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In the dim twilight of dawn, I shocked my drowsy mind awake with cold water and plopped down on the sofa.

“…Yawn.”

After skimming through the reports that had come in overnight over secure lines, I realized it was precisely 6:43 AM. Way too early to work or even enjoy a hotel breakfast. What was I supposed to do until it was time to head out?

“…….”

I pondered but had nothing in particular to do. I’d already finished everything.

I switched on the TV.

“…As police precautionary measures expand, protests are erupting mainly in the southern regions. Situations have been detected where checks are being conducted not only on domestic magicians but also foreign magicians, leading to growing calls from various sectors to halt the suppression. Foreign ministries are summoning embassy officials…”

Click.

“…On the 9th, we reported that a fire occurred in a customs warehouse. Police and firefighting authorities are investigating the exact cause and extent of the fire, while not ruling out the possibility of arson targeting humanitarian supplies stored in the warehouse. However, the investigation is encountering difficulties due to a lack of eyewitnesses or concrete evidence…”

Click.

“…Due to ongoing economic hardships and civil war in Mauritania, the number of refugees crossing over the sea has dramatically increased. The first place these refugees set foot is the Lushan Federal Kingdom, where, on the 6th, reports surfaced of the Lushan Royal Coast Guard firing on vessels refusing entry to refugees, drawing international criticism…”

Click.

“…This morning in Vizerte, the police chief, who had ordered a re-investigation into the mysterious death of an exiled imperial politician, was shot by a mysterious thug while on his way to work…”

Click.

“…The Deputy Minister from the Magic Tower met with representatives from the Abas delegation. Both sides described the atmosphere as friendly, yet evaded reporters’ questions about the meeting’s topic…”

Thud.

I turned off the TV and lay back on the sofa, closing my eyes.

“…Looks like the same old news.”

Nothing unusual today, either.

—

Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

As mentioned countless times, the Information Agency is a state institution. Like any other government agency, the workflow in the Information Agency follows a set schedule, and the first order of business each day is a meeting.

They share intelligence received overnight, determine operational directions based on the supervisor’s judgment, discuss details among team members, communicate points of caution, and so on. Almost all Information Agency agents start their mornings this way.

And then, there’s the 73rd Task Group, a covert operation unit with a project-like nature, or Task Force. We’re no exception.

“Manager, are you awake?”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Ah, you’re here? Was anything unusual overnight?”

In the quiet hotel restaurant, Pippin and Jake, who had arrived while I was eating breakfast, took their plates and sat down.

“Yes, fortunately, there were no issues.”

“Good. Let’s start the report.”

Thus, our morning meeting began.

—

“I received a communication from headquarters this morning stating that they’ve failed to ascertain the Empire’s movements. The branch made some effort, but no concrete details have come in yet.”

The Military Intelligence Agency couldn’t track the Empire’s military intelligence situation. Specifically, they failed to locate the operatives monitoring Fabio Verati’s youngest daughter.

The branch is known to be the strictest department within the Military Intelligence Agency, and considering that it mainly deploys elite intelligence officers and operatives to the field, this was undoubtedly strange.

Assuming the branch was functioning normally, that is.

“Well, the branch’s situation isn’t great…”

“Still no recovery on the information network breakdown?”

“They say recovery is slow. With an employee missing and precautionary checks beginning, everyone is on edge.”

In recent years, the overseas department of the Military Intelligence Agency’s branch in the Empire has failed to achieve any results. The agency’s counterintelligence and counter-operations have left the entire branch in tatters.

Such occurrences are common globally, especially faced by Western intelligence agencies infiltrating ex-communist nations like China, Russia, North Korea, Pakistan, and Iran, which take counterintelligence very seriously.

The pressure ranges from light surveillance to abductions and assassination threats, with untraceable calls in foreign languages and delivery of animal carcasses. If it escalates, they may dig into family backgrounds to apply pressure. When things go really off the rails, they may even orchestrate accidents or assassinate or abduct intelligence agents or acquaintances.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Incidents like getting into fights, facing arrest by the police, being framed in love affairs with photographs (usually involving their hired accomplices), or being buried in debt through arranged connections to lenders occur frequently for the military intelligence staff infiltrating the Empire. Those who couldn’t take it have all left, while those who endured have either long crossed the River Jordan or been dragged off to prison. Or they could be in the hospital for an extended stay.

“So, there’s no way to know who’s tracking Subject 51?”

“That’s right.”

Hmm.

This was too big for me to handle. It was clearly something the higher-ups needed to address.

Trying to grip it would only add unnecessary worries, so I decided to hand this problem back to headquarters.

“Let’s drop that discussion. The headquarters will handle it. So, is there anything else?”

“The Magic Tower Police don’t seem to suspect us anymore. It appears that the suspicious timeline match has been coincidentally confirmed with the official police statement about the Saint’s medical aid visit, suggesting a case of coincidence in the end. They’re leaning towards murder or kidnapping in line with the original plan.”

“Good. What’s the status of Subject 51’s connections?”

Jake chimed in.

“There’s no health issue. Nutritional status is normal. Hygiene, however, is a concern.”

“Is there no place for them to shower?”

“Nope. It’s a decommissioned factory.”

Sigh.

I kidnapped Subject 51 intending to use them as leverage, but the hostages were looking rough and scruffy. That could elevate Fabio Verati’s emotional state dramatically, but if health issues arise, that’s a whole new problem.

“Is there no woman among the staff? Or some magical tool to clean them up?”

“Do we have anything that expensive? …There are female employees in the intelligence unit; should I send them over?”

“…Nah. Just leave them be. We’ll be starting operations soon, so let’s not complicate things unnecessarily.”

“Understood. When should the meeting with Subject 51 be scheduled?”

“Post-Alchemist appointment.”

We continued our breakfast, exchanging various topics of conversation.

Trends involving the Magic Tower Police and counterintelligence agencies, the National Security Agency of Patalia, the situation inside the Empire where precautionary checks are underway, documents issued from the Military Intelligence Agency, and communications from related agencies, and so on.

We also brought up Camila and Lucia.

“Sounds like the Hero and the Saint are off to find some books.”

“Can’t they just ask the Magic Tower?”

“I looked into that. But they’re ancient texts, and despite searching through all the libraries, there aren’t any copies available to send. They’re all too old and worn out, someone has checked them out, or they’ve been lost.”

“What’s the title then? I should check a secondhand bookstore.”

And just as breakfast was nearing its end, a somewhat different topic arose.

“Oh, right. The appointment schedule you mentioned last time has been set for this morning.”

“Appointment?”

“With the Alchemist.”

Francesca Ranieri.

The meeting with the Alchemist was finally on the books.

“It’s set for lunch next Friday. The schedule is booked, but there are coordination tasks left, which means it could be postponed if things go wrong.”

“Ah, security and protocol issues?”

“Exactly.”

—

Even though a meeting with the Alchemist was arranged, I wouldn’t be able to meet her directly. There were mountains of issues to address first.

The biggest challenge was security and protocol. The Magic Tower had Camila, Lucia, and me in the spotlight.

Francesca Ranieri was being treated like a nobody, but as someone important in the Magic Tower, she couldn’t help but prioritize the security and protocol around her.

Right now, there was a protest going on at the Magic Tower.

Various groups, centered around an extremist organization, were rallying against the Magic Tower in an anti-government protest (though not recognized by the international community, from a magician’s perspective, the Magic Tower is a nation). With the current instability and a significant event involving both honored guests and outsiders scheduled, it was essential to be mindful of the meeting place and security. Especially since Lucia was someone from the Cult, extra caution was warranted.

But the real problem arose from the political side of things.

The relationship between the Cult and the Magic Tower was at an all-time low. Regardless of the fact that Lucia entered the country as an individual without her saint status, the emotional rift formed over centuries was far too deep. Moreover, in the harsh international arena, the Magic Tower was facing fierce attacks from both the Cult and the Empire without any solid allies to support them.

What would happen if Lucia were treated as a state guest at an official event hosted by the Magic Tower?

It’s pretty obvious. If she were welcomed as a guest, it would surely lead to a backlash from the internal voters; conversely, if she wasn’t given such treatment, there would definitely be whispers in diplomatic circles.

Then, the Cult and the Empire would go wild on the international stage like rabid dogs, and the government, already burdened with the domestic pushback for mistreating a saint, would take the hit again. The Magic Tower would get attacked in the international arena once more, stressing the protesters even further to demand the heads of the Oracle committee members. After all, no voter enjoys a government that’s beaten down without being able to fight back from hostile nations.

In a nutshell, it was a catch-22.

No matter what decision was made, the future only promised political embarrassment. Any action taken would lead to being seen as a fool in the political arena.

This was the result of playing in a game designed by the Cult, and here we were, with the situation having escalated to this point. Someone had to take responsibility and resolve it.

Unfortunately, that someone turned out to be me.

“The position of the Magic Tower is quite awkward, don’t you think?”

I called the official from the Defense Attaché office.

– “Hmm… it does feel like we’ve played a bit too harshly, doesn’t it?”

“Are you telling me this was all a joke up until now?”

– “Not quite a joke… more like just gently poking at it…?”

To Veronica.

“Seriously… if we keep poking, even the government will be overthrown.”

– “What’s the matter? It’s a perfect place to fool around since the Information Agency is nowhere to be found.”

“Is that really something you should be saying?”

I shot back at Veronica’s remarks with a blunt tone.

Veronica was my information source, a saint who could meddle in the politics of the Cult, and a lobbyist active in international affairs. Right now, she was the only one who could help resolve this mess. To be precise, there was no one else I could ask for a favor.

Veronica seemed well aware of this, responding with a chuckle over the phone.

– “Why call me this early in the morning just to talk about work?”

“So, what should we discuss?”

– “How about our Lucia…?”

Why did it have to be ‘our’ Lucia?

“…No, um, ha.”

– “Can’t take a joke?”

I rubbed my face with my other hand.

Thanks to the Cult’s antics, my schedule had gotten completely tangled up. The Magic Tower’s disgraceful appearance on the international stage triggered the protests, making the already awkward standing of the Magic Tower even more intolerable.

The cause lay with the Imperial Guard HQ, which had failed to manage staff properly, leading the Magic Tower to cry for its independence, but in politics and business, it’s results that truly matter, not processes.

– “In short, the ones at a disadvantage end up being the fools. It’s all about the outcome, right?”

And since the international community ultimately operates within the realm of politics, there was no reason to pity the Magic Tower for being torn apart on the international stage.

They were the fools for not being able to respond, just like Veronica said.

I brought the communication tool closer as I spoke to Veronica.

“At this point, isn’t it time to back off a bit? Honestly, you’ve played around enough. What is this? I haven’t even seen the faces of those who might become colleagues for over a week.”

– “Hmm… to tell the truth, there’s a lot of chatter within the Cult. They’re concerned about being too aggressive. And there are definitely worries in the Empire about the Magic Tower losing support due to this incident.”

“……..”

– “Honestly, they’re watching the reactions from other countries closely. Both the Cult and the Empire have their political positions to consider…”

What she meant was that both the Cult and the Empire were starting to feel the heat. More accurately, that kind of sentiment was slowly surfacing among the higher-ups.

After mentally calculating a few scenarios and considering everyone’s perspectives, I relayed what our Ministry of Foreign Affairs had left me with.

“How about you just slightly compromise this time? You’ve milked it for all it’s worth.”

– “If you say it like that, it makes it sound like I’ve been milking the Magic Tower dry.”

“You are a saint, after all.”

Through the phone, I could hear Veronica’s laughter.

Perhaps realizing she held the upper hand, Veronica maintained an arrogant tone throughout our conversation.

But the one in a hurry wasn’t her; it was me.

“Please, I’m begging you.”

– “What’s in it for me?”

“What do you want in return?”

– “Hmm… well, I’m not sure.”

Veronica vague-tipped the corner of her sentence like a clown presenting candy to a child, then withdrawing it.

She had some lingering debts from our past dealings, so she didn’t go too far, but she was definitely pushing my buttons just enough to enjoy herself.

The panicked version of herself from the power struggle between the Cult and the Magic Tower was nowhere to be seen; she was relaxed as if she were toying with my emotions, appearing as though she might concede or not.

It was a ridiculous sight that surpassed all the different kinds of people I had encountered during my decade of work in the Information Agency.

– “Alright. Since you’ve got your younger sister to think about and you’ve got debts to settle, I’ll agree to help you.”

“My younger sister…?”

– “I’ve got a younger sibling who’s close to the Magic Tower. Anyway, I’ll try persuading the National Affairs Council to ease up on the protocol issue as much as possible. In return, you better ensure the security is ironclad. Got it?”

“Well, of course that’s what we’ll have to do.”

– “I’ll fill you in on the details later this evening. Does that work for you?”

“…Just don’t call me at dawn like last time.”

If it’s not someone from the Imperial Guard HQ, they shouldn’t be able to barge in and throw a ruckus at the meeting place, but since it was a request from an information source, I decided to oblige.

I promised to call back later for more detailed discussions, then ended the call.

I wiped my face, which had become sticky with either cold sweat or something else. I felt like I had aged a decade.

“…Hoo.”

Now that I had dealt with one lunatic, it was time to face another.

“……”

– “…Yes, this is Sofia, a journalist from the International Department.”

“Where are you?”

– “Merlo? What’s going on? You’re calling me out of the blue.”

“Can we meet for a moment?”

 

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