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The Magic Tower officially sports the title of a Republic, but in reality, it operates under an oligarchic system where a small power group takes the lead.

However, the political force steering the Magic Tower isn’t a political party; it’s a school of thought.

Many citizens in this magical society are also capable sorcerers, and each school has its own vision and doctrines, similar to political parties.

Thus, the driving force behind the politics of the magical society, pushing the Magic Tower forward, is knowledge and scholarship, not ideologies or beliefs.

Elemental School, Sorcery School, Astrology School, Alchemy School, Summoning School, Illusion School, Spiritology School, Necromancy School, and Luminescence School, among others.

Since the war with the cult, only three schools have stood at the pinnacle, leading the magical society.

They are the Elemental School, the Sorcery School, and the Astrology School.

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Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

The Magic Tower revolves entirely around these three schools.

The people living within this society respectfully refer to them as the “Three Great Schools” or the “Trinity.”

In fact, even the heart of the Magic Tower, where the Oracle and government institutions are concentrated, is called the Trinity, illustrating the profound influence these three schools hold over the Tower.

And right now, before me stands someone from the Trinity.

No, let me correct that—it’s before ‘us.’

“Nice to meet you. I am Francesca Ranieri, the Administrator of the Secretariat,” she said, bowing lightly with a calm expression.

“It seems we’ve kept the esteemed guests waiting too long due to circumstances in the agency. My apologies.”

“No, thanks to your consideration, we’ve all been quite comfortable. We’re the ones who should be more grateful.”

The alchemist, who introduced herself as the Administrator of the Secretariat, wore a brooch symbolizing the Elemental School.

Her work uniform, given to civil servants, indicated her status as a public servant.

The cape draped over her shoulders hinted at her being a magician, and the glowing emblem on the brooch confirmed her affiliation with the Elemental School. It was no surprise, considering one of her ancestors was among the founders of that school.

Francesca Ranieri was dressed appropriately in a manner befitting the unwritten customs of the magical society rather than overly fancily.

However, her appearance was too striking to simply deem appropriately formal.

She had deep purple hair and violet eyes.

Slightly upturned eye corners.

A sharp gaze.

Her skin was so clear it could be described as transparent.

Overall, she bore a somewhat similar impression to Saint Veronica. Especially in the distinctness of her features, Francesca Ranieri portrayed an image opposite to that of Camila or Lucia.

Francesca Ranieri greeted everyone with a pleasant smile.

“May the blessings of the heavens be upon you. It’s an honor to meet you, Saint.”

“It’s an honor to meet a seeker of knowledge and truth. Please feel free to call me Lucia.”

“How could I possibly do that? I am merely grateful that the saint allows me to.”

Even without an interpreter, light exchanges flowed smoothly thanks to magical tools.

If anything stood out, it was how Lucia and Francesca Ranieri elevated each other in accordance with their respective etiquette. This was a refreshing shock that overshadowed any thoughts of the interpreting magic’s capabilities.

Considering the tensions between the cult and the Magic Tower, I half expected at least the titles they used for each other to be slightly altered, like with Kim Il-sung and Lee Duk-hwa, but both Lucia and Francesca remained cool and adhered to their traditions.

It seemed that no one was watching them in this space.

Or perhaps both were simply adept at wearing masks.

Anyway, I felt relieved there wasn’t a journalist around, and then it was finally my turn to speak.

“Nice to meet you.”

As I took Francesca Ranieri’s hand, I extended greetings in her native tongue.

“Good morning. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Administrator.”

“…You speak Patalia?”

“I have a friend from there.”

Francesca Ranieri showed a slightly impressed reaction.

“That’s impressive.”

Was my ability to communicate making a decent impression? Francesca Ranieri’s face lit up.

And she slowly shook my hand.

“I think we’ll get along well moving forward, don’t you?”

“At least since we can communicate, there shouldn’t be any issues.”

“I hope so.”

The hand we held was much colder than I expected.

—

It took us about two weeks to meet Francesca Ranieri.

I thought the delay in our meeting was due to the political strife between the Magic Tower and the cult. The protocols and security concerns stemmed from their special relationship.

In truth, this was correct.

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs provided real-time updates via text every day, and Veronica kept me informed over the phone, so there’s no way that couldn’t be true. The root cause of all the delays ultimately lay in the struggle between the cult and the Magic Tower’s pride.

However, Francesca Ranieri insisted the reason for the delay was due to her.

“I haven’t been able to meet you until now due to the slow handover. I sincerely apologize for that.”

In truth, no one at this gathering was unaware of the real reason for the rescheduled timeline.

Though Camila had just begun a three-month journey (more like an undocumented resident), Lucia was one of the powerful figures in the cult, and both Francesca Ranieri and I were public servants of the Magic Tower and Abas.

There was simply no way to remain ignorant.

But Francesca Ranieri, fully aware of the truth, took all the blame upon herself.

“I had many duties that needed to be wrapped up quickly, but somehow it turned out this way.”

Lucia and I simply nodded calmly.

She was declaring that all responsibility lay with her, so what could we possibly say?

This wasn’t a relationship where we’d only see each other for a day or two; we would be together for a few months at minimum, or possibly even years.

When someone is making a point to avoid causing discord from the very first meeting, it’s polite to play along a little.

“That can happen. We fully understand your situation, Administrator.”

“Thank you sincerely. And going forward, you can call me casually, whether in private or in public.”

Once we set aside all political and historical interests, the conversation took place in an amiable atmosphere.

“Hmm, how should I refer to you all then?”

“Just using first names should be fine. If everyone here is all right with that.”

“I’m fine with it.”

“Me too.”

“Then, please feel free to call me by my first name from now on.”

Francesca Ranieri smiled gently.

The casual chatting filled the air with comfort, making the continuation of the conversation smooth as silk.

Given how intensely the cult and the Magic Tower had been at each other’s throats, it was an ironically pleasant scene.

I sat quietly and observed the exchanges happening around me. Not that I had nothing to say, but I had no room to interject while considering the arrival of Fabio Verati.

As I was quietly sipping tea—offered by some small creature that could only be described as a spirit or something—I suddenly locked eyes with Francesca Ranieri.

“…Uh?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing… it was just that your eyes…”

“My eyes?”

Francesca Ranieri tilted her violet eyes reminiscent of violets and smiled.

“Did something get in my eye?”

With the attention of those around us on me, I snapped back to reality and tried to recover the situation.

“…No. Must have been a mistake.”

“May I ask what it was that you thought you saw?”

“…No, it’s nothing.”

How strange.

“It seems I must have seen something that wasn’t there.”

It was definitely,

as if her eyes had sparkled for a moment.

—

After that brief mishap, I excused myself and left the group.

Though it’s a breach of etiquette in an official setting, today was an exception that allowed such conduct.

Today’s appointment was significant, but it lacked any special meaning.

It was not a meeting between newly elected politicians (excluding Lucia), nor was it a 2+2 meeting between the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Minister of Defense to discuss foreign policy—it simply didn’t carry the weight to bear significance.

However, there’s a saying that interpretation weighs more than the essence. People’s psychology often focuses more on how situations are perceived rather than their actual nature.

So, rather than pondering what intentions the parties involved had in their meeting or what was discussed, there was concentration on the act of meeting itself.

From that perspective, my activity zone was not beside Camila but somewhere else entirely.

So, I sought the press room.

“Yes, Chief. Right now…”

“I will deliver the message.”

“Senpai, let’s use number eight instead of number three. Just a slight adjustment will fill the entire page nicely. Plus, it shows your face perfectly.”

“Wait a second, what was your affiliation again? The Secretariat? Then you’re in the operational department under the Oracle. This could tie in nicely with the National Affairs Council announcement.”

The press room hastily set up for smooth coverage was literally buzzing with activity.

International department reporters were busily seated with interpreters and translators, crafting their articles, while a long line stretched along the wall for submitting their written pieces.

“It’s intense. Really intense.”

Judging by the atmosphere, it felt similar to the press room during the North-South summit at Ilsan KINTEX. It was that crowded.

Even though I wasn’t here for work, being summoned meant this could count as part of my job.

I looked around the bustling press room and picked up an article written by the Abas media reporter to cover my face.

“These reporters are having a field day, huh?”

I muttered in such a low voice that anyone listening might mistake it for a soliloquy.

But it wasn’t a soliloquy at all. I got a reply right over my shoulder.

“Looks like the media isn’t the only one busy, huh?”

“We’re always busy. Has there ever been a day when we weren’t?”

“Unless you get fired, or the country falls apart.”

Sophia, disguised as an international reporter from Patalia, threw in a self-deprecating joke.

I heard that the Magic Tower tightened security, only allowing accredited journalists inside, yet seeing an Information Agency Agent with a press badge did not instill much trust.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is this place really safe…?”

Sophia silently gestured toward the entrance.

Two police magicians draped in capes were conducting identity checks on incoming reporters. It was a measure to prevent infiltration using disguise and illusion.

Watching them stand like statues, monitoring the passersby, sent a slight chill down my spine, but Sophia, seemingly accustomed to it, simply laughed and waved her identification.

“Even if someone tries to use magic, they can’t get in here. The building is under strict control by the authorities. At least we can assume no one without an ID can enter.”

Well, having an ID doesn’t guarantee anyone can get in.

With that, Sophia broke into a smile, and I pointed to her press ID with my chin.

“Is that real?”

“Or do you think it’s fake?”

It’s a badge of honor.

Anyway, it looked safe here.

I shook my head and read the article written by the reporters aloud.

“A unity between priests and magicians, is spring coming for the National Affairs Council and Oracle…? What is this?”

“What do you mean ‘what is it’? It’s an article to be published in the newspaper.”

“This isn’t an article; it’s barely even trashy gossip…?”

They were saying that the relationship between the Cult and the Magic Tower was improving. It was absolute nonsense.

The ones who stuffed Inquisition agents as Saint aides for their intelligence network couldn’t be serious about discussing improved relations just because Lucia and Francesca Ranieri met.

I was at a loss for words, and Sophia, beaming, tossed in a joke.

“People’s imagination is something, huh… seems even richer than ours, doesn’t it?”

“That’s delusion, not imagination.”

“What’s the difference, really?”

Scratch, scratch. The sound of a pencil moving across paper echoed.

“By the way, why is our Colonel here? He’s not even a reporter.”

“You called him, didn’t you?”

Sophia smiled softly and closed her notebook. She maintained her smile as she tilted her chin.

“Have you met Francesca?”

I answered by motioning toward a photo.

In the picture, there I was, sitting quietly between three other individuals.

“I came to make introductions, so how could I miss out?”

Today’s event was a simple courtesy call without special intentions. It was merely a chance to see each other’s faces and get along going forward.

However, the main attendees had such impressive credentials that it drew attention.

“People seem to be making too much fuss about just seeing each other.”

“Well, it’s not every day a Saint meets a magician. Plus, Francesca is no ordinary magician, right?”

Francesca Ranieri.

The Oracle leading the Magic Tower, and the administrator in the Secretariat, responsible for its operations.

To dismiss her as just a mere magician would be to overlook her deep ties to the Magic Tower government.

In fact, the Ranieri family traces its lineage back to the founding father of the Magic Tower. Living up to their ancestor’s prestige, they produced many notable magicians as well as Oracle members.

So, nobody viewed her as just an ordinary magician.

Sophia’s thoughts seemed to align with mine.

“Probably… if it weren’t for family issues, she’d already be engaged to some important figure in the political field. Don’t you think? With her good family background, skills, and pretty face… Merlo, what do you think?”

“If she’s an administrator, she’s at least at level 5, right? The daughter of a prestigious family, plus a level 5 civil servant. Anyone would want to be engaged to her.”

She was even one of the strong candidates for the next Oracle member. Although she was pushed back in the succession race due to issues within the Ranieri family, she naturally began to be considered for succession after a prominent noble from the Empire, who was a strong candidate, left the Magic Tower due to his family falling apart.

Of course, the Foreign Affairs Ministry assessed that compared to the Shaman from the Lushan Federation with a priest father or the son of a chaebol from the Kien Empire, she wielded relatively insignificant influence.

And,

As someone who earns a living through espionage, it was laughable that this prominent daughter from a family known for producing Oracles would be treated like an old relic, all because of the National Security Agency.

She had lived under their surveillance since preschool, simply due to being the child of a public security criminal. Her freedom of movement was severely limited.

What a miserable life.

Yet, Sophia, who had come to the Magic Tower to keep an eye on Francesca Ranieri, seemed completely unconcerned with such trivial issues.

With her usual smile, she threw a joke my way.

“And how does she look?”

“Why’s that relevant here?”

“She’s pretty, so just be honest, you won’t write it in the report anyway.”

“You really think I’d trust a spy?”

“Why are you being so mean….”

Sophia persistently stuck to me.

Her playful interrogation felt oddly familiar, and I couldn’t help but open my mouth.

“Hey. You don’t think I’m head over heels just looking at her face, right?”

“Well…?”

Well what?

“What do you mean ‘well’? Just say you’re suspicious. Don’t act all clingy when we both know better.”

It seemed Sophia suspected I had fallen for Francesca Ranieri’s appearance. In more refined terms, I was love-struck; in cruder terms, I was infatuated.

And indeed, she had called me to the press room for that very reason. Otherwise, there was no point in summoning me here at this time.

Still, I didn’t feel angry or particularly offended.

After all, the National Security Agency probably sent Sophia to the Magic Tower to gather such information.

I was merely doing the same thing as her, just from a different position.

So, the feelings that surfaced in me weren’t disappointment or resentment, but rather just a complaint.

“Yes, the Secretariat is an important position, and being the child of a public security criminal is also a fact, but how much power does a level 5 civil servant really hold to be scrutinized like this? That’s just paranoia.”

“Well, who knows? Francesca might become an Oracle member someday.”

“Yeah, right.”

I sighed softly and turned my head, while Sophia, with her legs crossed in a manner meant to show off her figure, began to slowly sway her foot and murmured.

“I guess….”

It was a soft, humming voice.

“Who knows what might happen in life?”

 

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