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“….”

My heart feels troubled.

-“Colonel. It’s highly likely that your predictions are correct.”

I can’t discern whether this is truly the world of a game or reality.

-“It’s just circumstantial evidence, but it seems safe to say that the Second Department agents have been purged. Betrayal is treated the same as treason, so if the accusations are solid, they might have been executed without trial. Of course, there could be other reasons, but what do we know?”

“….”

The Colonel let out a deep sigh.

-“Frederick. Don’t dig too deep into this incident.”

“…I suppose that’s for the best.”

-“We have no reason to get involved in the internal problems of the Imperial Guard HQ. Just keep an eye on the situation, and when the time is right, we can resume official schedules.”

—

Episode 2 – Heroes of the Continent

The country, no, the entire continent is in chaos.

The bomb terror and gunfight that erupted in the heart of the Cult have made many high-ranking officials and citizens tremble in fear. As the terror spread throughout the continent, hell was unleashed.

“…The Empire has declared a state of emergency.”

“Damn it.”

Jake cursed. Even a fresh-faced young adult in his twenties couldn’t help but curse in such a situation.

Pippin began reporting while holding the phone to her ear.

“They are currently considering a reserve troop mobilization from the homeland. Due to the movement of the Imperial Army, a state of alert has been declared across all forces.”

This is outrageous.

I turned on the news to see the unfolding situation. The newscaster was reading the script in a frantic voice.

“‘A state of emergency has been declared across the Kien Empire. The Emergency Command has issued a statement, citing this as an unavoidable decision to ensure national stability amidst the rampant misconduct and unrest by harmful elements…'”

A general with thinning white hair appeared on the screen, reading the script.

Considering there was a gunfight within the Cult, and the Empire declared a state of emergency, it seems they’re using this incident to perform a thorough internal cleansing and put an end to localized conflicts at the borders.

“What does the Inquisition have to say? No official announcement yet?”

“They’re only providing generic responses. It seems they don’t have the luxury to issue a statement right now.”

As I changed the channel, the Inquisition’s press conference began to air.

The scene of reporters causing a ruckus and the spokesperson’s frantic voice was striking.

“‘Who is responsible for the gunfight?!'”

“‘Is this another act of terrorism? Please give us an answer!'”

“‘Can each of you speak one at a time…'”

“‘According to eyewitness accounts, a considerable amount of shell casings have been discovered! Are there casualties or injuries?!'”

“‘Please, just a moment! Calm down, everyone…!'”

“‘How many people are dead?! Were there civilian casualties?!'”

“‘Is this power struggle within the internal organization of the slums? Just say something!'”

It seems even a zoo would be quieter than this.

I changed the channel again, and this time an interview video started playing.

“‘I believe this situation is connected to terrorism. The Inquisition, responsible for maintaining order within the Cult, has yet to provide a clear answer even two days later. The Inquisition’s incompetence is being laid bare for all to see!'”

The subtitles indicated he was a bishop.

I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before, but he wasn’t particularly memorable.

The bishop’s face grew red, and his calm tone gradually became aggressive. The intensity of the conversation was skyrocketing like Bitcoin.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong with that guy?”

“I don’t know, probably just an attention seeker since he got a lead.”

Pippin replied sharply as she set down the phone and slumped into a chair.

“A report just came in from the eavesdropping team. After the gunfight, communications heading to the Imperial Embassy surged and have now disappeared.”

“Silence on the wireless.”

Jake suddenly cut in, ready to present his opinion.

“They’re probably quiet because of treating casualties and reorganizing. In a state of emergency declared by the Empire, the lack of communication suggests that the higher-ups there might have given orders to halt activities and go off the grid.”

“That counterintelligence guy is probably tussling with another agent right about now.”

“There’s a chance of that, considering the circumstances. Who wouldn’t go crazy when their comrades are getting shot?”

“Are we still able to contact the Imperial Embassy?”

“No. Even if the ambassador tried to call directly, they’re not answering. It seems communication has been blocked for emergencies.”

“This is ridiculous. Why are they causing a fuss by shooting in someone else’s country?”

“Could it be an internal power struggle?”

At Jake’s suggestion, I shook my head.

No matter how much of a grudge they might hold, there would be no reason for people within the same organization to shoot at each other.

If it was a confrontation over the next leader position between the First and Second Departments, they would likely just struggle for achievements without needing to kill each other.

The most reasonable assumption would be that they were purged for some reason.

Yet even beyond that, something felt fundamentally off from the beginning.

It was unclear why the Counterintelligence was deployed abroad, and it’s suspicious that an agent from the Counterintelligence managed to provide terror-related information.

Though I racked my brain hard, no clear answer came.

My mind felt filled with a foggy haze.

So, I let out a hollow laugh and made a careless remark.

“…Maybe they had a fight over the lunch menu or something.”

Pippin and Jake looked at me as if I were trash.

I guess my joke wasn’t funny. They sure lack a sense of humor.

Just then, the light on the intercom at the corner of my desk began to blink.

It seemed someone was looking for me.

Leaving the busy Pippin and the inspecting Jake behind, I exited the conference room.

The hallway was filled with embassy employees rushing around with files in hand, as if their feet were on fire.

“Excuse me. Just passing through.”

“Colonel!”

“Yes?”

At the sound of a hurried voice, I turned to see Camila Lowell running up to me.

“Are you, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. But it seems the schedule might be canceled for the time being. Is that alright with you?”

“Huh? Of course, that’s fine for me. But what about you, Colonel…”

“I’m fine with it. I’m just someone who moves according to orders.”

Camila Lowell wore a downcast expression. She seemed to be under considerable mental distress. According to psychological reports, her mental shock was significant. Though she appeared bright while attending recent events, her mood had evidently plummeted.

Certainly, both the bomb terror and the urban gunfight were major incidents worthy of front-page news. With occurrences like these in succession, it’s hard to imagine she’d feel at ease.

I smiled gently and patted her shoulder.

“Your safety is the top priority, so don’t worry too much.”

“….”

“Go take a rest. I must be on my way.”

I left her standing there, lost in thought, and continued my path.

She would likely need time alone to think, and it was best to leave her be for now.

“Colonel.”

As I was quietly making my way, her voice resonated in my ear.

Turning back, I found Camila Lowell standing in the bustling hallway, a faint smile on her face.

“What is it?”

“…Please take care of yourself.”

She left those few words behind and disappeared.

I stared in amazement down the path she had walked.

“…What was that?”

Naturally, there was no response.

—

At some café near the embassy,

Despite its old exterior, the interior was filled with a very classical decor.

The soft lighting and fragrant scents of candles created a comforting atmosphere, and the rich aroma of coffee added the finishing touch to the tempting ambiance.

“It’s been a while.”

However, given the circumstances,

There wasn’t a moment’s peace to sit back and enjoy a cup of coffee.

“It’s been a while, Director Bernard.”

The Inquisition’s Director of Safety, Bernard.

He sat across from me, the same man who conspired with Petrus to test me before.

Gone was the obsequious attitude of ingratiation, replaced instead by a cold, expressionless demeanor.

It struck me anew that this gentleman was a high-ranking official of the Counterintelligence.

He tilted his impassive face and gave a slight smile.

“You look well.”

It was a backhanded compliment. Saying I looked tired when he actually meant the opposite.

From my personal investigation, the Safety Department under the Inquisition handled counterintelligence investigations.

In other words, this man is my nemesis.

Given the nature of our meeting, I wasn’t in the mood for jovial banter, so I pushed right to the point.

“Thank you, Director. By the way, what was the reason you called me here?”

“The reason I summoned you is to discuss the protection issue concerning the Hero.”

“Go on.”

“The Inquisition understands that the recent terror and gunfight pose a serious threat to the Hero’s safety. Therefore, we have doubled the number of personnel assigned to protect you.”

The protective personnel supplied by the Inquisition included Knights, Inquisition Officers, and dedicated healing Priests.

Doubling that force—

“That many personnel at once must be a burden for you.”

It was undoubtedly a decision made directly by the Pope or through the Cardinals’ meetings.

“The personnel are not an issue. The value of a human life is at stake here.”

“…Human life is important.”

On the surface, it seemed perfectly reasonable, yet I couldn’t take this as simply joyous news.

Thoughts of the conversation between former Inquisition Director Raphael and Raul flashed through my mind; I couldn’t just be happy about this.

“I will gladly accept your offer.”

“Great. It’s nice that our conversation flows easily.”

“You seem to have another matter to discuss, though?”

“Yes.”

Director Bernard took a brown envelope from his briefcase and handed it to me.

I looked down at it and asked a question.

“…What is this?”

“It’s an internal document. Since you have been granted a confidentiality clearance, there’s no need to worry about being expelled for treason.”

Bernard chuckled softly, delivering a mundane joke.

Internal document, a term I had previously used with him.

“By the way, what do you mean by ‘confidentiality clearance’?”

“The Director personally requested me to deliver this document to you. I don’t know if you’re aware, but Director Petrus holds you in high regard.”

High regard, indeed.

Such favor wasn’t very reassuring.

Receiving the goodwill from the director of a counterintelligence agency as an agent was not necessarily a positive thing. I expressed lukewarm gratitude and flipped the envelope to spill its contents.

“Photos, huh?”

I picked up a photo and waved it around.

“What unfortunate fellow was it that got a hole in the back of his head?”

It was a photo of a corpse.

—

A photo of a well-dressed Suit Man smiling cheerfully was placed in front of me.

“Yuri. 34 years old. A businessman from the Principality of Latuan within the Kien Empire. He had been running a publishing company within the Cult for several years.”

Another photo was placed in front of me.

In it, he was captured mingling with other Suit Men beneath a banner, engaged in conversation.

“It seems he was quite interested in trade for someone in the publishing business. He showed significant interest in minerals like zinc, coal, and steel.”

“Those are the Cult’s main export products, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Just to clarify, don’t take this the wrong way, but does that mean those are mined using forced labor from heretics and prisoners?”

“Let’s say it’s a form of punishment.”

It was a shameless answer, insisting it isn’t forced labor.

These guys are no different from the reds up north. The people who legally operate aaoji coal mines are religious, and look how the world turned out.

“So, why did this well-meaning businessman, who had a keen interest in trade, get shot? Did he owe someone money or something?”

“It’s less about being assassinated and more akin to an execution.”

Director Bernard pushed a few photos toward me.

What I saw earlier: a hole in the back of the head, hands and feet bound with wire.

I chuckled and poked the photo.

“Looks like he must have touched a noble’s daughter or something.”

This is the kind of scene you can find anywhere.

It’s the typical execution method used for ideological or political criminals.

“I don’t think that’s the case.”

Director Bernard placed a resume with a prominent seal on the table.

“….”

“Yuri was an operative working for the Second Department of the Imperial Guard HQ. He was a spy operating within the Cult. He was quite active, so in reality, he was closer to a white agent than a black one. Nonetheless, he was someone we had been monitoring.”

“And he was found executed in the sewage system?”

The Second Department of the Imperial Guard HQ, the department in charge of overseas operations.

A white agent. Someone like him getting shot in the back of the head.

A strange sense of déjà vu washed over me as I examined the resume.

“When did he go missing?”

“A week after the bomb terror incident.”

The bomb terror, huh.

The missing agent from the Second Department disappeared right after the bomb terror hit.

“What was his usual work?”

“Standard fare. Lobbying, gathering information, and occasionally looking into international crime organizations.”

“Sounds like you might know him well enough.”

“The Safety Department is in charge of international crime investigations.”

So he was an informant.

Rather than a one-sided information exchange, they had to have a symbiotic relationship. There’s no reason to tightly keep tabs on anyone working on international crime since it often requires collaboration among various agencies across borders.

When it comes to things like drug crimes, illegal arms trading, and human trafficking, it’s a given that numerous intelligence agencies will need to cooperate.

“So, does that mean this gentleman was killed while snooping around a crime organization?”

“We don’t know. We can only assume there’s some relation to the organization that orchestrated the bomb terror, given the timing.”

I stared at the photos he had handed over for quite a while.

There was plenty I wanted to say and ask, yet in the end, I could only voice a generic question.

“…What’s the reason you’re showing me this?”

“As I mentioned, the Director thinks highly of you.”

“That’s quite an excess of goodwill.”

“I intend to provide additional data as well, so please don’t decline.”

I glared at Bernard’s stoic face, then lightly tapped the table with my fingers, succumbing to thought.

An undercover operative from the Second Department of the Imperial Guard HQ.

A killing method that borders on execution.

Investigating international crime.

Lobbyist.

Bomb terror.

The work of a spy isn’t always peaceful, which is why these sorts of unfortunate incidents can happen.

Whether they’re classified as white or black, once you step into the intelligence world, absolute safety is never guaranteed.

That’s why operatives invest significant effort into their security. If information leaks, it could bring ruin not just to oneself but to colleagues as well.

Of course, even with such precautions, it’s not uncommon for identities to be revealed, resulting in expulsion or imprisonment. Since intelligence operations are ultimately conducted by humans, nothing can be perfect.

And in this world, nothing comes without a price.

In that sense,

“…Sigh.”

When the Inquisition comes looking for me and providing such information, there must be a reason behind it.

“What can I do to help?”

“It’s simple. Please find those who set off the bomb.”

I expected that.

The Inquisition is currently backed into a corner. They failed to prevent bomb terror and with the gunfight erupting within the Cult, casualties were unavoidable.

Normally, politicians would be crawling over each other to demand accountability for the situation, but unexpectedly, Petrus seems to have held his ground.

This means the achievements he has made somehow outweigh the shortcomings incurred.

On top of that, he seems to have seized control of the Inquisition sufficiently to suppress discontent within the ranks.

Since such a monstrous old man made a bet, I couldn’t just knock the table over.

“…I will do my best.”

Deal.

 

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