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In a certain country on the Mauritania Continent, the capital.

A black sedan emerges from the embassy building. The vehicle, adorned with the flag of the Kingdom of Abas and the country’s flag, is undoubtedly a diplomat’s car.

In the back seat behind the passenger side.

A man, dressed in a green uniform, murmured into the phone.

“…Yes. I have confirmed the orders. I will mobilize branch personnel for necessary support in case of emergency. Yes. Understood. Please come in, Director Leoni.”

Carefully placing the phone down, the officer pushed his hair back after removing his cap.

Although it has been several years since he was promoted to Colonel, he still couldn’t adapt to receiving calls from superiors.

After catching his breath, the branch chief spoke to the advisor who was holding the steering wheel.

“Hey. How much operational budget do we have left in our department?”

“Are you referring to the special activity funds?”

The advisor’s gaze subtly shifted to the side. Next to the military intelligence branch chief sat a bag stuffed with bundles of cash.

It was a bribe meant for the counterintelligence agency officials. After calculating, the advisor opened his mouth.

“Excluding the budget we’ve set aside for the Commander, the remaining amount is around 300,000 shillings.”

“Really? Just take out 100,000 shillings and put it into the account I told you.”

“Is there something going on?”

Instead of answering immediately, the officer suddenly turned his head.

“Someone from the home country has arrived.”

“An employee? But why suddenly in this backwater….”

“No idea.”

The branch chief let out a light sigh and gazed out the window.

“They won’t say anything from above. What operation it is, who has come, nothing.”

“…….”

Seeing the complicated expression sweeping across his face, the advisor wisely kept silent. The local dialect pouring out of the radio was tough to understand, and the black sedan halted right in the middle of the road.

After quickly assessing the situation on the road, the branch chief clicked his tongue lightly. What kind of work environment was this where people ambled about on a road buzzing with cars?

Children darting around the road and vendors banging on the windows, begging to sell something. The sight left the branch chief utterly flabbergasted.

“What the hell is this town? Why are people wandering in the middle of the road? The General is out here shamelessly asking for bribes… and on top of that, he’s stacking up bigger bills than my salary. For crying out loud…”

It was the same muttering about his usual hardships.

Looks like the branch chief is sulking again. The information officer, who had been smiling softly, dodged the pedestrians that appeared in front of the car while chatting cheerfully.

“Sunny days will return. Still, you’ll get a good posting next time, right?”

“Shut it. Just clear the road. That guy flips out if he’s late for an appointment.”

“Yes, sir.”

The black sedan gracefully entered the counterintelligence agency headquarters after escaping the crowded road.

Seeing the Commander approach with a big grin, the branch chief let out a sigh mixed with complaint.

“Whatever’s going on, let’s hope it’s nothing serious…”

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

Back at the lodging, I placed the printed paper on the table.

“What’s this paper?”

“It’s the operation order.”

Camila scanned the document prepared by the military intelligence agency with a dazed expression. I pulled a chair and began to speak.

“My mission has two parts. One is to secure and protect you, Camila. The other is to make contact with the warlord leader here.”

Her blue eyes followed my finger pointing at the direction. On the screen of the device glowed the visage of an exotic-looking person.

“The ultimate goal of the operation isn’t to meet that guy. The contact is simply a preparatory step for the next operation.”

“…What kind of operation is it?”

“Operations in civil war zones are all pretty much the same, aren’t they?”

There was no need for Camila to worry about that just yet. The whole talk about proceeding to the next operation was only when I successfully made contact with the warlord leader.

“But right now isn’t the time to concern ourselves with that,” I said as I organized the equipment and slowly got up.

As I prepared to go out with my coat on, Camila began gathering her things and approaching me.

“Where are you going?”

“Come with me.”

I opened the front door and nodded.

“We need to prepare before heading out to the field.”

*

In the information agency, the concepts of a superior and a junior officer also exist.

Hundreds of new recruits are hired every year through various routes, and they undergo training before being assigned to different operational departments.

The person who trains these rookie information agents entering the field is the senior information officer.

Thus,

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Camila’s training naturally became my responsibility.

“As for the Mauritania Continent, I haven’t been there either, but if you think about it, it’s not much different from the Middle East or Africa. Just listen carefully to what I teach you, and follow along.”

I stretched out my splayed fingers toward Camila.

And gently emphasized, just like a teacher scolding a child.

“I mentioned something important earlier. What was it?”

Camila confidently responded.

“Safety!”

What kind of places are the Middle East and Africa?

Everywhere is a complete mess.

Security is a disaster. Infrastructure is broken. Civic consciousness is something you can hardly even hope for.

And the areas we’re about to visit are particularly selected from among the worst of the worst.

Thanks to that, Camila had to hear the safety guidelines drilled into her head repeatedly.

Even if she didn’t want to listen, I would make sure it was stuck in her brain. Fortunately, Camila didn’t lose interest and followed my story.

“If you’ve lived in a war zone, you’ll know how harsh things can be. Safety is important.”

“First safety, second safety, third safety?”

“You got it.”

As soon as I opened the door, I was greeted with a sweltering climate. Watching the dry, sandy wind swirl and the sun scorching my skin, I suddenly missed the humidifier and air conditioner.

Once we stepped out of the lodging, we began to wander the streets.

“Hm.”

I placed my hands on my hips and surveyed the street.

On the road divided into sidewalks and lanes, pedestrians and vehicles intermingle, creating a heart-stopping collaboration of jaywalking and signal violations.

Street vendors shaking their goods while darting between stalled lanes. Children following adults who chuckle amongst themselves, bag slung carelessly over their shoulders. Police sprawled in the shade, blissfully sleeping.

The air, mingled with the scent of spices and grains of sand, prickled at my lungs, and feeling the fishy aroma wafting from somewhere, I finally realized.

“Hmm.”

I’m back.

To this damn place.

“Camila.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Shouldn’t we just turn back?”

“Eh…!?”

Camila’s eyes widened in shock, and she jumped.

“No, I just want to go home already…”

I groaned, pleading with Camila.

Having witnessed the dire state of civic consciousness as it descended into the basement, memories of the rough times I rolled through in Africa and the Middle East resurfaced.

“Back in the day, I learned French, you know? I was told I’d be sent to a location where I could use the self-taught French I learned at work, so I was all excited thinking I’d be going to Paris.”

“And?”

“But damn, when I got off the plane, it wasn’t Charles de Gaulle Airport but smack in the middle of Algeria.”

The feeling of betrayal back then was indescribable.

Somehow, my senior who was on the trip with me stuffed his suitcase with kimchi and ramen. I wondered why he packed so much food when there are so many Korean restaurants in Paris, but damn.

And, regrettably, my current situation mirrored that trip to Algeria.

“Back then, I went on a business trip with my senior, and we went through all that hardship, but this time I’m on a trip with just you.”

“Hehe.”

Anyway.

While Camila might be a magician who could handle herself, I had to protect her from being put in a dangerous situation.

So, I began to educate her about the Mauritania Continent.

“As mentioned earlier, Mauritania is similar to the Middle East and Africa. The climate is comparable, the security is too, and the food is similar as well.”

The problem is that not only the good points but the bad points are similar too.

“You know the situation here isn’t good, right?”

“I learned about it while researching the data.”

“Want to try explaining it?”

“Hmm! First off, let’s start with security….”

Camila slowly closed her eyes and waved her fingers.

“The level of security on the Mauritania Continent varies by country and region, but compared to other continents, it’s incredibly dangerous. To put it metaphorically, getting pickpocketed is treated as though you’ve just had a bad stroke of luck. Right?”

An accurate analogy.

It’s unstable.

Law enforcement is a symbol of Africa, the Middle East, and the Mauritania Continent.

In a neighborhood like this, if you get pickpocketed in broad daylight, you won’t get an investigation; instead, the police will tell you to “just think of it as an unlucky day.”

I provided a few examples.

“I once got pickpocketed three times when I was dispatched to Morocco. On the same day, I had money hidden in the same spot stolen. So I complained to my senior, and you know what they did?”

“What did they do?”

“They gave me a bag with a heavy lock.”

For reference, that bag was something my senior bought after getting robbed.

“Once, I even caught a pickpocket at the scene. I was coming back from lunch with my junior when some punk snatched my smartphone.”

“Your personal mobile phone?”

“It wasn’t mine. It was a work phone they gave me for the trip, but still. I chased after him for 20 minutes and finally caught him.”

Camila crossed her arms with interest.

“Oh, if you caught him, you must have gotten your smartphone back?”

“I did. And I gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

“What do you mean by that?”

I showed my palm to Camila, tapping my index and middle fingers before making a strong backward gesture.

Her blue eyes, previously filled with interest, widened like a full moon.

“Wait, wait a minute. You don’t mean you broke his fingers, do you?”

“I did. You got it right.”

“…What?!”

Not just any simple break; I aimed to cripple him completely.

“Are you seriously saying this? You should have turned him over to the police!”

“Those criminals operate in organized groups. This is a rural area far from the city, and it takes the police at least two hours to arrive. By the time they get here, you’ll likely run into the pickpocket gang first, so who has time to wait?”

If things went south, they could stab you and run away, but simple assault and murder are different crimes. When a murder occurs, police investigations begin, so it’s best to avoid killing when possible during operations.

“I had no choice; that smartphone contained company data. They said they wouldn’t return it even for money.”

“Weren’t you scolded?”

“A little? I was lectured about causing unnecessary trouble. But I’m a decent guy. My seniors had way more spectacular experiences.”

“Like what?”

“There was a time I heard gunshots outside the dorm early in the morning, and when I went out, there were people lying on the driver’s seat and backseat shot to bits, and once, I was threatened with murder just for complimenting an Arab guy on how pretty my sister was….”

If my memory serves me right, the local militia handled the corpses and the scene cleanup. The corrupt local police probably didn’t even bother to show up after accepting bribes.

It was a dispute between cartels, after all.

For the record, Muslims don’t like it when you compliment their family. To be precise, if a foreign man compliments a woman like a wife, sister, or daughter, it’s seen as a huge insult.

There have been numerous cases where an information officer (usually from a culture unfamiliar with Middle Eastern customs) unknowingly praised someone and ended up getting threatened with murder. Some even got stabbed.

I shared 101 situations I nearly found myself in abroad with Camila, concerned that her curiosity might lead her to trouble and someone might stab her, so I used my examples as warnings.

“Hmm….”

Though the stories were uncomfortable, Camila listened attentively. Her focused expression resembled a model student eagerly absorbing a professor’s lecture.

Suddenly, with a serious look, Camila asked a question.

“By the way, did you experience all of that yourself?”

I froze for a moment.

My shoulders tensed, but thankfully it seemed I hadn’t been caught. Camila rested her finger on her chin, lost in thought.

I hurriedly denied it, fearing a delayed response might raise suspicion.

“No, I said it was stories I heard from my seniors.”

“You’ve been talking as if it’s your personal experience from the beginning, though?”

“How would you know, Camila?”

At that, Camila looked up gently and smiled brightly.

“I got one right about you being from Earth, so I can totally guess this one too!”

“…….”

“So what’s the answer? Did you really experience it?”

“N-no, I didn’t.”

“Come on, don’t lie, just tell me the truth! I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Her ability to read between the lines was remarkable.

I shook my head and entered a traditional tea house in the Mauritania Continent.

*

Camila seemed eager to shift to a different topic, but I emphasized safety so many times it never felt sufficient. Plus, this area is in a war zone.

So, I devoted an entire day to educating her about safety.

What behaviors to avoid, and which are acceptable.

Expressions to be cautious with and those that might be advantageous.

How to eat and bathe securely.

And how to cope if things go wrong.

“When visiting a local’s home as a guest, it’s polite to only take a sip of the tea the host offers. Refusing it is considered an insult.”

“Be careful about actions or words that disgrace someone’s honor. Undermining someone’s honor is something only enemies do here. Complimenting someone as very honorable, on the other hand, will make them so happy they won’t know what to do with themselves. A few compliments will make it easier to forge friendships.”

“In the Mauritania Continent, it’s best to buy bottled water. You can’t trust the tap water here. As a backup, you can collect rainwater or draw from a well to boil, filter, and use… But you’ll find out first-hand that it won’t even be enough for bathing.”

“Much like in the Middle East, there’s also a culture of bribery here. Even for trivial matters, you’ll need bribes, so carry cash. You don’t have to pay in cash necessarily, but they generally prefer cash. With about $2,000, you could bribe a couple of unit commanders.”

“…What if they don’t take bribes? I can assure you, there’s no one like that. I spent more than half my time in Africa and the Middle East during my service, and I can count on one hand the number of people who refused bribes. For reference, those who refused them didn’t decline; I simply didn’t offer.”

Thinking of this brought back memories.

When Camila asked me in the Magic Tower to teach her about spycraft, I taught her in a similar manner.

Perhaps I wasn’t the only one thinking this, as Camila, sipping the tea we ordered, suddenly looked at the sunset.

“It’s quite similar to back then.”

“Are you thinking of the Magic Tower?”

“Yes. We traveled like this together then, too.”

Those were good times.

The food was delicious, and the climate was pleasant. I chuckled softly while picking up a sugar cube.

“It’s already been a year. It was nice back then.”

I savored a sip, letting the sugar neutralize the bitterness.

The original plan was to send Camila back to the Empire by the day after tomorrow, but somehow we ended up on a business trip together in the region.

“For now, I’ll report that I couldn’t find you in the capital.”

“Is that really okay?”

“I don’t know.”

With a false report and violations of internal regulations, I could face severe punishment. But even if I got penalized, would I really lose my job at the company?

Now, I’m uncertain about my fate. Whatever will be, will be.

“As long as we don’t get caught, it’ll be fine. As long as we don’t get caught.”

I muttered assurances, whether to alleviate Camila’s worries or for my own comfort.

“I need to start moving from tomorrow evening, so begin packing your things too. And make sure you prepare properly, not just with snacks.”

“Eh….”

I left a tip on the empty tea cup and exited the shop.

The desert night was uncomfortably cool compared to the day. Pulling my collar closer, I handed the keys to Camila in a nearby alley by our lodging.

“Go in first and lock the door well. I have something else to take care of.”

“Where are you going again?”

Well, who knows?

I hesitated briefly before answering.

“I’m going shopping.”

And added briefly.

“To the black market.”

 

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