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The heat of the desert was intense.

The summer in faraway lands, in Africa, has a different vibe from the stifling heat of summer in Korea, even when just standing still.

I draped my jacket over the desk and broke the ice.

“Hey there, how’s life abroad treating you?”

“It’s a nightmare.”

“What exactly makes it a nightmare?”

“Food doesn’t suit my taste. My stomach feels all queasy. It’s hot. Even with mosquito nets, those damn mosquitos swarm in. If you drink the wrong water, you’re in for diarrhea.”

An Asian man perched on the edge of the bed pouted like a duck. Holding a present in my hand, I offered some words of comfort.

“But didn’t you choose this lifestyle? I brought you that disgusting pack of cigarettes you love, so tough it out.”

“Oh, damn. Okay, okay. Let’s smell some good old domestic smoke for a change.”

The once-sluggish Asian man sprang up, tearing open the packaging. He lit a cigarette, glancing at me and nodding in satisfaction.

Naturally, I took out my Zippo lighter and ignited it for him. He took a deep drag like a traveler who just found an oasis, inhaling deeply, savoring the taste long after the smoke passed his throat, before grinning and exhaling.

“Domestic cigarettes are the best. The ones here smell like a buffalo’s burp, can’t even smoke them!”

“Oh, come on. You should quit smoking. If you’re downing two packs a day, you’re not saving any cash. Tsk tsk.”

I pulled up a chair. On the desk lay a bag with the oversized word ‘PRESS’ emblazoned on it. I cleared the bag out of the way, sat down, and faced the Asian man.

With a puff of smoke from his cigarette, he asked,

“So, what’s got you here? Another mess brewing?”

“Same old, same old.”

“Is your executive director here too?”

“Come on, let’s not dig too much. There are people who keep poking around like it’s a job. Is that occupational hazard for you?”

“Security is a pain… When I was your age, I got dragged to the security agency and slapped by the intelligence agency, you know! Damn it.”

“You became a journalist when it switched to the military intelligence, so what’s with the security?”

“Just saying!”

“Yes, yes, I get it. Anyway, since it’s been a while, let’s catch up on world news, Mr. Hong from the international section of our Korean newspaper.”

He smiled as he crossed his legs. The Asian man pouted at my teasing.

The war correspondent asked,

“What are you curious about?”

“Do you know about the Shinkorobi mine in southern Katanka?”

“…Shinkorobi? The one that produces uranium? I know it, but why do you ask?”

“I was wondering if you know anyone in the mines.”

“The war correspondents here mostly go east, not south. You know there are rebels crawling around there. And the south is government-controlled, right? What reason would I have to go there? Moreover, the uranium that’s mined there is for the north—”

“That’s enough.”

I interrupted him.

“Is there anyone or not?”

Then I waved a bundle of dollars from my pocket. The war correspondent gulped as his eyes fixated on the money.

“Uh, well… I don’t have anyone at the moment, but give me some time and I can connect you.”

“How will you connect me?”

“There’s a local in the capital who runs a tourism business. He’s from the south. If you want, I can hook you up not just with Shinkorobi but also with Pungurme.”

“How much will that cost?”

“One week. Just one week.”

“I’ll give you three days. And no need for Pungurme. That’s Chinese turf. I’m only concerned about the reds.”

I stuffed the bills into the correspondent’s jacket pocket and stood up to gather my jacket.

Buttoning it up, I advised the war correspondent,

“Don’t dig too deep this time. It’s dangerous. Keep it light and pass it on to me if anything happens. Contact the embassy if things go wrong.”

“Got it, got it. I’m not your wife, so quit nagging…”

His familiar grumbling made me smile.

As I reached for the doorknob to exit, and the moment I turned the handle,

The world flipped upside down.

It plunged into darkness.

Blackout.

—

Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

—

Following the journalist’s introduction, I arrived at a building located in the city center.

I took the elevator up with the journalist and stepped through the door he opened.

It was an office.

And there, I encountered someone very familiar.

“Hey! Journalist!”

Raising my voice and waving my hand cheerfully drew all eyes in the office toward me. Among the tightly packed desks and papers, a bald man shot me a glance.

He strided over with a warm greeting.

“Hey there! How old am I, and you’re still calling me journalist?”

“Oh come on. I’m just glad to see you after so long!”

The bald journalist called loudly to the other reporters.

“Hey! Pack it up and go home!”

“Yes, boss!”

At his command, a multitude of reporters hurriedly gathered their things and vacated the office. Now, it left only the bald man and me in the enormous empty space.

I grabbed any chair nearby and sat, glancing over the nameplate on the desk.

“Wow… Section head of the social department? You were just a journalist last time I saw you. You’ve done well for yourself!”

He chuckled softly while sitting across from me.

“Did you think I’d just wither away?”

I smiled at the bald man.

“When I heard you got nabbed by the police, I thought you’d end up as an unidentified body by a river.”

“Oh come on…”

“Did you enjoy the food in jail?”

“Quit with the nonsense. What am I supposed to do with you? Huh? I can’t just whack you dead.”

The bald man picked up the cane next to him and made a humorous gesture.

“Why are you carrying a cane? Did you get hurt hiking or something?”

“I busted my knee, damn it. I got beat up by the cops.”

A former major news organization’s social reporter turned imperial journalist gave his knee a light punch with his fist.

I leaned in to inspect his leg dangling below the desk and, after some thought, I decided to ask him.

“Knee trouble?”

“Yeah.”

“That must’ve hurt.”

“Thanks to that, I’m a gimp now. I got fired from my job.”

“At least you didn’t end up in a wheelchair! Surviving is what matters!”

“Thanks a lot…!”

The social department head of a media outlet somewhere was practically nuzzling his nose against the desk out of gratitude.

“It’s been a while since we’ve met, and you’ve done well to poke at my pain, you annoying brat!”

“There’s nothing out of line between us.”

I chuckled with the media department head facing me.

It was a rather impudent sight, a middle-aged man and a bright young man sharing laughs, but I was okay with that.

“You know, it’s really good to see you again…”

The section head of the five major news organizations in the Kien Empire, the social department head of the minor news outlet in the Magic Tower, the goof who exposed political corruption and bureaucratic scandals, thanks to him branded a rebel journalist by the Imperial Guard HQ,

Dmitri.

“How have you been?”

“Couldn’t have been better.”

“It certainly looks that way.”

He’s my informant.

—

My long-standing relationship with Dmitri began at a café in the eastern region of the empire.

At that time, I was part of the Military Intelligence Agency’s overseas operations unit, and he was a bright and budding major news organization social reporter.

Of course, the reason I met with this guy was simply,

“It was about military supply corruption.”

“Right, that company that swapped in electronic parts and halved the radar performance.”

We were gathering military information.

“They were complete lunatics. The defense ministry had ordered us to localize 80% of the parts, but they only delivered 30% and filled the rest with imports.”

“Now I remember.”

At that time, the Imperial Army was heavily involved in a modernization project, and I, along with a few spies from the Military Intelligence Agency, were trying to dig up dirt while calculating how to hinder that project.

In the end, the project fell through—not because of any stringent counter-intelligence efforts from the Imperial Guard HQ or the Counter-Spy Command, but due to this journalist sitting in front of me.

“Others were also active at that time, weren’t they? Patalia, Lushan, Kashubia. There were quite a few of us sowing chaos, right? Your homeland might have been involved too?”

“Latwan? Why’s that my homeland? I’m an imperial citizen.”

“Your birthplace is Latwan, though.”

“When did I ever claim that…?”

Dmitri nonchalantly denied his roots. He lifted a bottle of liquor and filled his glass, then proceeded to chug straight from the bottle.

“What am I supposed to do, share the bottle with you? Do I look like a spout?”

“Shut up and drink this. If you don’t like it, you can step out and buy your own bottle.”

“Aww, whatever. Just hand it over.”

In the dark, unlit office, I accepted the drink Dmitri passed me, the setting sun shining in from behind him.

It was just the right moment to get tipsy. It was also a perfect time for people to relax, as well.

“Remember when we sat like this and drank back then?”

“Yeah, that was the first time I drank during the day at a café.”

Dmitri was in the middle of breaking a story about military corruption, and the information had landed in the hands of the intelligence officer stationed at a foreign consulate. Anticipating that the story would lead to an investigation by prosecutors, the Military Intelligence Agency was desperate to interfere, so they linked me to Dmitri.

I warned him over coffee to refrain from writing the article, and he nodded, then that evening, he published a front-page article exposing the corruption.

In short, it was betrayal.

“I told you not to write that piece.”

“Are you finally awake?”

“Damn…!”

Ultimately, various foreign intelligence agencies, including the Military Intelligence Agency, were forced to retract their plans. I was left with quite the punishment at headquarters.

After a good kick to the shins, I ended up limping for a while.

As I lamented about that, the journalist who got me into this mess snickered.

“But I ended up getting dragged to the Counter-Spy Command as well, so we’re even.”

“I asked you not to poke the bear… Why did you have to go stir the hornet’s nest and get us all in trouble?”

“Come on! The journalist got a scoop; how could I just sit back? You know the feeling of stopping the press to fit in a scoop, right?”

“Ugh.”

“And you know how much I shared with you? So why aren’t you having a drink?”

“I’m saving it.”

“Shut up. Then pass it back, you jerk.”

“Hey! You!”

What an annoying dude.

Anyhow, Dmitri was my long-time informant and one of the few who knew I was an intelligence agent.

Those who vaguely knew I was a spy were Dmitri, Veronica, and my blood-related older brother and sister. In other words, my true identity was a closely guarded secret, even from my parents.

The agent from the Imperial Guard HQ, Ekaterina, might be aware, but she’d likely forgotten amid all the madness. After all, she’d probably undergone severe sleep deprivation over the past week. I did that on purpose. Usually, at this stage, most end up with short-term memory loss. I know, because I’ve experienced it myself.

Dmitri, holding the liquor bottle, threw me a question.

“Hey. By the way, is Frederick your real name? You definitely called me Merlo back then.”

“I don’t know. Should I have only one name?”

“See? This is why you shouldn’t trust a spy.”

“Did you just figure that out?”

“I keep forgetting. I’m getting older, you know.”

We bantered away in the sunset-lit office, savoring the scent of the whiskey Dmitri had poured me. The flavor made me exhale in awe, undoubtedly a pricey drink I could hardly imagine.

“Whoa…! Now you’re drinking stuff like this. You must be making good money lately?”

“What can the likes of me make when I’m flagged and fired?”

“Still, going from a reporter to a department head is a promotion.”

Dmitri was once a combat reporter who changed the world with exposés.

Technically, he’s a laid-off reporter now.

He delved into the corruption and private lives of politicians and bureaucrats, aired societal issues, and laid bare the embarrassing truths of society, ultimately leading to his dismissal from the newspaper.

It was an all too common situation for a rebel journalist.

With that, the laid-off reporter let out a resigned sigh.

“Guess we can’t avoid the consequences of publication restrictions.”

“What did you do after you quit? Did you hurry to the Magic Tower?”

“No, I tried various things with fellow laid-off reporters… Until I got flagged by the police. Luckily for me, I just got interrogated and slipped away. I fled to the Magic Tower afterward.”

He was saying he got caught by the information police while working alongside other laid-off reporters. The fact that he was released with just an interrogation due to “lack of evidence” almost certainly meant that they tortured him and had nothing to hold against him. Meanwhile, the laid-off reporter who turned up “evidence” during the investigation was probably in prison by now, so Dmitri was incredibly lucky.

Realistically, the sort of things he did could have gotten him blown up in the street.

This story sounds like something that could happen in a dictatorship, but it was reality. That’s just how the world worked.

“Hmm…”

I grabbed a newspaper sitting in the corner of the desk and scanned through it. Calls to reinstate laid-off journalists, cease repression of dissenters, and campaigns for the release of political prisoners and activists.

I gathered a rough idea of what Dmitri had been involved with in this place.

So I asked him a question.

“Why’d you call me here?”

“Huh…?”

Dmitri, his face flushed from drink, looked at me.

“Just saw you on the news, thought I’d check in.”

As he said that, he glanced at his watch.

Seeing him do that made me smile.

“Waiting for someone? Why check the time now?”

“…….”

I pulled the pistol tucked away in my pocket. The likelihood of Dmitri—being a dissident—selling me out to the empire seemed infinitely low, but you never know how people will act. So I didn’t touch the drink.

Just when I was about to draw my weapon,

“Put that gun away.”

A thin voice came from behind.

I turned around. In the dark back corner of the office stood a figure.

The figure slowly approached.

As my eyes adjusted to the shadows, and the twilight wrestled away some darkness, I finally confirmed that the person stepping out of the gloom was a woman.

I recognized her.

“…Hey, what’s the occasion? Holding a gathering here?”

“Right? I never imagined I’d find you here either. Surprised, huh?”

Finally, she emerged from the shadows, beaming at me.

“Long time no see, Merlo.”

“…It’s been a while, Sophia.”

In the sunlit office, I encountered old friends.

“…You work here?”

“Yeah, I’m on a business trip.”

“…Official? Or unofficial?”

“I wonder…?”

An informant, and a foreign spy.

 

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