---

“…I understand what you’re saying.”

Zigmund slowly opened his eyes, picking up the Goluaz Caporal.

“Interesting deduction. Impressive.”

The flames flickered like a snake’s tongue, smoke billowing from the narrow chimney.

Zigmund neatly set down the lighter and pressed his lips together, kissing it softly a couple of times.

“So, what’s the answer?”

Frederick asked.

“The answer is, I would say, correct.”

It was a plain acknowledgment.

Even with the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head, he remained unfazed. So calm, in fact, it was almost nonchalant.

Frederick stared at the back of Zigmund’s head. The gun was still enforced, ready to blow his brains out at any moment.

Zigmund took the Goluaz Caporal and reluctantly bit into it.

“Did you find it?”

“No, not yet.”

Frederick admitted without hesitation that he hadn’t been able to uncover the information Zigmund had hidden.

“How can I, as someone visiting for the first time, defeat someone who has had all the inside scoops in the Republic of Ashtistan? I’ve tracked Ecrow, Koress, and even the recent Hawala dealings, but I couldn’t find the hidden location of your secrets.”

“…Is that so?”

“You’re still old school. You never disappoint in that regard.”

A smile crept onto his face.

It felt satisfying—not the content of the answer, but the demeanor of the opponent.

If, by any chance, a transparent lie like ‘I found it’ had slipped out, Zigmund would have been bereft of disappointment.

“You’re honest.”

“If I set out to deceive while claiming to uphold the truth, I’d be just a worthless scumbag, wouldn’t I?”

“That is true. I honestly didn’t expect you to know about Hawala. You’re quite skilled.”

“I made a foolish mistake.”

“Just embarrassingly incompetent.”

Zigmund calmly admitted his error. He had underestimated this young fellow. More resilient than he initially thought.

A soft gulp followed.

The Goluaz Caporal, having temporarily burned itself out, seamlessly filled the emptiness in his gut with faint wisps of smoke.

“I should have listened when Helen told me to quit.”

Zigmund rubbed the burnt cigarette butt into the ashtray with regretful eyes. The last of the Goluaz Caporal extinguished with a puff of tobacco leaves.

Frederick, watching the scene, lowered his gun and offered his lit cigarette to Zigmund.

Returning to his seat, he positioned the gun at his side and aimed at Zigmund.

“Let’s go back to the beginning.”

“…….”

“This time, let’s hear your story, Zigmund.”

—

Episode 20 – Who Threatened with a Knife?

“In 1967, when I visited my alma mater to meet with my college mentor, I crossed paths with the scrutinizer. He was an alumnus of the same university I attended and was in an integrated master’s and doctoral program for human resources management.”

Zigmund continued in a calm tone.

“When I entered to meet my mentor, he was already there in the lab. Upon confirming I had arrived, the mentor told me to wait with some black tea. While chatting for about twenty minutes with my friend, Ding Si, who was a teaching assistant, the scrutinizer approached me. He had apparently received some preliminary information about me from my mentor. He took me to a café downtown, hinted that he worked for national interests, and after a few tests, handed me a business card. It was just a card with his name and phone number.”

“Why did the scrutinizer show interest in you, Zigmund?”

“Languages. I could speak Ashtistani, Patalian, and Kienner. I studied Ashtistani in a liberal arts class and was doing quite well. Patalian, because my maternal grandfather was Patalian, I naturally learned while living there for seven years, and Kienner, I studied in the academy’s secondary department; at that time, I had nearly forgotten it.”

“Go on.”

Frederick gestured for him to continue.

“Ashtistani has always been a minor language. When I was younger, I had some concerns about my future but was intrigued by the prospect of being a civil servant. The business card felt quite fascinating.”

“What were the tests like?”

“The scrutinizer checked my language skills, asked a few personal questions, and left the business card. A few months later, he summoned me to his office, questioned me further, and wrote a recommendation. That’s how I got into the Royal Intelligence Department.”

His first assignment was Patalia.

“Thanks to my Patalian, which was as good as that of the natives, I was assigned there. My active period lasted for about a year. At that time, Patalia was an ally of Abas, and so the identity laundering, training, and delegating of overseas intelligence agents took place there. For a year, I lived as a Patalian, undergoing a process of identity formation, and the following autumn of 1970, I infiltrated Shizuya under the guise of an employee for the Abas Trading Company.”

“Who did you go with?”

“Werner Heydrich, Jean Locke, Reynaldo Keen. We operated under a supervisor named Nigel, who had been living in Shizuya since ’65 and was a seasoned old guard. He was a founding member involved in the establishment of the branch. Once, I respected and envied him.”

Frederick found the personnel file transferred from the Royal Intelligence Department. The old leather cover of the document was impressive, stamped with a bright red “Declassified.”

“Nigel has died. August 3, 1973. The location was near Hotel Shizuya, House 5 of Nastarang.”

“At that time, Nigel was investigating enemy intelligence agents operating in Shizuya. He was supposed to meet a general who wished to migrate west and receive a list from him… but the general never showed up.”

“Why not?”

“When we reported the general’s intention to defect to our embassy, they intercepted our communication. Nigel’s identity was exposed, and agents from the Imperial Guard Headquarters moved, capturing the general.”

Zigmund, with a cigarette clenched between his fingers, spread his hands and examined the wrinkles on his palms.

“According to a defector from the Imperial Guard later, his fingernails were completely gone. He was a tough man, but in the body of an old man, he’d find it hard to endure torture. Eventually, he confessed, the information leaked, and Nigel walked right into the trap set by the Imperial Guard.”

“…….”

The declassified intelligence document described the fate of a grade four intelligence agent who had fallen victim to the counter-operation.

“Waited at the hotel for 15 minutes. After failing to make contact, prepared to assess the general’s condition and prepare for a second meeting. As he emerged from the back door, he was struck by gunfire from a vehicle and died in the line of duty.”

The assassin’s vehicle was unsuccessful in being tracked, and one additional officer died on the scene.

Recognizing the shootout occurring in the capital, akin to the heart of Ashtistan, the royal palace was furious. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Abas and the Foreign Ministry of Kien demanded an explanation.

The command acknowledged that the operation had been a catastrophic failure, with the Intelligence Chief, first-level director, second-level head, and third-level section leader resigning on their own accord. The Royal Intelligence Department instructed their personnel to reinforce vigilance against the counter-operations by the Imperial Guard.

Frederick pulled his gaze from the document.

“The day Nigel died, Reynaldo also perished. Were you on site?”

“…I was.”

Zigmund, with a cigarette blackened by soot in his mouth, stared blankly into space for a while.

“That day was unfortunate. It felt ominous from the start. A tire suddenly blew out, and the brand-new service pistol was jammed. While Nigel and the general were supposed to connect, Reynaldo, Jean, and I were supposed to observe from nearby… but because the tire blew out, Jean and I ended up late.”

“Did Reynaldo head out first?”

“He was in a different vehicle, the Peugeot Nigel was driving.”

“If the plan had gone as intended, Nigel should have secured the general and extracted immediately, then Reynaldo would have moved the two. You and Jean would have confirmed the tailing in another vehicle.”

“…….”

“Where were you and Jean when Nigel was shot?”

“At the scene. We had just arrived.”

Having switched to a spare tire, Zigmund arrived at the hotel with his colleague. Since they came in the front, they couldn’t see Nigel’s figure but certainly heard the gunfire and the radio transmissions.

“As soon as the shooting began, I sensed something was wrong. Jean started pushing the seat back as if we were racing on a circuit, and Reynaldo, shouting ‘Nigel has been shot!’ left a radio dispatch saying he would pursue the assassin, telling us to secure Nigel.”

Zigmund paused mid-story, running his wrinkled hand over his thinning hair.

“…Nigel was covered in blood. Turning over Nigel’s body, the wounds left by the bullets revealed themselves. Instinctively, I thought he had been shot by a submachine gun. The shots had come in rapid succession. Jean trembled, checking for pulse and breath, but Nigel was already dead. He likely died on the spot, having been hit by more than twenty rounds directly.”

“Why did Reynaldo die?”

“In pursuit. He overextended himself chasing after them. The agents from the Imperial Guard likely anticipated that, if the assassination succeeded, someone would pursue from nearby. As you know, anticipating risks is fundamental, isn’t it?”

“Reynaldo must have known that too. What I mean is, why would someone who knows that take such a reckless chase?”

The hand that had been stroking his thinning hair fell silent.

Zigmund set his hands on the armrests and stared intently at Frederick.

“What would you have done? Would you let the bastards who killed your comrade and superior get away right in front of you? Just because backup wasn’t there?”

Frederick maintained his expressionless demeanor and gazed back at Zigmund. His calm voice continued.

“A seven-year-old could tell you that chasing alone could lead to being encircled in return. You’d know there were headhunters lurking somewhere, too.”

“…So, you really are a natural for the Information Department.”

Zigmund muttered softly, turning his head as if he no longer wished to discuss it.

“Reynaldo must have recognized that too. He certainly did. He was the smartest guy among the four of us. But he wasn’t as composed as you. He took off, overdoing it, charging toward a point of no return.”

Zigmund didn’t try to explain how his companion had died. He seemed to know something.

Frederick asked.

“Did you see it? The moment Reynaldo died?”

“…….”

There was no reply.

Frederick found a report from September 1973 documenting Reynaldo’s death as a witness. It had been a month since an agent and site officer between the two factions perished during a rendezvous.

A vehicle that had been hit at the side.

The body frame had crumpled into the driver’s side.

Dark red fragments, presumably remnants of flesh and clothing, were caught in the sharply torn fabrics. Two holes remained in the passenger seat.

After synthesizing the photographs, Frederick envisioned the scene at that time.

The intelligence officer who had recklessly started the chase.

The enemy whom he had anticipated would be on his tail.

The designated escape route and his comrades’ support.

Having received a message and still waiting, someone charged at Reynaldo, crashing into the driver’s side, sending the vehicle tumbling. The last image would have been Reynaldo, bleeding, smashing his head against the steering wheel, just moments before the assassin would have approached and pressed the gun against him. Then they pulled the trigger.

The autopsy report indicated two gunshots had hit his back of the head, respectively passing through his right eye and above his eyebrow.

Making sure to eliminate the observer, the intelligence officer would have escaped in the car, and the assassination team that Reynaldo chased would have smoothly fled the scene.

“…….”

Frederick confirmed that two intelligence officers had witnessed Reynaldo’s death in that September report. Their signatures were at the bottom of the report drafted by the Investigation Division.

Flipping the document over to hide it, Frederick pursued his inquiry towards Zigmund once more.

“One of your highest-ranking branch agents, one of our team, has died, and that too to enemy intelligence agents. You, Jean, and Werner were the only ones in Shizuya. What did the headquarters say at that time?”

“Jean and I, who participated in the operation, were summoned back to the homeland for questioning. We didn’t suspect that the embassy had been wiretapped. They assumed that information must have leaked from one of us.”

They didn’t suspect betrayal. After all, information could flow not solely through betrayal.

Through careless slips of the tongue, loopholes in cryptographic devices, or simply papers that weren’t completely destroyed, information could slip out undetected. The Investigation Division of the Royal Intelligence Department was attempting to confirm that very thing.

“Jean and I were investigated for five months. Or maybe four? I can’t recall. I spent quite some time frequenting the investigation division.”

“During those five months, the Shizuya branch was left empty. There wasn’t even a single stationed employee; Werner was the only one left active.”

Frederick started questioning about Werner.

What had the senior-most operative done all alone while Nigel, Zigmund, Jean, and Reynaldo were sent on mission?

He had even remained in Shizuya after Zigmund and Jean had been sent back home. The investigation division had never called him in.

Zigmund opened his mouth about this. His first words started with, “He was a special man.”

“Were there any career lengths? It states that Werner entered the Royal Intelligence Department a year before you did.”

“He was from the military. He was a non-commissioned officer. A seasoned soldier who served as a sergeant in the Special Forces. Werner had previously been deployed as an instructor in the Ashtistan Royal Special Forces and had, upon entering the Royal Intelligence Department, teamed up with those he trained to prepare local guerrillas. As an aside, he was a recommendation from Nigel. The two had lived here together long ago.”

Zigmund elaborated that Werner had been sent as an operational officer in Shizuya and had already been in the mountain valley for over two months before Nigel and Reynaldo’s distributions.

“It was pretty tough for him to engage in operations under those circumstances. It was a time turbulent with pro-imperial guerrillas. Werner prevented the Ashtistan Kingdom from collapsing under the guerrillas, but he couldn’t stop the kingdom from turning into a republic or the royal family from being replaced by a revolutionary government. They were backed by the Kien Empire. They say he went through a difficult and lonely time.”

Frederick was somewhat aware of the local warlords trained by Werner.

“The Royal Intelligence Department has been focusing on nurturing paramilitary organizations for a long time. They said they enlisted trainers from Special Operations, and Werner was among them.”

“Right. He marched alongside subordinates just like Jake. He supported warlords on the Mauritania Continent.”

“Only someone of his caliber could do that. Anyway, Werner stayed in Shizuya. All by himself. And…”

Frederick put down the documents he had been reading.

“He died just two weeks after the two returned from investigation.”

“…He had an accident. Those stupid warlords mistook him for an enemy and shot him while fighting amongst themselves at night. Werner always had a habit of wearing his hat backward, so they had to identify his body thanks to the hat after his face got mutilated. Jean and I retrieved the remains and buried him back home.”

“The time of death was 1974. That was four years before you defected.”

Everything surrounding Zigmund had changed in those four years.

Nigel and Reynaldo had perished in the line of duty, Werner was killed by friendly fire during an operation, and Jean had remained there for just over a year before requesting reassignment, followed shortly by retirement, citing personal reasons.

The Shizuya branch that had once consisted of three people ended with Zigmund remaining all alone.

Frederick confirmed why the Foreign Operations Division (previously the National Operations Division) hadn’t been able to send reinforcements to the Shizuya branch during that time.

As Ashtistani itself was such a rare foreign language, finding intelligence officers wasn’t easy, and they ended up bringing a few diplomatic officials residing in Shizuya from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but a problem arose.

“The monarchy collapsed.”

A revolution erupted.

“The citizens could no longer tolerate the tyranny of the royal family and rose up. The secret police who had sworn allegiance attempted to crush the rebellion with force, but it was futile.”

“…….”

“The secret police’s opening fire only provoked the demonstrators, foreign nations turned their backs, and the special forces trained by Werner joined forces with the pro-imperial guerrillas they had suppressed for so long.”

“…….”

“The monarchy had been balancing precariously between Abas and Kien for a long time, but in the end, they were forsaken by both sides. The Abas cabinet called for the withdrawal of the embassy, and the Kien throne urged the military to put an end to the tyranny, instigating a coup. Thus, isolated Shizuya fell, with the king eventually fleeing abroad.”

The year that the banner of revolution flew over the Azadi Palace.

Zigmund assisted with the embassy’s evacuation and subsequently fled.

More specifically, when the informants planted in the Ashtistan Kingdom were discovered by the Imperial Guard, they were pursued.

“It started with someone who leaked military secrets to me. At the time, I was managing some of the informants that had been planted by Nigel, Werner, Jean, and Reynaldo, but it was overwhelming. I was younger than Jean, not as mature as Nigel and Werner, nor as wise as Reynaldo. Ultimately, there were gaps in the intelligence network, and my identity was exposed.”

“I disposed of two informants and fled. What happened to the others?”

“At that time, Shizuya was like a gigantic pressure cooker. Dissatisfaction and anger heated up until it exploded.”

“And the survivors?”

“When I returned to reassess them, I could hardly reconnect with even thirty percent of the informants I once had. After eliminating those who sided with the Empire and the revolutionary government, only five remained in the end.”

“What happened to the turncoat informants?”

Zigmund chuckled.

“What do you think happened?”

Frederick said nothing.

Eventually, the intelligence officer who had lost everything departed from Shizuya, only to return. Under the new banner of a Republic, having become the most senior member in the branch, he now had to rebuild everything from the ashes.

He succeeded.

He rebuilt the shattered intelligence network, laying foundations for successors.

Now, he had dealt with those who had turned against him, engaged with former allies, and dismantled all that the Imperial Guard had planned here.

Thus, Zigmund became a legend of Shizuya.

And he defected in 1978.

—

Stories from before and after his defection have all been revealed.

However, Frederick had only learned how Zigmund came to betray the Royal Intelligence Department, not the reason behind his decision to do so.

“Between ’74 and ’78, there must have been significant changes in your mindset. The loss of respected superiors and comrades, the burden of being left alone in Shizuya facing enemy intelligence agencies. Immediately after returning, you even had to deal with informants while opposing those who were once your allies in Ashtistan’s intelligence agency.”

“…….”

“Is that why you decided to defect?”

Frederick asked Zigmund why he had betrayed them.

He didn’t think it would be easy to get a clear answer. Human psychology is complex, and it’s hard to pin down motivations definitively.

But contrary to Frederick’s expectations, Zigmund promptly replied.

“Indeed. I was disappointed, and that led to my defection.”

Frederick nodded, thinking as he observed Zigmund responding. Surely, there must have been much contemplation before he reached that decision.

Without a lengthy deliberation, he wouldn’t be able to open his mouth as swiftly as he did now.

“With the state?”

Frederick inquired whether he defected due to disappointment with the Royal Intelligence Department or the Abas government.

Zigmund responded.

“Something like that, but also a bit different.”

“In what way is it different?”

“My guess is that you think my reasons for defection stem from disappointment in foolish welfare policies and the incompetence of a bureaucratic system bound like a toilet. However, I have never once felt ill-treated. On the contrary, I was quite happy. The two decades I served in the Royal Intelligence Department were some of the happiest moments of my life.”

“…….”

“My disappointment lay in the duality and immorality of the intelligence department, and of Abas.”

Zigmund shared his reasons for defection.

The Abas Kingdom had lost its moral high ground.

The cabinet and intelligence department of Abas firmly believed they had gained the upper hand in their ideological competition against the Kien Empire, but ironically, their moral decay was the very reason Kien was able to conquer Abas and seize hegemony over the Mauritania Continent.

“The Kien Empire has been riling up the Mauritania Continent for decades. The Abas Intelligence Department is convinced that the Imperial Guard and Kien’s Foreign Ministry have charmed this land’s dictators secured their favor. But from my perspective, that’s merely a result of cherry-picking what they want to see. Aren’t all the presidents elected through democratic elections aligned entirely with pro-imperial sentiments?”

“Yet you’re also aware that those elections were all conducted through fraudulent means, aren’t you?”

“Of course I know. Well, for now, anyway. But they were all overwhelmingly elected with the fervent support of the people, and they fell into dictatorship because they didn’t want to relinquish the power they held, as you well know.”

Zigmund explained that during his time in Shizuya, he witnessed many governments turning their backs on Abas.

And that was an undeniable fact, whether looking at it from the past or the present.

“Our foreign policy has failed in this land for decades. The use of military force has only bred resentment. Do you remember the special forces and warlords that Werner trained from the Kingdom of Ashtistan?”

“I remember.”

“They now occupy key positions in the Republican Army and the Law Enforcement Corps.”

The revolution, which the Royal Intelligence Department deemed a plot by the Imperial Guard to overthrow allied governments, succeeded.

The Kingdom of Ashtistan collapsed, and the revolutionary government established the Republic of Ashtistan here.

The special forces personnel and warlords trained by the Royal Intelligence Department pledged loyalty to the revolutionary government and now held high positions within the Republican military and the Law Enforcement Corps.

“There would be no room for loyalty in a situation where the whole country was turned upside down by revolution. As the generals aimed their guns at the royal family, they turned their guns around as well. Of course, some ran away, discarding their weapons because they couldn’t join the rebels, while others remained until the end to defend Shizuya. But most of them are no longer here.”

“They were either executed or exiled. I know. Some came to Abas.”

Zigmund let out an uncomfortable sigh. He shook his head with a determined expression.

“It’s true that exiles exist. But most of them are high-ranking officials who worked for the secret police and the intelligence agency. Cowards who quickly disposed of evidence and fled as soon as the king ran away.”

“Most of the lower-ranked officials ran to neighboring countries. Well, a few stayed behind and were incorporated into the Republic’s intelligence agency.”

“Most of the informants I had were such people. They didn’t have the status to run away with the king, nor did they have the decisiveness to abandon the precarious capital. So I somehow convinced them and promised to help them seek asylum and asked the embassy for paperwork. But do you know what the ambassador said?”

I had a feeling I knew.

Frederick closed his eyes for a moment, and Zigmund opened his mouth.

“They said they couldn’t help.”

“….”

“They claimed they didn’t have time to issue visas because the withdrawal was imminent? They told me to just ask for supplies while they burned all the confidential materials they were destroying. They even suggested I should just call and persuade the foreign ministry, but I got no response.”

“So that’s why you sought help from Patalia.”

“Fortunately, friends from the intelligence agency over there helped. It was a confusing time as they were preparing for escape, so I didn’t expect much assistance, but at least they didn’t spout nonsense like ‘Shizuya won’t fall’ while the secret police were being beaten to death in the streets like the commanders of the Royal Intelligence Department or the Ministry of Defense.”

Thanks to that, I was able to save a few people. Not everyone, but still.

Adding that, Zigmund chuckled somewhat helplessly.

“Do you know what’s funny? When I came back to this country, the informants I couldn’t take with me were working as civil servants in the Republic. That Nikolai VI, who executed as many as ten thousand of his own people in the early days of his rule, was advised not to kill everyone, just to convert them.”

“Some of the personnel in the new intelligence agency and the Law Enforcement Corps survived in such a way.”

“Irony of history. The butcher of Petrogard and the guards who had pulled people’s fingernails discussed morality. Wouldn’t it have been better if they had done that earlier?”

“….”

“The more ironic thing is that I couldn’t even object when I heard from the informants I met again that ‘it’s not that bad to get along with the Imperial Guard.'”

“….”

“That’s why I turned back.”

Zigmund said it without getting angry or annoyed.

He merely stated it calmly.

He was just pulling out sentiments that had worn thin and were now hard to put into words.

“Our Royal Intelligence Department failed miserably in Shizuya, and the Kingdom of Abas chose a path of immorality on its own.”

A fallen state.

“We who once criticized dictators for prioritizing morality have now become no better than them, and those of us who prided ourselves on this moral superiority have now fallen to the same level as our opponents.”

“….”

“Can you explain that?”

Zigmund asked Frederick.

The Inquisition officers in Lateran, praying for forgiveness for their sins in Sunday prayers.

The secret police in Petrogard, who proudly claimed to be the sword and shield of the empire while oppressing millions of subjects to cover up the royal family’s corruption.

What makes us better than them?

“….”

“Yeah. You probably can’t. Double-dealing and indecision are our specialties. That’s why I made my decision. I chose.”

Zigmund smiled.

This may have been the first time he truly smiled.

“That was a very, aesthetic choice.”

*

Silence fell.

The eastern sky turned a dusky hue, awakening the slumbering city. One by one, noises seeped back into daily life.

Zigmund looked at the silent Frederick, who held a pistol. He still aimed it but showed no signs of movement.

“…so that was it.”

The information officer, who had been quietly sitting, subtly nodded.

“I understand. You made a choice that you judged to be right. I didn’t expect that expression to come up here, but indeed, it was an aesthetic choice.”

Suddenly breaking the silence, Zigmund fixed a gaze on Frederick. As if surprised, he didn’t anticipate that he would say such a thing.

He continued calmly.

“I found hope in another regime. You made a truly great decision.”

“….”

“Just for the record, I’m not being sarcastic. I genuinely respect your choice. To be precise, I believe it deserves respect.”

Frederick scratched his sideburn with his finger, showing that he wasn’t particularly pleased with such philosophical discussions.

“Well, I don’t care about morality or anything since this is my job. But it seems it meant something to you, huh? Quite philosophical of you?”

“What’s the meaning in living without thought, just doing what others say?”

“I made my own decision, unlike other double agents. Despite having a guaranteed comfortable future, I resisted the country I thought was wrong. From my perspective, it sounds like the whining of a man who leaked confidential information, but at least courage is commendable. Willing to be called a traitor for life.”

Frederick rummaged in his pocket and pulled something out. It was a cigarette.

Zigmund, who had noticed Frederick lighting a new cigarette for the first time, recalled that he had always smoked more than five packs of Golouaz Caporal.

“Ah…. It’s such a philosophical topic that I can’t think of much to say, but anyway.”

He added, placing the commonplace cigarette from Shizuya between his fingers and rubbing his eyelids.

“Such choices aren’t made by just anyone. Most are cowards. Though there are plenty of rebellious types in the Imperial Guard or Inquisition, none of them switch sides like you.”

“….”

“Most would rather close their eyes, pretending not to see, and retire in peace, enjoying their pension. Who would give that up to stand against the tide? They can just grumble about the company behind closed doors, drink themselves silly, and pass out.”

“….”

“But you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t accept it.”

Frederick bit down on the filter.

His posture, leaning against the backrest while tidying his tousled hair, only showed signs of fatigue.

A workplace attitude that desperately wished to get away from the job and return home. Zigmund thought that the stance felt very natural.

Perhaps it might represent Frederick’s true feelings.

“As I said earlier, I don’t have any personal feelings for you, nor for the guys from the Imperial Guard hanging around here trying to take you.”

“Really? I heard you dislike the Imperial Guard.”

“That’s because those guys impede my work. They are scum I want to kill, but they are just foreigners I won’t have to deal with if I submit my resignation.”

“….”

“You’re the same.”

Frederick slumped back in the chair. Despite holding a gun, he looked at his own left hand, checking for any stray hair beside his nail.

“I tried to turn over my information in exchange for ensuring my family’s safety, but it failed. I don’t know what’s so amusing, but anyway, you must have hidden it somewhere. The only real damage I got was losing sleep talking to you instead of resting comfortably in a hotel room, and the probability of developing lung cancer just went up by about 140%.”

“I extend my deepest condolences for that.”

“Really appreciate it.”

Frederick chuckled at Zigmund’s almost joking apology.

“Ugh.”

Puffing out smoke, he leaned forward.

Then, unable to hold back his drowsiness, he yawned widely before making a couple of puffs and resumed speaking.

“What… if I ask where you hid my information, you’ll probably just tell me to get lost?”

“Of course. If I hand that over, it’ll cause problems for me.”

“Your retirement funds that you took before running will likely be hidden in another spot.”

“Even if one side gets discovered, the information dispersed in another place will remain safe. Don’t worry. The crucial information, that is, the file about you, is in a location known only to me.”

“Naturally, it should be. If the Imperial Guard were clever, they’d look for the information you hid.”

It was a type of treasure hunt.

A treasure hunt held by a double agent well-versed in Shizuya’s affairs. The first to find it would be the master, and if things went wrong, he could smash the other’s head with a hammer and take it with no consequence; a sort of battle royale.

Frederick, exhaling smoke, asked,

“Is that what you want? To return my information and safely gather your family and cross over?”

Zigmund, leaning to the side, confirmed. He nodded.

“You don’t have any guarantee that you wouldn’t be tricking me and taking your copy over.”

“If I dared to do that, I would be in serious trouble when you came looking for me enraged.”

“Gentleman’s agreement?”

“Yes, it’s a gentleman’s agreement.”

Zigmund demanded safety for his asylum in exchange for not disclosing or leaking any confidential information regarding Frederick.

He mentioned that he would take other confidential information, but would accept the substitute with review if necessary.

Frederick squinted and muttered.

“Deceptive information, huh…? The Imperial Guard wouldn’t let that slide, would they?”

“It needs to be hidden. Of course, it cannot be entirely false information. They’ll verify its truthfulness themselves. The basic contents will be true, but sensitive core information will need to be wrapped as plausible trash that looks like gold.”

“What will you get in return for handing that over? A medal? A house? A pension? Or did they say they would give you money?”

Zigmund looked directly into Frederick’s eyes, who was cocking his head to the side.

“Nothing.”

He added in a firm voice.

“I didn’t expect anything from them from the start. Of course, when I switched sides, I did demand a large sum. If I merely handed over information, I would have been suspected of being a spy myself.”

“….”

“I made that very clear to Lisichin and returned all the money I received. Instead, I asked them to monitor me or take pictures to protect my identity from any potential double agent from the Royal Intelligence Department.”

“So that’s why you were hiding for 16 years? Ah, I haven’t seen that trick in a long time—those SIS guys….”

Frederick smiled while rolling his tongue around in his mouth.

SIS, Livingstone, some country starting with ‘P’… Zigmund found the random words he often threw out a bit suspicious but didn’t bother to think deeply on it.

He crossed his legs and leaned back against the armrest.

“The payment the Imperial Guard made to me came after Kowalski’s mad behavior almost disrupted things. After several days of discussion, the former head of the Imperial Guard, Semyon Yudinchev, transferred money to me along with Oleg Yelichich.”

“Why? Were they so anxious that you’d leave they couldn’t sleep otherwise?”

“That’s what I heard, but the truth is unknown. I suspect Ilya Kutuzov might know the details. He was Yelichich’s favorite subordinate.”

“What a touching story. Those guys are all about cleansing each other within their ranks, yet they become so affectionate at times like this.”

Though Frederick grumbled, he said nothing further.

He approached the entrance as soon as Zigmund told him the location. As expected, there seemed to be an information officer in the adjacent room recording their conversation.

Zigmund felt a sense of familiarity towards the Royal Intelligence Department employee speaking with Frederick, but couldn’t recall who the bearded man was. Perhaps he had seen him at headquarters once or twice; he simply brushed it off.

“…Ugh.”

Frederick sat down with a strangely elderly inflection.

He leaned against the backrest like a chubby uncle at a bar and spoke to Zigmund.

“I sent people to the hiding place you mentioned. I probably didn’t tell them everything, but they will figure it out moving forward.”

“I need to have insurance too, you know? What if I just handed over everything and ended up in a dire situation? First, I’ll only hand over half, and we’ll discuss the rest after confirming the safety and release of my family.”

“Naturally, that’s how it should be. If it all gets processed in one go, it makes things complicated, doesn’t it? You need guts to earn a salary in this line of work. Well….”

Frederick nodded as if it goes without saying.

“But I have a question.”

“What do you want to ask?”

“How did you find out about the Kaniqula Holdings, the financial hub of the Law Enforcement Corps, supporting Wali Al-Dadun? I mean, you’re known to be influential in Shizuya, but as a commander, you couldn’t just come to this place to manage informants.”

Now, there was no longer anything to hide.

Zigmund frankly revealed the truth that it was no big deal.

“Hawala has always been used for cross-border remittances. Sending living expenses to relatives living far away and such. There are a few in Abas. They’re run by immigrants.”

“How about the trip to the Lushan Federal Kingdom on November 30, 1985?”

“Well, if you found out that much, then I have nothing more to say.”

I admit defeat. Zigmund raised his hands in that sense.

“There are jewelry stores near the western port of the Lushan Federation, and that’s one of the money laundering fronts for the Law Enforcement Corps. The store we visited on that November 30 trip was one of them.”

“The fees were taken by the Hawala brokers, and the funds went to Ashtistan….”

“To be precise, my informants within the Law Enforcement Corps. There have been many instances of sending funds to informants embedded in the police, republican army, and other public and security-related agencies. For reference, the Hawala I used recently in Shizuya… that money you found was given to an officer on assignment in the north.”

“You didn’t report it to the Royal Intelligence Department.”

Zigmund nodded and then shook his head.

“The existence of those informants is known only to me. I had to protect them because they helped extract confidential information from within the Law Enforcement Corps, like Kaniqula Holdings and Wali Al-Dadun, but fundamentally, they are my friends. Unlike other informants reported to the Royal Intelligence Department.”

“….”

Frederick, who had been quietly listening, wore a smile at the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t find it particularly strange. After all, as he knew, when people got tired, they occasionally did incomprehensible things. When too exhausted, even Zigmund would sometimes let out a hollow laugh for no reason.

But the other was different.

He seemed to choke on his laughter, as suddenly he began twisting and laughing like a madman!

The sight of the information officer laughing loudly from dawn was almost chilling. For a while, he just kept laughing like a lunatic.

“…Kek. Hach. Ah. Just a second. Whew— I thought I was gonna die. You crazy bastard.”

Frederick could hardly wipe the tears spilling from laughter while muttering some indecipherable curse.

He couldn’t tell to whom it was directed, but Zigmund found it very displeasing.

With a frown, while holding his Golouaz Caporal, he lifted his head.

“Hey, Zigmund.”

Frederick called his name.

Zigmund, unable to hide his displeasure, silently stared at the other, and suddenly, incomprehensible questions began to fly in.

“That holding company or whatever and those Hawala brokers involved in money laundering, who exactly runs them? The finance department of the Law Enforcement Corps?”

“That’s right. The official name is the Law Enforcement Corps Administration’s Finance Accounting Division. They oversee the payroll for the Corps members and the retirement benefits and pensions needed for those in charge, but internally, they’re involved in overseas money operations.”

“…Then who do those managing the funds report to when things change or profits come in? There must be a final destination for the money.”

Zigmund raised his eyebrows a single time and shook his head as if it was obvious.

“General officers can’t do that alone. It has to be possible with approval from the higher-ups, and you know who that is.”

Frederick leaned forward.

“Name them.”

Zigmund met his brown eyes.

“Darius Ismailzahi. Commander of the Law Enforcement Corps and the second-in-command of the Republic of Ashtistan.”

 

---