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moment everyone has been waiting for has finally arrived.

The deep, dark night has passed, and dawn has finally come.

[… The gunfire that had been recurring for hours has finally stopped! We’re at the street in front of the Frigiz Department Store. Armed soldiers are rushing toward the department store entrance! It seems the suppression operation is finally beginning!]

[People are pouring out from inside the department store! They appear to be citizens who were taken hostage! Amidst the police shouting, a citizen, presumably a hostage’s family member, runs out crying!]

[Yes. We just got news through our reporter on the scene that the military police’s suppression operation has begun. The government is currently holding an official briefing regarding the recent terror attack.]

[At around 10:30 AM yesterday, hostages at the Frigiz Department Store, which was occupied by unidentified armed thugs, were all rescued at approximately 1 AM today. The hostages are currently moving to a safe location under the control of the Ministry of Defense and police forces, and there are no reported fatalities. The government expresses its heartfelt condolences to all citizens who have endured the harsh and dangerous conditions imposed by the armed thugs, and it will spare no effort to support the citizens in returning to their daily lives as soon as possible. Furthermore, we promise to work in cooperation with the relevant agencies to prevent such incidents from happening again.]

The deep, dark night has passed, and dawn has finally come.

“Four cargo secured. All four are safe.”

“Prepare vehicles at the back gate. Destination is the military hospital. Clear out all the journalists, and tell the medical team to wait at the back entrance. We’ve got emergency patients coming in, so hurry up!”

“Bend down and follow me, everyone!”

But as always.

Just because the incident was over didn’t mean everything was resolved.

“I must express my strong regrets, Minister. His Majesty has been monitoring this terror incident with deep concern.”

“I never thought I would say this, but I have no choice but to agree today. The position of the Magic Tower aligns with that of the cult. A terror attack in broad daylight in the heart of the capital? Regardless of protocol, weren’t we supposed to take security seriously? So what happened?”

“I’m truly sorry. Ambassador, Representative.”

“Are all three of you safe?”

“Yes. We are currently being transported to the hospital for health checks. Fortunately, according to the assessment of the experts deployed at the scene, there appear to be no health issues.”

Diplomacy.

“Where is this terror organization supposedly from?”

“They’re said to have come from No Man’s Land. It’s actually questionable to even call them a terror organization; they seem more like a community.”

“If it’s No Man’s Land, isn’t that essentially abroad? What were the Royal Intelligence Department and Military Intelligence Agency doing?”

“What kind of intelligence network operates in an area swarming with monsters? Also, I believe domestic counterterrorism intelligence collection falls under the jurisdiction of the Cabinet Security Office and Special Investigation Bureau.”

“Are you trying to shift the blame onto us?”

“How do you explain the amateurishly forged passports and the fact that the capital’s checkpoints were so easily bypassed? That’s on you—”

“Excuse me!”

National Defense.

“The parliament plans to hold a special committee concerning this terrorist incident, independent of the government. While the terror attack was successfully suppressed, its future impact on society is expected to be immense.”

“The shock will be significant for a while. But about the stock market, must we really halt trading?”

“Minister, it’s typical for stock markets to be affected when such large incidents occur. Did no one watch the stock market yesterday? It plummeted, and today or tomorrow could see the same.”

“The Minister of Foreign Affairs mentioned that there have been formal protests from both the cult and the Magic Tower. As expected, we must not make any mistakes during the response process.”

Politics.

The terror attack in the heart of the capital has impacted every sector. Although precise statistics are unavailable, it is clear that a considerable amount of time, money, and effort will be required to return everything to order.

And I, too.

“Heartbeat and blood pressure are both dropping. There’s no visible trauma, so why is this happening?”

“Perform artificial respiration.”

“Breathing is irregular, and there’s no consciousness. Blood is coming from the nose; this appears to point to potential skull damage….”

“Hey, hey, the heart’s stopping! Get the adrenaline! Bring out the adrenaline!”

“Head to the hospital, quickly!”

It seemed it would take time to return to everyday life.

A little, or a lot.

Episode 9 – Old-Fashioned

There are no foreshadowings in life.

Whereas novels and dramas follow a scripted flow, life simply does not operate that way.

Incidents often have causal relationships, yet accidents do not. Accidents always strike suddenly.

A truck might come barreling in any gloomy afternoon, crushing the driver’s seat, or someone might be kidnapped right before your eyes.

People are always caught in unexpected accidents.

Life holds no foreshadowing or plot, and that’s precisely why my thumb went missing.

*

I opened my eyes in the hospital.

The surroundings were quiet, and the sky reflected outside the window was dark. It was a tranquil night.

Though the night was quiet, it was not sanctified. The hospital room was dim, silent, and empty.

A beeping sound echoed in my ears, and when I looked down, a mass of wires and needles swayed before my eyes. I surveyed the medical equipment filling the room and cautiously pressed the call button situated on my abdomen.

Suddenly, I felt an odd discomfort.

Though I had pressed the button, I couldn’t hear anyone rushing over. I felt no sensation from pressing it either. Lying in a daze, I realized once more that my thumb was missing.

“…….”

Staring blankly at my stubby hand for a long while, I moved my index finger to operate the call button, and only then did I hear hurried footsteps as a doctor entered the room.

The doctor performed a brief examination, shone a light around my body, and seemed to hesitate for a moment, gauging my reaction before finally managing to speak.

“You are currently in a military hospital.”

The doctor informed me that I was in a military hospital.

Usually, soldiers will head to civilian hospitals or military hospitals when sent off to remote areas, but intelligence officers—due to various reasons—often find themselves at military hospitals. Health checks, surgeries, and rehabilitation are all done there.

So, there was nothing surprising about my being in a military hospital.

Nodding my dazed head, the doctor relayed several pieces of information to me.

First, I was directly transported here from the terror scene. It was said to be under orders from the Ministry of Defense, but it looked more like I had been moved here by the Military Intelligence Agency.

Second, I was currently in the Intensive Care Unit. There was no visible trauma, but due to hemorrhaging and my unconsciousness, I had to be quickly transferred for a check-up. When examined, my condition was reported to be deteriorated. My ribs were broken, I had lost a lot of blood leading to low blood pressure, there were fractures in my skull, and my internal organs were damaged. However, the doctor did not mention anything about my thumb. I had no idea why.

Third, access to my hospital room was restricted. Due to the nature of the Intensive Care Unit, family visits are generally difficult due to concerns about infection and mental stability, but the doctor mentioned that only approved individuals could enter. This meant that only those authorized by the Military Intelligence Agency could see me. Even medical staff couldn’t enter casually. I found myself curious about who exactly could come in, but the doctor didn’t divulge who had received authorization. He probably didn’t know either. It’s an intelligence agency matter.

“…….”

Listening to the doctor’s words, I pondered for a moment. I tried to recall how I ended up in the hospital, what had happened to the terrorists.

But I couldn’t remember.

The doctor said, “Due to external trauma and hemorrhaging, your memory may not be intact.”

“…Is it a temporary condition?”

“We will have to observe, but for now, that’s our assessment.”

That meant it might not be a temporary condition. Perhaps due to the hemorrhaging or trauma, there was a chance that permanent damage had occurred to my brain.

The doctor, seemingly perceptive of my apprehension, only got that far before falling silent.

Whether it was his perspective as a doctor that lengthy explanations were unhelpful for a patient or, perhaps, a gut feeling that keeping quiet would be beneficial for his wellbeing, I couldn’t tell, but it seemed it was the latter. It could also be both.

The doctor stayed before me, indulging in various topics for a while. How were my symptoms, family was coming, don’t worry, everything will be alright.

In a daze from the medication, I weakly nodded my head.

My head was spinning, feeling as if it might shatter.

My fingers were itching.

“We’ll need to monitor your condition for the time being. Both the military doctor and the military chaplain are on standby, so you need not worry too much.”

“…….”

“Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

The door closed.

With the gentle sound of the wooden door shutting, I slipped into a faint sleep.

*

Days passed. Time flowed faster than a river.

I slept for nearly a week. I’d wake up to eat, then fall asleep, and when I needed to use the restroom, I’d rely on the nurse’s assistance to move, returning to bed to sleep again.

I never left the bed. No, I couldn’t leave it.

Even going to the restroom required assistance; how could I possibly leave the hospital room? The hospital courtyard was out of the question, let alone making my way to the hallway.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stared blankly out the window. The sky of Abas, visible through the glass, was slightly overcast.

Occasionally, terrible pain would strike unexpectedly, but thankfully the painkillers helped me endure.

By the time about a week had passed.

Someone arrived from the company.

“Are you awake?”

“…Ah, you’ve come.”

It was Clevenz.

“Stay seated. I can see you have a needle in your arm, so why would you even try to get up?”

“Still….”

“Just lie down. Don’t make it uncomfortable for others.”

Clevenz, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, looked significantly different now.

First, his clothing.

Instead of the usual work uniform or suit worn within the Military Intelligence Agency, Clevenz was clad in a sanitary gown. Given that I was in the Intensive Care Unit, I thought this was understandable.

But his face told a different story.

While his exhaustion had been somewhat apparent when he served as the counterintelligence department’s advisor, it was now evident that he was on the verge of collapse, his dark circles hanging low. His hair was peppered with gray, suggesting he had been under considerable stress recently.

“It seems you’ve been through tough times. You look dreadfully worn out.”

Wobbling as he walked, Clevenz sat down, smiling with obvious fatigue.

“I heard from the doctor on my way here that you’re recovering well. They mentioned you’ve visibly improved?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Thanks to a week of diligent treatment, my condition had stabilized considerably.

Of course, I was still far from being in good shape, but now I could sit up by myself and even walk to the window to gaze outside.

All thanks to the potion.

“I’ve heard that newly developed potions are effective; it seems that’s true.”

“Newly developed potions…?”

“Did you hear the explanation I gave earlier? Don’t you remember?”

“What kind of dispatch are we talking about…?”

“The one from the research institute.”

The Advanced Military Magic Research Institute. The place where we intercepted unauthorized communications and stormed in with the Counterintelligence Investigators to capture a spy.

“This is a potion they developed. To explain in detail, it’s a product that came out during the process of improving the field medical system.”

“Oh, I remember now. Isn’t that the research related to the biological field?”

“That’s right.”

Clevenz added that it was already a project for which some results had emerged, nodding his head.

“Just a few days of taking it can heal fractures; that says it all. Normally, you’d have to stay put after taking the potion.”

“That’s quite the miraculous item.”

It sounded impressive, yet I thought, ‘Well, that’s something.’

I turned my head to scan the hospital room. It felt awkward with the audio slightly off, and I wanted to turn on the TV, but unfortunately, there was none in the Intensive Care Unit.

So I glanced out the window and asked Clevenz a question.

“What happened with the terrorist incident?”

“The investigation is ongoing, so nothing’s confirmed yet. But the investigation into the terror itself should wrap up pretty soon.”

“It’s ending already?”

“We can’t send investigators into No Man’s Land. Besides, it wasn’t even a proper terrorist organization to begin with. Many of the terrorists were taken out, so it’s tough to investigate any deeper.”

Technically, it was me who took them out, but Clevenz didn’t mention that. So I refrained from bringing it up.

“What about the others? Are they all right?”

“All three are safe. Not a hair harmed, so don’t worry.”

Camila, Lucia, and Francesca were all unharmed.

From the further explanation, it seemed they managed to communicate outside and helped the Special Forces enter the department store by removing the barriers.

“That was impressive. They made it out of that chaos without outside assistance.”

“…It was quite difficult. It was tough work. So, where is everyone now?”

“They’re staying in the annex. Of course, that includes the other saint as well.”

“Veronica?”

“That’s right.”

Veronica hadn’t entered the department store from the start. She had disappeared, saying she had some important business, and I hadn’t even seen her until the terrorists crashed in.

“I heard she went to the cult’s embassy. It seems she went to fetch something important, but the situation broke out before she could make it back to the department store, leaving you two separated.”

Clevenz mentioned Veronica’s whereabouts casually, as if he’d attached a tail to her.

Anyway, all four of them were safe. A silver lining in the unfortunate situation.

After that, Clevenz began to tell me the aftermath of the recent terror incident.

The initial police response, the deployment of military police, the establishment of countermeasures, the suppression operations that began after fifteen hours, and even the ongoing aftermath.

I sat on the bed, absorbing each story he shared.

“You must’ve had a rough time.”

“The real struggle isn’t ours; it’s the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They’ve been incredibly busy since the complaints from the cult and the Magic Tower.”

“Fifteen hours… I had no idea that much time had passed. I seem to have lost my sense of time.”

“It might be related to some equipment the terrorists brought in.”

He meant the cargo, of course.

“Uh, have you managed to collect what those terrorists brought in?”

“We did collect it, but it was completely wrecked, making it hard to analyze.”

“Wrecked? How did that happen…?”

“It got completely burnt up.”

“Oh.”

So it must have been Camila who set it ablaze. I hadn’t expected her to actually pull that off.

If only I had some memories left, I could at least provide a statement, but unfortunately, after getting into a scuffle with a beastman, I had no recollection to help further in the investigation.

“My memory isn’t intact, so I can’t assist. But if anything comes to mind, I’ll let you know.”

“You just rest. The technicians are dismantling it, and something will come up. Whether it’s the source or the principles, or at the very least, the structure.”

“Is the company doing fine?”

“To prevent the terror from recurring, we’re cooperating with the relevant agencies. We’re in the process of monitoring the movements of major terrorist organizations and paramilitary groups and developing countermeasures.”

“Everyone’s working hard. It’ll be tough to prepare documents.”

Somewhere, someone must still be rolling around in trouble. That thought crossed my mind.

Suddenly, my fingers itched. I unconsciously tried to scratch my thumb, but unfortunately, with the space empty, I ended up scratching at the air instead.

For a moment, I wondered why my fingers were missing, but I soon remembered that I had lost them to the beastman and unknowingly accepted that reality.

As I absentmindedly scratched the back of my hand, I looked out the window and spoke up.

“When can I return?”

Clevenz chuckled at my somewhat random question.

“Ah… come on now. You haven’t even pulled out the IV needle yet, and you’re already thinking about returning?”

“Not to the company, but to the field.”

“……”

Clevenz fell silent.

Information officers don’t go into the field until they have fully recovered from their injuries. If bones are broken, they wait until they heal; if they’ve torn something, they rest until the stitches are out.

But if they’ve sustained a permanent and irreparable injury, that’s a different story. Typically, information officers shouldn’t be noticeable; if they have scars or injuries that can easily identify them, they can’t go back into the field.

And I had lost my thumb.

“Can I go back into the field again?”

“…You.”

“Please, tell me. Can I go back, or do I have to step back?”

Clevenz didn’t answer.

That alone was the answer.

“I can’t go back.”

“…It’s not final yet. Nothing is certain.”

Though he said that, it already felt like the answer was clear to me.

I will not return to the field.

It’s not a matter of choice; it’s a matter of inability. The Military Intelligence Agency will not deploy me back into the field. That’s how information agencies operate.

Of course, I wouldn’t just sit around without any position. I’d likely have a role suited to the office—like doing intelligence analysis or collecting open-source information. I might end up moving to the rear, scouting for and training new recruits as a recruiter or instructor. There are many positions in an information agency besides just the field.

But I simply couldn’t return to the field.

Since I can’t return to the field, operations will come to a halt.

I was supposed to be the core of the operations alongside Camila, and now that I’m stepping back, it’s likely that the mission will face significant trouble.

If luck is on my side, perhaps Pippin or Jake will be in the field while I take on a role of leading them. Or everything might just go awry, and all the documents could end up in the shredder.

As Clevenz said, nothing is certain yet.

But there’s a predictable result looming in front of me.

I lowered my head in silence, and Clevenz placed his hand on my shoulder.

“……”

“Cheer up. We could bring in a priest from the cult, or even procure a prosthetic from the Magic Tower.”

“…Okay.”

“…It’s time. I’ll come back later.”

Clevenz encouraged me with a pat on the shoulder and left the hospital room.

I sat there for a while, blankly staring down at my hands, then pressed the button and lay back on the bed.

It itches.

The medicine quickly coursed through my veins. In an instant, my thoughts became hazy, and my body felt heavy.

As the wave of drowsiness washed over me, I felt as if my body was sinking, slowly drifting into sleep.

And with that, I fell asleep once more.

*

Time passed a little further. The tasteless hospital food, which had the flavor of nothing, had turned into regular meals, and my condition improved to the point where I could walk the hospital halls on my own.

Of course, even though it was called normal food, it still tasted bad. At one point, I jokingly told the medical staff that I felt like I’d die not from the injury, but from the awful food. The doctor responded to my joke, saying, “Then why not have a delicious meal starting today and head over to the morgue?” Seeing us exchange jokes made me realize just how much better my condition had become.

But the problems still lingered.

Firstly, there was the issue of rehabilitation.

Ideally, the Military Intelligence Agency would grant me an extended leave and support my rehabilitation, but I was currently on active duty. As the Resident Officer of the overseas mission.

Since it was still undecided whether I’d stay active or not, I couldn’t know how the mission would turn out. If I overshot my time away too far, I could attract the suspicion of other intelligence agencies. Perhaps the Imperial Guard HQ, perhaps the Imperial Guard HQ, perhaps the Imperial Guard HQ…

Aside from that, various minor issues (treatment costs, scheduling, progress reports, contact with companions or family, whether I’d continue outpatient treatment or stay hospitalized, and so forth) arose, but

the most serious issue lay elsewhere.

The brain.

Due to the fall from the third floor and getting pummeled by a beastman, my brain may have been damaged from the impact. More accurately, it was said that there was a possibility of having lost some brain function like fragmented memory loss…

I was extremely curious about whether problems could be treated or if they would remain as untreatable disabilities, but even the doctor could only parrot back that we would have to wait and see.

As a side note, I received a definitive answer that my fingers couldn’t be healed.

To be more precise, they tried reattaching them but ultimately gave up after assessing the condition of the fingers and the time it had taken.

Even if it were a miracle from above and they managed to attach my thumb, they mentioned that it would either die due to lack of blood supply or that the nerves wouldn’t connect properly, making it impossible to move it at all.

As hard as it was to accept, reality was reality. I was somewhat mentally prepared, so I decided to just face reality cleanly.

With that, I prepared to file for discharge and thought about applying for a veteran’s pension…

“Shit?”

My finger grew back.

“W-wait, what…?”

I cursed while looking at the thumb that had just a moment ago—no, just yesterday—been gone. I couldn’t help it. Was this really happening? I touched it, squeezed it, twisted it, and it was real.

“Oh, ohhh…”

“What are you so surprised about? It’s nothing new.”

The continent’s greatest healer rested her chin on my shoulder and grinned.

“I remember experiencing your healing once before.”

She smiled gently, tilting her eyes.

Veronica spoke.

“It’s a gift, Colonel.”

 

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