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Winter has passed, but the early morning air was quite chilly.

At exactly 5 o’clock, with dense fog all around.

As the flickering crimson light of the candle began to seep into my eyes, Pope John XVI, hands clasped behind his back, slowly lowered his gaze.

A desk piled high with Bibles and documents. It was a rather plain looking desk for a pope, and on it lay a single letter and envelope, with a striking imprint of a doves sealing the letter in red wax.

Upon closer inspection, there was nothing remarkable about the seal at all.

Unlike the cardinals who would embed all sorts of symbols into a pattern no larger than two knuckles, the dove on the letter bore no particular meaning. It merely served to affirm that this was a letter meant for communication.

In the slowly turning gears of the Holy See, John XVI had never received such a simple letter before. In fact, it was rare for him to receive any letters at all.

Yet, the name inscribed at the bottom of the letter caught Pope John XVI’s eye.

Lucia.

The clearly written words in a humble handwriting conveyed a straightforward message.

“I wish to see you again.”

John XVI stared blankly at the letter.

With his chin resting on his hand, the troubled expression of the pope, melted by the crimson glow, flowed out through the crack of the door, revealing an old cleric lost in thought, seemingly forgetting to blink.

In that moment.

His hands, clasped together as if in prayer, fell apart, and John XVI’s lips parted.

“Where is Lucia now?”

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

There’s a term called “black corporations.”

It refers to businesses that disregard established labor laws, demanding excessive work from employees or forcing them to work in harsh environments.

Unstable employment, long working conditions, workplace harassment, and a closed community culture.

The criteria defining black corporations vary widely, and those who work at such places often bear physical and mental fatigue, along with chronic occupational diseases.

In that sense, the information agency can be seen as a representative of a malicious black corporation of a nation.

The pay is only slightly better than a civil servant’s, but the working environment can often rival that of a small to medium enterprise.

It’s not uncommon for commuting times to become chaotic on a regular basis. In emergencies, one can’t even leave work, and if caught up in the wrong circumstances, might have to endure years in a remote or dangerous area that no one would want to go to. The competitive work structure and promotion system are cited as major factors ruining the company culture.

Yet, even in a mouse hole, there comes a sunny day, and when the sky falls, there is always an escape route.

With over ten years of experience in the information agency, I had not only endured the tough corporate life but also reached a level where I could seek enjoyment within it.

“Ah, after all, it’s the embassy. They really know how to eat.”

At an East Asian cuisine specialty restaurant located in the heart of Lateran, I picked up a handful of fresh sashimi, nodding my head in admiration.

The soft, chewy flesh filled my mouth to the brim.

The bouncy white flesh was neatly sliced off my molars like it was cutting through butter. Fish, coated with a sauce tailored for foreign palates, danced on my tongue.

“Wow…”

After stuffing my face with the fish and pounding a beer down my throat, I wrapped up my meal with playful banter.

My companion, a young noble from England, looked on with a face that seemed to say, “I’ve seen it all now.”

“Why on earth are you eating like that? Can’t you eat quietly?”

“Hey! Don’t speak if you don’t know! The alcohol served during work hours tastes so good…”

“But isn’t it a problem to drink while on duty…?”

With nothing else to do and feeling a little bored, I set out for breakfast with Camila, tired of the hotel’s meals.

Sure, hotel food is always good, but I couldn’t survive on the same thing. Exiting the hotel, we set out to find something exotic to eat.

Not being familiar with local conditions or the geography, I worried about being conned by hyenas exploiting the tourist boom while contemplating where to eat. In that moment, I received a recommendation for a good restaurant from the embassy’s resident information officer, who had been stationed in Lateran for over three years.

And what a jackpot it turned out to be!

“Oh man, this is amazing. I thought my teeth would fall out.”

The East Asian specialty restaurant recommended by the information officer was, hands down, the best I had visited in this town so far.

It was so delicious that it nearly rivaled the sushi I had eaten during my earlier assignment in Japan.

“Japan?”

Camila, chewing on a piece of fish, tilted her head in confusion.

“Oh, didn’t I mention I went to Japan once?”

“Yeah, just a brief visit due to the North Korean project.”

If an intelligence officer goes on a business trip to Japan or China, chances are it’s for North Korean operations. Sure, there are also operations targeting Japan or China, but due to the nature of South Korean intelligence, the focus on North Korean operations is overwhelmingly significant.

Having gulped down some tasty draft beer, I started to speak quietly.

“There are fringe groups in Japan like Chongryon, and the red bunch has built quite a foundation over decades in Japan, but the real essence lies not in Japan but rather in the Eurasian continent, like China and Russia, or even the Middle East regions such as Iran and Syria, or in Latin America represented by Venezuela.”

“Because those places are friendly to North Korea and have plenty of things to exploit?”

“Exactly.”

Even though the red guys are depicted in movies or dramas as shadowy figures capable of shaking the Korean Peninsula at any moment, that is merely a creation of media fantasy.

Whether it’s the Ministry of State Security or the Reconnaissance General Bureau, regardless of how skilled the reds are, it is nearly impossible to bypass the information assets spread out everywhere. The National Intelligence Service and the intelligence agency are no fools, but they also receive substantial information about North Korea from allied intelligence agencies.

Hence, North Korean intelligence usually seeks to operate in allied countries (ironically, Chinese and Russian intelligence agencies also interact with the NIS) or easily conceal themselves in conflict zones.

Especially in conflict areas, there’s the potential to earn money through drugs or smuggling, making competition for deployment fierce.

In that context, one would expect intelligence officers dealing with North Korea to wish to be assigned to such dangerous areas, but, as is often the case in life, things do not always flow in accordance with reason.

Ironically, the number-one country that South Korean intelligence officers wish to go to is not Syria, but an ally like Japan.

The reason is simple.

“It’s just fun there.”

I added while sipping my draft beer.

“The most painful part of going abroad is the local food, but Japan has food that suits my palate, and it’s close enough to travel back and forth. The time zone adjustment is much easier too. The culture is somewhat similar, and there are many staff who can speak Japanese, making support easier.”

Of course, while it’s easy to apply, one must go through fierce competition to be selected as a regional officer for Japan. Just knowing Japanese from school or travel won’t cut it. Those who attended prestigious universities in Japan or lived there for years start the race on a completely different track.

Languages like Arabic or Spanish, which are less popular, have fewer competitors, but Japanese is inundated with rivals. The same goes for Chinese and English, which have equally high levels of competition.

Nonetheless, Japan remains the preferred posting for most intelligence officers.

“Though I expressed it negatively, being in charge of the Japanese region does offer a lot of work. Almost all intelligence agencies are interested in advanced countries.”

In fact, I could be considered a minority for primarily traveling through China and then to the Middle East and Latin America.

“If only I had quietly gone when my uncle offered to put me in Japan. If I think about the hell I went through with malaria…”

“That’s all in the past. Let’s finish this and head out. It’s about that time.”

“Sure.”

We clinked our glasses and downed our beers.

*

Our light escapade of day-drinking led us to an event hall located in the heart of Lateran.

While overshadowed by the canonization and enthronement ceremonies, various international events had been occurring since the beginning of the year.

Among the many diverse events, the most grandiose was the ‘New Year event for Overseas Nationals.’

In the hotel lobby, where a banner hung, I caught sight of the crowd filling the event hall.

“Wow, there’s a huge crowd.”

“Socializing is a big deal in any culture, right? Being away from home, if you don’t have any ties, you can only stick together with your fellow countrymen.”

Today’s event was a social gathering hosted by the overseas nationals’ association, but it wasn’t only meant for Koreans.

I glanced sideways at the suit men gathering in groups.

“Those are people from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.”

The smartly dressed individuals navigating through the event hall were civil servants from the foreign ministry.

One might think it’s strange for foreign ministry personnel to show up at an overseas nationals’ event, but the role of diplomats becomes incredibly significant in such situations.

Representatives from home, trade company heads exporting goods, travel agents who consistently attract tourists each year, scholars pursuing knowledge, and artists aspiring for greatness.

Many among the overseas nationals hold significant power in various capacities. And those who attend such events to shine a light on their presence are mostly successful in their respective fields.

Thus, the foreign diplomats within the association were there to cultivate connections for smoother operations.

And the same goes for spies disguised as diplomats.

The moment we stepped into the entrance of the event hall, a suit man hovering around the lobby began to look utterly astonished. Then, a look of disbelief spread across his face.

The cow was laid down, and I began to run at full speed.

“Oh my! Teacher! What brings you here?”

“Ah, it’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”

I greeted the Suit Man warmly. Despite neither of us wearing a badge, we recognized each other at a glance.

The Suit Man in front of me was a member of the embassy staff residing in the Cult.

“I heard you’ve been quite busy lately.”

“What business do I have? A civil servant’s job is pretty predictable.”

“I’m also a civil servant, so I understand well. This time, we’ve relied heavily on the people of Abas.”

“There’s no such thing as owing favors among allies…”

Only then did I raise my head to glance at the banner that read:

‘Hosted by the Patalian Community Association, Welcome Ceremony for Home Country Exchange Students.’

The counselor from the Patalian Embassy stationed in the Cult.

Also, the local information officer from the National Security Agency.

After exchanging pleasantries with the Embassy’s information agency agent, I skipped the small talk and got straight to the point.

“By the way, where is Miss Raniere?”

*

Though many people overlook this fact, expat events are not purely civilian affairs.

While expatriates are legally treated as foreign citizens, there are also expatriates who do not fit this category.

Citizens who maintain dual nationality or simply stay abroad due to personal circumstances need to be looked after by the government, including those expatriates who cannot forget their roots and maintain their identity. The diplomats dispatched to the locality are the ones who can take care of them closest.

And while it’s common knowledge, embassies are essentially spy dens.

Second- and third-generation immigrants working in foreign government agencies, businesspeople running trading companies and travel agencies, those who acquired citizenship through military service, correspondents and freelance journalists sent by media outlets, and so on.

There are many people who may be able to ‘cooperate’ with the ‘company’ at any time, and for information officers looking to hire new informants, such events are essentially job markets.

As I confidently stepped into the bustling crowd of Patalian information officers, the rumor of our presence must have spread quickly, as the diplomats from the Cult and Patalia, along with some thirsty hawks, began to hover around, bothering me.

I politely brushed them off and roamed inside the event hall.

And amidst that, I successfully found my informant.

“There you are, Miss Francesca.”

Francesca’s gaze, surrounded by people, slowly turned towards me.

Setting her wine glass down, she greeted me with a beautiful smile.

“You’re late? The Hero has come too.”

“The way was blocked, so I arrived late!”

“Who are these people?”

Francesca pointed to the seated attendees and introduced them.

“These are professors from Patalia. They’ve made connections during the magic university exchange event. This is Colonel Frederick Nostrim, who works at the Ministry of Defense of Abas. And this is Miss Camila Lowell, who is a colleague of the Colonel and me.”

Well, you all must have at least heard their names, right?

Francesca, still smiling, added.

The people sitting at the table were professors affiliated with prestigious universities in Patalia. That means they are faculty members from universities that are well-known worldwide by name.

Camila politely greeted the professors, and I pretended to acknowledge the identities of the attendees.

There was a professor responsible for military research at the Ministry of Defense, who worked on the development of military magic, three professors who participated in a project to improve magic stone refinement technology and received honors from the government, and graduate advisors who had published new papers and their reputation was currently soaring.

Indeed, this was a network that suited Francesca, who had received love calls from various universities and institutions.

If other information officers had seen this, they would surely be drooling, but I didn’t want to create friction with the Patalian information officers watching the table. They weren’t the connections I needed anyway.

So, I snuck Francesca out and made my escape from the table.

“You’ve been busy since morning.”

“Compared to before, it’s not particularly busier.”

Francesca, lightly joking, lit a magic herb. Now used to it, she took out a Hafo stone pipe and lit it, puffing smoke as she asked.

“By the way, where did the Hero go? I saw you veering off on the way here.”

“I requested a moment away. He’s probably somewhere eating.”

Camila had said she wanted to play with Francesca, but didn’t decline my request to step aside since we needed to discuss work.

Looks like she was eyeing the buffet food, so I guessed she might have gone to inhale it.

“I’ll get straight to the point. The Duke wants to meet Camila.”

I plunged right into the main topic with Francesca.

“The Duke wants to see the Hero…?”

“I don’t know the exact reason. However, he seems very eager to meet.”

“Did you ask for the Hero’s opinion?”

“Not yet. Do you have any idea why?”

“Hmm…”

With the pipe clenched in her mouth, Francesca sank into thought.

The reason the Duke wanted to connect with Camila. Francesca speculated that it was likely due to curiosity.

“Curiosity?”

“Because she comes from another world. It’s already been over 50 years since the Duke retired from the magic realm, but he’s still a magician. And magicians can’t resist their curiosity.”

Francesca believed the Duke’s desire to meet Camila stemmed from curiosity. It was an interpretation that a thirst for knowledge about the knowledge and culture of another world drew him in.

Of course, it wasn’t merely out of curiosity that the Duke wanted to meet Camila. Francesca dropped the pipe momentarily and added.

“Even apart from that, the Duke has plenty of reasons to want to meet the Hero. The first thing that comes to mind is knowledge.”

“Knowledge, you say?”

“You also have some knowledge about magic, Colonel, right?”

I nodded.

Francesca’s voice continued.

“The Magic Tower fundamentally comprises various schools. Among them, the most historically significant are the Sorcery School and the Astrology School. However, there’s one more school that upholds the core of the magical community, right?”

“You mean the Elemental School.”

The Elemental School. It is one of the three major branches of the Magic Tower, handling the broadest range of magic.

“There are different definitions of elemental magic among scholars, but they all agree that elemental magic is the foundation of various magics. That’s why elemental sorcerers can use diverse magics. And that’s also the limit of elemental magic itself.”

Elemental magic forms the basis of most magic. Just as sorcery underpins curses and necromancy, elemental magic is widely used across various sectors of society alongside alchemy.

The issue lies in the sheer expanse of elemental magic’s range.

“There are many opposing magics within elemental magic. A magician wielding flames cannot handle water, and one who rides on the wind cannot move the earth. But the real trouble is that even sorcerers with the same attributes find it hard to interact.”

Imagine there’s a magician dealing with fire.

There are indeed many fire-wielding magicians, but the fire they manipulate varies.

Some flames are powerful enough to consume wood, while others merely barely ignite a log pile.

Some may use white flames, while others may use red flames. Just looking at Camila and the Duke demonstrates this. Both use the same abilities, yet their flames differ in color.

For these reasons, Francesca speculated that the Duke wanted to meet Camila.

To be exact,

“He’s curious. Just how far does your ability go? Haven’t you seen it, Colonel? The Hero’s flame burned trees within the northern rift, even against the Imperial Army.”

I bit my lip and let out a faint sigh. I couldn’t grasp the Duke’s true intentions at all.

Interpreting the thoughts of an archmage was no easy task, and Camila’s abilities remained yet unclarified. It had been months since I heard she was conducting research at the Magic Tower, but there were no news of the research being completed.

How should I analyze this? While I pondered various analytical methods, a question suddenly arose in my mind to Francesca.

“But what does the Duke want to know about Camila for? Is he planning to write a paper or something?”

“I can’t know that. However, I do have one personal speculation.”

“What is it?”

“Apprenticeship.”

Francesca stated.

“The Duke, who has hardly ever found someone with talents in history, being the first headmaster of the Elemental School. Similarly, the Hero, whose fame as an unparalleled talent has grown without any formal training, often compared to an archmage.”

The descendant of the archmage spoke.

“Perhaps the Duke wants to take the Hero as his apprentice.”

“……”

“There’s nothing impossible about it, right?”

 

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