised.

“Is it because it’s the capital?”

The security in this area, where warlords run rampant due to the civil war, was surprisingly decent. It seemed like the Government Army had a firm grip on the neighborhood, stabilizing the situation.

However, to start my “business,” I had to leave this place. The warlord-occupied regions were far from the capital, and I had to consider changing my accommodation if necessary.

After looking around for any conspicuous humans and confirming that I wasn’t being followed, I returned to my lodging.

And the moment I turned on the light…

“Yikes! You scared me.”

I was taken aback.

“…What are you doing here? Didn’t you go back to the hotel?”

“Go back? What would I do in my room?”

It was Camila.

She greeted me enthusiastically, waving her arms as soon as the door opened.

I clicked my tongue as I placed the lodging key and pocket knife on the table.

“What are you doing here without permission? This is my place.”

“But I’m an Information Agency person, you know?”

“You’re just an intern. What kind of intern thinks they can stroll in like this?”

The red-haired British girl was slumped on the sofa, her posture resembling that of a mollusk.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“Help? Why would I need your help? Unless you need my assistance, of course.”

“Hmph….”

“Just hurry up and get back to the Empire. If you’re not going to help, that is.”

“You just said there’s nothing to help with!”

“Exactly. So, go back.”

It would be alarming for any Information Officer to have a civilian suddenly drop by their accommodation, but I casually cleared away the drinks left behind by Camila. This wasn’t the first or second time she had barged into my place.

“Please tell me you didn’t go through my bag while I was gone?”

“Am I a thief? I didn’t touch a single hair, so you can put your worries to rest.”

Camila was like a street cat that sneaks under cars even after being told to leave, popping over frequently whenever she got the chance.

At first, I had warned her not to come over, but that was all in vain.

Now, it was too tiring to argue each time, so as long as she didn’t touch my belongings, I ignored whether she rummaged through the fridge or slept on the sofa.

“……”

I took out the Military Intelligence Agency terminal and began to review documents.

The advantage of being unofficially disguised was the lack of restrictions on my actions, but as a civilian, I inevitably had many disadvantages.

If I were officially disguised, I would receive accommodation and transportation from the embassy and could handle communication and work with headquarters, but that was not possible for unofficial disguises. Even the basics like communication, funding for activities, equipment distribution, and even securing accommodation and meals all had to be managed by myself.

Of course, there were advantages that outweighed those disadvantages.

I reviewed the operation order I had received from headquarters just before my departure.

“……”

As the bluish screen emitted light, a confidential document from the Military Intelligence Agency appeared in the center.

After printing the document, I pushed the brand-new paperwork aside for a moment and displayed a photograph on the screen.

“What are you doing?”

Just then, Camila, who had been wandering around the lodging, approached me while holding a water bottle. As she was about to chug water, she paused slightly, noticing something, then pointed at the screen with her head bowed.

“Who is this?”

“This is my target.”

I tapped the photo with my nail.

“He’s the leader of a warlord active in this neighborhood. The company wants me to make contact with him.”

“Are you going to recruit him?”

“Well, something like that.”

“What’s the reason?”

I smiled at Camila’s question.

“Why would I tell you that? It’s company business. Civilians should just keep their distance. Shoo!”

By the way, this document was classified as a second-level military secret belonging to Abas. While troops or higher command might handle second-class secrets, intelligence unit secrets are accessed even by generals only with permission.

Would I really show that to a civilian like Camila? I gestured for her to leave.

Just as I was about to return to my work after getting rid of the uninvited guest, Camila exclaimed.

“Oh? I’ve seen this before.”

She pointed at the document on the desk. As I hurried to hide it—because it was also confidential—Camila, with quick reflexes like a beastman, snatched the document away.

“Hey, you shouldn’t see that.”

“Just a moment…. Ah, right. I know this.”

“What strange thing are you suddenly saying….”

I checked the contents of the document Camila claimed to have seen.

It was a symbol.

“A warlord mark? This is a symbol used by warlords. You’ve actually seen this, Camila?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you see it?”

“Over there in the alley.”

Camila pointed towards the back of a building.

She calmly added, “I saw it while sightseeing in the city last time. It was quite close from here, and it was a bit special.”

“……”

“I’m serious, I really saw it!”

With her confident voice, I looked at the document again and asked Camila.

“Do you remember the location?”

*

Camila, having led the way out of the lodging, began to guide me. I grabbed a self-defense tool and stepped out into the street with her.

After about twenty minutes of walking, we arrived at the alley.

There, I confirmed what Camila claimed to have seen that was so special.

“…A mural?”

The artwork filling the alley was a mural, painted on the exterior walls of the buildings and the brick walls.

Graffiti might be easily seen in places like New York’s Harlem, but the works in this alley weren’t the filthy scribbles that hipsters enjoyed.

I stepped back to take in the whole mural and confirmed it.

“It’s propaganda.”

The drawings filling the exterior walls and the brick remained a blatant representation of the warlord’s propaganda. The chaotic combination of symbolic slogans and patterns was characteristic of that style.

At the moment I recognized the mural, Camila, who had been guiding me, tilted her head.

“Propaganda? How can you tell?”

“This resembles photos taken by veterans dispatched to the Third World starting in the ’90s. It was around the Middle East and Africa.”

“But I’ve never seen it.”

“That’s because it’s an old style.”

Propaganda in the format of graffiti on walls was once often used by rebels as a means of propaganda.

“These days, they just use signs for propaganda, but back then, it was all like this. Camila, haven’t you seen any signs set up by rebels during your medical work?”

“Yeah.”

“This is the prototype.”

“Propaganda from a warlord showing up in the capital’s back alleys. That’s not a good sign.”

Camila mumbled as she looked at the warlord’s propaganda.

I took out my camera lens to capture the scene. Camila wandered around to avoid interrupting my shot.

While the warlord’s propaganda might be a novel experience for her, it didn’t seem to excite her particularly. Kicking small stones on the ground, she eventually turned to me, unable to suppress her boredom.

“…I get why you tossed the snacks, but seriously, do I have to go back to the Empire?”

“Are you planning to stay here forever?”

Camila silently nodded her head.

“After seeing this?”

“Well, didn’t Africa have armed groups?”

“Is that even a valid statement? No, sigh….”

I continued my recording with the lens, feeling nonchalant.

The identity of the warlord conducting this propaganda, the slogans they promoted, and the propaganda materials scattered on the street. It was actually quite common for warlords to propagate in an area held by the Government Army.

Since the target was indeed the warlord’s propaganda, there was a plethora of evidence I needed to collect.

While I was wandering about holding the recording equipment, I heard a rustling sound below my feet. I bent down and picked up a piece of propaganda.

“…….”

Just then, Camila approached me, walking briskly, and began to whisper.

“How about this? I promise not to do anything dangerous, but could you just take me with you once? I really can stay still, I swear.”

“…….”

“Or if you run into danger, I could help too. Just like how Frodo had Gandalf with him. Who knows? A magician’s help might come in handy.”

“…Camila.”

“What?”

“Do you really want to come along?”

Camila nodded vigorously.

“I’m sure I won’t regret it!”

“…Alright.”

I handed the propaganda material to Camila.

The content was simple: recruitment.

It promised appropriate compensation for anyone willing to fight, inviting them to join the warlord. If they had skills, all the better.

For example, like a magician or a shaman.

“Camila.”

I slipped my hands into my pockets and turned to face Camila.

“Let’s do one job together.”

 

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