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Just before leaving the room, Ekaterina was sitting on the sofa with a weary expression that hadn’t quite faded away.

It was about a week ago when the room had been transformed into a situation room with the help of the aides from the 6th Department.

The hotel in the center of Shizuya was strategically located on prime land, allowing access to the east, west, north, and south within an hour. The interconnected tables, communication devices, and situation board were all capturing the ever-changing affairs of the Republic of Ashtistan in real-time.

“…Should I have moved to a bigger place?”

Suddenly, the thought of the cramped room flickered through her mind, but it was a futile concern now. The situation room was sufficient as it was. The moment they made a larger move, the Government of Ashtistan would surely take notice that employees of the Imperial Guard HQ were entering Shizuya without their reports. That was a situation that neither the Guard nor she would welcome.

Splashing cold water on her tired face, Ekaterina dismissed her stray thoughts.

“Manager Ekaterina.”

Oksana, an aide from the 6th Department, spoke up.

“Domoboy is on the move.”

“Where to?”

“He just headed down to the lobby. It seems he is making his way to the annex spa.”

The clock was now pointing to 9 PM, and the scheduled spa time was fast approaching.

Zigmund was moving toward the spa he had reserved in advance, prancing about in comfortable attire.

Even so, his gaze was scanning the corridor and the elevator’s magical-video recording spots with caution.

“……”

Ekaterina stared at Zigmund on the screen and turned to Oksana.

“Who are the information agents near Domoboy? You know, the assets we have from the 6th Department.”

“Four staff under Giorgi. The front desk worker took the reservation call, two staff in charge of laundry delivery and room cleaning, and a technician managing the hotel’s internal communication and security systems. That makes four.”

The field leader was said to be the front desk worker. The one who transmitted the orders from Giorgi of the 6th Department to other agents within the hotel. In a way, you could consider him the ringleader.

Did Zigmund know? That the employee who always greeted customers with a smile and treated them kindly was actually gathering information and passing it to the Imperial Guard using his authority and position?

He probably didn’t. At least, not yet.

The front desk employee was still useful. There was much work to be done in the meantime, so it was necessary to extend their expiration date.

“Oksana, text Giorgi and Kiril.”

Ekaterina instructed. Get in touch with Giorgi and see if external surveillance personnel can be dispatched.

She also ordered Kiril and Sandor, who were out for communication interception, to join Zigmund.

At that, Oksana paused her text typing, turning to express her concern.

“Are you sending Investigator Kiril and Sandor?”

“We need both to conduct close surveillance inside the annex spa. If we send an agent into the spa, they will surely be caught by Domoboy.”

The aide from the 6th Department nodded at the words of the investigator from the 1st Department.

“Understood. I’ll inform them to monitor externally until Giorgi’s agents arrive, then to enter.”

“Sounds good. Let’s do that.”

“But, what if our personnel’s identities get exposed? That guy is the head of the intelligence department, after all?”

Oksana looked at Ekaterina with a worried expression.

And Ekaterina replied while putting on her coat.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“……”

“Even if they catch on, there’s hardly anything they can do.”

—

Episode 20 – Who Threatened with a Knife?

A call came in from what was presumed to be the Royal Intelligence Department.

They claimed to have Henya, Lucy, and Helen, and that they had thoroughly investigated William, their contact.

The fact that a finger had been cut off indicated William had entered high-intensity interrogation. The Royal Intelligence Department, which liked to present itself as neat and tidy, had dubbed their extraction process as “intelligence extraction” — a euphemism widely understood as illegal torture.

How long had William held out?

He probably couldn’t have lasted long.

The only reason the Imperial Guard designated William as a contact was his experience working within the Empire. They believed he was adept at avoiding suspicion from the Royal Intelligence’s investigation department and could easily meet with former diplomatic officials and intelligence agency executives.

But it was hard to believe that William could have withstood torture and hidden information.

Moreover, there was no bond strong enough between William and me for either of us to risk our lives defending the other.

From the start, he wasn’t the kind of person who would have the guts to bet his life for mine.

He must have spilled all the information he knew. If he held out for two hours, that was commendable enough to earn a pat on the back.

“…I’m glad he didn’t reveal much.”

Wrapping his coat tighter against the cool desert night air, Zigmund began to analyze his predicament from an objective viewpoint.

What was the intent behind approaching a traitor?

What plot was the Royal Intelligence Department hatching?

For decades, Zigmund had been an agent of violence. As a field operative and the head of intelligence, he knew well how much the Abas Intelligence Department despised traitors.

And he also knew how the intelligence agency treated traitors.

There was no chance they would forgive them now. It seemed the intelligence agency wasn’t intending to hide that fact either. They had even sent him William’s ring finger and Helen’s wedding ring as a show of intent.

Zigmund understood the meaning behind that gift all too well.

It was no different from the gifts he sent to the traitors before.

“Phew….”

Crushing his cigarette butt with the heel of his shoe, Zigmund hurried toward his destination.

The Royal Intelligence Department instructed him to cooperate without question if he wanted to retrieve his captured family, but if he complied with Abas’s demands, he’d probably end up in a predicament akin to that of an ostrich.

The fact that once a traitor betrays, they could easily betray again was something the Imperial Guard was aware of as well.

Moreover, with the arrest of the contact, the relationship between the Imperial Guard and himself had soured. Just as he worried about leaking secrets, the Guard would likely be worried about his defection as well.

What if news of Helen, Henya, and Lucy being kidnapped were to reach the ears of the Imperial Guard?

Petrogard would undoubtedly take Zigmund and leave his family behind.

That was how the Imperial Guard had “rescued” double agents for decades.

That was also why Zigmund had been trying to ferry his family out first.

“Here again, are we? I came to buy some snacks for the kids — are you busy, Nasrin?”

“Oh, Dryman-san. Busy? Not at all! Come in! We just got a lot of seasonal fruits in!”

“Fruits sound great! Pack a few for me. Is it okay if I borrow the phone for a moment?”

“Of course! It’s in the kitchen, feel free to use it.”

“Thanks. Oh, and be sure to send my regards to the manager.”

Entering the restaurant near the hotel, Zigmund exchanged pleasantries with the owner and quickly diverted her gaze elsewhere.

With the Royal Intelligence Department seeking him out, this place could no longer be deemed safe. Nasrin was a friendly and kind restaurant owner, but she knew his face and the faces of his family. If an intelligence officer were to investigate Zigmund, there would be no better informant than Nasrin.

Even after he entered the kitchen, he kept a watchful eye on others. Was Nasrin eavesdropping on his call? Was the cook acting suspiciously, delaying to spy on him?

When he finally saw a suitable moment.

“It’s me. Where are you?”

Zigmund swiftly dialed, lowering his voice.

-‘I’m on a business trip to the west. Why?’

“Someone’s been tailing me today. Can you track them down?”

-‘If you have the communication records, it’s possible. It will cost a bit, but I can’t use the National Bank of the Republic right now. The Rabdari are under investigation by the anti-corruption division.’

“Send it through Hawala.”

Hawala, derived from a word meaning trust, is the remittance system of Al-Yabd.

A customer entrusts money to a broker, tells a friend the code, and then the friend goes to the broker to claim the money using the code.

Only believers of Al-Yabd can use it to easily send money to relatives abroad, but since Hawala bypasses the official international currency exchange system, it has also become a hotbed for crime, such as untraceable funds, currency speculation, and terrorist financing.

In other words, it’s hard to track.

“Starting fee is 300.”

-‘You’re throwing down some serious cash. Sounds good, let’s do it, my friend.’

Zigmund finished the brief phone call and checked the time. 9:16 PM.

He needed to move on to the next step quickly.

Exiting the shop, he ventured down an alley he had memorized. The place he was headed now was a jewelry store — the brokers of Shizuya who dealt with Hawala.

The reason why money transacted through Hawala is hard to trace is precisely because they make use of jewelry rather than handling real cash, allowing funds to move secretly between brokers.

Even the Royal Intelligence Department would find it hard to notice that Zigmund had utilized Hawala.

Even if he had someone shadowing him, they would only suspect that he had exchanged heavy cash for jewelry as a means for escape funds.

“Welcome—”

“Hello (سلام علیکم). I want to make a remittance.”

The jeweler eyed Zigmund warily when he came looking to use Hawala, but he didn’t question the money he offered.

“…A foreigner like you?”

“There’s no sin or border to money.”

“Good point. Let me see it.”

In a country like Ashtistan where economic sanctions were imposed, foreign currency was always considered precious. Moreover, judging by his fluency in Ashtistanian, Zigmund seemed knowledgeable about the local scene. He could even be a mixed-race individual.

It’s hard to say whether the jeweler trusted the person or the money, but at any rate, the fact that Zigmund successfully used Hawala remained unchanged. The money he handed to the broker eventually flowed into the hands of the Ashtistan intelligence officer.

He had known that intelligence officer since his days working as an operative in Shizuya. Of course, he hadn’t reported this asset to the Royal Intelligence Department.

Ashtistan had always gone through chaotic times, and Zigmund was here, recognized as an expert by the Royal Intelligence Department. It wasn’t too challenging to hide one or two informants without a report.

At least, not for Zigmund.

“It’s… about time.”

Checking his wristwatch, it was already 9:23 PM. If he hurried now, he could still make it to the annex spa on time.

He would sweat a bit, but it didn’t matter since he planned to change clothes anyway.

Zigmund quickly grabbed his wallet and started strolling briskly towards the hotel.

I’ve tried.

– Ding!

As I reached my destination via the annex elevator, a rich smell of wood wafted towards me.

Metaphysical patterns carved from timber covered the wall behind the desk, and a logo of Mandala softly glowed under the warm light.

Zigmund approached the reception desk.

“Welcome to Mandala Spa. How may I assist you?”

“Nice to meet you (سلام).”

The employee greeted Zigmund with a radiant smile, turning her back to the logo.

In response, Zigmund returned the greeting, casually resting his arm on the desk while scanning the surroundings.

Ever since contacting the Imperial Guard HQ and the Royal Intelligence Department, he had been suspicious of being watched, yet so far, there were no notable individuals around. Locals had briefly made eye contact, but they hadn’t even followed him into the lobby.

“I have a reservation for Room 3; is it available right now?”

“May I have your name, please?”

“Dryman. I made the reservation under the name Dryman.”

“Ah, Mr. Dryman. Yes, your room is available from 9:30 PM to 11 PM. Please come this way, and I’ll prepare it for you.”

The receptionist finished the conversation perfectly with her well-groomed customer service smile. She skillfully guided him to Room 3, adding a brief introduction along the way.

Zigmund checked his watch in front of Room 3, and suddenly, he recalled something as if he’d just remembered it belatedly. He walked back to the desk and called to the employee.

“Goodness, I completely forgot to introduce myself. Thank you for your kind assistance.”

“Guest? Ah… Thank you.”

Approaching the desk, he exchanged an awkward smile and handed over a tip, unmistakably appearing as someone who had forgotten a tip.

As he offered the tip as a gesture of gratitude, the employee smiled in surprise. Zigmund exchanged a few casual remarks, mentioning, “A friend said he’d come by. I’m not sure when. If someone arrives, could you let me know?” After sharing some inconsequential small talk, he entered Room 3.

There wasn’t any special reason why he was nice to the spa employee he met today. It was simply that he sensed she wasn’t an information agent acting for anyone else.

If she were a mole for the Royal Intelligence Department or the Imperial Guard HQ, she would have directed him to Room 3 and returned to the desk only to immediately pick up the receiver to convey good news to her superior.

Instead, after returning to the desk, she sat there for quite some time.

Despite not making a phone call or speaking to anyone, she simply took out her compact mirror and stared at it intently, checking for any makeup mishaps.

In that case, it might be better for Zigmund to recruit her before someone else approaches. It would be hard to bribe someone for a mere tip, but having shown kindness, at least she would likely be cooperative during his stay at the spa.

Anyone would feel that way if a foreigner handed over their entire three months’ salary at once.

“……”

True to its identity as an Imperial hotel, Mandala Spa took on the typical Kien-style sauna design.

A log-construction establishment featured a wood-burning stove and a small water barrel on one side of the wall.

It unmistakably bore the characteristics of a banya (Баня).

The heated stove raised the temperature, and when water splashed over it, steam would regulate the humidity and temperature. Even though it was inside a high-rise building, there wasn’t a chimney to be found, but there was a small window that guests could open or close.

Once inside the steaming banya, Zigmund scooped water with a ladle and splashed it onto the stove.

– Sssssss…

Having once worked in the Empire, he was well-versed in what needed to be done to appear natural.

Zigmund peered through the window to look outside the banya.

“No one’s here.”

Located in the annex, Mandala Spa was a massive venue for meetings.

The proper way to use the banya was to sweat thoroughly, rinse off the heated body with cold water, and then enter the banya again. Thus, Mandala Spa featured several banyas closely aligned along the walls, with a communal swimming pool available for guests at the center.

For reference, banyas operated strictly on a reservation basis. The Royal Intelligence Department had advised Zigmund to “arrive promptly” since visiting here without a reservation was impossible.

This meant that someone might be waiting for him here.

“Yawn. Slurp, um….”

A man in his 40s sat lazily on the arabesque-tiled floor, legs dangling in the water. The man, around 180 cm tall, displayed the typical tall and portly physique of a Kien middle-aged man. Beside him sat a half-empty bottle of vodka. It was obvious he was from the Empire.

“I’m telling you. Masha. I’m in the middle of an important meeting. I’ll be back soon. Uh-huh… Yes, I love you, darling.”

“Are you done, sweetheart?”

Two people were seated side by side on a chair. The man appeared to be in his early to mid-30s, while the woman looked to be in her mid-20s.

Occupying two chairs, the man seemed agitated while holding his phone. The nickname “Masha” and the pretense of a meeting suggested an affair was underway. The woman flirting from across the way was likely his mistress or lover.

Young men, splashing around wearing hats, women flaunting their figures in swimsuits, and an old man who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying a massage with a banya besom (веник: a broom made from birch or oak leaves) while taking a bite of bread.

Zigmund utilized the banya like everyone else while continuously wary of whether anyone was watching him.

“……”

So far, he hadn’t spotted anyone monitoring him. Not inside the banya and not outside it.

There was no one here trying to make a deal with him. At least, no individual had caught his attention upon his entry, whether one had shown any overt interest in him or entered with a slight delay.

Could it be that the person he was waiting for had booked at a later time? Perhaps they had made a reservation for around 10 PM or 10:30 PM after he had booked his.

Zigmund allowed himself to entertain that possibility.

– “This is Mandala Spa. Please speak, customer.”

“It’s Dryman.”

– “Ah! Mr. Dryman! What can I do for you?”

Contacting the front desk via a phone inside the banya, he was greeted by a voice he recognized vaguely.

The name was Nilyufer, if he remembered correctly; he had seen it on the name tag while tipping her at the reception desk earlier.

It seemed she liked the tip, as her tone was quite bright. Zigmund began to lead into a few questions to the cheerful employee.

“I just need to ask something quickly. Is there someone scheduled for 10 PM, 10:30 PM, or 11 PM today? A friend said to meet me at Mandala Spa, but when I got here, he wasn’t around.”

The employee hesitated, stating that ‘revealing reservation details was against customer privacy principles,’ yet she didn’t want to be cold to a friendly customer who had tipped her, so she quickly added,

– “Um… Normally, I wouldn’t, but I’ll check for you. May I have your acquaintance’s name?”

“His name is Ali.”

For reference, Ali is an extremely common name on the Mauritania Continent. It’s not unusual to find four or five kids with the name Ali, spaced out between every other house.

So, he just fabricated the name of a nonexistent friend.

– “Ali, Ali… I’m sorry, but we don’t seem to have that person listed.”

Even though Ali was a fictional character, the employee earnestly searched for a guest with that name.

Zigmund realized how quickly the employee’s reply had come back—specifically, less than three seconds—and he noted an essential fact.

There weren’t many guests reserved between 10 PM and 11 PM.

He posed the next question.

“Ah, this is awkward. Is there a last-minute reservation for today? My friend sometimes books under family names, such as his wife, sister-in-law, or brother.”

– “Please hold for a moment. Checking today’s reservation list…”

A moment later, the rustling sound of pages being scanned reached his ears.

The employee suddenly responded back to Zigmund after diligently reviewing the reservation list.

Her tone noticeably brightened.

– “At 10 PM, two guests are booked for one hour. They just scheduled it over the phone a moment ago, and they’re both male.”

“Are they a male and female pair?”

– “Yes, it seems one is a friend and the other is a spouse—would that be correct?”

Zigmund nodded.

“That’s right.”

A smile spread across his face.

“Please call me when they arrive.”

*

At the same time, on the main street in front of Mandala Spa.

As the driver began to slow down near the crosswalk, Matt turned his head back.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, um, more or less.”

Frederick frowned while inserting his earphones.

Ugh, this ancient piece of junk. Is it cheap enough that I never got to try it even in Africa? It’s ridiculously uncomfortable. Ugh.

“He’s probably sweating by now,”

“There’s no way he’s so bored that he’s hanging out with a whore. He’s not that type.”

“Do you know him? That Zigmund guy?”

“We’ve crossed paths a few times but never really got introduced.”

“That means you don’t know him.”

As Frederick grumbled about something, Matt nodded with a smile.

Frederick checked the communication signal and was preparing to get out of the vehicle. The van would drop him off and swiftly disappear from the scene. Of course, communication would remain intact as they would drop off others in different locations.

Some of the intelligence officers involved in the operation had been assigned to monitoring tasks. Although Frederick wasn’t part of this operation, he simply tagged along to scope out the hotel.

An appropriate excuse had also arisen.

Matt stroked his goatee as if pondering and then began to speak.

“Do you think it’s alright? Zigmund might recognize you.”

“I don’t care. I must be quite popular.”

“With a middle-aged guy who could be your uncle?”

“No, with women.”

“What a load of nonsense.”

Just as something that looked like a long finger swooped across the rearview mirror, Matt simply laughed it off.

As the vehicle slowed down to reach the destination, Frederick quickly hopped out through the open door alongside another individual.

At that moment, as he partially leaned out, he turned to the passenger’s seat and stated,

“Tell Ayla to stop by after you get back; I want to see her face.”

“Whoa.”

Are they going to fight again?

Matt playfully turned back to ask, but no response followed.

Bang! The door slammed shut with a loud noise, and the vehicle resumed moving seamlessly into the flow of traffic.

Frederick stretched his stiff body with a big yawn.

Just then,

Tap, tap, someone started poking his side relentlessly.

“Excuse me, Frederick.”

A beautifully adorned head draped in multicolored luccary caught his eye. The strands of her slightly unruly red hair danced in the wind like blazing flames.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Camila beamed with sparkling blue eyes bright as the autumn sky, gazing at Frederick inquisitively.

She looked just like a state-certified, semi-professional troublemaker (information agency intern).

Frederick smacked his lips and replied, staring at her face.

“Uh, um….”

“…….”

“…To check out the new place?”

 

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