Episode 3 - A Fantastical Vacation
The investigation had entered its final stages. The team leader divided the investigators into three groups and assigned them tasks. Group 1 was interrogating Benoit Fernand, whom Geoda Bianchi had tried to recruit, while Group 2 had gone aboveground to search Bianchi's quarters in the residential wing. The most crucial was Group 3—my group—tasked with tailing and surveilling Geoda Bianchi. I was assisting with that.
It sounded like some super secretive, high-stakes mission, but in reality, it was just shadowing her like a lost puppy. Where she went, who she met, what they talked about, what she did all day. That was it. Simple enough on paper, but this op was far from easy. The target was a spy.
Whether full-time staff or recruits, anyone in this line of work had razor-sharp instincts. Paranoid as hell, they didn't trust easily. Once suspicious, they'd cling like a terrier or bolt like a rat. Some even fought back hard against agents—ramming cars to escape, hurling bricks, pulling kitchen knives, ambushing from alley corners. No shortage of agents getting injured on tails, carted off to the hospital. I'd seen threats against families, kidnappings, brutal murders, even agents betraying their country to save loved ones taken hostage.
No guarantee it wouldn't happen this time either. All we could do was hope.
"The proposed measures have been reviewed by upper command. Headquarters acknowledges the risks of magic. However, deploying a detachment risks civilian casualties during apprehension, so the request is denied."
"Arrest the suspect in compliance with investigative protocols. If they resist after full Miranda rights recitation, the on-site commander may authorize lethal force at their discretion."
Here's hoping nothing went wrong.
In intel work, the key was naturalness. Your movements, breathing, tone fluctuations, tremors, eye contact. Screw up even one, and the whole vibe turned awkward. So agents put massive effort into acting "normal" (or at least what passed for it). Tweaking speech patterns, watching vocab more than usual, holding eye contact but not over three seconds, echoing the target's pet phrases. Standard tricks for HUMINT collection, recruitment, close surveillance. Damn effective for people-handling, which was why plenty of ex-agents went into sales or HR after retiring.
Of course,
"Magic's fun and all, but using it too much builds up this fatigue."
"Yeah? You mean mental fatigue, right?"
"Exactly."
That technique was getting some play in counseling right now.
Camilla Lowell tilted her head, looking wiped out. Maybe from the blood draw and magic use afterward—her face was a bit pale. She rubbed her temples and gave a light smile.
"The researchers say it's from absorbing external mana and converting it to usable mana, but even hearing the explanation, I don't get it…."
"What part trips you up?"
"The absorbing external mana and converting it to usable mana bit."
Hmm. Honestly, I had no clue what "usable mana" even was. Not like I was a mage. This was the nightmare in conversations: picking a topic, then it veers into something you don't know or care about. But there were counters.
"Don't overthink it. Converting mana is like purifying polluted water. External mana is dirty water, internal is purified. Your body acts as the filter."
"Do you know the exact mechanism?"
"Nah, not a mage, so no idea. I'll ask my sister later and let you know."
Not sure if she knows either. But the point wasn't the science—it was distracting Camilla Lowell. Luckily, she reacted just as hoped.
"Sister…? You have a sister?"
"Younger sis four years down, and a brother one year older."
"Never heard you talk family before. First time."
"We're not that close."
"I get it."
She nodded knowingly, saying she had friends with crappy sibling vibes. Our family's fine, though. Minus Ayla the exam hermit getting teased by me and Jerry now and then, we kids got along okay. I just didn't go home much. Technically couldn't, not wouldn't.
Anyway, I didn't chime in, just sat quiet, nodding along.
"No one more precious than family, right?"
"What about me?"
…Huh? What'd she say? Thought I misheard, so I turned to Camilla Lowell. She stared back with big, sparkling eyes, waiting.
Wanted to ask why the sudden question, but my tongue had a mind of its own.
"Of course you're precious too, Camilla Lowell. As a colleague."
"……."
"…Camilla Lowell?"
No reply. She gave me this super subtle look for a long beat.
"……."
"……."
Awkward silence stretched. Was wondering if I'd said something rude when she finally spoke.
"Major."
"…Yeah."
"I've been wondering for a while—"
"Hero?"
Someone cut in. I whipped toward the voice; Camilla Lowell startled, stammering.
"Y-Yes…?"
"Time for the exam room."
"Oh…."
She hesitated at the researcher's words, glanced at me with clear regret, then nodded. The researcher caught the vibe, said they had time for more chat, but she politely declined and followed.
"S-See you later, Major!"
"…Uh, yeah. Sure."
She left with that awkward farewell. I stared at her retreating back, oblivious to my radio crackling.
*
Too bad, no time to puzzle her intent. The target had shown.
"Good morning, everyone. Back to your stations."
Geoda Bianchi swept in leading the researchers, instantly owning the room and directing the exam like a boss. No one pushed back or looked sour. With the head honchos all detained, she was the top dog in bio now. Sure, other seniors existed, but per Military Intelligence, none matched her—government-funded abroad study and all. Precisely, their dossier analysis said so.
Dossier materials. Docs where intel agencies cram every scrap on key figures across society. In Korea, IOs from NIS, DCM, cops, prosecutors churn them out—president's cheat sheet for cabinet picks. Sure, they drew media heat, but election season demand kept them alive post-civilian rule. That's for brass reporting to the prez. For grunts like me, dossiers meant practical intel for counterintel, ops, collection, tails. The data that ID'd our suspect last time? Dossiers. Same for Bianchi's activity logs from allied agencies.
"Senior Bianchi, test subject ready."
"Release restraints, station emergency crew inside the exam room."
"But the scan data…."
"Safety first. Max safety. Got it?"
Lots of talk about her Magic Tower days, but everyone agreed: skills on point. Question was, why'd a talent like her turn spy….
"Senior Researcher Bianchi?"
"Yes? Something wrong?"
Time to find out.
"Everything going smoothly?"
*
"…Emergency. Emergency. Summon the lead investigator NOW. Human body found in residential wing. Repeat: Human body discovered in suspect's third-floor quarters."