Episode 5 - Journalists, Diplomats, Soldiers, Spies: A Dizzying Blur
A slight fever. My mind foggy. Muffled voices drift through the haze. A low, resonant baritone.
"…Good work."
Blurry vision, like peering through fog. The executive director gazes at me from between my hazy eyes.
"How was the trip? I heard the situation on the ground was pretty bad."
TV news bleeds into his reply.
"Yeah?"
The executive sinks into his chair. It creaks in protest. Screeech.
"Damn it. I told them to oil this thing… Anyway, they won't even replace the furniture properly when HQ moves. What a joke…"
He spits curses in a irritated tone.
"Anyway, you're sure this trip went off without a hitch? We can't have rumors like that Hanoi mess last time."
Well, I'd handled it, of course.
"Anything else now that you're back from the trip?"
"Thinking of swinging by Cheonggyesan on the way down south to my hometown."
"Cheonggyesan? …Ah. Visiting your dad, huh. Yeah, you should check in on him now and then. Such a dutiful son."
An awkward silence followed those words. The TV news wove into it, creating a strange tension.
Ahem. A booming fake cough shattered the quiet as the TV went silent.
"How much time left on your promotion review? Major, first round."
"About three years, sir."
"That so? Hmm… Your family's from Chungcheong, right?"
"Grandpa's from there. I'm a pure Gyeonggi native."
"Huh. Well then… Do me a little favor on your way home."
He sets down the remote and hands me a binder. A roster. Hamgyongbuk-do, Chongjin City; Jagang-do, Rangnim County; Pyonganbuk-do, Sinuiju…
Hamgyongbuk-do: Chongjin City
Jagang-do: Rangnim County
Pyonganbuk-do: Sinuiju
"In principle, the Unification Ministry handles defectors, but you know some are managed out of my old spots in Myeong-dong and Sogyeok-dong. Our company's the same."
He taps the corner of the list.
"From here to here. Swing by on your vacation and check 'em out."
"Mind if I ask why, sir?"
"Why ask when you already know everything?"
Click. He lights his cigarette.
"Fwooo."
Smoke fills the room.
"Meet up, grab a coffee. Chat 'em up. If they need something, treat it like a loss and hand it over. Most intel's on the company server—cross-reference it. Solve with money if you can. Broker a call with their family too, yeah? You get it?"
"Will that really work?"
"What choice do we have? Can't infiltrate across the DMZ or NLL like back in '08."
He swivels his chair, waving me off. I grab the binder, salute, and leave.
As I turn the doorknob—
"Major."
A voice calls through the stuffy haze in my ears.
"Major!"
"Eeeeek…!"
"Shit, you scared me!"
Episode 5 - Journalists, Diplomats, Soldiers, Spies
Double curse words the second my eyes snapped open. I'd clearly been in the office with the executive, but now I was in a swanky hotel room.
I try to sit up and look around—pain like a knife stab hits me.
"Agh…!"
"Lie still!"
"Ow ow ow…!"
While rolling on the bed clutching my shoulder, the gauze under my fingertips reminds me why I'm here.
One: To blackmail Fabio Verati, I'd booked this hotel under my name and guided him here. In case of failure, listening gear was set up next door for playback. That room was under a fake name, naturally.
Two: Midway through talking to Fabio Verati, intruders burst in. Kien-speaking thugs. Three at first. Five total with the two who joined later.
Three: Armed with guns, I fought a shootout. Tried to drop them before they fired, but their response was faster than expected—stalemate for a bit. Outnumbered, but I used a rune stone as a fire extinguisher and smoked 'em all.
Four: Magic Tower cops arrived after the fire alarm. Sent Fabio down first, retrieved the tape from next door, then torched my room to erase evidence. Unretrieved gear went in the pipe chase.
Five: Hit the pharmacy for meds, returned to the hotel. Hospital records are a risk, so I did DIY first aid. Bullet out, burn cream, antibiotics, IV… Everything I could.
Then contacted everyone reachable: Clevins, Military Intelligence, defense attaché office, 73rd Project Group staff, Pippin and Jake.
Thinking that far, I recall Jake saying:
"What the hell happened?! You said you were meeting 51!"
"Right…!"
"Sir?!"
"Got shot, you little shit…!"
After rolling on the bed awhile, I finally calm down and check the wound. Blood's stopped—didn't reopen. Still hurts like hell, but I swallow a painkiller from the bedside table. Heart settles a bit.
Waiting for it to kick in, I sit up and eye Pippin and Jake.
"Why're you guys here?"
Pippin explains.
"You got shot!"
"How'd you know?"
"You texted!"
Did I? Racking my brain… Yeah, I think I messaged them. Hazy memory. Amnesia? Early dementia? I'm seriously pondering when Jake rummages the envelope.
"Weren't you meeting 51 today? Why'd you come back shot?"
"Dunno. Intel must've leaked."
"Leaked?!"
Pippin and Jake freak.
"Intel leaked?!"
"Who? Why? Where?"
"Not Magic Tower security, right?"
"Head's pounding—slow down, you two."
I sit the hysterics down and start from the hotel encounter with the thugs—skipping the initial Fabio meet. Not much to tell, really. Thugs raided the safehouse, brief standoff, wiped 'em, bailed before cops. Simple summary.
Story's short and sweet. Implications? Not so much.
"Imperial Army? Recon Command…?"
"Beats me. Not sure it's them. Just circumstantial."
"They ID you?"
"Nah. …Probably."
One: Where'd the raiders come from?
"You check the bodies?"
"No time for biometrics. Teeth, ears, prints—all torched."
"…So the cops have 'em now?"
"Likely."
"…Diplomatic immunity cover it?"
"No clue."
Two: How will Tower cops and counterintel react?
"…What now?"
Three: What's next?
"……."
"……."
"……."
Too much to process—we're all buffering. No clue which way it'll break. Brass might scrap the op for safety, halt for investigation, Tower could blacklist and deport me. Tomorrow? Cops knocking. Or assassins for revenge.
Who knows.
"Report first, then…"
"Done."
"So now?"
"Wait for guidance. Tell staff to stay low."
I grab the thermometer from Jake's envelope. Infection's no joke. Antibiotics help, but no proper healer—could go bad anytime.
"Fever's normal. What time?"
"22:37. You okay?"
"Shot? Peachy. Can move, just take it easy."
Pippin nods.
"Rest up. We'll tidy and ping staff."
"Use regular channels, not emergency net. Not that level."
"This ain't emergency?!"
I shrug, crack a water bottle. Gulp—then pause on a weird thought.
"Hey. How'd you get in? Should've been locked."
Jake, sorting meds: "It was open."
"…Door unlocked?"
"Yeah. Forgot?"
They tidy fast. I mull it, tilting my head.
"…Maybe?"
Too hectic, probably forgot.
"Hello?"
— "Defense Attaché Intelligence Analysis from the delegation, sir. Can you come down to the hotel front now?"