Drawn into the Shadows
“What...? The Intelligence Agency?”
The Intelligence Agency.
It wasn't an organization from his memories, but just the name alone gave him a pretty good idea.
In Korea, it'd be like the NIS.
Even a stray dog passing by could tell it was far more dangerous than some coastal guard battalion.
“That's right. It's where you'll be working from now on. Make sure you don't cause any trouble.”
The tone was as if he were bestowing some great favor.
Palan was so dumbfounded his nape cramped up.
“Excuse me, sir, but as I mentioned earlier, my assignment is to the Eastern Coastal Guard Battalion.”
This was basically like telling someone who'd gotten into Seoul National University to attend some school on Baengnyeong Island.
This had to be fraud. Straight-up fraud.
Do I look crazy enough to go along with this?
He wanted to rip off his rank insignia and throw a punch, but looking at the guy's build, defeat was a sure thing.
“Commander, what am I supposed to do with a punk like this?”
“Oh dear, our Lieutenant Oclo. What's the matter?”
As the atmosphere turned downright hostile, Brigadier General Cels broke out in a cold sweat and intervened.
“Commander, what was the point of the two weeks I spent on this?”
Someone might say a lowly lieutenant couldn't snap at a brigadier general like that.
But he wasn't just any lowly lieutenant.
If they discharged him for insubordination, he'd actually be grateful—and when it came to status, he didn't exactly come up short.
“I know. I get it. But do you think you'd have gotten off scot-free if you'd honestly told them you picked the east because you were scared of the front lines?”
“I understand that much.”
He was grateful for the quick thinking back then.
But the Intelligence Agency? That was insane.
“Even now, the only way to gloss over that situation was with an Intelligence Agency posting that requires secrecy.”
“Even so... isn't there any other option?”
“Can you handle His Majesty finding out you went somewhere else?”
Did these old fogeys take classes on how to talk?
From the emperor on down, not a single gap in their armor.
If it got out, yeah, I couldn't handle the fallout.
In the worst case, lèse-majesté could mean beheading.
“You think we're gonna give a lieutenant some big mission? Just run a few errands for a couple months. By the time the next class commissions, I'll pull you out.”
A sweet offer that seemed like his only way out.
He knew instinctively he shouldn't accept, but he had no choice but to nod.
“You promise?”
“Of course. Just tough it out for a few months, and we'll both get by.”
After confirming with Brigadier General Cels, he turned back to Captain Eden.
Sigh. But thinking about it, I kinda painted the Intelligence Agency like hell in front of my superior.
It felt a bit awkward, but there was no sign of offense.
Weird. Normally, you'd get pissed if someone trashed your organization like that.
There were usually two types in cases like this.
Either no love for the organization, or it really was hell.
Personally, he figured the latter was more likely.
“If we're done talking, I'll take him.”
“Sure. See you next time.”
“I'll do my best.”
Eden bowed his head in salute and headed out first.
“Uh... I'll be going now. Loyalty!”
He'd forgotten on the way in, but at least he saluted on the way out.
Then he followed Eden outside.
“Name: Palan Oclo. Age: 19.”
The man, with a cigarette in his mouth, suddenly started reciting his personal details.
“What the hell?”
“Family succession ranking: dead last. But with the eldest and second refusing to enlist, you were forcibly drafted—and promised the heir position in return.”
The endless stream of private info sent a chill down his spine.
“Whew. Unlike outside, you've shown exemplary conduct since enlisting. Anything I said wrong so far?”
He exhaled cigarette smoke as he spoke, the harsh scent wrinkling Palan's nose.
“Nothing wrong. But does the Intelligence Agency background-check even the youngest son of a count's family?”
“We investigated trading companies supplying military goods, and the Oclo family came up. Your enlistment info came with it, as a bonus. Though I didn't expect to use it like this.”
“I see. But how'd you know about the heir promise? That was a private family talk.”
“Tems Oclo? Word is he blabs about it every time he hits a tavern. Along with hoping you'd die on the front lines.”
That motherfucker.
He'd suspected as much, but hearing it straight hit different.
“Nobles, honestly. All over a damn title.”
Eden shook his head, tossed the butt on the ground, and ground it underfoot.
“You can just toss trash like that?”
“Considering what I do for the empire, this is nothing. As your superior, I'm granting you three days' leave starting today—two nights.”
Eden turned, locking eyes with him.
“Spend that time with family, friends, enemies, whoever. Then come to the place written here.”
Eden pulled a paper from his pocket, jotted an address with a pen, and handed it over.
13th Street, Arbvion Tavern.
He'd expected Intelligence Agency HQ, so his head tilted.
“What's this place?”
“You'll find out when you get there. I've got a schedule, so I'm off. Rest up during your leave.”
As he donned his hat to leave, Eden glanced back.
“Oh, and if anyone asks about your posting from now on, say 3rd Division.”
“Pardon...? What the—”
The absurd words made him reach out, but Eden vanished like the wind in a blink.
“Eastern Coastal Guard Battalion! How did it end up like this?!”
He screamed at his hopelessly tangled military life, but passersby just gave him weird looks—nothing changed.
“Son, eat up. You'll be suffering again soon.”
“Yes...”
Home after so long.
He'd thought graduation meant blissful rest, but no such luck.
Sigh. Vacations are for emptying the mind, but...
His head knew that, but his military life was so royally fucked it was hard.
“You're heading west, right?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Tems, across the table, smirked at his answer.
Motherfucker.
He was surely still hoping Palan would die out there.
After hearing the truth from Eden, he looks even more repulsive.
His disgust, already high, had maxed out.
Need to deal with that mug somehow. Any ideas?
Unfortunately, with only two days before leaving again, options were slim.
Wait till discharge. I'll make sure you leave the house without a penny.
He'd teach him what poverty really meant.
“I'm proud and impressed you chose the west despite that top ranking. That's how the next Oclo family head should be.”
Broad sliced meat contentedly.
The vibe screamed heir apparent, no question.
His eldest brother gripped his fork so hard it bent—glorious.
“Heading out the day after tomorrow?”
“Yes, sir.”
“No restrictions—party hard, buy whatever you need. I'll send a carriage too.”
A father who spent big when he wanted.
“Thank you.”
After the harmonious family meal, he headed for his room but changed his mind and left the mansion.
Night air's chilly.
Just yesterday—no, this morning—he'd been confined to limited spaces and moves. Sudden freedom felt alien.
Time to have some fun.
What was a real man?
Someone who worked when it was time and went full lunatic party mode when playing.
“Hey, more booze!”
“You know marches? 100 klicks nonstop for three days straight...”
The noble play district was packed with fresh grads like him, golden boys filling the taverns.
Fuck, a sausage fest?
He'd hoped for pretty noble ladies, but this? Hell.
And the real problem?
These demons from hell recognized his face.
“Hey! Isn't this our battalion rep candidate? You here to party too?”
A high-end wine bar, yet these two dudes approached like sketchy uncles.
“Yeah, to party, but...”
Not with you guys.
Two weeks of dude-life was plenty.
“No crew? Join us for a drink. I survived thanks to our rep candidate. Here, have some.”
The flushed guy poured and offered a glass of wine.
Sigh, free booze?
Even infinite wallet couldn't kill his pleb mindset—he couldn't pass up free.
“If you're offering, gladly.”
He downed it like beer. Flavor exploded.
What is this? Actual wine?
Worlds apart from convenience store swill.
Aroma, mouthfeel, finish. Art.
“Like it? Castle vintage—top-shelf. Another!”
He refilled the empty glass like an angel.
Castle? That's Crush El Castle's family.
He'd heard they bragged about their wine, but damn. Had to get buddy-buddy now.
“Ahh, delicious. Thanks.”
Not drunk yet, but mood lifted.
“One more?”
“This stuff looks pricey. You sure it's okay for me to freeload?”
“Psh, what's a little cost? Thanks to our instructor, I dodged the west for the south. This ain't enough. Full course on me tonight!”
The guy's joy stabbed Palan's heart.
Shit, I just did a solid for someone else.
He should've celebrated with his coastal guard bros, but couldn't.
“Got plans, so gotta bounce. Sorry.”
“Huh? Not sticking around?”
“Next time.”
Unable to stomach the envy, he bolted.
Just grab some novels and head home.
That fit his situation.