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-‘As you know, the black operations violate international law and current laws. However, the upper management has judged that we must ensure the hero’s safety at any cost for the security of the kingdom.’

The order was given.

-‘Any form of operation is fine. With your current status, all types of operations that you cannot normally undertake are now possible. You may even employ somewhat extreme measures for information collection and smooth execution of duties.’

The command was to succeed in the mission by any means necessary.

-‘If necessary, you can recruit agents locally, and you’re free to use our intelligence agency’s spy network and facilities. If you request it, I will immediately provide you with a cover identity and equipment. If necessary, financial support, as well as military and non-military assistance, is also guaranteed.’

The Colonel declared complete freedom to me, but—

-‘Colonel. You must prevent the terror and find the mastermind. Absolutely.’

Ironically, I had no freedom to refuse that.

***

Episode 2 – Heroes of the Continent

***

A quiet conference room. A secret place that the intelligence department manages rigorously. A location that undergoes meticulous checks daily to ensure there are no eavesdropping devices. In that small chamber, three spies gathered.

I lowered my voice as much as I could.

“The intelligence agency has approved the black operation. Any questions?”

Pippin was silent, and Jake gulped nervously. Even as a newcomer with three years in the intelligence agency, he surely understood the gravity of this order.

“…Typically, black operations are handled by the Blacks. However, considering the seriousness of the situation, we have been assigned to handle the black operation.”

We had become neither White nor Black—just gray men.

“The command is with me, and you will support me. Our mission is singular: to fight for the hero’s safety.”

I refrained from adding unnecessary details about the national interests—everyone already knew.

I handed out documents drafted by hand. It was a measure to maintain confidentiality.

“Since we will be operating in a realm beyond the law, the nation will provide all support necessary for a successful operation, but in crisis situations, it cannot guarantee your safety.”

Pippin and Jake calmly signed the confidentiality agreement.

“As of this moment, we have access to all assets of the Military Intelligence Agency. We can mobilize agents to ensure smooth mission execution and utilize the spy network and safe houses at will.”

The intelligence agency was more than willing to offer up all its resources.

“For the recruitment of informants, cover identities and operational funds will be provided, and if necessary, coercive measures may be employed. You must obtain information at all costs.”

Jake quietly raised his hand.

“Colonel, are you suggesting torture?”

“That is the upper management’s directive: to spare no means or methods.”

“….”

“I would prefer not to, but if necessary, it must be done.”

The conference room fell into silence.

“Spare no means or methods; just ensure the mission’s success.”

I leaned forward on the table, both hands pressed down.

“When the official schedule begins, I will be deployed for close protection of the hero. You will support the protection duties from the rear.”

In other words.

“Find that bastard who set off the bomb in the middle of the street. You must locate him.”

***

“Alright! Look here! One, two, three!”

The sound of the camera shutter burst like fireworks. Camila Lowell and High Priestess Lucia exchanged bright smiles and shook hands.

It was a historic photo commemorating the hero’s first official schedule.

Surrounded by applause from the Cardinals and Bishops in front of the beautiful cult building, the two women seemed truly happy.

A flock of journalists, having awaited this moment, crowded around them with microphones. From a distance, they resembled a horde of zombies.

Pushing away the microphones that came too close to their faces, I waded through the crowd.

“Camila Lowell here, I’m coming in.”

“Colonel Frederick!”

“Good to see you again, High Priestess Lucia.”

“Glad to see you, Colonel.”

The noise around us muffled the sounds; still, I picked up enough through their facial expressions and lip movements. Lucia’s responses were just light nods and smiles, but Camila expressed her joy by waving her hands enthusiastically.

I responded in kind, smiling and waving back.

The newspapers would likely portray such moments positively.

Honestly, the media in this world wasn’t particularly trustworthy, but according to the intelligence agency’s public opinion surveys, it seemed the public found some charm in Camila Lowell’s behavior.

Her down-to-earth, modest, and optimistic demeanor was a rare personality in these times, likely drawing people to her innocent purity.

The protagonist who retains cheer in difficult situations: that sort of character sells well in boy manga, leading to speculation that she may have been quite beloved on Earth.

“Shall we move to the next location?”

“Yes! Let’s go together, Lucia!”

Naturally, Camila took Lucia’s arm and led her into the building. It was quite a sight to see the usually composed High Priestess Lucia flustered and out of sorts.

I followed them, mingling into the crowd.

A moment later, an agent approached me and whispered quietly.

“We currently assess that there are no threats outside the building. The interior is also being maintained in a clean and safe state.”

“The external guards are from the Inquisition, so just leave a few lookouts and bring everyone inside.”

The agent’s name and age were unknown; ranks had no meaning, and neither did affiliations.

I commanded the agent simply as the on-site commander, and without complaint, the agent carried out my orders.

Once the agent had left, I quietly joined the hero’s entourage.

The combination of a small crimson head and blonde hair somehow complemented each other more than expected.

As I approached, sensing me, Camila suddenly turned her head and smiled widely.

“Colonel Frederick, please tell me the next schedule!”

I’m not your manager, you know.

“You’ll have a short meeting with the cult officials, followed by a simple lunch. After that, you’ll attend an event nearby and have dinner with the Cardinals and Bishops.”

“Wow, such a tight schedule! When do I get to rest?”

“At the very least, dinner should wrap up by 11 PM, so you should be able to get to bed on time.”

Camila Lowell’s schedule was quite packed.

She would be moving to over five locations a day and handling a star-like schedule. Participating in the cult’s official events was demanding enough; once she started her external activities in earnest, she might not get enough sleep.

Of course, schedules could be canceled considering travel time and safety.

Since I held that authority, I could cancel the schedule. They might grumble about it behind my back, but it was not problematic as it was a justified power exercise.

“Wow, is that really how many events you have?”

Lucia’s eyes widened in surprise. After becoming the punching bag for the Bishops, she hardly engaged in external activities, leading her to find Camila Lowell’s schedule daunting.

“Eh, trust me, this is a light day.”

“Camila, if you keep such a schedule daily, you’ll collapse.”

With a wry smile, Lucia looked at Camila with concern.

When she served as a healing priestess in the imperial-demonic conflict zone before becoming an adult, there was a time she had fainted from not resting for a week.

Remembering such a past, Lucia gazed at Camila with worry.

Whether she understood Lucia’s concern or not, Camila simply grinned while linking arms with her.

“Is High Priestess Lucia really that fond of me? Please let go of my arm with others watching.”

“Eh! We’re colleagues, so what does it matter? Colonel, would you like to join us?”

Oh, snap.

That was a rather tempting offer, but I had no choice but to refuse. As a soldier and diplomat, I needed to maintain a certain dignity.

Also, I’d clearly get yelled at by the old conservative church folks if I were to link arms in front of them.

Having a clear grasp of that atmosphere, Lucia began to kindly admonish Camila in a soft voice.

“Camila, you shouldn’t say such things to the Colonel.”

“Is that so?”

“Engaging in physical contact with an opposite gender whom one doesn’t court is taboo per the cult’s tenets.”

When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

Conveying such nuanced sentiment, Camila nodded in agreement, likely bewildered by something that contradicted her usual beliefs.

It seemed she actively embraced the culture of this world with a mindset of ‘That could be a thing!’

Despite her actions, she possessed a remarkably calm personality.

“Then, High Priestess Lucia, you must love vigorous activities.”

“I particularly enjoyed horseback riding. What about you, Camila?”

“I love swimming! I can swim anywhere, be it the sea or a river!”

“Swimming is great! Just being in deep water and staying still makes my mind and body relax…”

It seemed that Camila Lowell and High Priestess Lucia found a rhythm with each other. Their tastes and hobbies closely overlapped, suggesting they were practically best friends.

I wished for the other colleagues to have such a good rapport as well.

“High Priestess Lucia, what’s Raúl Cardinal up to these days?”

“Ah….”

Lucia’s delicate eyebrows slightly furrowed. She was used to human interaction, thus had exceptional control over her expressions, but I couldn’t miss that change.

“I’m not in the loop, but while I’m busy, Father is doing just fine.”

“I see.”

It seemed that relations between Raúl and High Priestess Lucia were strained. The atmosphere briefly turned somber due to sensitive topics, but thanks to Camila Lowell tugging at her arm, the mood brightened again.

In the midst of various exchanges, we soon arrived at the conference room. As the Knights standing guard at the enormous doors opened them, people began to enter. I turned to Camila Lowell.

“I’ll step out for a moment.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll have a brief bite with the officials before the meal begins; I’ll return by the time lunch starts.”

I left under the pretense of a meeting while having a meal for the protection detail.

The heavy door closed smoothly, and dozens of Knights and Suit Men began regulating the entire building’s safety.

I exchanged strange glances with the suited men and crossed the hallway.

Time to get to work.

***

There are three main methods of intelligence collection.

Human Intelligence (HUMINT)

Signal Intelligence (SIGINT)

Open Source Intelligence (OSINT)

It sounds complex and impressive, but in simple terms, it’s just spying, listening in, and conducting Wikipedia searches.

My meeting with the Imperial Guard agent and the Inquisition Director to exchange intelligence was an example of HUMINT, while Pippin reading a newspaper and engaging in speculation in the past could be classified as OSINT.

Of course, the actual intelligence collection process isn’t done haphazardly. Hundreds of analysts dive in to compare against databases, verify via the help of recruited supporters, and so on— it’s a convoluted and chaotic procedure.

You must check whether there are any faults in judging key information, verify if cognitive biases are influencing analysis, divide the possibilities of information judgment into percentage ranges, and engage in verbal sparring with meticulous analysts to confirm errors and logical inconsistencies in the intelligence.

You must go through all these protocols before the chaotic mess finally becomes ‘intelligence.’

Of course, even after following the intricate verification procedures, information can still be wrong; but that’s a discussion for later.

Essentially, what I want to convey is that in this field, only the thirsty fool running around with a shovel gets results.

So, I decided to dig the well myself.

“Welcome!”

As I opened the restaurant door and stepped in, an employee began to guide me.

They pressed a button on a microphone and muttered something as they led me through a bustling kitchen to the storage room at the back.

Entering a password on the lock, the iron door marked ‘No Entry Except Staff’ swung open.

The employee bowed his head as he opened the worn storage door.

“Have a good time.”

***

Beyond the door unfolded a situation room brimming with people.

Tactical maps and situation boards hung on the walls, and agents in casual attire were busily working away in front of military gear sprawled across the room.

A woman with a bob haircut, holding a clipboard, approached me. It was Pippin.

“Glad you could make it, Colonel!”

I stole a glance at my watch; there was about an hour until the next schedule. While the time was short for any substantial effort, I had enough time to receive a report. I held out my index finger, and sensing the cue, Pippin began to report.

“After eavesdropping on communications delivered to the Kien Empire’s embassy for five days, we have pinpointed the activity zone of the Imperial Guard agents.”

Pippin pointed to the large map with red pins stuck on it. Those were the starting points for the communications.

Since they didn’t disclose the informants out of self-interest, we had to find things out on our own.

Once we locate the informants he mentioned, I plan to extract every bit of information possible from them, by any means necessary.

“The agents are presumed to be reporting communications within a 3km radius of the embassy. Upon confirmation, all reports were made from within the buildings, which are suspected to be designated safe houses by the Imperial Guard.”

“Who owns those buildings?”

“They are commercial properties registered under a company name. Here’s the list of those companies.”

I took the clipboard and began reading through the details leisurely.

“Upon confirmation, they were all just companies on paper. Even when we visited the factories or offices, they were all locked up.”

It’s a front company. It’s a common method used by intelligence agencies when conducting overseas operations. From the looks of it, they seem to have spent quite a bit on document faking. There’s likely something to find if we dig around here.

“Put someone on to watch who’s coming and going.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t do a tail; just take pictures. We’ll verify identities in the intelligence agency’s database later.”

“Should we also listen in on communications?”

One of the agents operating the eavesdropping equipment flinched, likely realizing they were in for overtime.

I felt a bit sorry for them.

“Feeling confident, are we?”

I nodded and got up.

“Alright. We have nothing to lose anyway. Proceed.”

***

Time flowed like an overturned hourglass.

The hero successfully completed the official schedule, and operations using the intelligence agency’s spy assets were slowly making progress.

As usual, Pippin began her report in a calm voice.

“We just received a report. The hero has gone to sleep.”

“Has Jake eaten?”

“He says he hasn’t yet.”

“Then tell him we should grab a bite together.”

“It’s midnight now, though.”

“Didn’t you all skip dinner? I’ll treat you, so let’s eat nearby.”

As the hero wandered outside, our schedule tightened a bit.

The report indicated he would rest for over seven hours, but that would include eating time, and in reality, it wouldn’t be much more than that.

“We’ve received word from Cardinal Raphael. He asked if we couldn’t advance the cult event schedule.”

“What’s gotten into that old geezer, rushing all of a sudden?”

“I think he has become anxious after receiving some flak lately.”

After the bombing, Cardinal Raphael has received quite the backlash from the church.

His background as a former Inquisition Director appears to be a stumbling block. It’s understandable to get lambasted for having a bomb go off at an event he presided over while handling a counter-terrorism investigation.

The Bishops were roaring about it, likely wanting to keep the sight of the hero attending the event in view to quell public sentiment.

That simply wouldn’t do.

“Tell him to cut the crap. It’s obvious he couldn’t properly check security at the event site—looks like he was set on killing someone?”

“So I informed him ahead of time.”

“Oh my! Well done; you’re an SSS-grade sidekick, Pippin.”

“Thank you!”

Pippin and I exchanged some light banter.

Lately, I’ve grown a bit cheeky, and silly jokes tend to slip out easily.

After all, we all enjoyed some jests over meals, reminiscing about the hot-headed seniors, so there was no discomfort in jesting back and forth.

“We’ve received the investigation results from the Inquisition. Apparently, the explosives used in the bombing were smuggled in via a trafficking route.”

“Those guys will surely catch the smugglers and interrogate them, so let’s focus on other leads.”

“Foreign diplomats don’t get their luggage checked when entering, do they? Should we look into those diplomats?”

“Sure.”

A small thread of clues was starting to reveal itself regarding the bombing.

“We have found that communication interception results from the embassy indicate that the activity range has expanded.”

“How far out?”

“Just a few, but signals are being picked up from the outer regions of the cult.”

“Let’s set up an office out there. As the distance increases, it should become easier to identify the sending locations and intercept the content.”

Slowly, we were starting to achieve something.

“We received intelligence from the headquarters. They’re currently verifying the route Raúl Cardinal took during his stay in the kingdom, but there’s a discrepancy between the reported route and the actual one.”

“That’ll be handled by the Colonel. But just in case, we should keep an ear to Raúl’s inner circle.”

“I’ll contact his closest aides first.”

-Ding-a-ling!

What was that sound?

Suddenly, an alert tone rang, and when I glanced at Pippin, she fumbled through something in her pocket.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a phone made by the magic tower.”

“When did such a thing come about?”

“I bought it on layaway. Everyone’s been using them lately; you don’t have one, Colonel?”

Pippin’s words left me scratching my head awkwardly.

What was this? I clearly recall messing with smartphones while walking back in the day. Yet since I was born here, I feel somewhat detached from the tide of the times.

I felt like a native facing a civilized society.

While pondering if I was indeed old or not, Pippin, looking serious while peering at her phone, finally spoke up.

“…We just received intelligence.”

“Spit it out.”

“About that mysterious thug who assaulted you, Colonel. We have located him now.”

 

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