Chapter 563
When the horizon sparkles in three colors, the soft rays cast from the grand trees shimmer and wave like gentle waves.
Camila was stomping her feet on the shadow of the street corner, like a child impatiently wanting to jump across the crosswalk without waiting for the signal.
“Um, can I ask you something I’m curious about?”
The innocent girl’s voice piqued curiosity, and the eyes that were scanning the surroundings turned back to her.
“What else are you curious about?”
I asked, adjusting my tie and the collar of my shirt.
“You mentioned earlier that we were coming to see a new house. But I have some sense, you know? Watching the atmosphere, it seems like something went awry.”
“….”
“The professor is here on a recuperation trip to Ashtistan, and both I and Frederick came along as his companions. But that uncle who resembles Thanos isn’t here just for fun, right? Not to mention Ayla.”
The introduction is lengthy.
I know she loves to talk, but the extended lead-up hints that she’s not just rambling for the sake of it.
I asked her to tell me about the current situation. Camila, with a puzzled expression, threw the main point at me.
“Tell me the reason. The real reason. What you plan to do in the hotel, and what the purpose of bringing me here is, Frederick.”
We’re colleagues, aren’t we? We’re on the same boat.
As Camila added that, her bright smile bore down on me, prompting me to stop fiddling with my wristwatch and look over at the crosswalk.
“….”
The sensation of the buckle rising on the back of my hand felt a bit unfamiliar. Like brushing against the Go stones that a knight had long abandoned, I slowly rolled the alchemical record card nestled between my fingers.
Camila didn’t hurry me for an answer.
She just gazed quietly at my profile as we stood together.
Silence lingered, and for a while, we halted our steps. Even as the green light flickered and everyone moved forward, we remained in the same place.
“….”
I finally broke the heavy silence, turning to her.
“Camila.”
“Yes?”
“If I ask you to do something, will you come along?”
—
Episode 20 – Who’s Threatening with a Knife?
Frederick’s visit to Ashtistan was a formally verified fact. He crossed the border, proudly holding an Abas passport, with countless media outlets watching.
Countless speculations circulated about this.
Some noted that he was involved in the counter-coup of the Jamria Federation, pointing out that he hails from an aristocratic military family as a Defense Attaché.
The Kingdom of Abas is said to have great interest in the political climate of the Mauritania Continent.
As a younger son of the Nostrim family, which could be considered a vassal, there were theories suggesting he entered Shizuya in a capacity for clandestine affairs.
This intriguing hypothesis was fleshed out with abundant hearsay and conjecture.
The Archmage, known for refusing to take on disciples for over a century, had, in his old age, chosen to bestow teachings. What melted the chilly heart of this frigid Archmage was a sweet girl.
It became widely known that the Defense Attaché had earned an imperial medal for his feats in the north, alongside the girl as his companion.
Moreover, the five-year-long standoff in the Kien-Ma tribal conflict was resolved due to direct and indirect support from the Kingdom of Abas, a fact recognized even by the prideful bureaucrats of the Empire.
Therefore, it was only proper for the lord of the north, grateful for this, to recommend the Defense Attaché for a coronation, moving beyond a mere expression of thanks.
Perhaps it was not just a gesture but an attempt to put an end to the icy relations between the Kingdom of Abas and the Republic of Ashtistan.
Maybe, fed up with endless arms races, the Empire and the Kingdom were to shake off long-held grudges through the Kien-Ma tribal dispute.
Once, the allied Shizuya could serve as a stepping stone towards “Détente” for both nations.
While the truth remains elusive, one thing was clear.
More people than expected had grown weary of the systemic rivalry between the Kien Empire and the Kingdom of Abas. The latent expectations for détente within their hearts began to surface through the media.
This was the judgment of both governments.
In fact, even someone dense enough to be oblivious would soon notice something was amiss. To put it exaggeratively, whispers were circulating calling for the chancellors of Kien and Abas to “kiss” as a blatant call for improvement in relations.
Especially the third-world allies, who were sucking the juice from both nations, wore grins reaching ear to ear.
This penchant for diplomacy was the reason why messages were buzzing among the officials of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and it was also why the eldest daughter of the Nostrim family, overwhelmed by her overtime work, cried out “Sister, I’m struggling…” in a remote distress call to her younger sibling who had become a hot topic.
Of course, many were indifferent to such favorable winds. Ekaterina was one such person.
The Imperial Guard HQ existed solely for the protection and glory of the royal family, as well as for the stability and prosperity of the Empire, and she was the vanguard of both.
Just like any sword and shield, her eyes were ever filled with suspicion towards the stories filtering in from Shizuya.
“…”
In that light, the scene unfolding before me seemed absurd to the point of disappointment.
Raising her bewildered face, Ekaterina silently observed the noisy voices around her.
“The atmosphere isn’t bad.”
“Right? See, I told you! There’s no better place to relax. And look, they sell swimsuits, just as I worried!”
“I was concerned about not being prepared, but it’s a relief. Though it’s a bit off-putting that they’re accepting foreign currency and giving change in Ashtistani money… and it’s pricier than expected.”
“Eh~ still, it suits you, so it’s fine!”
Frederick Nostrim and Camila Lowell appeared at Mandara Spa, elements Ekaterina hadn’t anticipated.
Well, to be precise, she had considered it.
Back when she had just unpacked in Ashtistan and was planning operations, she had been wary of how the Defense Attaché, who caused trouble for her in Petrogard, could intervene in some way.
The capture operation of the assistant family who attempted to defect to Abas had failed because of this very Defense Attaché’s maneuvers.
Even though she had conceded given the skeptical gazes of the six-country monitors and Kiril’s warnings, Ekaterina had unconsciously kept an eye on the Defense Attaché’s activities.
It might seem a bit paranoid. Her superior, Director Ilya, had even given her a tongue-lashing previously.
Specifically, last year, he remarked, “Our Ministry of Foreign Affairs should rather reprimand the Abas Ministry. I won’t hold you accountable for that slip-up, but I think this was excessive.”
While she had been temporarily shifted to a less significant position, the 1st Director had called her back as the head investigator after the military generals had become overzealous thanks to the conflict with the tribes.
Ekaterina believed this was a warning. A subtle reminder to disregard the now-ineffective Defense Attaché and deal with the “real threats.” While there were no explicit instructions given due to her superior’s personality, she understood the implications.
It made sense, of course. The point at which she had been reinstated was after the northern conflict had concluded.
Had she not grasped the significance of her reinstatement occurring only after the Defense Attaché’s departure from Kien, Director Ilya would not have sent her back to the capital in the first place.
Initially, she wouldn’t have even been allowed into the Imperial Guard HQ, given she had been serving in military counterintelligence. Director Ilya had personally provided the recommendations.
Ekaterina glanced at the person she had briefly forgotten and was trying to forget.
“How about this? I’ve been pondering for a while, and I couldn’t find anything that suited me. Does it look good on me?”
Waving her hair that resembled fresh-turned roses, Camila twirled around, her locks reminiscent of fiercely blazing flames.
Ekaterina, noticing even the lack of flaws in her form, couldn’t help but watch as Camila spun around again. Perhaps due to the lighting, that dazzling smile shone brightly as an exclamation of admiration burst forth from the waves around her.
“Ah, um….”
The Defense Attaché, half-smiling, couldn’t tear his gaze away from the woman presenting her swimsuit. The silly voice was just an extra.
From the sight of him staring blatantly at scenic curves, Ekaterina couldn’t help but think, “Is this truly the same person who had been escaping perilously through the historic archaic district of the capital?”
No way. What kind of diplomat behaves like this?
“Um, um… it looks, looks good, I guess…?”
“Really? Thank goodness. Hehe.”
Ekaterina was taken aback upon seeing the man scratching his head, glancing at the bodacious woman in front of him. The silly smile was a far cry from what she knew.
The delicate game that had begun in the Holy Land of Lateran had shadowed its way to the holy ground of Al-Yabd in Shizuya.
Whether it was mere coincidence or fate, in Ekaterina’s mind, Frederick existed in only two forms.
And no matter how much she mulled over her memories, she could never find the image of him giggling away, utterly smitten with a lady in a swimsuit (noting that Ekaterina on some level identified with the mythological moron who fell into a spring due to his own reflection).
“Frederick, have you ever tried a Banyak?”
Camila’s question prompted Frederick to shake his head in denial.
“I’ve seen it in foreign culture classes at the Academy…. but I’ve never actually been.”
“He was a wonderful professor, considering he was from the Empire.”
“I’ll show you! I’ve tried it a few times when I visited Russia!”
Unlike the confidence with which she strode through the entrance as if it were her own living room, her demeanor reeked of an attempt to hide embarrassment.
That was accurate in terms of factual occurrences. He had never been to the Empire, and his first and last visit had been to engage in the conflict in the north, so his attitude was not unexpected.
In contrast, the Hero was almost dragging the Defense Attaché’s arm in exuberance as she proclaimed loudly.
Ekaterina didn’t know what Russia was, but she could guess the nature of the relationship between the two individuals as they bantered, away from the watchful eyes of the Imperial Guard.
“This way,”
The Hero held onto the Defense Attaché’s arm as if she were embracing a child swathed in a wrap.
Meanwhile, they exchanged whispers and giggles.
At this point, it was hard not to think of them as a couple.
Would they even be one? I didn’t recall any specific information about that. While there was information about them being closer than other colleagues, nothing definitive.
Ekaterina continued to observe the Defense Attaché and the Hero as they entered the sauna.
The two were engaged in some conversation as they proceeded toward the sauna and even afterward.
—
“Don’t be tense; just act naturally.”
Camila whispered as she clung tightly to Frederick’s arm, her transparent smile glimmering while her eyes scanned the surroundings.
“Do you know who the threat is?”
“… A bit.”
Frederick responded with a serious expression. While there was little to discern from his demeanor, Camila quickly noticed the subtle difference.
With her hand resting on his arm, Frederick spoke in a tone indistinguishable from his usual.
“There’s a man of Ashtistani descent around 3 o’clock holding a lighter. He’s been watching us since we entered.”
“And?”
“There’s a group moving from 9 o’clock to 8 o’clock now. Their gaze is furtive.”
“Any others?”
“The woman leaning on the pool isn’t certain, but from her position, she has a clear line of sight of the entire area for keen observation.”
Camila chuckled softly.
She pretended to tie her hair while casually glancing towards 3 o’clock, 8 o’clock, and the pool. The group was likely local university students, known for their boisterous partying and drinking.
The man at 3 o’clock was unique. Though one only saw his back while he shaved, his reflection mirrored the spa’s view stretched out behind him.
As for the woman by the pool, she was suspicious due to her choice of location observed for potential surveillance, yet if she simply wanted to enjoy her time, it would be unfair to suspect her unnecessarily. She could have just emerged from the sauna, taking a breather.
Twirling her hair, Camila curiously asked, “Do you have someone certain among them?”
Frederick shook his head. His gesture indicated that identifying them as watchers could not be affirmed.
“And the person we’re looking for?”
“In room three at 5 o’clock. I saw them sneak inside.”
Frederick whispered this answer, shifting his gaze elsewhere while Camila squinted, confused about the knot in her hair, glancing at the 5 o’clock mark.
At that moment, someone’s silhouette passed by the window marked with the Persian numeral ‘3.’
“… Confirmed.”
Camila turned her head back towards Frederick, crossing her arms with a bright smile.
A sudden wave of embarrassment or confusion made her squirm, but as she tightly grasped his arm, the commotion quickly subsided.
The two entered the room easily.
Through the window, the sight of glossy black hair and the swaying figure appeared. As the man who had been standing awkwardly stepped aside, Camila’s face came into view, who seemed to beckon him with a gentle pat on the seat, saying something. Though only her back was visible, the scene of Frederick waving it off and shaking his head was unmistakably clear.
“…”
The man in room three, Zigmund, watching with his sidelong gaze into the opposite room, stood up from resting against the window frame.
“If she marries, she’s bound to be trapped.”
He had no inclination to spy on others.
But just as he had been on his guard, the person he was wary of stepped into the same space.
Zigmund uttered a bland musing.
“Why is the Hero here? Did she drag him in for family? Or has she come to vacation?”
Though suspecting the individual to be an information officer, this entrance felt rather sudden.
To put it frankly, it was too out of the blue.
Had they not changed the rendezvous point? The note left by the Royal Intelligence Department clearly indicated a different meeting location.
What could be the purpose of the Military Intelligence Agency Executive being here? Might it turn out differently than expected, with the military acting semi-autonomously? Or is he consolidating support for the Royal Intelligence Department?
“Heheh!”
“Hehe!”
The laughter shared by Frederick and Camila exiting the sauna caught Zigmund’s attention.
The sight of a woman with her arm draped comfortably around a man’s neck, sharing endless giggles caught his eyes. Yet, the placement of her hand seemed peculiarly out of place.
Zigmund averted his gaze as if he had witnessed something unsightly, his face scrunching in discontent.
What kind of antics are they up to in public?
“There should be a limit to how recklessly one can evade dignity.”
Of course, there were occasional individuals among information officers who behaved degenerate.
Those who overtly flaunted their own reckless and unrestrained lifestyles.
Most were simply a degenerate bunch seeking a good time but occasionally, imposters existed as well.
Those who acted undisciplined for months or even years to masquerade as unsavory types.
Frederick Nostrim leaned more toward the latter probability.
He had moved around various posts across regions but there had been no reports linking him to issues of drinking or gambling.
Though some reports hinted he might have indulged in drinking, that was all.
Unlike many of his contemporaries, he had never set foot in the social clubs.
While tales of officials squandering their salaries in gambling circulates, not once had Frederick’s name appeared among them.
Is he of good moral conduct?
Zigmund disagreed with that assumption.
He avoids taverns.
He has no debts to others.
He could have hobbies or pastimes.
However, he never engaged in social activities to seek someone to engage with.
To boot, even the romantic interests were conspicuously absent.
Even the holy men from the cult have been known to fall prey to scandals, yet while others were fidgeting around with their love lives, he wondered what he had been up to all alone.
Yet, Frederick Nostrim, who was now cavorting at Mandara Spa, was someone who showed no restraint in socializing with women.
This made it all the more suspicious.
“Weird. Really weird.”
Based on Zigmund’s observations, Frederick Nostrim was no extraordinary individual capable of nonchalance in public with women in tow.
If his debauchery was of such a level that it had him deprived of propriety, then Zigmund’s judgment would have been utterly wrong.
Yet should this be a facade, he can’t help but admire Frederick’s seamless shamelessness.
“…”
He could hardly tear his gaze away from the couple for a time. The lady slyly grasped the man’s fingers over her shoulder, tipping her weight toward him.
The man naturally pulled her closer to him.
Zigmund confirmed the two had exited the spa and locked eyes with the deep brown ones peering back at him through the gap of the closing door.
Though it was difficult to articulate the feelings, at that moment, he understood.
My anticipation appears to have been correct.
It’s him.
—
“Domoboy.”
Ekaterina approached. The unanticipated variable had momentarily disappeared, and she didn’t want to miss the chance.
“If what I’m thinking aligns with what you referred to as the ‘gift’, I would strongly advise you to pack up and abandon Shizuya immediately,”
She advised the man while Kiril kept a lookout.
With determination, she emphasized the urgency behind her recommendation.
“You can’t handle it alone. Not even you.”
“Why do you think that?”
With her arm draped over the doorway, Ekaterina wore an expression of mild annoyance. She gestured towards the direction where the two individuals had just passed.
“It means that the human beings you absolutely wish to avoid have entered Shizuya. Whether it’s for a kidnapping or something else altogether. It’s no boon for you that he has appeared here.”
Certainly not for me either.
Thinking this, she accepted that whenever that person moved, conceivably, an unseen force would accompany them.
Like that assistant family who had vanished without a trace, The incident that had to never happen again. At the very least, she feared a single individual causing the collapse of her efforts.
“Frederick Nostrim knows who he is well. He knows better than anyone that his life is in jeopardy.”
“Yet you remain obstinate?”
“The evidence is flimsy, isn’t it? Proof that he poses a threat to me.”
Zigmund fingered the invisible shape of Frederick in the air, seizing the ghost of his presence.
“The Royal Intelligence Department is likely shadowing my every move. If they were unaware of the existence of a traitor, it wouldn’t concern them. However, once they are aware, they can’t afford to remain still. Perhaps the military is investigating me as well.”
“…”
“However, do you suppose I came here absentmindedly without considering the risk involved?”
He firmly declared that without solid proof, he would not leave Ashtistan, and if there were indeed compelling evidence, he would require it to be presented to him for persuasion.
Zigmund seemed to have some trust, but Ekaterina was not one to jump to conclusions easily.
After all, he was someone who had already deceived the Imperial Guard HQ once before.
So she warned him.
“Stop entertaining foolish thoughts and refrain from reckless gambles. This is my final advice.”
“You’re quite cold, aren’t you?”
“Don’t forget to come for tea.”
“What time?”
“Midnight. Exactly at 0:00.”
For a moment, his complexion darkened.
Ekaterina coldly added, “You may need to prepare for a wash, just in case.”
“…Understood. I shall heed your advice.”
With a laugh that seemed absurd, Zigmund passed by and exited Room 3. Though there were still about 15 minutes left of usage time, no one would find it suspicious if he left now.
It didn’t sit well with her.
His unnecessarily cautious demeanor, his condescending tone—even in such a life-and-death situation, he was still trying to play his last card. Everything about it was unacceptable.
“Ekaterina, where’s Domoboy…?”
“He just left.”
Kiril, who had returned to the spa, scanned the surroundings and informed her of the outside situation.
“It seems the two of them will be back soon. I happened to glance, and they were ordering food. They’re buying a ton, but who knows who will eat all that?”
“……..”
“Should we also make our exit? I think we’ll need to help the members of the 6th Department to keep an eye on Domoboy.”
Ekaterina fell silent for a moment, lost in thought.
“…Kiril, call back the operations teams stationed at the border.”
“When until?”
“Right now. Without delay.”
It would take at least 20 hours from the closest border to Shizuya, assuming non-stop driving.
The thought of it being impossible clawed at her throat.
“I can’t shake the ominous feeling that Domoboy is going to cause trouble. If there’s an accident, we might have to force him out.”
Kiril let out a short sigh at Ekaterina’s heavy expression.
Just then, a good route popped into his mind.
“I’ll try to have it done today. At least within five hours.”
He would have to head out and hustle again, but if the timing worked out, they wouldn’t be late.
That was also contingent on the strike team arriving on time.
*
The watchers assigned by the Imperial Guard HQ trailed Zigmund like shadows.
After discreetly handing a small gift to a hotel staff member and sneaking out through a backdoor alley for laundry, they maintained their vigil.
Although the secret police from the royal era may have lost their touch over the long retirement, they hadn’t forgotten the know-how of that time.
Shizuya’s alleyways, which had stagnated in development, remained unchanged, just as they had been when the secret police were active.
Zigmund had to put up with a bit of effort to shake them off.
“…3, 6.”
Two watchers were on the dimly lit walkway.
Across the right side of the main street, a man continued at a quick pace.
Twenty meters behind, a man strolled leisurely, maintaining a distance.
This was the essence of surveillance—a duo. One kept pace with the target while the other followed closely, treading quietly.
Generally, individuals suspect the first observer who is trailing them from behind. This is the standard form of tailing, after all.
Even if the first observer is discovered, the person would fail to notice the second observer across the road who is watching them closely.
Once someone senses they are being followed, their mindset entirely turns toward the back.
Thus, in this way, they fail to see the second observer veering off into an alley and miss the third observer who steps out with apparent urgency from behind the first.
Zigmund stole a glance at the third observer reflected in a shop window.
‘After crossing two blocks, the first swapped with a colleague and proceeded to the back. The third who was on the opposite side has vanished.’
Typically, observers swap places every two blocks. This was the standard operational manual used by the secret police of Ashtistan. If his opponent moved like a puppet string to the manual, then things could be handled easily after one memorizes it.
Zigmund began recalling the secret police’s rules, which he had buried deeply in his memory. The rhythmic sounds from the stepping on the pavement were gradually closing in on him.
Noticing the duo had transformed into a trio suggested that the scattered surveillance force was regrouping.
Considering the distance to the hotel, it was likely a vehicle surveillance team had also arrived.
The secret police’s methods were predictable.
‘The vehicle surveillance team replaces the spotted member. The disembarked observer fills in the vacancy of the foot surveillance team, while the member who boards drives and reenters the operation… The third who had vanished across the street… I should see if they reappear in front of me.’
Zigmund proceeded slowly, but kept enough distance to avoid being caught.
The tailing observer seemed to feel the pressure in the empty walkway. He had barely traversed a block and a half without hesitation but turned into a side street.
After walking half a block further, Zigmund naturally shifted his gaze in front of the crosswalk. He took a deep breath and wiped his face with a handkerchief.
‘…The third is absent.’
He had examined the alleyways and building entrances where the observer should have appeared, but the vanished third never showed up.
After a leisurely wait, Zigmund crossed the crosswalk. While constantly assessing the emergence of a new person in his place, he observed the designated timing.
It was remarkably straightforward timing—there was no semblance of surprise in the professional-grade surveillance.
It was obvious that it was a transparent ruse.
‘Where could the missing third be? A skyscraper? There are no elevated roads in this vicinity, so he must have occupied a high vantage point to monitor.’
In his deduction, the most plausible current location of the third observer was likely an eight-story apartment complex located to the south.
A high altitude, surrounding buildings lower than five stories, and an unnecessarily open urban area, etc.
If he were an observer, there would be no better vantage point than the southern apartment complex. But Zigmund also considered another possibility.
‘Without knowing the objective’s destination, occupying a high ground blindly is a risky decision. If my opponent was simply a fool who stuck rigidly to the rules, he would have headed to the apartment complex without a second thought. However, if I were to notice that I was being followed and escape, there would be no chance to reunite with his colleagues at that location…’
Zigmund took out a notebook from his pocket and unfolded the map he had carefully stored within. As the waterproof material encountered the magical light, the accumulated scenery of Shizuya began to shine.
As he covertly gazed at the map, he quickly organized his belongings.
He had already discovered where the third might be and whether there was a venue suitable for shaking off the pursuers from the Imperial Guard HQ.
*
As he descended the stairs leading underground from the road, a fierce draft swirled around him, and an island-style elevator station emerged.
Zigmund boarded the subway during the nighttime hours. Whether it was heading up or down, or where it would stop was of no importance at all.
He grabbed any train that arrived first. Zigmund checked for the Imperial Guard HQ watchers who had followed him into the carriage.
“……”
In the subway filled with noise and quietude, Zigmund kept an eye on the movements of the passengers. Given the situation, he would likely have only one opportunity to act.
As the announcement signaled their arrival, people rushed out of the train without exception. Zigmund, too, blended in with the crowd.
The watchers were gradually inching closer, weaving through the bustling throng. They were likely closing to within ten meters, per the secret police’s protocols.
Zigmund understood their intentions.
The ten meters represented the minimal distance at which their footsteps would go unheard by the target, while within ten meters allowed them to keep track of the target’s presence in a crowded space.
The secret police were undoubtedly trained in such practices.
After all, Zigmund had taught their instructors.
“Oof, excuse me.”
“…!”
Zigmund struck the first approaching observer down. As he was jostled by the elbow of a nearby person, he thrust his fist into the exposed jaw.
He hesitated to draw a knife; if a casualty occurred, it would complicate things for the Imperial Guard HQ as well. He needed to conclude it merely by knocking the person unconscious.
Thud, the fallen observer toppled into others beside them, knocking them over. The knocked-over bystanders caught onto those in front of them, and the crowd swiftly spiraled into chaos.
From those trying to help him to others questioning how one could trip in such a place, the ensuing commotion cornered the pedestrians amid a furious uproar.
“What the? Where’d that guy go?”
“Check the restroom! You and I will go into the underground mall. The others will scour the platform and the outside!”
“Damn… Hurry up. Check if there are any missing individuals.”
The watchers of the 6th Department, acting under the orders from the Imperial Guard HQ, scattered quickly in all directions.
Amid the raucous crowd, they maintained their calm demeanor as they searched for Zigmund.
-Whiff….
Smoke began to rise beyond the iron door leading to the ground level mall.
*
The journey over the last three hours was quite a challenge for Zigmund.
He prowled around like a child looking for the last puzzle piece.
Shaking off the watchers sent by the Imperial Guard, sending discreet messages to informants, and scavenging every last penny from his retirement package to store them carefully in a box.
Whether today marked the end of a long journey or the beginning of a new chapter, nobody could say. Still, it was clear that the process involved in just securing his own safety forced him to leave much behind.
The folding knife was also part of what he had let go.
His trusted comrades, who had once stood with him, were now bearing the weight of hardship, worn and ragged.
Connections that began in the Kingdom of Ashtistan had traveled all the way through the Mauritania Continent and the world, finally coming to an end in the Republic of Ashtistan.
Zigmund enjoyed one last drink and a few cigarettes at the car specialty shop he had visited long ago.
Now, all that remained were the notebook and map he had kept for a lifetime, and an old, dilapidated phone he had bought from a street vendor.
He gathered them all.
Finally, when the time came, he emerged at the subway station designated by the Royal Intelligence Department. The platform, nearing the end of the line, was just as desolate as he had anticipated.
There, he met with the liaison sent by the Royal Intelligence Department.
“Cough… cough, cough….”
As he emerged with a dry cough, the liaison looked like a local one might see often in Ashtistan.
Immediately after stepping off the subway, the liaison sat down on a bench, lost in thought for a while before rising.
Zigmund picked up a magazine left behind by the liaison. Flipping through it as if searching for something like a crossword puzzle, he came upon an address.
A new rendezvous point.
The handwriting seemed like someone had hastily scrawled it down, pointing to a path near the final station, along with a specific date. Zigmund instantly recognized that date as his wedding anniversary.
He slipped a ring onto his ring finger and disposed of the magazine to ensure no one could trace it back to him.
The last subway had arrived.
Zigmund stepped inside.
*
At the moment when Giorgi from the 6th Department lamented a report from the foolish informants who claimed to have lost sight of the target, Ekaterina was still lingering at the Mandara Spa.
“…Let’s go.”
Kiril attempted to take her, a colleague from the 1st Department, away.
“I need to find Domoboy. It won’t be possible with just the members of the 6th Department. They can’t manage to track down Domoboy on their own. We have to help them until the operation team arrives.”
“……..”
“The Director also wants your explanation.”
To be precise, simple explanation would not suffice. What Director Ilya needed was a plan.
How they could bring back Zigmund, who had knocked down the observers and vanished. Once permission had been given by upper management to use ‘some force,’ Zigmund had indeed become a person that could be treated less than gently.
Kiril remarked, “Like you said, the operation teams will arrive soon. As soon as they do, they’ll be deployed, and while the 6th Department finishes their preparations, we need to locate Domoboy.”
Ekaterina did not respond, remaining entirely silent.
“…Are you listening?”
Kiril waved his hand in front of her face but she didn’t flinch. What was with this? Did she fall asleep standing?
Finding it strange, he poked her a little, yet still received no reaction. Who would dislike being touched, especially someone who wasn’t his closest colleague from economic intelligence?
“Looks like she’s lost it.” He mumbled internally.
“Listen, Kiril, you keep an eye on those guys. I’ll chase Domoboy.”
“Those guys? Who? It’s not like you mean the hero and the lady over there, right?”
The foreign language officer from the 1st Department gestured toward a direction. At the end, Fredrick and Camila were laughing and fooling around.
Whether they were lovers or just close friends, they stuck together and kept playing around. No matter how he looked at it, it was odd. Kiril felt the same.
What kind of man would be so feminine and embarrassing like that?
Not that he homophobic, but is the hero’s companion really this way? Kiril, although non-religious, would find it extremely blasphemous if that were the truth. He had never considered such a horrific notion and didn’t want to.
“Why are those people here? They look like they’re here for fun.”
When Kiril asked casually, Ekaterina shot back right away.
“Vanya is at that hotel too. There’s no need for them to come all the way here.”
“Hmm… If that’s the case, it’s definitely strange. But it seems unlikely that they’d come here specifically for Domoboy.”
In the midst of muttering to himself, Ekaterina asked him what he meant.
Kiril, responding nonchalantly, elaborated, “Well, think about it. Recently, there’s been an eavesdropping incident, and the duke is here too. They might be avoiding that hotel’s Ban’ya just to spend time alone.”
“…Are you suggesting they clandestinely met without the duke knowing?”
“I think if they behaved like that in front of that person, at least someone’s spine would be broken. Or they’d be turned into a frog or something.”
It was at that moment.
As though sizing something up, Ekaterina abruptly leaped from the pool.
Splashing! She exclaimed to her colleague, “Follow me. Tell the 6th Department to contact Domoboy by any means necessary.”
“Why the sudden rush?”
Ekaterina hastily exited the spa, narrowing her eyes and replied with a complex tone.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
*
Zigmund climbed the stairs slowly.
Perhaps it was due to wandering the streets for hours that his knees were aching. The cold wind from the open doorway of the ground-floor lobby seemed to intensify his discomfort. He shut the door behind him and stepped carefully over the leaves that had unwittingly blown in, relying on the handrail to navigate the dim stairs.
Was it the paint peeling away? The handrail felt particularly rough. In a slum famous for being dilapidated within Shizuya, this would still be considered fortunate.
Breaking the silence, Zigmund gazed out of the window. The watcher trailing him was nowhere to be seen anymore.
Buildings painted white like those in southern Patalia stood out even in the darkness. Despite their grand exteriors, upon entering, all that awaited was a gloomy shadow.
Narrow, steep stairs hugged by jagged cliffs climbed higher one after the other, and Zigmund finally arrived at his intended destination.
“Is anyone home?”
No answer came. Zigmund turned the doorknob without bothering to greet a second time.
-Creak, screech…
The aging entrance opened with a lethargic sound. It wasn’t even locked.
Upon entering, he briefly glanced at the sign hanging in the hallway. The number matched precisely his wedding anniversary.
The inside seemed eerily quiet.
After closing the door, Zigmund surveyed the utterly dark interior, and suddenly held his breath as he stood by the window.
“……”
A dog was sleeping soundly under the moonlit night.
The streets felt dead silent.
No cars, no neighbors, not the sound of insects; it was as though a still, deserted vibe enveloped the place.
His gaze lingered over the corners of the room as he stood by the window.
With a slow turn of his body, he tilted his head to glimpse at the shadowy corner.
There was a chair.
And a person too.
“……”
Bathed in the now-illuminated moonlight, Zigmund was finally able to surmise who it was occupying the chair.
It was a man. The shape of his hands confirmed that he was indeed male.
The youthful complexion suggested that he was still quite young. His suit, however, seemed to belong to an older generation. His attire, incongruous for the individual—with his youth not reflected in his clothing—posed a strange contrast.
The watch strap draped over his hand indicated familiarity with the setting.
He seemed to be someone not used to handling paperwork for long durations.
If that were true, it could have been a habit engrained over time.
The way he grasped a pistol hinted that it was more likely the latter.
“The hospitality here is quite lacking.”
Zigmund adjusted his posture and revealed his empty hands as if to show that he bore no arms, offering a slight smile.
It appeared he came off as casually relaxed.
Yet there was an undercurrent of confidence in that demeanor.
“I didn’t come here expecting tea, but you should at least show your face, no?”
The other remained silent.
Just as a cloud briefly shifted to unveil the moon hidden behind it, the night lifted its veil slightly.
The dawn’s moonlight flowed over the window.
When the downcast objects in the room regained their true form under the washed-out moonlight, Zigmund’s expression hardened.
“I heard you’ve been searching for me.”
The chair creaked as it tilted backward with difficulty.
“I wonder if you managed to collect your retirement funds.”
Frederick held a pistol with a slight grin on his face.
*
Matt.
You said you’d use your family as bait to capture someone named Zigmund.
I have a better idea.
What about Ayla? Now that we’ve taken her…
…
…What do you think, are you a bit interested?
