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Ashtistan is suffering from infighting among power institutions and diplomatic friction with neighboring countries.

Since the illegal arms smuggling incident, the Northern Duke wiretapping case, the assassination of Zigmund, and the large-scale spy ring bust, the Law Enforcement Corps has received a significant blow to its pride as the supreme power agency of the Republic, and Commander Darius Ismailzahi has retreated to his home like a half-retired old man.

The Kien Empire was undergoing a different kind of internal strife.

Despite the end of the Empire-Magic dispute, suspicions about Emperor Nikolai VI’s health were growing as he failed to appear in public.

The Crown Prince showcased the Emperor’s vitality in various ways, dismissing all doubts, yet suspicious claims emerged that “the Crown Prince is purging nobles from the administrative, legislative, and judicial sectors that were close to his siblings.”

The imperial palace made no attempts to quell such suspicions, as did Chancellor Stollipin, who had dedicated his life to the Empire.

Amidst the worried whispers inside and outside the noble assembly, the Chancellor added no clarifications, whether officially or unofficially.

Additionally, in the Jamria Federation, the “Blood-Drinking Tree” incident sparked a coup-coup d’état resulting in a double change of power.

In the Darya Kingdom, the Prime Minister and the King started to oppose each other after surrendering their status as a neutral country.

The Lushan Federation, while closely cooperating with the western nations, faced countless glares for attempting to dominate the Mauritania Continent by wielding geographical, religious, and ethnic superiority.

In short, there wasn’t a properly functioning country in sight.

Everything was a complete mess.

With thieves even taking gold teeth from corpses, one could only imagine the extent of the chaos.

Anyway.

The majority of countries were currently suffering from various internal and external problems, slowly sinking into corruption, which, to put it bluntly, spelled doom for the nations.

And the peak of turmoil in democratic nations coincides with none other than election season.

“Return of the Nobles Assembly and Commoners Assembly General Elections, Concurrent Local Elections!”

“The Abas Assembly has been dissolved… Political parties have entered the election campaign for five weeks.”

“24-year turnover? Will it be a power reclaim or a hold-out?”

The circumstances in Abas Kingdom, where local and general elections overlapped, were not much different either.

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Episode 21 – Peace of Our Time

As with all things, a storm always follows a difficult overseas life.

For me, jet lag was the issue.

“Huhhhh….”

Jumping between time zones with a short 3-4 hours, or sometimes over 10, was always a grind.

Regardless of night or day, drowsiness poured in, and just when I opened a report, the moment my fingers touched the keyboard, the content would erase from my mind.

If my stay was long enough, adapting to jet lag would be no issue, but unfortunately, the deadline approved by the company was mostly around 7 days.

To succeed in my mission, I had to throw my luggage down at the hotel and head to the field with a body still adjusting to the time difference, and as soon as I finally adapted, I would have to pack up again and head to Incheon Airport.

Naturally, my sleep pattern would be wrecked and my health would be destroyed.

Of course, the company wasn’t lenient enough to excuse an employee who lost sleep. The combination of military-style culture and meritocracy unique to the intelligence agency made it even more so.

So, those like me who had suffered from jet lag had no choice but to hear grumbling from seniors.

“Hey, soldier dude. You can’t even handle that?”

Adela Nostrim. She started to look at me with a crooked smile, her hands stuffed in her pockets.

I glanced at my housemate leaning against the door, her rumpled shirt outfit clear even through my hazy vision.

Her shirt with a collapsed collar, stockings that were coming undone, dark circles hanging down to her chin, and a face constantly mixed with irritation and exhaustion.

A typical public servant style worn down by a life in civil service. She seemed to have just returned from work.

“…Oh, you’re back?”

“Yeah, my lovely slacker brother is happy to see me.”

“Unemployment, huh….”

Though I had resigned from my position as Resident Officer, I was still an active executive within the Military Intelligence Agency.

And 9 AM today marked exactly 24 hours since I returned from the Republic of Ashtistan.

However, my sister treated me as if I had been kicked out of my job, showcasing the merciless teasing typical of older siblings toward a brother on leave.

“Get up, wash your face, and have something to eat.”

She threw her clothes around as she spoke while leaning against the door frame.

I attempted to grab them, but I failed. With a dazed expression, I accidentally flipped the clothes onto my face like a hood.

Stumbling while picking up the clothes and hearing my sister’s nagging of “hurry down!” for a moment, I finally made my way down to the first floor of our townhouse in the capital.

As soon as I stepped downstairs, the warm, fragrant aroma of freshly toasted bread began to pull me from my stupor.

“Ah… what’s with all this bread? Who made breakfast so early?”

“I did.”

“You?”

“Yeah, got a problem?”

“Not a problem, just….”

I tore off a corner of the rye bread with my hand and mumbled.

Then, Adela stared blankly at me before launching into some nostalgia.

“Does it remind you of the old days?”

“Uh-huh….”

Though it might have seemed ordinary now, back when we were young, elite kids entering the academy were allowed to bring their household staff.

Specifically, external people would be employed by parents to serve the students living in dormitories.

This led to increased financial burdens on families, created conflicts among students, and parent pressure through employing staff. So as soon as a progressive Prime Minister was elected, it was cut off by the Education Ministry.

The issue was that the policy changed just when we were about to enter the academy.

And like all government policies, it wasn’t smooth from the start, giving rise to many unforeseen problems.

Thus, since beginning secondary academy, my sister Adela had prepared breakfast for the four of us instead of our busy parents until meals were provided by the academy’s restaurant.

The old days Adela referred to were exactly the “back then” of that time.

“Yeah, I remember.”

I nodded tiredly.

And I threw a short stone at Adela’s smiling face.

“This lousy, tasteless toast is just like the breakfast we had every morning.”

“Then don’t eat it!”

With a frown on her face, she lunged forward as if to toss the toast into the trash, but I quickly shielded my plate with my body.

It was childish banter between siblings approaching their thirties.

“I’m busy as hell and yet you only manage to make breakfast for me.”

“Oh please, I know you’re busy too. I didn’t say anything about it. Just saying, if you’d add some flavor to the care you put in, it’d be perfect.”

“Shut it. Just drink your coffee.”

With a bit of a sour mood, Adela set down a mug.

I sipped on some coffee, and she sprinkled some powder—whether salt or parsley—on her egg as she spoke.

“Mom and Dad are coming back in a few days. Jerry said he’d return as soon as possible by tonight, but if things are busy at the Ministry of Finance, he might have to stick around at least until tomorrow morning.”

“Everyone’s busy, huh? Just like usual.”

Adela’s eyes sharped. As always, her fierce temperament was visible, but today, it stood out even more.

“How can you not be busy? Everyone now has to go for hearings.”

“Isn’t that what an investigation does? It’s common for governments to go through that during investigations. It’s not surprising….”

Indeed.

All government departments in the Abas Kingdom were currently in a state of preparing for a national investigation (also referred to as the national audit).

It was the coinciding time for elections, including both local and general elections after years of absence.

That was the trouble.

“Ugh! Can’t you at least prepare in advance? The national investigation is right around the corner, why is everyone panicking?”

Does she even realize how dark-circled her eyes have become as she ruffled her hair, throwing an unprecedented fit?

Adela, who had been burning the candle at both ends to prepare for the upcoming national investigation in the new upper and lower house, lamented as if it was a dire scenario.

She had managed to compress several years’ worth of business reports into a packet thicker than a basketball player’s palm, but like Jerry who was stuck in the Ministry of Finance, Adela’s troubles weren’t over either.

It was a well-known black comedy of bureaucracy that officials would desperately beg to have questions shared beforehand from members of the committee on the national investigation.

As soon as the election is over, and the committee members are selected, Adela will deplete her connections looking for her acquaintances working in their offices, begging until her limbs are worn out.

Of course, even if she managed to acquire the pre-question sheets, she would still have to wait at the Foreign Ministry HQ all day until the investigation ended.

That was why, right after I returned, the family was in complete disarray and no one even had the chance to look me in the eyes.

And likewise, why Adela was in a shambolic state of her rumpled shirt and a face so messy that she was throwing a fit.

“Trends in the Kien Empire at the Eastern Trade Market, practical aspects and countermeasures of the Kien Empire’s racial policies, evacuation plans for the Mauritania Continent’s deployed troops, preparations for the national investigation of overseas diplomatic missions…. When am I supposed to do all this…!”

Such a single woman, indeed—

It was a moment of hysterics that would be heart-wrenching to witness.

…Tsk!

“Nom.”

“Eat quietly!”

“Why, did I hit a nerve? Is it getting tough managing anger now that you’re over thirty?”

“You little…!”

Adela shrieked in a half-yell, half-scream. It was a success.

After teasing her until she lost all will to be angry, her previously gloomy expression lightened up a bit.

It was a rather decent outcome.

Though Camila had been caught by the Duke for some mental conditioning, I was an insignificant foreign official that even the nefarious Archmage could do nothing about.

So, I returned home and took my leave as one who had nothing to do with the national investigation.

And unlike my family, as a clerk at the bottom of the hierarchy, if only the nagging, the constant teasing every time I took a breath, the facts that popped out awkwardly, the bland breakfast, and the source of all these problems—my sister Adela Nostrim who happened to be stuck at home on my day off—would just disappear, everything would be perfect.

Of course, the chance of Adela leaving the house after just getting off work stood at barely 1%.

I stood up holding the empty plate and took off my coat hanging on the rack.

“I’m going out for a bit.”

Peeking her head out, my sister asked tiredly, “Where are you going?”

“Just going to meet a friend nearby.”

“A… friend?”

Adela’s eyebrows shot up.

“You have a friend…?”

A foreign civil servant, about to have all his hair pulled out, was cursing at his younger brother, who took a joke too literally.

In a quiet little bookstore downtown, a small conversation was taking place.

“Isn’t that a bit harsh? She’s still your sister.”

“Exactly because she’s my sister! If she were my brother, I would’ve already shoved him into the couch.”

“Yeah, right.”

A woman passing between the bookshelves gently pulled out a hardback book. With a mildly smiling face, she observed the novel but suddenly muttered to the empty space.

“Well, you’ve always been at odds with your siblings.”

The neighborhood bookstore, surrounded by books from floor to ceiling, created a serene atmosphere.

Books piled high in various places, seemingly without a home, were scattered everywhere, while shoppers moved carefully, browsing the pages with thoughtful expressions.

Among them, one man seemed particularly cautious. The way he flipped through a tattered poetry book, tucked under his arm, was especially telling.

The man suddenly spoke up.

“Are you an only child?”

The woman, with her back turned as she examined a novel, replied.

“Yep.”

“Must be nice to be an only child. You don’t have to endure the struggles on holidays like someone else.”

“Every time I go back home, I get lectured just the same. Being an only child doesn’t mean life’s easier.”

“That’s true.”

The man closed the page he was reading and placed the poetry book back on the shelf. Then, pretending to replace the poetry book, he cautiously peeked inside his coat.

“…Looks clean. What about you?”

“Same here.”

With a casual flick, the man set the poetry book down and concealed a few wires that had slipped from his inner pocket.

The bright green blinking light scientifically and magically proved that there were no prying ears nearby.

The woman started to fidget under her crossed arms, feeling below her chest. There, surrounded like a rib protector, was the strap of equipment developed by the National Security Agency, hanging from her chest belt.

It was portable eavesdropping equipment.

“Nice to see you, Merlo. It’s been a while.”

The woman tucked the novel into an empty space on the bookshelf. Then she turned towards the bookshelf behind her, directing her gaze to a familiar face beyond it.

The man smiled, moving the poetry book that was covering his arm.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too, Sophia.”

*

Sophia. She’s an old acquaintance working for the National Security Agency in Patalia.

Once assigned to the Kien Empire, she collaborated frequently with me, being a part of a friendly intelligence agency.

Last year, we had crossed paths twice—once at the Magic Tower and once in her home country of Patalia.

“Thanks for coming.”

I greeted Sophia, whom I hadn’t seen in almost a few months. She still looked like Sophia. Nothing much had changed.

Of course, I was always glad to see her.

“I called you out of the blue, but you came sooner than I expected. Are you on a business trip?”

“Something like that.”

Sophia adjusted the back of her newsboy cap and replied with a grin.

“I’m just a short-term correspondent.”

Officially, Sophia’s status was abroad as a correspondent for a state-owned Patalian media outlet. To be precise, she was a short-term correspondent dispatched for less than a year.

Due to the nature of the media, younger intelligence agents like her often preferred titles like short-term correspondent or freelance journalist.

In contrast, long-term correspondents, usually assigned for more than three years, were typically senior intelligence agents.

Media outlets only recruited veteran journalists after all.

I started nodding as I glanced at the “Bestseller of the Month” display on the shelf.

“Looks like you’ve landed a good source again. How long has it been since you were off the desk…? You should’ve stayed at least a year.”

If I remember correctly, Sophia had been transitioned to an office job at headquarters last year.

While I was on vacation in Patalia to visit Francesca, I directly heard about it from Sophia.

But upon contacting her recently, I realized her posting had changed to abroad instead of the National Security Agency office.

I could ask her to meet up because she was back in the field. There was no need to go all the way to Patalia just to see her.

By the way, the reason I reached out recently was about Zigmund. I needed her help slightly while processing the double agent case.

There’s no better place than the media to leak confidential or counterintelligence info.

It was even more true when the suspicion involved ‘an agent from the Royal Intelligence Department being a foreigner murdered in Shizuya’.

That was the reason I called Sophia.

“My friend got stabbed in the back by a spy, so I should check if he’s alright, right?”

Sophia smiled softly with her hands in her pockets as she revealed the subtle intention of checking if he was alive or dead.

To treat a living person as if he were dead! I couldn’t help but stare at her with an exasperated look.

“Come on, really? How does my back look to you?”

“Um… for now?”

Sophia, flipping through a tattered book, replied with a smile.

“As long as you’re alive, that’s what matters, right?”

“Well, that’s true.”

We had chosen the little local bookstore as our meeting spot.

Normally, we would’ve met in a safe house, but I was being intensely tracked by foreign intelligence agents, making it impossible to use a safe house like everyone else.

Thus, the bookstore became a decent alternative.

It had a steady flow of people, and lingering there wouldn’t raise suspicion, allowing us to blend in among others quietly browsing books as we scanned for watchers.

If one were to strategize, a busy street restaurant or traditional market would have been better for meetings and surveillance.

But unfortunately, wandering around such places during this season was not a good choice.

It was election season right now.

Additionally, the traditional market was a highway bustling with politicians and television cameras during election time.

“Anyway, thanks for the help. It made the cleanup much easier.”

“No need to thank me. The extraction of Darius Ismailzahi was something the Presidential Palace wanted too.”

Sophia casually brushed off my gratitude. It was a situation where our interests aligned anyway.

In fact, the main purpose of information agencies facing off against each other is just that. They either tie up for what they want or desperately need the information the other holds.

Collaboration between intelligence agencies always occurs under this give-and-take arrangement, even among allies.

So regarding the Zigmund affair, we all found ourselves in a position of not owing each other anything.

In other words, today’s meeting had a purpose beyond settling debts.

-SNAP!

A single envelope was slipped through the gap between the bookshelves. While examining the neatly arranged books, Sophia casually picked up a book on the side and retrieved the envelope.

“Here’s the account list of the Miliope family hidden in Port Island, Abas, as well as the transaction history of cash entering and leaving those accounts.”

“And the manager?”

“Vincenzo Miliope. A sleazy Patalian guy came over here to handle it.”

Sophia continued with her soft whispers.

“Vincenzo… he’s a dedicated accountant for the mafia. His name’s even on the wanted list.”

“Now he’s operating under a pseudonym, which is to be expected since he’s wanted.”

Pretending to browse the books on the display, I added further details. The Justice Department had attached copies of a few of his passports, so take a closer look.

As stated, the envelope contained vast information about Patalian mobsters.

“…Hmm.”

After quickly reviewing the material, Sophia tucked the envelope full of documents into her coat.

On the outside, the coat looked ordinary, but it had a hidden compartment, making it extremely easy and convenient to conceal information.

This was a carry method often used since the Cold War, where agents would hide documents inside their coats to evade checks.

Sophia, fixing her outfit, glanced around casually. Once she seemed reassured that no one was monitoring, she began to speak in a more relaxed tone.

“I brought most of the information you requested.”

“…Most?”

While keeping my gaze on the entrance from the edge of the shelves, I turned back to Sophia, questioning what she meant by that.

Sophia, showing her palms open in front of me like she had nothing to hide, replied.

“You know how strictly information about saints is controlled. Since the Kien spies who were operating around Saint Veronica were taken down, the Inquisition has tightened security around that area. Besides, the Inquisition is not an easy opponent, even for the National Security Agency.”

However, she followed up with the assurance that they brought as much information as they could.

“I’ve brought the information from our side as best as I could, but just know that updates have been sluggish for the past year and a half. All of our assets monitoring Altiora Cathedral and the Cathedral of Tranquille have been wiped out.”

The notorious high-level counterintelligence of the Inquisition had indeed detached the eyes and ears of foreign intelligence agencies watching senior clergy.

Moreover, it was an open secret among intelligence officers that reports from human intelligence assets coming into Lateran from various nationalities had notably dipped recently.

“Ugh…”

Damn it.

Why was I working so hard at an age to retire?

I was about to respond but sighed heavily, overwhelmed.

“Got it. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Thanks for understanding. But they’re precious, curated pieces of information from upper management, so I can guarantee they won’t be boring.”

With a gentle motion, Sophia handed over a file from the space between the bookshelves and added, “Although I know the info you wanted wasn’t about the saints in Lateran.”

“…….”

Sophia, with a knowing smile, leaned against the bookshelf. No need for long discussions—let’s read first and then chat.

Opening the file she had handed me from the National Security Agency, I gazed at the first page adorned with a pair of familiar violets staring right back at me and muttered.

“What’s Francesca been up to lately?”

 

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