---

“Don’t you need a shaman?”

This was the sudden proposal from the shaman who appeared out of nowhere from the Mauritania Continent.

“A shaman?”

I tilted my head in confusion.

The woman spoke.

“I’m the shaman, you see. Employed by Hassan.”

Hearing her words, I slowly took in her features, finally realizing her identity. She was the same woman who brewed coffee behind Nayan Al Bas when I first met him. Back then, her face had been obscured by a cloak, but now, recognizing her nose and lips jogged my memory.

“Oh, you were the one next to the chief of the Al Bas Tribe back then?”

“You remember me!”

“I enjoyed the coffee, thanks to you. It was delightful.”

The shaman waved her hands dismissively, rejecting the praise. I smiled lightly and began to ponder.

What could be the reason the shaman approached me now?

I anticipated two major possibilities.

First,

The shaman was simply intrigued by a foreigner and decided to come over.

Second,

“Can we talk for a moment?”

She might have been sent by someone.

—-

Episode 16 – The Six-Million Dollar Man

The shaman from the Hassan Warlord guided me to a nearby café. It was a common café selling traditional snacks of the Mauritania Continent.

The aroma of rich tea leaves filled the air, and I took a whiff of the unknown tea.

“You have something to say to me?”

“Yes.”

The shaman flashed a bright smile.

“Actually, I have a proposal for you.”

“Me?”

Her head, hidden beneath the robe, nodded as she spoke.

A shaman’s proposal—it was something I could roughly guess the intent of, but I was curious nonetheless. This was my first time conversing with a shaman, and more importantly, the person approaching me was affiliated with a warlord.

In this land, magicians and shamans could be broadly divided into two categories.

One side comprised those who had secured employment due to innate talent and remarkable achievements. Typically, this included people who found jobs in foreign corporations or large enterprises.

Some among them even migrated abroad, but given that the Mauritania Continent is known as the birthplace of primitive sorcery, and home to the Ivory Tower, many magicians and shamans entered there.

On the other hand, some knocked on doors outside of corporations—government armies, warlords, and crime groups. Those without meaningful connections or lacking the skills to emigrate typically opted for this route.

Of course, just joining the government army or being part of a warlord doesn’t mean life is gutter-bound. Unlike advanced countries that systematically train combat magicians, the Mauritania Continent’s military brings even mediocre magicians and shamans in with open arms.

These individuals especially often joined warlords or criminal organizations. Some built reputations there, eventually transitioning to security companies that catered to foreign dispatched units, or catering to wealthy clients. Society referred to them as mercenaries, security contractors, freelancers, or adventurers.

The shaman who approached me clearly belonged to the latter group, as she was employed by the Al Bas Tribe, a subordinate tribe of the Hassan Warlord.

So it was obvious why such a shaman would seek out a war correspondent.

“Don’t you need protection?”

The shaman confidently presented her offer. Basically, she was asking if I would hire her as a bodyguard.

“Protection? Hmm….”

I pondered while tasting the tea. What was her real reason for approaching me?

“What’s with the sudden proposal?”

“Because of money.”

The shaman introduced herself to the foreign reporter.

“My name is Fatima. I’ve been working as a shaman for Hassan for four years now. I mainly assist the Al Bas Tribe but help with Hassan’s matters too.”

Fatima. That’s how she introduced herself, and she began to lay out her circumstances.

It was a scenario I expected from her mouth.

“Hassan hired me, but the pay isn’t great. The treatment is the same.”

“Do you think you’re being unfairly compensated?”

“Not unfair exactly. More like a little disappointing?”

The shaman expressed her discontent about the salary and treatment she received from the Hassan Warlord.

“Here, unverified magicians and shamans receive an average monthly income of 1.8 million. I’m getting 2 million from Hassan.”

1.8 million. I quickly calculated it in my head.

In the country where I currently reside, ordinary workers earn around 200,000 a month. That means the average monthly income for workers is just that.

Workers in border areas, where jobs are plentiful, make three times that, about 600,000. Meanwhile, the monthly salary for novice magicians and shamans within a warlord situation is considerably high at 1.8 million.

So, if a magician stays with a warlord for just two months, they could earn more than what a laborer makes in a year.

Of course, compared to the salaries of magicians in developed countries like the Kien Empire or the Kingdom of Abas, these amounts are ridiculously small.

In terms of exchange rates, warlord magicians would earn far less than my sister Ayla, who is working for a trading company. It’s likely that after six months of work, Ayla would have accumulated several years’ worth of a warlord magician’s salary in her bank account.

I set my teacup down and slowly opened my mouth.

“You’re saying you earn three times more than a border worker, yet that’s still not enough?”

“It’s definitely insufficient.”

Fatima responded, raising both hands weakly as if to show she was broke.

“So there’s a need for a bodyguard job, then?”

“Foreigners tend to spend more. I used to work guarding a correspondent. Not personal security, but rather as part of a company overseeing accommodations; it paid pretty well.”

“Better than your current job with Hassan?”

The shaman nodded her head up and down.

It was curious that a short-term contract job guarding foreign correspondents offered better compensation than being a warlord’s shaman. I wondered how the labor market worked around here.

“Well, anyway, I’ve got the gist of your situation.”

I lit a cigarette while contemplating Fatima’s proposition.

First off, hiring this woman as a bodyguard was not an option.

While it’s possible for war correspondents to have local guides and bodyguards, my official capacity was strictly as an information officer.

An information officer cannot arbitrarily hire bodyguards without the company’s consent. The principle of information agencies is to minimize contact with civilians, therefore, an employee isn’t permitted to hire not just bodyguards, but interpreters or drivers, or even maids.

Of course, from the information officer’s perspective, there’s also no reason to hire civilians. It wouldn’t make sense to hire a foreign local while even the neighbor next door is under scrutiny.

Given that, the focal point for me, wasn’t whether the shaman was valuable as a ‘bodyguard,’ but rather if she held value as an ‘information source.’

The conclusion came rather swiftly.

“I’m sorry.”

I flicked the ashes from my cigarette, clearly rejecting her.

Once the contract fell through, Fatima exhibited her displeasure without holding back. Leaning forward threateningly, she began to question me.

“…Why?”

I looked up at the ceiling without answering her.

Then, I explained why I couldn’t accept her as either a bodyguard or an information source.

“You’re obviously motivated by money.”

“Huh!”

A scoffing sound emerged as Fatima shot me a sharp glance.

Of course, there were reasons for rejecting her offer.

First off, her character was the issue.

Those who are excessively motivated by profit are easy targets for information officers to recruit, but if someone is too fixated on money, it triggers evasion of capture. The motivation to assist an information officer is based on financial gain.

A person bought with money can betray at any moment. It indicates they’re ready to stab someone in the back if a bigger reward comes along.

For several reasons, one shouldn’t keep someone so preoccupied with gold close. There’s a high probability that a money-driven person has a tainted character. Plus, in a Third World country, someone like that is either a fool or a fraud.

I asked the shaman,

“When does your contract with Hassan expire?”

“Why do you want to know? You’re not planning to hire me anyway.”

“Just curious.”

“In June next year. That’s when my contract ends.”

So, she had almost a whole year left on her contract.

But she was out seeking a new employer in advance of that year for the sake of money.

This alone highlighted how great a risk hiring her would entail.

“You need a good credit rating to enter into a contract. You know that, right? Is it proper to be looking for a new job without completing your current one?”

That wasn’t the only problem.

Given the nature of warlords, shamans are an incredible asset. You can tell just by the fact they pay three times the salary of border workers.

And a foreigner taking in such assets? Hassan would never view it favorably.

To maintain relations with the warlords, and for the safety of both Camila and I, it made sense to keep my distance from the shaman.

Thus, I rejected her proposal.

“You still have a contract with Hassan, and you know you’re an important asset to him.”

“So what? I’m not satisfied.”

“If you’re not satisfied with the conditions, you should take it up with your employer. Why are you bothering a foreigner? Besides, I already have a bodyguard.”

With that reasonable justification, I turned down the offer, yet Fatima showed no signs of calming down.

Fatima glared at me with a face radiating irritation.

“Oh, that magician girl? She was terrible.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The warlord people said the magician fled while leaving the reporter behind. Even abandoned their weapons, causing the reporter to fend off robbers alone, right?”

Damn it. That rumor had already spread everywhere.

The damn warlord bastards seemed to have no concept of keeping their mouths shut. Naturally, since the incident happened before Nasir took an interest in me, they didn’t have the time or reason to control that information.

With a strained expression, I gestured for the shaman to stop.

“That’s something I can handle myself. It’s none of your concern, is it?”

“I guarantee you that if you keep escorting such a half-baked person, you’ll be found dead in the desert. This is advice.”

“Let’s pretend I never heard that advice. Okay?”

There was no need to continue the conversation. I was packing my belongings to leave.

The problem was that the shaman wouldn’t shut her mouth.

Fatima relentlessly hurled curses at me while I turned my back to leave the café.

“I’m really just worried for you.”

“Oh, sure. I believe that.”

“While you might think your life doesn’t matter, do you think that magician feels the same?”

As I reached for the doorknob, I suddenly froze in place.

Through the mirror at the entrance, I saw the shaman still seated, smiling at me—mockingly.

Seeing in the mirror, I picked up a decorative teacup from the shelf and threw it at her.

Crash! The cup shattered as fragments scattered everywhere, accompanied by a chilling silence that followed. The cheerful customers and the employees bringing steaming snacks were all startled and turned their eyes our way.

I stepped over the shattered porcelain pieces as I approached the shaman. With my hand on my waist, I warned,

“One more word, and I will rip your mouth apart.”

“…….”

The shaman’s gaze moved not to my face, but rather toward my waist. The hilt of a greatsword partially peeked from under my jacket.

Of course, due to its angle, it was hidden from others, so there wasn’t an issue.

“Staff.”

“…Uh, yes!”

“Here’s the cleaning fee and the price for the cup. Also, this is a tip. Sorry for the commotion.”

“Oh, it’s fine!”

I handed the local boy a wad of cash and left the café.

It was a ridiculous day in a ridiculous country.

—-

Even though there was a minor uproar with the warlord’s shaman, thankfully, the warlord didn’t reprimand me at all.

The moment I almost got hit by a teacup must have shamed the shaman enough to keep her mouth shut.

Since this is a place where honor is valued, dishonorable actions bear social consequences. The fuss this time stemmed from Fatima’s attempt to arbitrarily breach her contract, so if the truth came out, she would likely face repercussions.

Regardless, I passed the time uneventfully. Gathering intelligence for analysis, confirming data from the headquarters and operations team.

The work of an information officer gradually gained momentum, but my primary focus was not on the operational preparations, but rather on arms trading.

“Yes, we’ve confirmed the fourth batch.”

The arms smuggling I started as a side job began to gain momentum.

Initially, I dealt with weapons confiscated from rebels by neighboring countries, stored in quiet warehouses.

Then, I moved on to supplies used by the government army.

“500 automatic rifles, 22 machine guns, grenades, and ammunition. Everything looks perfect.”

“Of course, the guns made by dwarves are a hundred times better than the versions produced by the empire. These are weapons we’ve manufactured ourselves.”

“Of course. There’s nothing like home-produced goods. Not only keeping industry alive but also making money. That’s how capital circulates.”

Corrupt government army officers started dipping their hands into arms supplies.

The payments I received for arms transactions were peanuts to them but represented a fortune equivalent to several years’ worth of salary.

As transactions continued, the number of those enthralled by capital skyrocketed. Pippin offered her sharp evaluation of the situation.

“There seems to be an epidemic spreading in the Mauritania Continent.”

That epidemic can be interpreted as capitalism.

As capitalism and an endless competitive market were introduced, numerous love calls flooded in. From company commanders to battalion headquarters staff, battalion leaders and senior officers.

I even received offers to trade arms with a general.

“I heard your business acumen is outstanding.”

“Oh no! It’s nothing! I’ve barely made a profit with this small change, Commander.”

“I’d like to hear about this business of yours. Why don’t you tell me a bit?”

I got in touch with the area commander adjacent to Hassan’s warlord.

He suggested arms trading indirectly, and I welcomed it with open arms.

“You’ve come at a good time! Could I take a look at some merchandise before we discuss business?”

The weapon storage of the regular army was a veritable treasure trove.

Rifles and machine guns were just the start; there were artillery pieces responsible for supporting units and even tanks and armored vehicles ready to roll with just gas.

I toured the armory with the regional commander.

“How many rifles do you have?”

“About 30,000.”

“30,000? I’d say there’re only around 20,000 here.”

“We can order more rifles from the factory.”

“Great, very good. First, I will give you 2 million as an advance, so let’s clear up what is in the storeroom first. The rest can be settled next time.”

The regional commander siphoned the weapons from his command’s inventory and sold them to me. In addition to the transaction fees, I also handed him a sizable kickback.

“What is this?”

“Consider it a small token of my appreciation for you, Commander.”

“Seems like quite an amount for a token.”

“Ah…. Just store it away. Your son got into college, right? You’ll need a hefty sum for his tuition and other things, won’t you?”

“…….”

Soft coercion and subtle threats worked perfectly.

I shut the regional commander’s mouth by promising him a ‘tax’ on the money he was pocketing. It was feasible because I had an understanding of his family situations.

Upon receiving the bribe, the regional commander adequately paid off his introductory fees.

From the freshly manufactured weapons and ammunition from the factory to a promise of regular supply for needed parts, they even offered to handle the inspections on their side.

The pinnacle of these exceptional services was the soldiers’ escort. The regional commander had his subordinates provide security for the arms being exported to Hassan’s warlord from us.

He presented this as a measure to protect the weapons from robbers and local police.

“Nothing is more important than people. Given the area is rife with rebel activity, the vehicles could be targeted at any time.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you’re concerned about people’s safety?”

“That’s right.”

It was a load of crap.

Why would a corrupt general who sells military supplies care about the lives of a warlord from a foreign country? The regional commander was solely worried that if the weaponry was seized, the deal would fall through.

Nonetheless, I didn’t decline his offer.

“I appreciate your honorable decision, Commander.”

The weapons purchased from the corrupt government military personnel were successfully delivered to Hassan’s warlord across the border.

The warlord commandeered vehicles meant for transporting livestock to haul the weapons around.

“Load them up fast!”

“We need to get back before sundown! Hurry!”

As the warlord soldiers loaded the weapons into the trucks, the officers handed cash to the drivers. That was the daily wage the drivers received from the warlord.

The drivers gathered at the sight of money, loading up the arms without a word. In the meantime, I mapped out smuggling routes for Hassan’s group over the sparse desert vegetation.

“You need to move it to checkpoint number 3 in the northeast border. This area has a wider security zone, so security is relatively lax. The roads are somewhat managed, so there’s less burden in transporting goods, and if things get dicey, we can always flee with the weapons.”

“Is this really a guaranteed safe route?”

“Of course. I’ve already bribed the executives.”

Those who accepted bribes weren’t limited to the neighboring government military. The executives in the country where Hassan’s warlord operated had also accepted bribes from me.

I constantly sought safer and more certain methods to ensure arms trades succeeded. And those efforts began to bear fruit.

Hassan’s elite troops, fully equipped with modern weaponry. While inspecting the ranks, I exchanged words with the leader of Hassan, Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan.

“This is a fully equipped, modernized battalion. What do you think?”

“Hmm….”

Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan observed his troops with his hands clasped behind his back. While he didn’t express it explicitly, I could tell from the subtle intensity in his eyes that he was intrigued.

“Impressive.”

“Today it’s just a battalion, but tomorrow two companies will be equipped, and next week a regiment-sized unit will be fully armed. It would be better than the government army’s gear.”

“Your business acumen is better than I expected.”

Nasir seemed extremely satisfied with the transaction. I felt the same.

As the pace of the transactions picked up, the volume began to increase slowly. What started with just a few trucks now involved over ten trucks bustling back and forth across the border.

Thus, I began searching for new smuggling routes through information sources I had recently brought on board.

“Oh, Commander! Long time no see. I hope you’ve been well? I wanted to discuss the border checkpoint information from last time. If you could check out some other areas for me too.”

The informant I had embedded within the government military used his connections to obtain classified information.

While the staff worked hard for me, I also couldn’t overlook help from the Military Intelligence Agency.

“Yes, Director Leoni. I’ve just shipped the 9th batch. I need aerial photos of the border area; could you send those over?”

“Ah, you’re the commander responsible for the reconstruction project, aren’t you? I’ve heard a lot from my seniors. By the way, I have one request….”

“Oh, oh. I’ve verified the counterfeit documents. Would you mind helping…

“Thank you for that, Director. I would appreciate it if you could ensure that those sneaky agency kids can’t catch a whiff of this.”

The Military Intelligence Agency across the ocean was utilizing all kinds of intelligence assets to support my business.

Aerial reconnaissance assets, information officers from deployed units, and experts belonging to the branches. Of course, the operations team from the Royal Intelligence Department, made up of Pippin, Jake, Charnoy, and also Matt, Bill, and Larry, were no exception.

“Matt? Are you available to talk right now?”

-‘Meow.’

“Ah! You startled me. Is that you, Kair?”

-‘Yep.’

“I’m contacting you about that equipment I requested before. Can you talk to your team leader and find out the status of it? Can you pass the message to Matt?”

-‘Meow!’

The operations team kept sharing information with me continuously.

Surprisingly, the most helpful person was Larry, the senior analyst from the Royal Intelligence Department, whose information was sharp and precise.

Having grasped the scale of arms crossing the border, he projected that within a few months, Hassan’s main force would be equipped with modern weaponry.

-‘Hassan’s troops are well trained, but they’re absolutely short on weapons. In fact, the lack of weapons is a chronic issue for warlords in this area. Hassan is likely to embark on a massive military restructuring through this deal. The officer corps will change, and the weapons will also change.’

“It’s estimated that it will take six months for them to fully equip?”

-‘That’s right. However, for Hassan’s warlord to properly utilize the supplied weapons, there’s still a long way to go. They’ll need training, and their tactics will have to change too. Most importantly, maintenance is a problem. If the supply of parts is cut off, the weapons will just be scrap, right?’

I could agree with that analysis.

In reality, after the U.S. military withdrew from Afghanistan, the Taliban government, which conquered Kabul, seized a vast amount of U.S. equipment. However, due to maintenance, training, and supply issues, they started stashing these weapons away within a year.

Hassan’s warlord and the Taliban do not share the same conditions, but it would take Hassan’s forces a long time to adapt to and properly utilize the weapons they receive.

In other words, time was on our side.

-‘I can negotiate a new deal based on the supply of weapons, parts, maintenance, and training. You’re well aware of the Kien Empire’s weapon systems, so it’d be fine to dispatch maintenance personnel. Or, you could get the Ministry of Defense’s cooperation and send military advisors.’

“I’ll inform the director. But you know, if the parliament opposes, everything will be scrapped.”

-‘I know, of course.’

As the sound of a staff being tapped came through the radio, the senior analyst from the Royal Intelligence Department added.

-‘But don’t forget, arms smuggling should stop at gaining the warlords’ goodwill. If the tail gets too long, the Empire might come sniffing around.’

“Don’t worry.”

I replied shortly, taking a puff of my cigarette.

“I’ll wrap things up and get out before the Empire gets involved.”

The arms deal sailed smoothly like a ship in favorable winds.

But as the world goes, accidents came unexpectedly.

*

On the way back to Hassan’s territory, I rode a truck across the wasteland, savoring the breeze. The sand-laden wind slipping through the open window gently tickled my hair when a warlord executive spoke to me.

“Excuse me, Sir.”

“What’s the matter?”

“It seems we have a problem.”

I shifted my gaze following the warlord executive’s gesture.

The place he pointed out had an unfamiliar government army checkpoint set up.

The political scene had been buzzing about declaring martial law, so perhaps they’ve increased the checkpoints. Confirming the unexpected checkpoint, I recorded the coordinates and relayed the situation over the radio.

“Stop!”

The trucks belonging to the warlords halted in response to the signals from the government soldier.

Eyes curiously gazed at the line of dozens of trucks. As I rhythmically drummed my fingers on the window frame, I exhaled a puff of smoke and smiled slyly.

“Hello there! You all are doing a great job.”

“We will need to conduct a brief inspection. Your cooperation is appreciated.”

An officer with the rank of lieutenant approached to inform me of the inspection. It was an annoying event, but this much was tolerable.

Casually, I handed over the documents to the officer. The officer took the papers and began flipping through them.

“Customs paperwork, I see. Have you paid the duties?”

“Of course. One should always pay taxes, right?”

“Strange. The paperwork states you’re bringing in electronics, but this is….”

The officer started to look puzzled as he scanned the line of trucks, more than fifteen in total.

Feeling something was off, the officer’s expression changed. He returned the documents and instructed me to cooperate with the vehicle search.

“I’ll need to check the insides. Open the cargo space, please.”

“Ah, just a moment. I forgot to show you the ledger. Whoops. Here, take a look.”

The clipboard I had set on the ground was handed over to the lieutenant. It had a checklist of the items in the cargo.

The items noted on the aged paper were a list of electronics: refrigerators, microwaves, mana batteries, among others.

The lieutenant began examining the documents with a puzzled expression. However, in the midst of flipping through the pages, his hand suddenly froze.

“…….”

Inserted between the papers was a crisp stack of cash—50 bills of 100 Takron, totaling a 5,000 Takron bundle.

Upon seeing the bribe disclosed in the clipboard, the lieutenant stared at me with an emotionless expression. He casually tossed the clipboard inside the window and placed a hand on the pistol holstered at his side, commanding me in a cold voice.

“Get out.”

“…….”

“Everyone get out!”

At the officer’s shout, the soldiers began to move.

The soldiers armed with Kien Empire automatic rifles approached the truck cautiously.

After witnessing that scene, the driver broke into a cold sweat, gripping the steering wheel tighter, while the warlord’s spotter tensed, resting a hand on the automatic rifle beside the gear shift.

Calmly, I raised my hands and exited from the passenger seat. The smile on my face remained.

After surveying the officials and soldiers, I turned to the lieutenant.

“See here.”

“…….”

“If you want to look, you should take a look. Come this way.”

I guided the visibly reluctant young officer toward the cargo area. Pulling away a dusty tarp, I revealed the contents.

What the truck held was an astonishing amount of weapons and ammunition.

The lieutenant’s eyes widened, and he shouted.

“Weapons!”

At that, the government soldiers began to rush forward.

As the government forces moved, the warlords also sprang into action. Armed with automatic rifles, the soldiers of Hassan’s warlord jumped out of the trucks and aimed their weapons at the government soldiers.

As Kien Empire automatic rifles were pointed between the government soldiers and the warlords, the lieutenant leveled his drawn handgun at me.

I took a moment to survey the desolate checkpoint in the barren desert, then turned my gaze to the lieutenant.

He spoke.

“I am arresting you on charges of arms smuggling.”

“…Arrest?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

With a smile still plastered on my face, I gestured towards the weapons in the truck.

“If you want, take all of it. Even the taxes I just paid.”

“Shut up if you don’t want to rot in a cell for bribery charges.”

The lieutenant warned coldly, aiming his gun at me.

The armed soldiers pointed their rifles at me, still facing off against the lieutenant.

“No, no. This isn’t a gift for you.”

“What?”

“Aisha. Your daughter.”

I looked at him with a grin.

“I heard she just got enrolled in the academy. Was it the magic department? Must be wild, huh, with a house full of magicians.”

“…….”

“Wouldn’t she be thrilled if you bought her a broom as a memorable entrance gift?”

Ignoring the stiff lieutenant, I turned to the other soldiers. The first person that caught my eye was a very short man.

Though it was our first time meeting, I called out his name with a very familiar tone.

“Abdul! How’s Saida doing? I heard you won the soccer tournament. Dribbling past defenders and shaking the net—your skills are impressive. And I hear you’re dating the cheer captain?”

The small man averted his gaze without saying a word. I stood beside him, staring intently, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Next was a man with a stoic demeanor. He was exceptionally tall, possessing an athletic build.

“That’d be Youssef. I heard Amatullah is pregnant. Was it three months? Oh, that must be a great time. They say classical music is good for fetal education. What do you think? Maybe you should buy a gramophone made at the Ivory Tower this vacation?”

I spoke to the burly soldier in a friendly manner.

The silence was finally broken by a clear gulp, the sound of a thick Adam’s apple bobbing.

In the uncomfortable stillness, all eyes were on me. I scanned the soldiers through their sunglasses, circling around as I took in the government soldiers guarding the checkpoint.

“All of you are at that golden age. Some have girlfriends, and some have gotten married. Meanwhile, the major is still single. I bet your dad’s worries are mounting. I understand; you’re over thirty, and you’ve never brought a woman home.”

“…….”

“If you want to get a girlfriend, you need to take care of yourself. Nowadays, not every guy gets a chance, right? Wear nice clothes, and use good perfume; that’s how you’ll attract someone. That way, you can introduce a daughter-in-law to your bedridden father.”

At that moment, my gaze met the lieutenant’s.

The gun that was aimed at me had lowered slightly. At this position, even if the trigger was pulled, it would only barely graze my shoulder.

“Before this gets out of hand.”

I lowered the lieutenant’s gun. Though I didn’t apply much force, the muzzle descended without resistance.

Once I had displaced the gun, I placed my hands on my hips and began to speak slowly, glancing around at the soldiers.

“Everyone.”

“…….”

“Whatever you do, whether inside or outside the base, I can know where you are and what you’re doing. Your families can too.”

The foreigner added.

“I can help you live comfortably in paradise, but I can also make it a living hell for you. Now, decide swiftly. Here and now.”

With my outstretched hands pointing downward.

The soldiers’ focus shifted to me.

In that moment, my mouth opened, channeling the well-known phrase of a Bolivian drug lord that once flourished in the common tongue of the Mauritania Continent.

“Do you prefer silver?”

The warlords stepped closer to the soldiers, rifles raised.

“Or lead?”

The lieutenant’s trembling lips parted suddenly.

The judgment was quick, and the decision was wise.

*

The international arms deal was completed flawlessly.

By taking goods from foreign government and UN troops and handing them to Hassan, he was able to equip all of his subunits with modern weapons.

In just a few months, this group of warlords would not only overpower other warlords but would stand a chance against the mechanized units of the deployed government forces.

The growth of my business significantly attributed to the information agents embedded in the government.

Civil servants offered details about relatives of the border checkpoint soldiers, and the police intelligence chief utilized his agents to monitor distances and movements of rival warlords.

Ultimately, the person contributing the most help was from the military. The major about to be promoted, who I had previously roped in, made remarkable contributions.

The layout of the border checkpoints, troop positioning maps, personal details of the commanding officers at those checkpoints, and schedules for troop shifts—he provided an abundance of sensitive information only available within military circles.

I expressed my gratitude to him.

“Yes, Major. You’ve been really hard at work this time. Thanks to you, things turned out well. I’ve sent you a gift, so check it out when you have time. You’ll really like it.”

The arms trade proceeded strictly to benefit Hassan’s warlord.

When the Military Intelligence Agency gathered weapons, I sold them off at rock-bottom prices. Though it meant taking a loss, it really wasn’t a big deal. The Abas Parliament provided substantial funds for activities.

So in reality, the one benefitting the most from this operation turned out to be the Abas government. They managed to gain the goodwill of one of Mauritania’s largest warlords with just petty cash (which would send the taxpayers up the wall).

Now all that remained was to deal with Asen and Sanya.

If gambling with someone else’s money is the most fun in the world, then fireworks funded with taxpayers’ money must be an exceptionally entertaining event. Even if I didn’t voice it honestly, I had to admit that it seemed like it would be a super fun event.

As I shared that sentiment, the expression of the British intellectual soured.

“…What kind of metaphor is that? Fireworks? It doesn’t quite fit to say that while warlords are fighting.”

“Well, I see it differently.”

“From what point of view are you coming to such a conclusion?”

In front of the questioning Camila, I confidently asserted my claim.

“It’s much better for the British Army to drop bombs on civilian heads in the Middle East than for warlords to duke it out. Sending troops under the pretense of enlightening African ‘black folks’ is many times worse.”

“Ah, come on!”

“Just kidding! Just kidding. Don’t breathe fire and tidy up your space already.”

Having teased Camila for a good while now, I’d gathered a bit of experience. Now, I could avoid her fire-breathing antics with my eyes closed.

Of course, thanks to a situation where I almost burned my head while genuinely closing my eyes, I learned to dodge out of the way after seeing her mouth open. I don’t know how it works, but when she turns her head while breathing fire, the flames tend to fade. That’s the only flaw in her renowned fire show.

After enjoying a round of British Flying Donkeys, I began preparing the necessary work for the next phase of the operation.

-‘I got a message from Kair. He needs help?’

“Oh, Matt! You just called at the right time.”

I connected with the operations team leader, Matt, from the Royal Intelligence Department.

The Mauritania Continent, being full of mysteries, had poor communication. Occasionally, sandstorms would sweep through, inadvertently knocking down communication lines or bouncing mana waves, leading to disconnections.

-‘The sound quality is quite decent today. Seems like a sandstorm just passed by.’

“Yes, I checked the weather info, and it looks like we narrowly missed it. Just barely, but it’s fine. So, Matt, when do you plan on heading out?”

-‘We’ll reach the operational area by the end of this month at the earliest, or by June at the latest.’

It seems like the Royal Intelligence Department’s operations team was preparing for activity.

After I was injected first as the advance party, Leoni worked tirelessly to mobilize the Royal Intelligence Department’s operations team.

The ‘Committee’, a joint body of the Parliamentary Intelligence Committee and the Abas Information Agency, opposed deploying forces due to potential diplomatic friction with the local government, but Leoni is not someone you can easily dismiss.

She was a woman who had worked her way up to branch chief within the macho-dominated Military Intelligence Agency. There was a time when an incident almost derailed her promotion, but her past contributions during her active years earned her a dispatch to the Royal Intelligence Department as a director. Eventually, Leoni returned to the Military Intelligence Agency, getting promoted to the Chief position.

That’s pretty much a story of someone who’s been through a near-death experience.

I bet even resurrected ninjas and aliens who have never experienced death would stand amazed upon meeting Leoni.

After meeting with Leoni, the committee and national legislators reversed their decisions, choosing instead to deploy the Royal Intelligence Department operations team to the Mauritania Continent. The process matters little. What’s important is that support is coming.

“Understood. I’ll see you on-site.”

-‘Take care of yourself. Oh, and about your subordinate. That Kair’s friend.’

Referring to the friend from the beastman information officer, that would mean Charnoy. Were they said to be childhood friends?

Charnoy had been throwing an enormous fit about Kair, who deceived her and got a job with the Royal Intelligence Department.

The extent of her sulkiness was so severe that even Pippin, known for her cheerful nature (though Jake would vehemently deny it) reached her limit.

But as that name cropped up suddenly, unease washed over me. I quietly opened my mouth in uncertainty.

“Did Charnoy cause any trouble or something?”

-‘This time, your subordinates are to move with our team. I just wanted to ask if it’s alright to place Kair in the same unit.’

“Oh, is that all? Well, please proceed as they wish. I agree.”

Having friends in the same unit isn’t an issue. But wow, a combination of a beastman and a nymph. That’s curious.

We’re not in some animal farm here. What a strange unit composition to have different races combined. Of course, being someone who employs orcs and dark elves as information agents, who am I to comment on that? Just a peculiar situation is all.

-‘And just so you know, I received word from a friend at a foreign company.’

“What kind of news?”

-‘Movement from the Empire’s intelligence unit was confirmed near your operational area. It’s significantly close to where you are.’

“…….”

The reconnaissance command’s movements have been detected.

The information shared by a foreign intelligence agency must have undergone some degree of verification by the Royal Intelligence Department, so I could estimate that the information’s accuracy is relatively high.

While Matt claimed he didn’t know why those spy brats crawled all the way here, I had an inkling of what that reason might be.

Thus, even after the communication was cut off, I found it hard to distance myself from Camila for a while.

Noticing my uncertainty, Camila looked at me with a puzzled expression. A hint of concern was evident.

“Is something wrong? Did something bad happen?”

“…No.”

A worried expression briefly crossed Camila’s face. She wrapped my hand with hers, wearing a fabricated smile.

“I don’t know what’s wrong, but don’t worry. You’ve done well until now.”

Right. I had done well.

I nodded and softly smiled.

“I’ve never had a problem. It’s you who’s the issue.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“I feel like I’m leaving a child at the riverside when I look solely at you. Just don’t be a nuisance and do well.”

“Come on, stop treating me like a kid….”

A faint smile appeared on Camila’s face as she turned her gaze out the window.

In the dusk-lit desert, the galactic river seemed to spill over, with gray clouds floating by.

The tightly packed starlight adorned the night sky, and the trees spanning the horizon stretched upward towards the sky, while a dusty old radio repeatedly played government propaganda.

Silence arrived hand in hand with tranquility. Against a backdrop of pastoral scenery, the night, like a traveler, passed peacefully across the sands once more.

“Beautiful.”

Camila whispered, and I turned the radio’s channel and increased the volume.

A gentle melody echoed across the desert.

Accompanied by a sense of calm that felt like it could last an eternity.

 

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