A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The old man sat down with a faint smile.

The priest who had just guided me stood behind the old man, seeming to be his secretary.

I tapped my fingers on the armrest, lost in thought, while the old man merely tilted his teacup, offering no words.

Just as the black tea in front of me began to grow cold, the old man finally spoke.

“It’s not every day I serve tea. Why are you not touching it?”

“….”

I didn’t bother to respond. Being the head of the Intelligence Agency, he probably knew everything already, and I didn’t want to carelessly chatter in front of such a person.

The old man cocked his head and continued speaking with a brazen demeanor.

“Is black tea not to your taste, Colonel? Rebecca, can you prepare some other tea, perhaps?”

“We have black tea, green tea, coffee, milk tea, and iced tea, all ready to go.”

As the silent priest answered, the Inquisition Director raised his hands, signaling for me to choose.

“Forget the tea. Just get to the point, Inquisition Director.”

“Oh, you seem rather impatient, Colonel.”

He chatted as if he were experiencing something amusing for the first time in a long while. The old man set his teacup down and began the clichéd self-introduction.

“I am Director Petrus of the Inquisition. Nice to meet you, Colonel.”

—–

Episode 2 – Heroes of the Continent

The Inquisition.

An institution established by the 101st Pope in the year 897.

At that time, its main duties included detecting and punishing heresy, as well as making judgments on marriage and divorce.

During the era when the state’s administrative power did not reach the localities, Inquisition officers would sometimes travel to remote areas to conduct criminal and civil trials. This trend continues to this day, as priests specializing in law still observe trials in the courts.

Current operations involve maintaining internal security within the cult and intelligence activities. It is planned to transfer the security tasks to newly established agencies, focusing instead on counter-intelligence.

…So said the Inquisition Director.

“How do you feel, Colonel? An institution that catches both heretics and spies at the same time.”

“….”

“No response? Rebecca, did I bore you?”

“No, not at all, Director Petrus.”

What on earth is going on here?

I found myself lost in thought while gazing at the steam rising from my teacup.

I had certainly come to the Inquisition to convey information regarding the bombing incident that took place yesterday. I was welcomed by the safety director of the Inquisition. Things seemed to be handled poorly, so I had stormed out. Then, an odd priest sent me to the highest floor in the elevator.

There, the Inquisition Director awaited me.

For me.

“Are you curious why I called you?”

“…Yes.”

“Hmm.”

At first glance, the old man seemed mischievous. He appeared to have a playful nature. Just looking at him, he resembled a grandfather who enjoys teasing his grandchildren.

“Shouldn’t you reveal the content of the report if you’ve come to submit one?”

The problem is that this man is the head of a counter-intelligence agency. In other words, he is public security.

Director Petrus of the Inquisition.

“I want to report, but I’m afraid I don’t trust you.”

“Oh dear! It seems Bernard has been too much of a prankster. How unfortunate, Colonel Frederick.”

His apology was too light to be sincere, and his expression was too full of mischief for it to be real regret. I gently touched the teacup, deep in thought, while Petrus pointed at me and spoke.

“Don’t you still plan to drink tea?”

“….”

“Is it perhaps because you couldn’t observe the preparation process with your own eyes?”

The fact that he asked this knowingly means that Petrus could be a rather troublesome old man.

“Counter-intelligence agency agents are always like that. Suspicious, cautious, and quick-witted.”

“Is that so?”

“Didn’t you receive such training? Unless in special cases, always confirm food preparation with your own eyes before eating.”

Across every intelligence agency in the world, such training is common knowledge, and Petrus was casually rattling off what everyone knows. He almost seemed excited.

“Isn’t it interesting that agents, regardless of nationality, receive similar training, Colonel?”

I didn’t bother to answer, as there could easily be listening devices around or recording equipment running. As I have reiterated, security is a matter of life and death for an agent. One must never let slip their affiliation.

Petrus grinned as he continued.

“From my perspective, you appear to belong to the Kingdom of Abas’s Military Intelligence Agency.”

“I’m just an ordinary army colonel, Director.”

“Oh! You don’t need to lie. There are neither listening devices nor recorders here.”

I didn’t believe that statement. My commander, Colonel Clevenz, always told me to question everything.

Observing my demeanor, Director Petrus leaned back in his chair without wiping the smile off his face.

“Do you know why I assume you’re affiliated with the Military Intelligence Agency?”

“…I’m not sure. Because I came from the kingdom, it’s only natural that such an assumption—”

“It’s because of your actions.”

The Director grinned as if he found this amusing and began explaining.

“You tried to pull a thin blade from your sleeve to attack Rebecca.”

That was true.

I had suspected her, and I had the means to escape if I had to kill her.

It was a method taught to me by the instructor during my training. It wasn’t in the manual, so I remember learning it through trial and error until I mastered it. Petrus confidently expressed his knowledge of this.

“The kingdom has educated soldiers in this manner for a long time. It’s not just agents; even special forces hide blades in their sleeves. While they might use greatswords, agents like you would use thin blades that wouldn’t set off a body search, wouldn’t they?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not from a special forces unit.”

“Oh, I know that too, Colonel. Your story has been all over the newspapers!”

The priest handed the Director a newspaper, which he then showed me. The old man pointed at it with his finger as if reading to a grandchild, slowly following the lines.

“Commissioned as a second lieutenant on the northern front. Your great feats earned you a medal and a promotion. You thereafter demonstrated valor on the frontlines, rising to the rank of captain.”

“It’s a fact I’m embarrassed about.”

“I know that you fought against elite Kien Empire soldiers on the northern front.”

“Is that so?”

What are you getting at?

“A newly commissioned second lieutenant leading a single squad to achieve great feats isn’t someone the Military Intelligence Agency would covet?”

The old man chuckled as he gently stroked his cheek.

Indeed, the Military Intelligence Agency had come to fetch me when I received my medal.

The soldier who had come to meet me then was Colonel Clevenz, and I became an agent of the Military Intelligence Agency at his suggestion. For the record, the rank of captain was achieved in the Information Agency, not on the frontlines.

Hence, that newspaper contained a mixture of truths and fabrications—disinformation.

Of course, Petrus likely knew that too, but he appeared unfazed, putting on a comical performance.

“To be honest, I envy you. You’re intelligent, capable, and young. As one grows older, one faces discomfort with one’s teeth—”

“So what exactly do you want to say?”

Even with my sharp response, Director Petrus only smiled, finding something amusing.

“Alright, let’s get to the main point. The reason I consider you a Military Intelligence Agent is precisely because of that blade. There are also several other indicators.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your subordinates are competent, but unfortunately, they lack caution. When making contact with an informant, you should always look around.”

Damn it.

It seems that while I was down, Pippin and Jake got caught in the Inquisition’s intelligence net.

But it’s alright. The fact that we made contact with a local informant isn’t a real issue.

Had the Inquisition officers attacked us during a sensitive exchange of confidential documents, Pippin and Jake would have almost lost their diplomatic titles and faced expulsion to our homeland.

Why is he being so overt about this?

“…Were you trying to warn me?”

“I suspected you were an agent from the start. Of course, it was merely a guess.”

Where was I caught?

“You reacted much faster than an ordinary army colonel should have. A bomb detonated right before your eyes, yet you instinctively shouted to protect the hero first, didn’t you?”

“….”

“Of course, I can’t say I know exactly what you shouted. However, seeing your subordinate rush toward the hero, one can suppose you gave that order.”

“So the Inquisition agents also monitor events within the cult, it seems.”

The blade in my sleeve. The actions of Pippin and Jake. And my response during the attack. Every single action had been read by the Inquisition.

‘We are watching your nonsense, so don’t try anything silly and keep your head down.’

Though Petrus didn’t say those exact words, I understood it that way. It was essentially an unspoken pressure.

The old man clapped his hands together, breaking the flow of our conversation.

“Alright! Let’s wrap up the introduction here and hear the information you brought.”

I placed the paper document I had brought on the desk. Petrus took it, examined it for a while, and suddenly began to smile.

“This is a report on the movements of subversive groups following the terror attack. Won’t you tell me the source of this information?”

“…I was just instructed to deliver it, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, I won’t press further. I hope you’ll convey my thanks for the useful information, which will aid in the terrorism investigation.”

Petrus gestured for Rebecca with a small motion. She handed me a small envelope.

“…What is this?”

“An analysis of the bomb used in the terror attack.”

When there’s something coming in, there’s bound to be something going out, right?

The old man spewed empty flattery while leaning back in his chair, and I maintained an impassive expression as I stared at him. Observing me intently, Petrus sighed with a smile.

“Ah! If you’re worried about information leaks, there’s no need to fret!”

Information leaks. Internal documents. Bernard, the safety director.

It seemed they had begun monitoring me the moment I stepped into the Inquisition. Or the very room I was in could have been an interrogation room.

I felt a chill in my blood.

What would have happened had Bernard read the documents? Would I have been charged with espionage and expelled? Or dragged to the torture chamber?

That’s a bit terrifying.

“…Well, if you say so, Director.”

I tucked the envelope into my pocket.

Suddenly, I became curious why he was doing all this. Just as I was about to ask, Petrus beat me to it.

“By the way, you were drinking tea when you met Bernard earlier. But now, you’re not even touching it.”

Petrus brought the topic back to tea.

“Why did you drink the tea that was in that room?”

“I drank it because I was thirsty.”

“Then the reason you’re not drinking now is that you’re not thirsty?”

“Correct.”

Petrus shook his head in denial.

“No. You’re suspicious right now. Meeting the Inquisition Director has put you on edge.”

There’s a sting to those words. I can predict what this old man is going to say next.

From the moment I set foot into the cult until this very moment when I’m speaking with him alone.

The old man had been testing me. And he was now warning me.

If I casually meddled in his territory, I’d be done for.

“The reason you’re not drinking tea now is that you encountered Rebecca and me, isn’t it?”

“Then what was my reason for drinking the tea at first?”

“Relaxation.”

The old man laughed.

“You saw the guard at the entrance and felt at ease. You underestimated the Inquisition based on his demeanor and appearance.”

Petrus laughed.

“When you used the secret passage, you probably felt a sense of security. You must have been quite pleased. How about in that narrow room? It was pretty cozy, wasn’t it?”

The Inquisition Director burst out laughing. He was laughing wholeheartedly.

“Don’t let your guard down, Colonel. The moment you relax, you may find yourself dead. What would have happened had I tainted all the tea in that room with poison?”

It was hard to deny that he was correct. To brush it off as senility for the old man would be foolish; he was the head of a counter-intelligence agency.

I cleanly admitted my error. Counter-intelligence agencies will do whatever it takes to catch spies, and I knew very well they could set such traps. It was I who had forgotten that fact and had become lax.

“How embarrassing.”

“Haha! Don’t be too hard on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes!”

Petrus concluded nonchalantly, as if it didn’t matter at all.

“However, you only get one chance in life, Colonel. Remember that.”

—–

After hours of dialogue, Petrus finally released me. I had expected him to throw me into an interrogation room, but instead, he even sent me back with information about the bombs used in the attack.

When I expressed my unease and asked why he had called me, he said he was simply curious about the hero’s companions. He really does seem a bit unhinged.

The priest guided me outside the Inquisition building. Because I had traveled through a secret passage, no evidence remained that I had been here.

Her name was Rebecca, if I remember correctly. I don’t know if it was her real name or a pseudonym.

“…Thank you.”

“Be careful on your way, Colonel Frederick.”

She escorted me to a point near the embassy before disappearing toward the Inquisition’s direction. After watching her retreating figure for a moment, I turned my steps back to the embassy.

I sent a communication to my home country that I had returned to the embassy. Reporting verbally to the Colonel would be nice, but there seemed to be too much to do today to find time for a phone call.

Having completed my return report, I met with Pippin and Jake to give them a warning.

Upon hearing that the Inquisition had been monitoring them, both turned pale as a ghost. Public security is frightful no matter where it is.

Afterward, I exchanged light greetings with the ambassador and other embassy staff members, then handed over the information provided by Director Petrus to agents disguised as Ministry officials. There was no need for separate analysis of the information; Colonel Clevenz would organize everything and fill me in. One of the agents informed me that the psychological analysis results would take a few days to come out.

Now, the only one left to address is the hero.

“Camila Lowell.”

“Colonel?”

Camila Lowell was sitting on the terrace, sipping a cold drink. I followed her gesture and sat down in the front chair.

“How was your day today?”

“I thought it would end soon, but the conversation dragged on.”

“I guess you met someone important.”

Being the head of the counter-intelligence agency is certainly a high-ranking position.

However, I couldn’t reveal to a civilian that I was an intelligence agent and had been in cahoots with the head of the intelligence agency, so I dressed up my day in a plausible lie.

“I just met with the police.”

“Ah….”

Her expression darkened, perhaps recalling the recent terror attack. I asked a casual question to change the topic.

“What did Camila Lowell do today?”

“I had lunch with the ambassador, spoke with some embassy staff, and participated in a test with the lieutenants.”

A banquet with the ambassador. I heard that agents had stuck to her all day long. She also mentioned a psychological examination by a psychological operations officer.

Of course, she had no idea that the staff she conversed with were agents, and maybe she would never know. She shouldn’t and didn’t need to.

For a while, I inquired about her day. She answered without hesitation, sometimes even smiling. Perhaps due to her optimistic nature, she seemed to recover rapidly from the ordeal.

“I had no idea there could be lobsters bigger than that! They added butter and spices, and the aroma was wonderful…”

Especially when the conversation turned towards food, the pitch of her voice certainly shifted. Food appeared to be her most apparent happiness.

“It sounds like you had a rather enjoyable day.”

“Um— honestly, yes! I ate delicious food, had fun experiences. Yes, that’s right.”

That was at least some good news.

“How was your day, Colonel?”

“I was fine, too.”

“You look really tired.”

“If a civil servant isn’t tired, that would be the moment the country falls apart.”

I brushed it off nonchalantly. I couldn’t tell her I had been cornered for hours by that temperamental old man. Honestly, it was more embarrassing than simply saying it’s classified.

As our conversation began to wind down, she posed a question to me.

“Oh, by the way. Colonel, when are we going out of the embassy?”

“We can leave once safety is secured. We’re coordinating with the relevant authorities, so there should be good news soon.”

“Are you going to work again tomorrow, Colonel?”

“Indeed. I am a civil servant, after all.”

“What kind of work will you be doing tomorrow?”

Probably espionage.

“Um… why are you curious about that?”

At my question, Camila Lowell let out a small giggle. She had a look that seemed to say, “What a stupid question.”

“Because we’re colleagues.”

Ah. That’s right. I was her colleague. I had momentarily forgotten that.

“So you won’t tell me what you’ll be doing?”

She pouted, looking a tad disappointed.

Thinking about it, I wouldn’t be able to engage in espionage activities for a while. After all, I had been marked as a target of the Inquisition. It was impossible to openly carry out espionage now.

In other words, as long as it’s not illegal, I could do anything.

It was election season.

Rubbing my chin, I pondered how to respond, finally managing to speak.

“I think I’ll be meeting a new colleague of yours, Camila Lowell.”

I’ll need to stir up some sentiment during the election season.