A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The flower of espionage is human intelligence.

During Japan’s Pearl Harbor air raids, the Soviet Union was probing along its border with Nazi Germany, and the German Empire was digging trenches and fighting France; all adeptly utilized human intelligence.

During the Cold War, various countries’ intelligence agencies sent spies to engage in a messy wrestling match, but in modern times, they employ more sophisticated methods for human intelligence.

In addition to recruited informants, they utilize civilians linked to the information agencies—such as overseas branch employees, international students, expatriates, and tourists—who are not suspected (and wouldn’t cause a diplomatic incident if discovered) as information assets.

However, truly valuable information is often classified, and the individuals who can access such material are limited to high-ranking officials.

In other words, one must recruit insiders to easily extract classified documents.

Thus, we concluded this incident was a case of information leakage via a recruited researcher.

But it wasn’t.

“In this case, it seems a bit unique. It appears to be information leakage caused not by a recruited insider but by a trained spy,” muttered the dispatch team leader.

The investigator in charge wiped sweat from his brow.

“Y-You mean a spy?”

“We cannot be certain yet if it’s information leakage or not, but at least this incident is not the work of an industrial spy.”

“Ah….”

The middle-aged man sighed briefly, clearly mixed with strange emotions. I could understand; his neck was likely on the line soon.

“With proficient radio usage and encryption, it’s a hard pill to swallow.”

Even discounting the random number charts, someone in communications who can type a thousand characters in nine minutes is definitely not an ordinary civilian.

“What on earth….”

“Are you alright, sir?”

“Y-Yeah, just give me a moment.”

The middle-aged man was sweating profusely and clearly in turmoil.

That’s entirely understandable; he’s with the investigation department and would be responsible if security issues arose at the institute. Probably by the time the investigation ends, he would be out of a job.

Of course, I was an outsider with no responsibility, merely someone receiving reports on the investigation’s progress. So, I spoke to him in a notably calm tone.

“For now, I’ll go file a report. And it seems we need to reclassify the suspects; you two can discuss among yourselves first.”

Let’s get back to work.

—

Episode 3 – A Fantastic Vacation

I reported the situation at the research institute to Colonel Clevenz and compiled a list of researchers under suspicion by morning.

I added new criteria, like travel experience abroad, studying abroad, living overseas, and being children of immigrants.

Even some senior personnel and former researchers who had previously been cleared were now back on the suspect list. The total number of suspects was now 479.

From there, we also had to sift through relationships and past actions, gather financial transaction records and immigration histories, and search residences for suspicious items.

There was a lot ahead of us. We spent long nights discussing detailed work agreements and managed to have breakfast.

From what I heard from the investigator, his child was about to graduate from the academy. With his child graduating and him possibly losing his job, his middle-aged face was dark with concern.

In truth, it wasn’t just the investigator; everyone was suffering in silence.

Researchers, unable to go home and branded as spies. Employees of the investigative department who would soon face disciplinary action. Even agents from the information agency unable to sleep due to ongoing investigations.

Everyone was feeling miserable in the stuffy underground research institute. Although they managed to maintain a somewhat hospitable environment with magic, sometimes the air here felt oddly stale and smelly.

I was just exhausted from work.

Maybe due to lack of sleep, but I felt oddly melancholic, apathetic, and fatigued. A headache throbbed painfully, and walking around bore no fruit, so I chewed at the painkillers I had received during my last prescription.

“They say the examination is finished.”

“…Understood.”

The voice of the bodyguard snapped me out of my thoughts.

I turned to welcome Camila Lowell, who emerged from the hallway with heavy eyelids.

“Did you have a good exam?”

“Yes!”

She nodded, flashing a bright smile. I noticed she was chewing on some sort of candy, likely given to her by a researcher.

Normally, such snacks were discouraged from being eaten carelessly. But the bodyguards seemed to have handled that just fine.

“Is there any health issue?”

“The researchers said there were no remarkable problems.”

The examination conducted today was a simple one.

They were just checking if she was sick, if her blood sugar levels were normal, and if there were troubles with her organs.

Originally, dozens of senior researchers would have been swarming to find out why she fainted, but it appeared they were all detained now, so they couldn’t uncover the truth.

Soon, an agreement would be reached with the security team to conduct controlled examinations. We would find the cause soon.

In the meantime, Camila Lowell was happily licking on her candy.

“After you eat, you need to rest a bit before moving to the inspection room.”

“Do I finally get to try magic?”

“Yes.”

All ongoing examinations were focused on data accumulation.

First, we stack data on abilities and health conditions, and analysis can come later.

Since we didn’t know what would happen leaving her in the research institute with a spy active, once all examinations finished in three days and she left the institute, real investigations and analysis would begin.

Once the senior researchers cleared of suspicion joined back in, results would probably come within a week.

And the reason behind conducting the examination was not simply for safety.

“Today is the day of the saint election. I believe results will be announced in two days.”

Lucia’s visit would be three days from now.

We plan to take a photo at the train station, announcing the hero and saint are present in the kingdom.

“Wow, does the election take all day?”

“They say it can take up to three days if things drag on. Who holds an election for three days?”

Whether the cult conducts elections for three days or a week is of no concern to me. I was more worried about things that had to be dealt with in the next three days.

“Hah…”

With the schedule ahead looking tight, I couldn’t help but sigh.

After all, my role would only involve adding a few remarks and looking over documents.

Most of the suspects had either been detained or were trapped underground, and there were dozens of bodyguards protecting Camila Lowell. Escape or assassination threats were completely neutralized.

To prevent leaks, communications were being jammed, the information agency was deciphering codes, and there was talk of a major investigation starting soon, so the task of identifying spies would progress smoothly.

Everyone was working hard. Although there was plenty to do, it was comforting to think that a vacation was coming soon.

“Is there anything hard for you? Why are you sighing…?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t mind me.”

I forced a smile.

“You look rather exhausted. Have you been taking the supplements I gave you last time?”

“O-Of course, yes.”

I had given those supplements to Pippin and Jake. They had suffered even more than me while rolling around in the cult. But now it seemed I was the one who needed to be on supplements.

It seems there’s a saying that good stuff should be eaten alone for a reason.

“It seems the supplements are better needed by Camila Lowell than by me. She seems to snack almost every day…”

“What? I don’t snack every day!”

“Seriously, I wasn’t aware you roasted marshmallows for breakfast today? People were worried it might catch fire.”

At times, Camila Lowell came across as a bit of a dork.

Eating alone and holed up in her room.

I heard that when she stayed at the hotel, she managed her meals right in her room.

I began to worry if she would eventually end up sitting on a park bench eating a packed lunch.

As I kept talking, we eventually reached the restaurant. I could see the long line forming, and Camila Lowell pouted as she held her plate.

Seemingly slightly upset. Perhaps she dislikes being teased about food. I would need to be cautious going forward.

Just as I was about to sit down with a generous pile of meat for a meal,

“Colonel.”

One of the agents approached me.

“What is it?”

“The team leader is looking for you.”

W-Would it be too much to have just a meal first if it’s not urgent?

The agent looked around before whispering to me.

“The code decryption was successful.”

—

The military intelligence agency’s code-breaking team succeeded in decrypting the code.

It was astonishing that they managed to break a random number code in less than a day.

Miraculously, the decryption process was surprisingly simple.

“We matched it to all the encryption codes we’ve collected so far.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.”

Impressive, yet lacking romance in that method.

Whether it’s rehashing decrypted codes or trying to fit known codes, nothing else came out but compliments.

However, upon deeper reflection, it wasn’t particularly special. Even the Nazis were unaware the Enigma had been cracked until the end of the war, and agencies had done similar spy investigations.

“I heard the university professors were called in to break the code; it’s fortunate they solved it quickly.”

“Luck was on our side.”

The professors who were called in at dawn to match numeric puzzles were probably back home by now. Perhaps they were breaking other codes with the intelligence agency’s code-breaking team.

Anyway, that wasn’t my job.

The fact that the codes were cracked meant we could ascertain what communications had been exchanged by the spies, and that we possessed the answers among the codes collected, allowing us to speculate on where those messing around in the institute were affiliated.

“What’s that?”

I pointed to the binder being held by the dispatch team leader. He handed it to me.

“It’s the decryption report.”

“Oh.”

Receiving the report was like unwrapping a gift.

“Let’s take a look.”

I flipped through the cover and skimmed through the words rapidly.

I picked out a few key terms from the neatly organized 500-character specifics.

Access to classified documents prohibited.

Professor Fernan recruitment failed.

Exploring other options.

Hero’s arrival scheduled.

Order for transmission requested.

The spy attempted to infiltrate to recruit someone and steal research documents.

From reading through it, it seemed the attempts to recruit and gain access to research materials had failed. With the news of the hero’s arrival, they likely sought orders to advance their attempts while trying to recruit Professor Fernan, who seems to be a significant target.

While doing so, receiving communication would prompt spy orders.

It displayed initiative and enthusiasm, that pesky brat.

Even without being caught, I could tell he was causing trouble. We must uncover and hang him before he manages any more stupid tricks.

While I read through the report, a particular line written at the bottom caught my eye.

“What on earth is this 3-5 code?”

I tapped the report with my finger while asking. The team leader answered.

“It’s a code used in the Magic Tower.”

—

The Magic Tower initially formed from a secret society.

A faction resisting the oppression of the church for hundreds of years. It would be more accurate to call them a militia, an armed group.

With the advancement of communication media represented by newspapers, they succeeded in uniting mages scattered across the continent, leading to the expansion of their secret society.

Eventually, mages began to counter the oppression from the church.

For several years, fierce battles akin to civil wars erupted across the continent, and officials, primarily from the military, who noted the utility of magic began to support them.

Mages fought with various layers supporting them. The state aimed to diminish the church’s influence, while mages fought for survival, resulting in numerous years of conflict.

During this process, a trend emerged accepting magic as a form of study, heralding the Smart and Rational Age where science and magic coexisted.

Emperor, who recognized the potential in magic, personally established a stronghold to embrace mages. That stronghold is now known as the Magic Tower.

The headquarters that once led the war transitioned into a cradle that produced exceptional mages and scholars, and recently has transformed into a business by subcontracting research and development of magic and magical tools.

However, I never imagined they’d pull such a cute trick.

“…So, the Magic Tower sent a spy to our research institute?”

The agent from the information agency nodded.

“Does it have an information department there too?”

“Officially, the Magic Tower doesn’t own military organizations or intelligence agencies.”

“Ha.”

In this line of work, ‘official’ can never be trusted.

Perhaps the Magic Tower might even have a private intelligence department. After all, even modern corporations send industrial spies to competitors and hire private information firms while setting up overseas branches.

“Do you think the Magic Tower has an intelligence department?”

“Well, I can’t be certain since I’m not in charge of the Magic Tower.”

I’ve never been involved with the Magic Tower, so I wasn’t too sure. There is a Magic Tower in the southern part of the Kien Empire, but it’s another department’s responsibility.

Nevertheless, what’s important now isn’t whether they have a personal intelligence department or not.

“Why on earth did the Magic Tower send a spy to a military research institute?”

The issue is that these bastards dare to attempt to infiltrate national assets, particularly a military-affiliated research institute.

“We don’t know the reason yet. We only know that the target of recruitment is Professor Bruno Fernan.”

“What kind of person is this Fernan?”

The team leader handed me a file. It contained personal cards.

“Bruno Fernan. Chief Researcher at the Biological Analysis Lab of the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute.”

Chief researcher, huh.

“A person with access to classified documents, so he’s worth recruiting. What was his previous occupation?”

“He was a professor at the university. Also… he’s been invited as a visiting professor at the Magic Tower.”

The Magic Tower.

“What kind of research does Professor Fernan conduct that would lead a spy to attempt his recruitment? Biology and the Magic Tower don’t seem particularly connected?”

“I don’t know about that either.”

The dispatch team leader shrugged. It seemed he himself wasn’t familiar with the institute’s internal matters.

At this point, I fell into thought.

Why on earth did the Magic Tower send a spy to a military research institute like this?

“…”

The Magic Tower is a monopolistic place for magic, and that’s precisely a confidential facility researching that magic.

Though one cannot easily guess the intentions of mages, it’s clear they’re targeting the research conducted here—be it regarding magic, magical tools, or something else.

The “classified materials” mentioned in the specifics are likely research documents from the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute.

In my espionage experience, it indicated their aim wasn’t merely to use the chief researcher as an informant but to attempt the recruitment itself. This should be viewed separately from the leaking of research materials.

I scrutinized the report carefully and suddenly noticed something strange.

“…Something feels off here.”

“What do you mean?”

The dispatch team leader looked at me with a puzzled face. I pointed out a specific sentence in the report.

“In the specifics, it says ‘failed to recruit Professor Fernan’?”

“…”

“Failing to recruit means that, at the very least, the spy must have attempted contact with him, right?”

The encrypted details had been sent out a week ago.

Once we received contact from the monitoring unit, the investigation department detained the employees and sealed off the research institute.

—

And throughout the past week, investigations on researchers continued.

But we knew nothing.

“Yet, we didn’t even know a spy contacted a chief researcher?”

The team leader removed his glasses and set them down on the desk, his expression neutral; he seemed annoyed.

“It could be one of two cases. One is that we haven’t investigated Chief Researcher Fernan yet, or the other…”

“…”

“Chief Researcher Fernan may have hidden the fact that he met with a spy.”

If the assumption made by the information agency dispatch team leader is indeed true, then this would be a massive incident.

Typically, we would label such a situation as follows:

Treason.