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Traffic management is complete.

I obtained concessions from the Cult through Veronica and confirmed Patalia’s stance through Sophia.

Cult National Affairs Council, Kien Empire Royal Family, Patalia Presidential Palace, Prime Minister’s Residence of the Kingdom of Abas, Magic Tower Oracle, and so on.

I diligently oiled the intricately tangled interests of the Government of Abas, using information to do so.

Honestly, it seemed impossible. Time was too short.

Still, I believe I did enough. The rest should be handled by the government and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I thought a conclusion would likely emerge in about a week.

But,

For some reason, results came out in just one day.

“Colonel, I’ve brought the official document regarding the preventive schedule.”

In an instant, traffic management was wrapped up.

I succeeded.

—

Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

The result was successful.

Cult, Empire, Patalia, Abas.

As all governments took a step back, a gentle breeze began to blow in the once harsh diplomatic scene.

The Cult secured proper protection from the Magic Tower, demonstrating flexibility in ceremonial matters, while Patalia promised political and diplomatic support for future issues under the condition that Abas distances itself from alchemists.

In addition, the Empire, responding to the Cult’s request, loosened the reins on preliminary inspections, revitalizing public opinion both domestically and internationally, and the Magic Tower was able to momentarily calm anti-government protests that had been difficult to suppress. To be precise, it was framed as a diplomatic achievement of the Magic Tower. Thanks to that, it seems the police will soon enter negotiations with the protest leaders.

War and diplomacy are extensions of politics, and in the political arena, it’s common for favors to be exchanged.

Politics, diplomacy, economics, society, culture, national defense, security, and so forth. It was clear that countless blank checks, which can’t be quantified, were passed between governments to unravel these intricately tangled interests.

Explaining it this way isn’t particularly bad. Isn’t that what diplomats do?

And the reason why a gentle breeze could blow into the creaking diplomatic scene is that someone was actively oiling the gears.

—”Oh, Frederick. You’ve worked hard.”

“Thank you.”

I replied to Clevenz’s compliment in a flat voice.

—”Really, you’ve done well.”

“It was nothing. The diplomats worked much harder.”

It’s not insincere.

The diplomats indeed worked harder. They handled everything that I had pried open with Veronica and Sophia.

I tried my best to oil things, but the situation turned too quickly, and no one could even clock out.

Still, since all of this would be counted as their achievements, the diplomats weren’t completely left out.

In other words, I wouldn’t receive credit for this matter.

At least, not officially.

Sure enough, Clevenz brought up the topic of an award.

—”You’ll receive an award as soon as you return.”

“An award?”

—”The Director has proposed an award to the Office of the Prime Minister. According to the dispatched staff, it seems likely to pass smoothly.”

An award.

It isn’t common for Information Agency agents to receive awards. Mainly, it’s given to those who have achieved significant results. Typically, in South Korea, whether it be the National Intelligence Service or the Defense Security Command, it would be submitted to the Ministry of Interior and Safety for review, but here it seems to be sent to the Office of the Prime Minister for assessment.

I don’t know what exactly it is, but since it has reached the Office of the Prime Minister, it seems to be an award given at the government level rather than internally by the Information Agency.

Anyway, I decided to graciously accept it with the mindset of “good is good.”

“Ah… I see. Thank you.”

—”Right. Somehow, the urgent fires have been extinguished. It looks like the business is also going well… Good. What’s the next plan?”

“For now, I plan to prepare for the guests.”

—

There are various definitions of fire.

From the scientific definition as a phenomenon resulting from oxidation reactions to practical approaches seeking methods of application in daily life and industry. The definitions of fire vary across disciplines.

The same goes for conceptual approaches. Fire is treated as one of the most important symbols in culture and religion.

A grateful entity that spreads warmth. A strong impression derived from color and form. Fatal beauty.

Just like the myth of the Greco-Roman gods who stole fire from the gods and gifted it to humanity, fire has long been an object of worship across ages and religions.

Stripping away all of that complex narrative, isn’t it honestly beautiful? There’s a reason why we have bonfires every time we go to a retreat.

Camila shared similar thoughts.

“Wow.”

It’s clearly a flame that radiates warmth but isn’t actually hot. If you bring paper close to the flame wrapping around her finger, it will surely catch fire, yet strangely, her other finger remained unscathed.

While that was a normal phenomenon for this area, she found it incredibly fascinating.

Thus, she started experimenting by putting every object she could grasp into the flame to see how far she could burn them.

She tried burning paper, fabric, familiar snacks, and chocolates, even grilling some meat, and while picking up stray hair that had fallen, she gently poked at protruding threads. She even went as far as sticking her own tongue into the flames, once she ran out of things to burn.

In the midst of this,

“What are you doing?”

“Eh…!”

Camila jumped in surprise and flinched at the sudden voice behind her.

She bit her tongue.

“Are you playing with fire again? I told you not to do that indoors.”

“Oh….”

“You didn’t just bite your tongue, did you?”

“…Um.”

“Oh dear….”

I sighed deeply and handed her a potion.

“Apply this gently with your finger.”

“W-What is this?”

“Medicine.”

I came to visit with some information but caught her red-handed playing with fire in her room.

I couldn’t understand why she was using magic indoors like this. She wasn’t a child.

I loosened the front button of my jacket, giving her a disapproving glance.

“If you want to use magic, go to the rooftop pool; it’s safe because there’s water there.”

“Sure.”

“If you’re really bored, you can safely go for a walk around the hotel.”

Though I said this, I understood. Generally, when people first use magic, they often react like that.

Magic is something like a lottery, where you never know when it will bloom; there are babies who use magic while still attached by the umbilical cord, and there are those who discover how to use magic late while attending the Academy and change their career paths.

Usually, abilities awaken before entering school, but perhaps due to youthful immaturity, those who learn to doodle with magic often use it impulsively.

They freeze dinnerware while eating, unleash flames while bathing, use psychokinesis while playing with toys, and even prank their family by manipulating their shadows while wandering around at dawn.

In that sense, Camila was indeed in such a stage of first awakening to magic, so she might simply be acting this way out of curiosity. Or perhaps it was human nature to be unable to resist curiosity.

So, ultimately, there was only one thing I could say.

“Be careful next time.”

“Y-Yes.”

“It seems your tongue is feeling better now.”

I neatly folded my jacket and sat down on the sofa.

True to the area famous for relaxation, the hotel decor was quite dreamy. The quality of the furniture was excellent.

As I silently sat on the sofa, Camila, now revived, looked at me.

“What brings you here?”

“I have a message to share. I’ve called Lucia as well, so I’ll tell you all once everyone’s here.”

It wouldn’t be bad to inform Camila first about my meeting with Francesca Ranieri, but explaining it twice felt too cumbersome, so resolving it all at once was the best option.

Dividing the messages could cause confusion.

“So, what did you do today?”

“Same as usual. Practicing magic, reading books, and checking the news and papers.”

That was Camila’s daily routine.

It was a way for someone newly awakening to magic to spend the day.

No problem there. For a beginner, that was the norm, and perhaps because her mana capacity and power rivaled seasoned magicians, Camila had shown an astonishing growth rate despite practicing magic for only a few weeks.

Especially during the No Man’s Land operation, her rate of growth peaked. I can’t explain how, but as she wandered around all day, defeating monsters, she grew by leaps and bounds day after day.

“Hmm.”

Should I see it as acquiring experience points like a game by defeating mobs, or view it as steady growth like building muscle? I should have specialized in magic to say something about it.

I watched Camila tidying up the burnt debris and threw a question in her direction.

“Are you not feeling cooped up? You’ve been staying in the hotel.”

“Not particularly. It’s not too hard.”

That’s what she said.

I picked up a newspaper that was strewn on one side of the sofa with the mindset of “good is good.”

The first place my eyes landed was the politics section and then the international section.

“What are you looking at?”

“Just stories about how the world is turning. Was there anything interesting today?”

“Um….”

Camila brushed her hands off and momentarily fell into thought.

Supporting her chin with her hand, she considered for a while, then spoke hesitantly.

“W-What was it? The word suddenly escaped me.”

“Ratman?”

“Oh, yes! That’s right. It’s an animal that looks like Jerry after taking drugs instead of milk!”

What kind of metaphor is that? I took it to mean it’s just plain ugly.

Camila, who had moved beside me, flipped through the newspaper and pointed with her finger at a specific article on the social page.

“What’s this?”

“It seems the Ratman is causing trouble in the sewers. A harmful pest? It’s an animal I’ve never seen before.”

“Ah….”

I briefly recalled the basic information briefing Pippin had done away with and lifted my gaze from the newspaper.

It was said to be an occurrence arising from substances unlawfully discharged by magicians experimenting at the Magic Tower and the experimental animals they released. I heard it was quite a serious social issue in the Magic Tower.

“This is just an environmental problem. Explaining it in detail would be a bit complicated.”

“…Biting the ankles of passersby and abducting kids, and you say it’s an ‘environment’ problem?”

Camila looked at me with a dumbfounded expression.

I shrugged without a word. What else could one expect from a world devoid of romance?

“That’s because environmental pollution is the cause.”

“…Shouldn’t we go catch this thing? It sounds easier than catching monsters.”

“You shouldn’t just go into the sewers. Forget about the permits; you’ll also need an access guide for the public sewer management company. Occasionally, strange things pop up besides the Ratman, so you need to be well-prepared.”

“What kind of strange things are you talking about?”

“There are many.”

“Man-eating plants, slimes, ratmen, crocodiles… sometimes even moving corpses pop up. The size is so vast that quite a few people go missing.”

This is the reality of the Magic Tower. Better to think of it as an underground dungeon than to imagine the romantic fantasy towers from novels.

Of course, I added a pinch of MSG. I didn’t want to risk Camila getting injured in the maze-like sewers. If she went missing, that would be an even bigger problem.

But for some reason, Camila’s eyes began to sparkle.

“Where do we get the permit?”

“…You aren’t planning to go, are you?”

“Yep.”

“Why on earth…?”

“People are suffering.”

I was at a loss for words due to her absurd answer. There were many questions I wanted to ask, but ultimately all that came out was a foolish one.

“Isn’t it gross?”

Camila shrugged as if it was nothing serious.

“Eh. It’s just that my hobby is hunting.”

Hunting? Isn’t that an aristocrat’s sport?

I paused for a moment to reflect on British culture. One of my father’s military juniors served as a Defense Attaché in Britain, so I had some knowledge of their culture.

True to being the birthplace of modern sports, the sports culture in Britain flourished immensely. From football, which plays every day on TV, to horseback riding, polo, cricket, and hunting, there’s nothing missing.

As far as I know, football and cricket are the national sports beloved by all Brits, while horseback riding, polo, and hunting are high-class sports enjoyed only by the upper class.

Football and cricket are well-known to me because a colleague who used to get along with me frequently traveled to Britain. He mentioned that in that town where gambling is legal, he managed to make some money betting on Premier League matches, although he ended up losing his entire salary.

But I hadn’t heard about horseback riding, polo, or hunting. I’d heard those hobbies were so expensive they were considered quite ‘posh.’

So only the upper class enjoyed such hobbies.

“……”

Maybe Camila was the daughter of quite a wealthy family.

But why would such a person be traipsing through Africa?

I gazed at her with a mix of curiosity, but Camila met my gaze with an innocent face.

“……”

“……?”

Just then, as an awkward silence continued, someone knocked and opened the door.

“Oh, everyone’s gathered here.”

It was Lucia.

She entered with soot smudged on her clothes.

“…Did you crawl through a chimney or something?”

“I got dirty moving supplies. There was a lot of dust in the warehouse.”

“You could have taken your time.”

“Everything needs to be organized for whenever we need it to go out, right?”

I blinked dumbly, at a loss for words.

“…Are you seriously going out for medical service? In this situation?”

“Why wouldn’t I go?”

“……”

I couldn’t fathom why I was surrounded by such people.

While I pressed my eyebrows together, Lucia cheerfully greeted Camila.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you. So, why did you call us?”

Lucia’s voice snapped me back to reality, and I slowly stood up from the sofa.

“The prevention schedule with Francesca Ranieri we talked about last time has been set. There are some security-related matters to discuss, so everyone, please focus.”

“Yes.”

“I’m listening.”

I spoke as calmly as I could to Camila and Lucia.

“According to local police and the Information Authority, there is a possibility of unexpected threats on the day of the prevention.”

“Unexpected threats?”

“What do you mean by that?”

I smiled at Camila and Lucia, who looked puzzled.

“Terrorism.”

*

If you were to ask the gossipers of the continent where the most outstanding information agency is, opinions would vary. However, when it comes to the best counterintelligence agency, the answer is clear.

The Imperial Guard HQ.

The governing body and information agency most favored by the Emperor. A notorious public security agency that makes dissidents lose sleep just by its name.

The Imperial Guard HQ held a stature that would leave anyone else feeling inferior in counterintelligence, and even foreign civilians were well aware of its reputation. The infamous status of the Imperial Guard HQ was truly significant.

But here, there is one person who sees the Imperial Guard HQ as a fool.

“I don’t understand why I should help you. I’ve certainly done enough for what I’ve received.”

“Veronica.”

Saint Veronica, the 58th of her order.

Once discovered as an information agent by the Imperial Guard HQ in her youth, she became a lobbyist representing the Empire to various governments after becoming a saint.

She was undoubtedly a masterpiece created by the Imperial Guard HQ and widely acknowledged as the Emperor’s right-hand woman. Had Cardinal Raul not fervently aspired to the papacy, she would have likely served as the Empire’s lobbyist until she aged and passed away.

This is how exceptional Veronica’s informational prowess had become. No information officer or operative from the overseas department of the Imperial Guard HQ could match her superior intelligence.

For this reason, Veronica had once been one of the most cherished agents of the Imperial Guard HQ.

Of course, that is no longer the case.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something incorrect?”

Veronica, pipe in mouth, sat crookedly, glaring at Suit Man.

Though he was nominally a diplomat from the Embassy of the Empire, in reality, he was a third-level deputy officer of the Imperial Guard HQ.

His title was branch manager. At fifty years old, he was nearing retirement as an information officer, and once he finished this term, he planned to quietly return to headquarters to work in planning and policy until his retirement.

In spite of this, he was bowing to a much younger person.

“Why are you like this? Just help me out once.”

“No.”

“Just this once. Close your eyes. Just once, think of saving a person.”

“No? I told you I’m stepping away from the Magic Tower issue.”

“It’s not about the Magic Tower-”

“It’s about the soldiers who went to the Magic Tower. Besides, why are you even talking to me about military-related problems? The domestic information officers from the Guard HQ aren’t just lazing around. Did you forget the huge fights with the Counterintelligence Command over monitoring the military?”

“……”

“Anyway, I don’t want to be involved in this any longer.”

He was not conducting the discussion like a business but rather as if he was begging a young girl. It truly felt like he was clinging. Veronica was outright refusing to engage in conversation.

Put aside age, there was still dignity involved, so even Suit Man didn’t want to go this far. But he was someone who had other responsibilities and a family to feed.

So he begged.

He begged earnestly.

Though he was on the verge of retirement, he still had to consider his rank and could not simply be let go from his position.

The glittering career that had brought him to the diplomatic position was a state secret, so he couldn’t carelessly talk about it. The positions for public enterprise executives that one could parachute into had already been filled by locals, and the trade companies that took in overseas retirees had long since replaced with others after purging the nobles. Furthermore, the overseas section had lost to internal power struggles within the Imperial Guard HQ, making it impossible for him to get into a research institute or anything else.

“If you help me out this time, I’ll support whatever you need. Just say the word.”

“Then could you please leave? I have official duties that are quite busy.”

“What official duty does someone who smokes hookah in the middle of the day have?”

“Don’t you know about mental discipline?”

Veronica knew better than anyone. It was she who instigated the power struggles within the Imperial Guard HQ. Of course, Suit Man knew this as well.

The Guard HQ was desperate enough to chase down an agent that said no, and Suit Man was under pressure to either solve this problem or step down and take the blame.

The trouble was caused by sixteen rebels, but it was the overseas department that had to deal with the aftermath. As a result, they’d lost a significant part of their overseas intelligence network, and many agents and operatives were being forced to retire prematurely. Ultimately, it was just the innocent who bore the brunt.

Veronica was already aware of this fact. She was the one who had basically sunk the overseas section of the Imperial Guard HQ.

Therefore, Veronica’s response was exceedingly clear.

“Security!”

Veronica raised her hand, signaling for security to escort Suit Man out. This was her favorite spot, and she was more important than any other customer, so the guards threw him out without question.

And so, peace returned to the bustling establishment.

Having regained her peace, Veronica leaned back on the sofa and puffed her hookah.

“Ah…. I’m so worn out….”

She sighed deeply, complaining about her circumstances.

“Lucia hasn’t contacted me, and the military attaché just talks business….”

The stress was no small matter. Especially the grumbling from the elderly men about maintaining dignity was the main source of her burden.

From the bishop asking her to pray for farmland in a country that had donated a lot to them, to the Cardinal asking when the peace service to conflict zones would be, even though the next successor was busy with peace promotion.

Veronica thought that responsibilities and obligations made her life so much harder. When in reality, she was having fun more than anyone else.

In any case, Veronica thought it was tough to be alive.

Sure enough, a waiter approached her, holding the receiver and hurrying over.

“Guest, there’s a call for you.”

“If it’s the National Affairs Council, tell them I’m not here.”

“It’s not the National Affairs Council; it’s the Magic Tower. A guest.”

Veronica reached out, took the phone, and gestured to the waiter to leave.

After she confirmed there was no one around to overhear, she pressed the receiver to her ear.

“Hello?”

-‘Sister.’

“Oh, it’s my younger sibling. What brings you to call this time?”

Veronica spoke in her native Kien language, while her sibling used fluent Patalian.

Surprisingly, there were no communication issues.

-‘I contacted you to ask something.’

“Alright. What is it that you’re curious about this time?”

-‘I need to meet someone soon. I need information about that person.’

“Hmm… I wonder if the person you’re going to meet is someone I think it is?”

No answer came back. Silence was confirmation.

Veronica smiled at this.

“As advice, wanting to know too much is not a good habit, you understand?”

She grinned.

“Francesca.”

 

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