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**Diplomat.**

A term referring to a diplomatic envoy and foreign diplomats.

But that’s just the dictionary definition; in reality, diplomats often engage in more significant and insidious missions.

**Legal spies.**

Agents classified as ‘White.’

These individuals were legal spies sent by one nation to gather information on another nation while lurking in their territory. Of course, this ‘legality’ is merely their claim, as they often operate on the razor’s edge between legality and illegality, sometimes using secret and unlawful methods.

The information they gather… well, it goes without saying, is used as a weapon in times of need.

Diplomacy, economy, politics, military… even war.

Yet, despite these annoying antics, one cannot touch them.

Why?

Because they are recognized spies by each other.

Interfering with them would surely spark friction between nations and could potentially provide a pretext for war.

In fact, throughout history, there have been many instances where attacks on diplomats were used as a justification to ignite a war, making them figures one should never provoke if one possesses common sense.

Behind them lies the state itself.

Unless one wishes to go to war with a country, one surely should not meddle in their affairs.

But let’s think about it conversely.

If one wishes to instigate war,

If one wants to stir up friction between nations,

Is there anything more effective than poking at a diplomat?

—

There are days like this.

A day that feels oddly cold, despite being just like any other.

A day when the darkness of daily life seems horrifically frightening, and one strangely feels the gaze of someone watching. Sometimes one might shiver as if a ghost were breathing icy air down their neck, creating goosebumps.

Such days do exist.

A day when human fear amplifies, vigilance spikes, and tension settles into every muscle.

On such days, even the most mundane things can cause one to jump.

One might faint upon encountering a cat suddenly leaping out from a parking lot, or feel their heart sink at the sight of a leaf or insect falling from a tree. One might hesitate upon seeing the pitch-black darkness in a parking lot, or take a gulp when stepping into a bathroom turned dark in an effort to save electricity.

For Kiyomichi, the Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of the Japanese Embassy in Korea, today was just such a day.

A day when even the slightest rustle would send shivers down his spine, compelling him to glance back.

In the eerie silence of the room, he found himself idly checking for eavesdropping devices or cameras, but after scanning with his equipment and discovering nothing, he shamefully cleared his throat. Despite the drowsiness creeping into his body from drinking earlier, sleep remained elusive, and he felt an urgent desire to escape this atmosphere.

Such… oddly uneasy days were upon him.

“Ugh. On a day like this, there’s no driver available…”

Besides, they say bad things come in pairs, right?

No matter how much he wanted to escape this eerie place for some fresh air, he couldn’t.

The driver who usually assisted him had flown to Japan due to a family emergency, and the interpreter who shadowed him had recently discovered a vocal cord nodule, undergoing surgery and was now bedridden. Thankfully, the surgery had gone well, but it would still take some time before they could return.

Another interpreter?

Even seeking a substitute seemed oddly impossible.

He reached out to the Graduate School of Interpretation and Translation to find someone, but all the skilled individuals were completely booked, and those with availability had a past of stuttering or mistranslating in formal settings, making it impossible to trust them.

An erroneous translation on the diplomatic stage, where every tone and word matters?

Taking that risk to hire an interpreter would be madness.

In blunt terms, mistranslating a single word could escalate tensions between nations or even trigger war—who would bear that responsibility?

Kiyomichi had no intention of bearing such a risk.

Absolutely not.

It would be far better to use the Korean he’d learned imperfectly and speak directly.

After all, he wouldn’t be responsible for mishaps that hadn’t even occurred. And if he provoked the other party, he could easily excuse himself by saying, “My Korean is inadequate…” which was to his advantage in its own way.

“Yeah… there’s no need for shadows to stab the master in the back.”

They say interpreters are the shadows of speakers.

If that’s the case, an interpreter who mis-translates and harms the speaker could be considered a treacherous shadow.

Carrying such an untrustworthy being along would surely be foolish; thus, it was much more prudent for him to use Korean.

No matter how he thought about it, that was the right call.

It was a rational judgment and a sensible decision.

However, in this ambiance, he felt the pang of regret for that decision.

Had an unreliable interpreter been nearby, perhaps the dismal atmosphere could have eased just a bit.

But what can one do?

The decision was made, and the absence of others around was merely coincidence.

“Tch. I’m getting old; scary things are starting to get to me.”

In his youth, Kiyomichi had been brimming with vigor.

So much so that he’d drink heavily until drunk, dragging friends into the mountains to hunt yokai. Back then, people would scold him for his audacity…

It seemed even such bravery had weathered away with time.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be quaking in fear over such a slight atmosphere.

“Tch. I can’t drive after drinking…”

He sighed.

Though he would like nothing more than to drive himself, he couldn’t touch the wheel after having had a drink earlier. Of course, on a normal day, he would have operated the vehicle confidently, banking on the idea that no one would dare to touch a diplomat… but right now, he couldn’t do that.

It was because the atmosphere between Korea and Japan was tense.

If caught drinking and driving in this scenario, it wouldn’t end quietly.

Korea would make a spectacle of the news about a diplomat caught drinking and driving to shame Japan, while Japan would surely chastise a diplomat who couldn’t do their job properly while intoxicated in such an atmosphere.

What would happen then?

His career would be over.

The path he’d walked to earn his place would come crashing down.

Kiyomichi didn’t want that.

He didn’t want his career to end, didn’t want to apologize in front of reporters, and certainly didn’t want to do the dogeza at his age. After all, there was more than enough admiration for him; who wants to get tangled in scandal and bow down in apology?

Just thinking about it was horrifying.

If he ended up bowing down in shame, his family would be harassed for bringing shame to Japan. At least he had no children, but if he did, they might face bullying in school.

“Right. I just have to endure now…”

Still, well… it’s alright.

This gloom wouldn’t last much longer.

He knew Koreans to be passionate yet quick to cool down.

They seem to carry an internalized rage, unable to contain it, but once that rage diminished, they would treat people warmly and cheerfully. Badly speaking, they might be hot-tempered, but positively, they don’t tend to hold grudges for long.

This chilled atmosphere wouldn’t remain for long.

Before he knew it, he would be able to move freely, just as before.

The driver who had gone to Japan for business would return, and the interpreter who had instilled trust in him would complete their recovery and be at his side soon.

Everything would work out.

His career.

His life.

It would all turn out alright.

So he just needed to hold on.

The obvious feeling that someone was staring at him, and the way the shadows in the dim light twisted was surely just his imagination, and that the peculiar spinning ceiling was simply a side effect of having drunk too much would be nothing more than a result of intoxication.

There was nothing strange about it.

If he just held on… it would solve itself with time.

[ Excuse me. ]

That twisting darkness forming a shape.

That strange, emaciated figure with twisted limbs revealing itself before him.

[ May I enter your body? ]

That monster stretching its mouth into an unnatural grin.

It was all just… an illusion, surely fueled by drink.

That’s how it must be.

 

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