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“Amidst the fog-drenched desert city, the scene is dreamlike to the point of being dizzying.

The stone building, which has a beige tone soaked in filth, resembles an apartment from the 1940s. A frayed carpet, an old telephone in the corner of the room, and a fabric sofa with patches here and there are scattered about haphazardly.

When the wind blows, the outdated curtains exhale the dust they’ve held, and the worn carpet that looks like something you’d see at Grandma’s house lets out groans of distress with each creak and muffled breath.

A bright yellow light spills through the window, creating a gloomy ambiance.

Standing in front of the broken phone, Giorgi pressed his hand over the receiver and lifted his gaze.

“…The information agent from the local police confirmed it. Early this morning, a gunfire report came in from the slum area, and a foreign corpse was discovered in an apartment there.”

“Have they verified the identity?”

“Up to that point, it’s unconfirmed; they say he’s a Caucasian. A white male in his 40s to 50s.”

As Sandor loitered inside the residence, his gaze collided with Oksana, who was busy preparing biscuits in the kitchen.

Standing by the window, Kiril, waiting for someone, turned his face with a complicated expression and approached the man who had settled in the corner.

“Thank you for your long journey. Let’s disperse for now.”

“Is the operation called off?”

The man, whose robust figure was hidden under a shabby puffer jacket, asked.

Kiril collected a sigh that wasn’t quite a sigh to respond.

“…Understood.”

As the man gestured, the individuals who had been quietly crossing their arms began to pack their belongings one by one. Folding a short stock down, they stacked magazines and rifle cartridges neatly on the floor.

Finally, after draping gun pouches over their shoulders, they stood up. The members of the Operations Team from the Imperial Guard HQ held the identification and communication devices handed to them by support staff from the 6th Department before leaving the apartment with the note, ‘We’ll be lurking at the residence for a few days.’

“…….”

In a flash, the bustling apartment fell silent.

Maintaining her silence, Ekaterina slowly rested her head against the worn sofa and closed her eyelids.

Side Episode – A Fortunate Day

It failed.

The unique identifier ‘Domoboy’ did not appear at the rendezvous.

Having evaded surveillance and disappearing somewhere, he was ultimately found dead in an apartment in the slum.

The cause of death was gunfire.

A bullet that struck the back of his head pierced through the skull and exited above the eyebrow, severing his lifeline.

Why did Domoboy run away? Who killed him?

No one would ever know. With the subject being dead, there was no way to uncover the truth surrounding his demise.

The reasons remained a mystery.

*

The afternoon in Petrogard was beautiful.

Ekaterina had left this place completely broke, just like when she first departed. Her empty hands clutched a tiny handle as she passed through the immigration office.

Clattering over the bumpy, uneven ground, the sensation of the suitcase wobbling side to side was vivid. The somewhat uncomfortable shaking continued until a team member took over the handle.

“Team Leader, what happened?”

One of the employees from the Inquisition Team came out to offer a word of comfort, having laid the groundwork for it, but contrary to expectations, no answer came back.

Seated in the backseat, Ekaterina didn’t say a word, and her subordinate held onto the steering wheel in silence.

Team Leader.

No, her former superior, now a manager, didn’t seem to be in the mood for idle jokes or casual updates from the office.

As the official car began to speed along the asphalt, the Information Investigation Officer who had come to pick up Ekaterina finally mustered the courage to speak.

“The atmosphere at the office has changed quite a lot while you were on your business trip. You’ll find out soon enough, Manager.”

The double agent’s defection fell apart.

Zigmund had died from a gunshot wound, and the classified information he was supposed to convey vanished without a trace.

While failed operations aren’t anything new, this incident was a painful loss for the Guard HQ as well. They didn’t even have time for proper interrogation before it spiraled out of control; there could hardly be a more perfect failure.

“We’re trying to find out why, by whom, and how the defector from the Royal Intelligence Department was killed. With the help of the second department personnel from that branch.”

“…….”

“But with the investigative authority lying with the Republic of Ashtistan, I don’t think anything will come out immediately. The Law Enforcement Corps and every investigative agency there is in complete turmoil right now.”

Zigmund’s death brought about many changes. Mostly negative ones.

A senior official from the enemy intelligence department was discovered dead right in the heart of the capital, having been shot to death.

With nobody even aware of his immigration into the country, disputes arose over accountability within intelligence lines.

The Law Enforcement Corps purged a large number of personnel from the intelligence department, including those from the Security Committee. This was the result of shifting the blame onto other agencies, and it seemed that the Law Enforcement Corps had somewhat succeeded in their blame-shifting tactics.

However, the moment their decades-long misdeeds abroad were exposed to the world, the victory goddess who had seemingly lifted her hand temporarily closed her eyes instead.

“According to the staff from the lower office, it’s like a war zone. I wonder what they’ve indulged in so much…. Tsk.”

The team member, muttering to himself, happened to glance into the rearview mirror. Ekaterina was still gazing out the window in silence.

“Where on earth could it have gone wrong? Did the agency that had let its guard down report the Guard HQ?”

“Just unfortunate, I suppose.”

“…….”

A sigh, possibly from someone else, followed suit.

As Ekaterina released her jaw while staring out the window, they had reached their destination.

The building solemnly overlooking Jerzyński Square.

The Imperial Guard HQ headquarters was now in sight.

*

“So it has come to this.”

As the lengthy debriefing came to a close.

Director Ilya began with a deep voice.

Four days ago, a report from Shizuya had already come to light. It was a notice of Zigmund’s death along with an update on the failure of a mission.

The report was prepared by Ekaterina, who was now face-to-face with Director Ilya.

“This is hard to believe. The legendary man who haunted everyone like a nightmare has passed away so effortlessly.”

Known for his rare emotional expressions, the director was difficult to read.

Nevertheless, today, Ilya seemed a little sad.

Muttering at his desk, he continued.”

I closed my mouth from that moment on.

I silently placed the report next to the untouched green cigarettes and took out the red-labeled ‘No. 21’ vodka from the container floating with ice shards, filling my glass until it was just enough for a sip.

“……”

As I gazed at my firmly sealed lips, Ekaterina suddenly recalled that Zigmund had a preference for certain cigarettes and alcoholic drinks.

No. 21, a vodka presented to the royal family. The Glouaz Caporal representing Frangia.

The faded Imperial Guard HQ report detailed Zigmund’s appearance alongside No. 21 and Glouaz Caporal, complete with a familiar handwriting.

Director Ilya finally spoke up.

“That cigarette was found at the crime scene.”

He pointed to the green cigarette on his desk. And as Ekaterina knew, Director Ilya was a thorough non-smoker.

Nodding, the Director naturally continued his statement.

His voice was somewhat husky.

It carried an air of fatigue.

“It seems he smoked to the last without restraint.”

As the Glouaz Caporal was discreetly pushed aside, a single droplet rolled down into the glass filled with No. 21.

“…Zigmund was the most resolute man among all the information officers I’ve known. For the sake of his country, he could delay having children, and if it contradicted his conscience, he could even live his life turning his back on that country.”

He drained the shot in one go.

Director Ilya refilled his glass once more.

“Others might think he sold secrets for money, but at least the Zigmund I knew was on a different level than such petty scraps.”

“……”

“We haven’t merely lost a defector; we’ve lost a friend.”

Ekaterina remained silent.

It wasn’t because the operation had failed. Behind the many achievements of the Imperial Guard HQ lay an even greater number of failures.

The death didn’t bring sorrow either. Victory and defeat always come at a cost, and blood was merely one of those costs.

Just as the deaths of ten thousand birthed a great empire, the deaths of millions are merely statistical numbers.

However, the death of one individual is an unspeakably tragic event for someone.

The Director spoke in a heavy voice.

“He walked the path to his own death. A foolish decision, uncharacteristic of Zigmund.”

It was a sigh-like statement. No long words were necessary.

“Ashtistan has grown quite chaotic. Since the exposure, the Law Enforcement Corps has been cornered. Commander Darius’s position is expected to become very precarious.”

Or perhaps it had already become precarious enough that little could be done.

“If the top commander of the Law Enforcement Corps, Darius, disappears, the Republic will no longer be able to pursue hardline policies. Rumor has it the desert friends are already lurking around the Abas Ministry of Foreign Affairs entrance. Whoever it is, they sure have some skill. Before long, the western delegation will come to Shizuya.”

Whether it’s the internal political struggles of the Republic of Ashtistan or meddling by foreign intelligence agencies, none of that mattered to Ekaterina.

What was important wasn’t that.

“There are many unclear aspects regarding the death of Domoboy.”

“……”

“I have submitted a detailed report on his activities before and after his death. The debriefing was completed just the day before yesterday.”

“I have read the report you submitted. As well as the interim reports up until now.”

Director Ilya continued in a calm tone.

“I must apologize first. There was a secret I had not disclosed to you.”

There was a last communication Zigmund sent to him just before fleeing. Not through the national counterintelligence department line, but via the direct communication channel between Ilya and Zigmund.

He had received news that he would be bringing his family.

“I didn’t disseminate it within the country and only reported it to you over the line. Zigmund was supposed to hand us some information in exchange for protection for his family.”

The head of the guard had initially expressed concern.

In a situation where royal intelligence was expected to be tracking, rescuing not just Zigmund but also his family was beyond the jurisdiction of the Imperial Guard HQ.

Setting aside diplomatic or political follow-up, it would place too great a burden on the field officers conducting a high-difficulty operation.

But when Ilya confirmed the information Zigmund had prepared, the head of the Imperial Guard HQ approved it without any hesitation.

“What was it? The information Domoboy was to bring.”

“……”

Director Ilya answered.

“Data on an individual we both know.”

“……”

“As it happens, Zigmund had an encounter as well. In Shizuya. He appeared at that very spa you were at.”

Clink, as ice slightly melted and clinked against the glass.

This time, she had nothing to say. It was a silence tinged with a slightly different meaning.

Gazing into Ekaterina’s unyielding eyes, the Director placed his glass down and asked.

“There are two choices.”

Two fingers unfolded on the desk.

“One, to return to the work of correcting military discipline that I previously mentioned. Since you were recommended by the royal family, once you handle this task, you’ll be free to go wherever you wish. Whether that’s my office or the upper-level office.”

And the other.

“The other one is to go home.”

Having said that, the Director gently grasped the glass he had set down.

“…Your Servbo identification from the last business trip should still be valid, right?”

“Yes.”

After finishing his last drink, he clasped his hands together.

And looking into the steady gaze of the other party, he added briefly.

“I see there’s no need to hear your answer.”

*

As I wrapped up the arduous day.

I returned to the hotel like a husband coming home from work, turning the doorknob with the key.

“…What the hell?”

But why was the room burning down?

 

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