Episode 3 - A Fantastical Vacation
As the investigators began to move into position, the operation kicked off. There were at least five agents in the field, each covering blind spots without a single gap, holding the spy squarely in their sights from positions perfect for charging out and blocking any escape route at a moment's notice. It felt like staring at a finely crafted chessboard. The way they surveilled without tipping anyone off made it clear they all had solid field experience.
"Coffee?"
"No, I'll have black tea."
"Black tea's great. And you, Major?"
"Coffee's fine."
I replied flatly.
"How much sugar?"
"None. I don't like it sweet."
Geoda Bianchi handed over the cup with the air of someone offering freshly brewed coffee made by hand. I took a sip, slowly turning things over in my mind. So far, no major issues. Geoda Bianchi hadn't noticed the surveillance, just offered coffee to Camilla Lowell and me without any suspicious behavior. Everything was perfect—except for the investigators who'd gone topside and still hadn't come back down. That was the crucial part, but with no way to reach them, I had no clue where the team lead was exactly.
Which meant arresting Geoda Bianchi right here was off the table. Sure, if she were your average spy, maybe. But taking down a mage in the heart of a research institute packed with civilians using just five people? That'd be suicide. Probably less collateral damage fighting an armed spy in downtown Seoul.
Anyway, I couldn't grab her right now.
"……."
I had to buy time.
Dealing with people is damn tough. Trying to deceive them instead of treating them normally? Even harder. But do anything as a job for a few years, repeating it over and over, and it becomes second nature. Intelligence agents lie for a living whether they like it or not, and for someone like me drawing a paycheck from the agency, backstabbing folks was a walk in the park.
So I bared my teeth—in a smile, that is.
"…So, you're developing pharmaceuticals, right?"
"Yes. I'm researching drugs for treating casualties in combat."
"Impressive."
With all the intel on her memorized, this was child's play.
"Where does tech like that even come from?"
"Six years ago, the Magic Tower came out with the foundational tech. I got involved in some research while studying abroad there—worked with alchemists on neurotransmitter regulators, immune modulators, and glial cell-based drugs to replace traditional potions and healing spells. We've built on that foundation since…."
Of course, I couldn't drag this out for hours, but the knowledge rattling around in my head ought to buy at least ten minutes. I kept firing questions about the project Geoda Bianchi was heading up. Made it easy by bullshitting that a senior from my army days was involved in a Defense Ministry medical system overhaul.
"So, is the goal enhancing physical functions? Or wound regeneration?"
Half right, half wrong. Yeah, I knew someone in the medical overhaul, but I left out that he was the Counterintelligence Bureau chief at Military Intelligence, running ops to crush industrial spies.
Anyway, Geoda Bianchi didn't suspect a thing. I'd just float a hint, and she'd light up, rambling on endlessly. Exactly as expected. Spy or not, at her core she was a scholar, a researcher. Folks like that get itchy mouths whenever nationality or race comes up and someone bites on their field of expertise.
"Enhancing physical functions is secondary. We're focusing on wound regeneration first. Once that progresses, we'll move to functional enhancements, and ultimately aim for complex physiological regulation to aid fatigue recovery—eventually overcoming battlefield stress altogether."
"Could it be administered to non-injured subjects too?"
"That's classified, so I can't really say… but no, we're not researching that angle."
Hilarious hearing a spy whine about security, but hey, she was prison-bound anyway. Whatever.
Geoda Bianchi started spilling more on the drugs under development at the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute. As time ticked by, the conversation veered into territory too dense for my lit double-major brain to keep up. But ten minutes passed, researchers trickled into the cafeteria, and still no sign of the investigators. My meager knowledge hit its limit fast, leaving the chat teetering on the edge of awkward silence.
But like always, I found the answer.
"Oh yeah, you studied abroad at the Magic Tower, right?"
The next stop being the Magic Tower was an open secret. The Imperial Guard had muscled past the Foreign Ministry to the negotiating table to clean up after some radicals' fuckup, requesting it directly. We'd slapped an embargo on Defense and Foreign Ministry press corps, but with subscription and sales zombies liable to ignore it, we'd tipped off only trusted big-league reporters with solid creds.
Of course, even with correspondents embedded everywhere, plenty of outlets hadn't heard and were peddling rumors. But the institute had all external comms cut for 'security reasons,' so most staff hadn't even seen the gossip.
Bottom line: next stop Magic Tower was need-to-know. Official presser soon, but still classified for now.
"The Magic Tower?"
"Yeah."
Classified info isn't just movie-style top-secret docs. Personal stuff like family ties, associates, interests, hobbies, likes, dislikes—it can all be gold. In the hands of a skilled analyst, it turns into versatile intel.
"Oh, yeah, I did study there… but why do you ask?"
The Magic Tower leads civilized society. Persecuted for ages by the Inquisition, civilization's bedrock was still science (magic only systematized as an academic discipline a century ago). But post-war, the Tower's rise kicked off the age of magic. Mages rallied around it, venturing into every societal sector to vent pent-up urges, revealing a hunger for knowledge unmatched by any group on the continent.
Lust for knowledge? Revenge on the Church? Intellectual vanity? Who knows. Probably not even them.
Doesn't matter. What's key is their thirst for knowledge blows past normal imagination.
Would types like that just sit on Camilla Lowell from another world, a certified Hero and mage? Hell no. The Tower already sent an unofficial note via our Foreign Ministry begging for a peek at her face. I handled that memo myself while at the Church.
Mages won't back off at a glance, obviously.
Anyway, the Tower's waiting for Camilla, and the Empire—self-proclaimed patrons—proposed it as the next stop in an off-the-books intel summit. Pure high-level chatter, so the Tower's clueless. They're twiddling thumbs, unaware their demands got through diplomatic channels and inter-agency powwows.
"Gonna have to swing by the Magic Tower soon. Circumstances being what they are."
"Ah…."
I was dead certain a Tower spy would bite that bait. And Geoda Bianchi proved me right.
"Got it. What exactly are you curious about?"
She beamed, thinking she'd hooked a real lead. I sighed in relief, time bought.
Just like that, the time-killing chatter chained on—until commotion erupted at the distant entrance.
Researchers heading to the cafeteria scattered like the Red Sea. What the hell? I turned to look, and amid the white coats, ill-fitting suits and military uniforms stood out.
"Huh?"
They were armed. Guns drawn.
What the fuck.