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As the silver wings pierced through the clouds and descended, a spray of water erupted on the vast runway.

The U.S. military transport aircraft followed the lights of the taxiway.

Upon receiving the stop signal, the pilot manipulated the panel, and the rear ramp door slowly opened, revealing a white man casually descending with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, Michael.”

His blue eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, looked my way.

Meeting the gaze of the CIA information officer who was waving lightly, I awkwardly returned the gesture, and he grasped the bag on his shoulder tightly before giving me a friendly fist bump.

“Long time no see. How’s flying these days?”

My American friend responded in a hearty accent of Korean.

“Ah, it’s a cool and heavy sensation.”

“Come on…”

Over the shoulder of the chattering CIA officer, I noticed moving boxes in army drab color reminiscent of a moving truck.

American civilians in civilian clothes were struggling to move the equipment off the plane, and unable to hold back my curiosity, I nodded toward the boxes.

“What on earth is that? Who brings so much luggage for a short trip?”

“That? Nah, that’s not ours.”

“Not from Langley? Where is it from then?”

Michael added shortly.

“Fort Meade.”

“NSA?”

“Yep.”

We glanced over at the NSA personnel. Michael muttered as his eyes flitted over the equipment loaded onto the transport plane.

“I heard it was a package ordered by SUSLAK (Special U.S. Liaison Advisor-Korea).”

“Oh, that NSA branch.”

Soldiers came into the hangar guarded by U.S. troops. The East Asian individuals clad in integrated digital camo clearly belonged to the South Korean military.

We passed each other without asking where they came from, and when our eyes met for a brief moment, we quickly looked away as if we had made a mistake.

Shifting my gaze from the soldiers, I fiddled with my cigarette pack and spat out.

“Looks like they’re from Seongnam.”

The 777th Unit, subordinate to the Information Headquarters located in Seongnam, Gyeonggi-do. A neighboring company responsible for SIGINT and communications intelligence.

Though they didn’t disclose their affiliation, it was certainly obvious they were from that side. There was no other unit that interacted with SUSLAK.

“Couldn’t you have shared a flight? How awkward is it to run into each other while on a field trip?”

“Does jet fuel fall from the sky?”

“Well then, let’s get going. We have our own work to do.”

We discreetly left the area, lighting cigarettes and engaging in small talk. Of course, it was only small talk by our standards.

“Just the other day, we shot satellite footage of the Waon-ri area in Jagang Province and there were newcomers in a regiment-sized formation.”

“If it’s a regiment, is it IRBM? What’s TGT (Defense Intelligence Agency North Korean Targeting) saying?”

“They’re reporting signs of missile launch experiments. But Waon-ri has been a new base recently, right? They might have deployed new missile capabilities there.”

“I heard things are quite concerning at Yongjo-ri these days, and suddenly a regiment got deployed to Waon-ri which is only 7 miles away…”

“Man, those damn Reds. They just fired an ICBM and failed, and now they’re up to something again. They should just crush Pyongyang with tanks already.”

A smirk escaped Michael, and he released a chuckle as smoke flowed from between his lips.

“Still whining about communists? Isn’t that getting old?”

“Old? Hell no! They’re a pain in the ass.”

Michael stared intently at me. I shot him a sideways glance, wondering if something was wrong.

At that moment, my American friend set down his cigarette and suddenly spoke to me in English.

“…Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard the news. Your team member got hit in Georgetown. A junior of yours, right?”

“…”

“I understand why you’re angry. But cool it, man. If you keep dwelling on personal affairs, it’s only going to interfere with your work. You’re not Hamlet or John Wick, are you? Want to go hunting and kill them all?”

I turned away and exhaled smoke.

“This isn’t personal.”

“Then what is it?”

The cigarette butt tumbled to the ground.

I stomped on it with my boot.

“It’s work, after all.”

A headache started to throb.

The fog enveloped my vision, and as the sunlight vanished, darkness descended upon me.

It was a blackout.

Episode 17 – The Tree that Drinks Blood

“Camila, please don’t be angry and listen.”

I spoke softly.

“Why would you do something so terrible? Any normal person wouldn’t resort to arson no matter how furious they were. But if your parents knew this side of you, it would surely sadden them.”

“…Who made me angry in the first place?”

“Let’s face reality.”

Her pale cheeks flushed crimson, and Camila shyly averted her gaze.

The redness of her cheeks typically indicates feelings of shame or embarrassment. However, Camila showed no hints of either.

So why were her cheeks flushed?

The answer to that question was simple.

Flames danced wildly, consuming the trees around them, and the smell of burning filled the air. The heat was suffocating, devouring dust and paper, spewing black smoke into the sky.

I looked at the burning building and pulled at my hair.

“What’s going to happen if you just breathe fire whenever you’re angry…”

Was it because they treated me like a bio-translate device, or did the trick of luring with food stir her wrath? As Camila emitted a fiery burst, a scream promptly followed, “Kyaaa!”

This was the result.

Standing there, dumbfounded, gazing at the engulfed building, I admitted it calmly. There was no solution.

Were fire codes disregarded? There were no sprinklers, nor fire prevention spells. Even if it was a city of exiled magicians, it seemed fire-related magic wasn’t a requirement. Or perhaps the construction company skimmed on it somehow.

While there was a high likelihood I’d be arrested for arson, I wasn’t worried. Sure, I had touched her patience, causing the explosion, but Camila was the arsonist here. So I wasn’t in the wrong, in any case.

Camila, perhaps due to her past experience of burning down the cornfield she worked hard to cultivate, was brazenly keeping her head held high. Look at that! Half-dazed, I couldn’t help but click my tongue at her nonchalant demeanor.

“Looks like criminals are a different breed. To burn down a building in such a short moment.”

“…Who’s a criminal?!”

Bam! Camila’s kick struck my rear.

How could someone so casually doing exercise be this strong? As I was launched into the air from the kick, a scream escaped my lips.

“Ugh, my butt!”

Wielding a bucket, Camila stretched her arm toward the burning building. Despite getting hit by a bucket, I was on the verge of crying, and she didn’t seem to care as she barked at me.

“Hurry up and put the fire out!”

*

A fire caused by Camila’s negligence and my ‘mistake’ was finally contained thanks to her efforts (again, not mine).

As Camila reached out toward the building engulfed in flames, she focused her mind and drew up her magic power.

As her delicate hands moved, the flames tilted as if blown by the wind. Sweeping her hands, the flames leapt from the windows into the sky, and then disappeared into thin air.

The fire was put out just like that.

Aside from a footprint left in the reception area and meeting room on the first floor, parts of the second and third floors, and the burned outer walls and equipment, the actual property damage wasn’t significant. Fortunately, there were no casualties.

However, it was too early to feel relieved, as there were the repercussions of damages and legal penalties to come.

I looked around and pondered, calculating my escape.

I made a swift judgment and came to a decisive conclusion.

“Let’s bail.”

I suggested we make a quick getaway. Choosing to strategically retreat—what information officers loved to do—was my choice.

Camila gave me a look as if I were absurd.

“Are we really going to run away from here?”

“This isn’t running away.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s not running away; it’s advancing. It’s just a different direction.”

In technical terms, it was a reverse assault.

Of course, that was a ridiculous excuse.

“What do you think people will say if we run after starting a fire? And didn’t we come here for information collection? We need to take something away.”

“Did the one who started the fire even care? You have some gall.”

“No, this all started because Frederick…!”

Bickering on and on, it became a heated discussion of whose fault it was, why temper rose, and lacking foresight.

After a while of back-and-forth arguing on the street, Camila huffed, disappearing into the burnt building.

And moments later.

Surprisingly, she emerged with both hands full of something.

“What took you so long?”

“I was talking to the beastmen left inside. They said this is food.”

Wait, so she couldn’t resist and went in to bring food? I was dumbfounded.

Caught off guard by her sudden claim, I couldn’t form my words, and she pouted, defending herself.

“I didn’t steal it; I got it as a gift.”

“…”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…Camila, when a normal person receives a gift, they say it’s a gift, not that it’s not stolen first.”

As she grabbed our shared load tightly, a heavy sack began to spin. Camila swung with all her might, and I couldn’t help but drop my jaw.

“Ahhhh!”

“Stop joking around and listen!”

*

In a world without ranks, equality doesn’t truly exist, and even if a society appears rankless, not everyone is perfectly equal.

Perfection is like an ultimate illusion created by humans; a flawless circle, when examined closely, is not so perfect.

Society follows suit.

Income, capital, health, family, education, residence, age, gender, religion, nationality. What defines a person is their surroundings, and the differences create conflicts, perceived as flaws rather than diversity.

Yet sometimes, these differences become criteria to establish superiority. Some people, believing they are superior to others, often find it hard to keep quiet in front of those they view as inferior, much like the villains flaunting their power in fantasy stories before their servants.

The wizards of Necropolis seemed to have adopted that villainous image.

Despite having countless ears scattered throughout the underground, they rarely knew the meaning of silence.

To call them reckless would be an understatement. Wizards weren’t careless.

They simply viewed those who couldn’t use magic—those assumed to be inferior—as beneath their notice.

“I see there are quite a few beastmen around.”

In an unknown park far from the fire scene, amidst a meticulously arranged small gravel path adorned with wildflowers.

Having dusted the stone off with her cape, Camila plopped herself down on a rock.

“I got a lot of info from the people I met at the guild.”

“Did they tell you?”

“Of course not; would they share anything with Frederick?”

She looked at me as if what I was asking was eminently obvious.

Thus, all I could do was tilt my head with a look of confusion.

“Why would beastmen give food and information to a magician who burned their workplace?”

“They simply said it was okay after I offered them a bit of cash and apologized.”

Camila pulled something from her pocket, a stack of folded money, half of which was made up of 100 Tacron bills.

“I took this as a bribe, but I didn’t expect to use it like this.”

Ah, now I understood the situation better and nodded knowingly.

“That makes sense. If a magician is offering an apology with cash, it’d be a big deal if they refused it. It’s not every day you get a magician who burns down a whole building.”

“That makes it sound like I threatened them…”

“Not just like that; it was indeed a threat. That’s how Necropolis operates.”

Even among humans, exiles treat one another as slaves. If a fellow kin cannot use magic, they are treated like garbage, let alone beastmen. Of course, if someone commits a crime, they deserve punishment, but wizards are deeply involved in the establishment and operation of Necropolis.

Unless a wizard goes on a rampage and begins destroying the city or openly slaughters their own, it’s unlikely exiles would intervene. Their arms bend inwards, not outwards.

Since beastmen outnumber wizards significantly, and their uses are diverse, they are allowed as is. If useless beings roamed the city, the exiles would not permit it.

After all, this is a paradise for the exiled.

Considering that Camila is a wizard, it’s understandable that the beastmen would show her kindness. They’d received an apology and compensation, after all. I calculated roughly how much she might have reimbursed them, settling around 5000 Tacron.

“I knew it! They probably bowed deeply since she gave 5000 Tacron.”

“Umm… Is that a lot?”

“If you offer around 2000 dollars for a makeshift building made of slate and wooden pallets in an African interior country, do you think anyone would complain?”

This time, Camila slapped her palm as if she finally understood.

“Ah! So it wasn’t a huge amount after all. I thought I was being swindled!”

“…You don’t think 2000 dollars is a big amount?”

Anyhow, by offering cash, the issue with the beastmen was resolved smoothly.

I slowly listened as Camila shared what she had learned.

“So did you find out what I asked?”

“The doctrine used by the cult organization. The name is… Al Kair, right?”

“Yes. Al Kair. That’s the one.”

“It’s near Ash Tree Alley. According to some beastmen who often visit religious districts, they are said to be very cautious people.”

This part aligned with the reconnaissance results from Kair when we assaulted Al Kair’s residence.

They had an extremely cautious nature. Camila backed up this claim with details from her findings.

“I greeted them with a look, but they ignored me, and when I had to pass nearby, they stared until they disappeared. Almost no direct conversations happened… I mean, with the beastmen. The men remained silent when spoken to; even the women would quickly evade when encountering us.”

“Did you manage to identify the characteristics of those male and female members?”

“I’m not sure about their names or nationalities, but I think there are less than 10 males and females who were active as Al-Kair in this area, estimating about six. Each witness described slightly different-looking individuals, but they all had one common feature: all the males seemed to fit the conscription age.”

Camila’s collected information was impressively accurate. Was it her skill or the knowledge known by the beastmen?

Regardless, for now, it seemed necessary to keep a wary eye on the beastmen.

“There was no mention of children, only testimonies about males between their twenties to fifties. I asked a few neighbors with connections nearby, and they hadn’t seen any kids either.”

“What did the neighbors think of the Al Kair members?”

“They said they were quite similar, existing but not really there. They wouldn’t approach first, and even if someone tried to, they maintained an unobtrusive and indifferent stance.”

“Sounds like they were peculiar.”

“I heard the general sentiment was that it was not a typical reaction. Usually, after a few days of caution, they start to warm up and mingle, but it seems these individuals actively avoided integrating into the local community.”

Rather than avoiding integration, it was more appropriate to view their actions as trying to evade monitoring. Of course, the result hadn’t turned out well.

Camila concluded that the Al Kair members exhibited extreme caution and minimized contact with others, suggesting there might be something fishy going on.

“Even with differing beliefs, it’s rather strange that there was no human interaction at all, isn’t it? How are people supposed to buy things, only to come out for a short while and rush back inside…”

“I’m hiding at home.”

“So, you haven’t come into personal contact with anyone at all? I would have thought you at least chatted with a person or two.”

“Well… I can’t call it a conversation, but there was one Beastman who had contact with a woman.”

While pulling the cart back, he was asked by a woman if she could get some groceries delivered right to her house.

The destination was Ash Tree Alley. It was quite far, but since the load wasn’t too heavy, it wasn’t difficult to take one more passenger, so the Beastman readily accepted.

But throughout the journey to the destination, the woman subtly tried to preach her religion.

Sighing lightly as if to convey the feelings of the Beastman who unexpectedly encountered a religious conversation, Camila let out a small breath.

“Ugh… I think I got a bit stressed there. She kept buzzing on about her beliefs… Sounds like she was really worked up. I just let it go in one ear and out the other, but there was one thing. Just one thing I remembered from her preaching.”

“What was it?”

“‘You must be born again.'”

Having muttered the cultist’s sermon, she tilted her head in confusion, bringing forth a question mark.

“I really don’t know what ‘to be born again’ means…. Is it some philosophical concept?”

Philosophy seems too much for those cultists. Camila slowly mulled over the sermon but shrugged it off like she didn’t care anymore.

“It’s probably just a distorted quotation from any scripture. Isn’t that what heretics do? Right?”

“……”

“Frederick?”

“…I was just thinking about something else for a moment.”

“Ah.”

Apologizing for interrupting, Camila smiled, and I quietly lowered my gaze.

As she pointed out, heretics and cultists twist the scriptures to suit their own narratives.

However, there was an inkling of what the cultists might be aiming for with their ‘rebirth.’

“……”

I quietly took out my mobile phone.

*

“…So, the cultists’ goal was probably not to awaken a vampire but to become one themselves.”

-‘A vampire? Not even a minion, but a vampire?’

“I don’t know about that. Those who would know are in the Inquisition. Not me.”

-‘I’ll let the Inquisition know. You still have the item I gave you, right?’

“Yes, I have it well stored in my bag.”

-‘Got it. Be careful, Colonel.’

Click.

After ending the call, I placed the mobile phone down on the desk. The documents about Al Kair crinkled underneath the weight of the phone.

“……”

I had filtered through the testimonies secured through reconnaissance from the Beastman Guild, along with various collected data, and sent them to Veronica. The raw intelligence would pass through her and eventually land on Cardinal Raphael’s desk.

The ball was now in the court of the experts in the field, but my mind was far from at ease.

Embracing my discomfort, I stepped out of the supply room, only to be greeted by slurping noises in my ears.

“Om nom nom….”

“……”

“What are you staring at so intently?”

“… Oh, nothing. Just looks delicious.”

Camila was chewing on a mountain of food, glaring at me with narrowed eyes.

It was as if she had spotted a thief trying to steal her treasures, reminiscent of a dragon.

Worried she might snatch away my food, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of disbelief and unfairness.

“I’m not asking for it!”

“… Liar.”

“Liar, what now?”

“You said that last time and threw away my snacks. All of them.”

What on earth was she talking about from so long ago?

Of course, I understood her side of things. It was I who had thrown away all the snacks she hoarded because they were ‘fattening’. I didn’t even just throw them away openly—I sneaked in and stole them.

Moreover, it wasn’t the first time I had lured her into eating with delicious food, so it was no wonder she treated me like a thief.

Sure, I understood, but…

“When did you start thinking of me as an untrustworthy person?”

“Right from the moment you joined the Guild.”

“I said I was sorry. Besides, who paid for what you’re eating right now….”

“For that, I’m thankful!”

Camila replied with a big grin.

But not for long. Soon, her expression shifted, and she drew a line.

“However, that’s that, and this is this. Have you ever fooled me only once or twice?”

“……”

That was a fact.

It stung twice as much because there was no way to refute it. I had shattered Camila’s trust.

This was all a result of my shortcomings—an accumulation of a year’s worth of sins.

Gulp! Camila, tearing into some mysterious roasted leg (probably seasoned goat meat), slammed her glass down and spoke.

“Water.”

Last time, I was conned by Francesca into a slave experience. Today, I was stuck serving Camila.

I poured the water as if I were an Indian carrying out the wishes of a British capitalist, then played the sickly sweet voice from the cheap liquor. Contrary to the advertisement that boasted, ‘Authentic Vodka from the Kien Empire!’, it was just a mix of whatever liquor they threw together.

Damn it, I just noticed the spelling was wrong. Stupid bastards.

As I slapped the cheap vodka bottle, I cursed those magicians inwardly.

Damn magicians. They’re like disgusting bourgeois. No wonder communism was born in England.

Ah, Marx. I didn’t realize it until the wind changed, but now I see. I’ve been living in a greenhouse. Money comes and goes, yet these bourgeois will never comprehend your deep meaning, even after centuries.

But thinking about it, wasn’t Marx also bourgeois? This jerk was born with a silver spoon and has never worked a day as a laborer.

Damn it! Looking back, this jerk was in cahoots too. Mao was right. The Soviet Union was a sham of a revisionist den.

No wonder the Soviet Union fell apart. The only true communist state has been China from the start.

Just as I was pondering whether I should jump over to the Red team and hold a grand festival for the people of China, the British bourgeois finished their meal.

“Ah, I’m full. What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for bamboo, of all things.”

“…Why on earth are you looking for bamboo?”

After a satisfying meal, we stepped out onto the street.

Camila was hunting for a homemade beer she spotted on the way (likely selling sausages similar to authentic German ones), while I was checking for quality bamboo or something akin to a Kien Empire rifle.

By the way, from now on, I would categorize Soviet-made AKs as bottom-tier weapons. Only Chinese weapons, which inherit the true lineage, would be treated as originals. And the North Koreans were a hybrid mix of Christianity and Confucianism, so they could be excluded.

Of course, that was a load of crap.

There was no such thing in the Necropolis.

“Hey, shopkeeper! Bring out the guns!”

“…Sir? We don’t deal in firearms here.”

“No! Where’s my shotgun?! If you don’t have it, bring it right now!”

“Gyaaaa! I’m so sorry! My friend is drunk…!”

“Let go, dirty landlord! I’ve even imported optics straight from Russia, so bring it—ugh, ugh…!”

“Please keep your mouth shut and follow me!”

“…Please take care.”

*

A stupid town on an equally stupid night had fallen.

Was it because this place was a mock Viet Cong gathering selling gopher honey in the desert? The populace here didn’t even think about the time, like idiots.

Ding-a-ling—ding-a-ling—loud bells echoed as goblins filled the streets, ringing in the hour.

“It’s 10 o’clock! PM 10 o’clock! Residents, please take note!”

For such a tiny body, the voice was surprisingly loud. It woke me as I was deep in sleep, dispelling my drowsiness.

Rubbing my face groggily, I finally gained some clarity.

“Aah… what the hell…”

After forcefully waking up, I looked around, realizing I was in a park.

Did I fall asleep in a park? I have truly lost my mind. I clicked my tongue inwardly and scratched my neck.

“Water….”

“Yap.”

“Ah, cold!”

Feeling a heavy and chilling sensation on the nape of my neck made me jump.

As I fell to the ground and crawled around, I turned toward the sound of laughter and met eyes with Camila, sitting on a bench.

“What are you doing over there?”

“What are you doing here…?”

“I was waiting for you to wake up.”

She waved a dewy water bottle in front of me.

“You’ve been working nonstop lately, right? You’ve been running around all day, and on top of that, you drank, so how can you not pass out? I couldn’t just drag you to the accommodation alone, so I had no choice but to wait. There was nothing else to do.”

Taking the water bottle she handed me, I quenched my thirst, feeling revitalized. Having finally regained my senses, I was able to assess the situation more objectively.

Camila was sprawled across a bench that could fit a single adult. She had rolled up her cape on her knees. That’s what she looked like while she was starving just a while ago.

With embarrassment arriving alongside the hangover, I washed my face repeatedly, which started to amuse Camila.

“Were you really that tired? You looked like you didn’t even know the world you were sleeping in.”

“Shut up…”

“Did you have a dream or something?”

“…A dream?”

“Yeah, a dream.”

Nodding her head, she added,

“I thought you were grinding your teeth, but you were actually mumbling.”

“What did I say…?”

“It sounded like you were having a conversation with someone. You spoke so softly that I didn’t catch the details, but I think you said ‘Michael.'”

“……”

“Who’s Michael?”

“A friend.”

Seemingly intrigued by the word ‘friend,’ Camila tilted her head. Unable to suppress her curiosity, she began to question me with more zeal.

“An American? Or a Brit?”

“American. Used to be in the U.S. military in Korea.”

“Used to be in the military, which means he isn’t anymore?”

“Yes. He moved to Langley.”

“Langley…? Ah, CIA.”

People love to use the term “company” and while that’s the most commonly known slang, it isn’t the only term to refer to the intelligence agency.

Although the jargon might differ slightly depending on the country, the most popular slang refers to the name of the place where the headquarters is situated. Langley, Virginia is where the CIA is headquartered.

“How did he end up at the CIA?”

“He was originally assigned to an intelligence unit. FSK.”

“FSK?”

“USA FSK. US Army Field Station Korea. It’s under INSCOM (U.S. Army Intelligence and Security Command)… He worked in the intelligence brigade around Pyeongtaek.”

“Mm!”

Camila nodded, showing that she understood,

“I have no idea what you just said!”

“……”

“I understood INSCOM, that’s it!”

“Just think of it as an American intelligence unit in South Korea.”

“Am I gonna get hurt knowing this?!”

No. I was too lazy to explain.

Of course, I thought that would be the end of the conversation, but she seemed rather interested and kept on asking about various things.

“What’s the makeup of the U.S. intelligence units? If it’s a brigade, doesn’t that mean the next level is a division?”

“The next level after a brigade is a division, not a corps… You said your dad was a soldier, how do you not know that?”

“I’m not a soldier, you know!”

“Anyway!”

“Was it a division or regiment… I don’t know, how am I supposed to remember that?”

“Then what about Korea?”

“No… Why should I be the one to tell you this?”

“Because we’re allies?”

“……”

“…Was it boring?”

“Let’s just stay quiet if you know.”

“Ying…”

I gathered the pouting Camila and we made our way back to our accommodation.

Though I had come in under a disguise, Joaquin had lived in the Necropolis for an extended period, so there was a chance someone could recognize him. Thus, he stayed in a separate building while accommodations were exclusively used by just Camila and me.

Although it was not yet midnight, and we were both quite tired, Camila relentlessly continued bothering me.

“Have you been to the CIA headquarters? What about the NSA? The FBI?”

“I did go during exchanges, but why would I go to the NSA…? Maybe the FBI.”

“What about SIS?”

“The UK applied but didn’t get in, and neither did western Europe. The competition was fierce…”

“What’s the most memorable thing you saw at the CIA?”

“Starbucks. I was incredibly jealous of that.”

“Why on earth Starbucks?!”

“After drinking vending machine coffee for 200 won, you’ll figure it out.”

Like a mother bird feeding her chicks, Camila kept buzzing with questions, transformed into a budding spy. Truly impressive, Britain.

In my mind, I mused that maybe Camila wasn’t a scout sent by the British government to conquer another dimension. Once she made her fortune here, would she return to the British Empire? Honestly, I wouldn’t care if she ended up incorporating back into the British Empire or remained in England, but I genuinely wanted to see Queen Elizabeth II with a life support device as she became an empress.

“Ah, but is the queen still alive? I remember she recovered from COVID. I wonder if she’ll live to be 100.”

“Queen Elizabeth II? She passed away a few years ago.”

“What? Then who’s the king now…?”

“Obviously Charles. Technically, it’s Charles III.”

Charles took the throne? England has finally fallen.

“Farewell, England. Empire that had more colonies than Russia.”

“Our country isn’t destroyed yet, you know? We’re considered a developed nation.”

“Try to liberate Ireland, then talk about that.”

Our nonsensical small talk spiraled on and on. We would occasionally bicker and laugh, relying on the faint glow of magic as we leaned against each other.

“It’s nice to walk together like this for the first time in a while. We’ve been so busy lately…”

“It seems the No Man’s Land situation isn’t good, is it?”

“I don’t have the overall situation myself, but at least the places I’ve been to were serious. The borders were the same.”

Camila raised her head to look at the streetlights piercing through the darkness.

The light attracted bugs, while her voice lingered in my ears.

“There are many people who can’t even turn on lights. By now, I suppose they are all hiding?”

“…Or maybe not. If someone like you had guided them to a safe zone, they might be able to turn on their lights without worry.”

“Ah—that sounds great. A village where lights can shine freely. I want to try to create it.”

“How would you go about doing that?”

“Well, I guess just rescue everyone I see and settle them somewhere safe?”

“That’s forced relocation. Very English of you.”

“……”

“I meant it in that it’s an idea only an English person could propose.”

“Aha! So that’s what you meant? I hope I wasn’t misunderstanding!”

Camila beamed wide-eyed and jumped in joy. It was a trivial conversation.

Familiar buildings began to come into view. We had reached our accommodation.

I fished out the key from my pocket. Camila stretched her weary body while briefly fighting off the drowsiness hitting her; I tried to insert the key into the lock.

“……”

“Why won’t it open? I’ll just sleep ou—”

“Shh.”

I covered Camila’s mouth with my hand. Her blue eyes widened with surprise.

Her eyes darted around as I placed my finger to my lips and silently turned my head.

“…The lock is undone.”

Lifting my hand, Camila lowered herself cautiously and clenched her fists.

A cold sensation rushed through my palm. The grip of the pistol at my waist felt heavier than usual today.

We cautiously stepped backward away from the entrance.

And then,

-Thud!

Heavy footsteps echoed from inside the accommodation.

 

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