I Came to Make a Deal (5)
Information Director Melanie Lacroix.
The woman who had succeeded Cartion Grayson as Minister of Foreign Affairs and now led the Intelligence Department.
She was also a member of the lamia clan, half-human, half-serpent, native to the western marshlands.
There was a bit of history between us.
"It's been two years since we last met in person. I trust you've been keeping well."
- Of course. I've been fine. And you, honey?
Her honeyed voice drifted through from beyond the crystal orb.
But the serpentine eyes showed no trace of a smile.
Amid that uncanny dissonance, I answered.
"Same as always. That's the life of a civil servant, isn't it?"
- Liar.
She cut in sharply.
- The Saintess filed a Temporary Asylum request with the Immigration Office. How exactly is that 'same as always'?
My words caught in my throat.
Only the Minister and the Director of the Immigration Office were supposed to know about that.
"You... knew about it?"
- Busy as the Intelligence Department is, we still know the broad strokes. There's no way in hell I'd miss something like an emergency administrative measure.
It had only been two or three days.
I'd assumed it would take longer for the news to spread through the Royal Castle.
Melanie narrowed her eyes at my frozen expression.
- So that's why you came to me with a face that grim. Don't tell me another evil spirit's thrown a tantrum at the border?
How did she know about that, too?
"...It's far worse than that."
I gave her a concise rundown of the current situation.
She had been drumming her fingernail against her desk, but the moment my account reached the Evil God Cult, her hand went still.
"I can see that the cult is behind it. But that's where the trail goes cold..."
- Hmm... so it wasn't a shapeshifter, it was a changeling.
She merely murmured to herself with a faint nasal hum.
Otherwise, Melanie gave no reaction at all.
"We can't even identify who or where that changeling is."
That was the limit of what the Immigration Office could manage on its own.
With time and circumstances both pressing in, I had squeezed out every scrap I could and laid it all on the table.
After a short silence, she finally spoke.
- Black Hand.
"Pardon?"
- There's an assassination guild operating out of the north. Notorious for doing absolutely anything for money. With exactly one exception — unless the target is a person of near-regal standing.
Her amber eyes rolled about for a moment.
It was a habit of hers, sifting through the information stored in her head.
- Their undermaster is said to be rather peculiar. Rumor has it the figure possesses a thousand faces.
A thousand faces.
That could only be a reference to a changeling's trait.
- Interesting. It fits the person you're describing perfectly.
"..."
- Someone of that caliber — the cult must have approached them first. Promising them a meeting with their own kind, the deepest longing of a changeling's race.
"But wouldn't the Black Hand refuse, then? The Saintess is of near-regal standing, after all."
- True — the Black Hand generally won't touch a Saintess. But if the undermaster acted entirely on their own initiative, that's another story.
In an instant, Melanie was articulating everything we knew — and more.
Watching her, my certainty hardened.
'She really did know everything already.'
Give her the barest thread of a clue, and she would unravel cause and consequence down to the finest detail through her vast web of intelligence.
Which meant she surely knew a fair amount about the Evil God Cult as well.
I moved straight to the point.
"I've heard the Intelligence Department is investigating the cult's activities in the north. That information is desperately needed right now."
At my words, Melanie's face flickered, momentarily flustered.
- ...That's classified. Where on earth did you hear that?
"The Minister told me."
- Ah, for heaven's sake. He said it to protect you at the trial, didn't he.
She let out a long, deep sigh.
- Haah, our Minister. Still spoiling his favorite child rotten — liver, gallbladder, the whole works.
She nodded, then continued.
- Yes, our agents are investigating the cult's activities in the north right now. And we've made considerable progress. Not everything, but still.
My fist quietly clenched.
At last, we had a path forward.
"What I'm requesting is the Intelligence Department's information on the Evil God Cult, along with their personnel records."
With the Department's cooperation, we could prepare thorough countermeasures against them on our end as well.
"If only to prevent future acts of terror like this one, that information is essential. I ask for your cooperation."
But her answer was nothing I could have anticipated.
- Not with your bare hands, I'm afraid.
"...I beg your pardon?"
The lamia's sharp eyes fixed on me.
- This is as far as the goodwill of our department toward the Immigration Office extends. Not one step further.
"Wh-what on earth do you mean?"
I was thrown off balance.
The Intelligence Department was refusing a request for cooperation?
A request from the Immigration Office — an agency under its own parent ministry, Foreign Affairs, no less?
It was unprecedented.
"Please give me a reason, at least. Is it classified intelligence that cannot be released? Or— or have you received separate instructions?"
Melanie held her silence for a while.
Then she spoke with the utmost seriousness.
- When our department tried to recruit you, you turned us down. Remember?
"...Pardon?"
Had I misheard her?
"...You can't— you can't possibly be doing this because I chose to become an immigration officer instead of joining the Intelligence Department?"
All the strength drained out of me.
That had been four years ago.
When my Latent Talent Manifestation occurred, the Intelligence Department had courted me aggressively.
And not just them — the Foreign Service and the Immigration Office had all tried to snatch me up at the same time.
'My choice was the Immigration Office, of course.'
Was she still nursing a grudge over that, all these years later?
But she shook her head and added one more thing.
- Besides that, you also refused when I came to see you personally.
Melanie had never once been shy about airing her private life.
- Come now, honey. In this line of work, you're a corpse without a reputation.
"..."
- I swallowed my pride and asked you outright, you know. Do you have any idea how humiliated I was when you rejected me?
"D-Director, that was..."
Before I knew it, I was glancing around the room.
Fortunately, no one was nearby, but even so, I dropped my voice to a whisper.
"That is... at the time, I wasn't in any position to..."
How on earth was I supposed to put this?
"Ever since I became Central Officer, I've barely had a moment to myself, so..."
- Pfft.
She suddenly burst out laughing.
- So you can make a face like that, too. You've really changed since the old days.
Melanie swayed her tail contentedly, like someone who'd thoroughly enjoyed the show.
- I'm teasing you. That's not the reason.
"Then why, may I ask?"
- Information is a commodity of considerable value. All the more so when it concerns an organization on par with a secret society. However much of a partner agency we may be, I can't simply hand it over for nothing.
The value of information.
It could be worth more than ten million gold, or as common as the pebbles scattered on a roadside.
Strategic enough to overturn a losing battle in a single stroke, yet at the same time so universal that anyone could possess it.
The Intelligence Department was the agency that sifted through and collected tens of thousands of such materials.
And classified-grade intel on the Evil God Cult, in particular, was as fine a high-value commodity as she claimed.
- You do know where I came from, don't you?
"...Yes. You were an information broker of the underworld."
Melanie had never been someone destined for statecraft from the start.
She had operated far, far deeper in the shadows than that.
An underworld information broker, and a rather famous one at that.
'The Minister scouted her personally, in fact.'
Because Cartion Grayson had recruited her directly back during his own tenure as Intelligence Director, our kingdom's intelligence network had expanded enormously — or so I'd heard.
She spoke.
- The Intelligence Department is no different. I'll cooperate, yes — but I won't give away everything. That devalues the information, and risks exposing my sources.
Utterly merchantlike reasoning.
In other words, from Melanie's perspective, this situation was not a duty to be fulfilled but a venture undertaken at risk.
She laced her fingers together and slowly leaned forward, fixing me with her gaze.
- Do you have any idea how many precious agents we've lost because other agencies mishandled classified information so carelessly? The idiocy the Foreign Service alone has squandered is beyond counting.
"But nothing of the sort has ever happened to the Immigration Office. You can trust us."
- Honey.
She spoke low and quiet.
- Do you remember what you said to me after the mana rampage incident?
"..."
Struck square in a sore spot.
At the same time, words I'd spoken years ago came clawing back from memory.
"I require information on every criminal organization in the South. From the leadership down to the lowliest errand runners. Every last one of them, without a single omission."
After the incident as the Sight Officer, I had made a vow.
In the South, at the very least, I would tear every criminal organization out by the roots, leaving nothing behind.
'And for that, the Intelligence Department's cooperation was indispensable.'
Melanie especially, coming from the underworld herself, knew virtually everything — a perfect fit on every count.
- That day, one-third of my informants across the underworld were wiped out. You're one of the people who hit me the hardest, honey.
"It was something that had to be done. They were a festering abscess."
- The state needs people willing to do its dirty work. But not everything called evil deserves to be wiped out of existence, honey.
At those words, I understood all over again why I could never have joined Melanie.
We were simply too different.
From the way we saw the world, to the way we faced it.
Even had I become an Intelligence agent instead of an immigration officer, the relationship surely wouldn't have lasted long.
- Personally? I want to help you. Officially, I can't. Not for free, at least.
A cool voice flowed out from the crystal orb.
- If you want something, pay the price that befits it. That's my condition.
What she was offering me was one thing and one thing only.
A deal.
Negotiation, conducted in the pure form of a merchant.
"...What is it you want, then."
- There we go. Now we're speaking the same language. I was starting to think you'd forgotten where you came from.
With a satisfied smile, she said:
- Let me think. What would be a fitting price to demand from a talent like you?
"Anything is fine, so long as it isn't a private meeting."
- ...Hmph.
Melanie snorted, then pulled one extraordinarily thick volume from her shelf and spread it open before the orb.
- This is a collection of coded messages our agents have failed to crack over the past year. I'll send it to you — decipher it within a week.
Across the open pages sprawled a dizzying script unlike any language I had ever seen.
One line among them caught my eye.
Silrur Iktakhin Deera Marivektas.
'That's not any language I know.'
However far I searched my memory, I had never seen such a jumbled jumble of letters.
"Hm..."
I focused my mind and studied the passage for a moment.
Then the letters began to shift, bit by bit.
"The serpent's cub that sleeps in the red mountain dreams of eternal flame."
It was unquestionably a foreign tongue, yet before my eyes it rendered itself into the common language — so familiar to me.
"A dual-layer cipher. Even if one deciphers it, the words within each sentence carry hidden metaphorical meanings."
- You've already cracked it? Didn't even take you a minute.
Melanie smiled with satisfaction, as if it were exactly what she'd expected.
"So long as a system exists, any language can be translated."
My Latent Talent Manifestation was a simple one.
I could understand, speak, and write every language in the world.
Which meant ciphers built upon rare or extinct racial tongues — like this one — could be broken on the spot.
"But the meanings hidden inside them, I'm afraid this official would struggle to grasp."
My weakness was precisely this kind of metaphorical phrasing.
- Ah, don't worry about that. Just translate the language. Once it's rendered into the common tongue, the rest is our job.
Not a bad proposition.
If all I had to do was translate, I could finish in three days, not a week.
All I needed to do was read straight through and transcribe.
- The metaphorical decryption is our burden anyway. You only have to handle that one part.
There was no reason to refuse.
"Very well. I gladly accept."
- Excellent.
Dramatically, our interests had aligned.
The best possible outcome — each of us obtaining what we wanted.
- Oh, and when you come to the Royal Castle, drop by the Intelligence Department sometime.
"..."
- Say the word whenever you want to come under me. The seat's still empty.
I had refused a private meeting, and already she couldn't help slipping in another veiled proposal.
I deftly turned her down with a soft change of subject.
"Director Hailin of the Immigration Office would be furious if I did."
- What could that dusty, sand-guzzling desert hag possibly do to you? A woman with such a grotesquely odd way of talking, at that.
Her tone turned venomous in an instant.
Ever since I'd begun working at the Immigration Office, Melanie had developed a strange hostility toward Hailin, for reasons I couldn't fathom.
'Must be my imagination.'
I forced my smile to hold.
"Ahaha... Well then, shall we discuss what I'll be receiving?"
- The information you need is on the Evil God Cult and their personnel. And records of any individuals bearing the name 'Hattensil'. Correct?
"Correct."
- Good. But I can't simply tell you this verbally.
"I understand."
High-value intelligence was never conveyed by spoken word.
There was always the possibility of eavesdropping — of someone intercepting the crystal orb's signal.
- I'll encrypt the materials and send them through the Royal Post. Someone with your talents will crack the code in one pass, so no trouble there.
"Clean and simple. Thank you for your cooperation, Director."
- Not cooperation. A transaction.
True to her former life as an underworld broker, she rapped the table twice with her knuckle — the signal that a deal was closed.
It was a gesture used even at the Merchant Academy to seal a trade.
A courtesy that recognized my origins, and displayed the proper form that matched them.
Not a single gap in her conduct.
I, too, allowed myself a faint smile and tapped the desk in return.
"A most satisfying transaction."
Just as I reached out to touch the crystal orb—
- Be careful, honey.
Melanie spoke again.
"Yes?"
As I turned my head, the lamia's pale tail swayed uneasily.
- The Little Beast stirring awake is by no means a good omen. Especially not while his gaze is fixed on you. The Royal Proxy will resume his activities soon.
"..."
- This one's free, so don't dwell on it.
There was no need to ask whom she meant.
There was only one Little Beast in this entire kingdom.
King Leo Castor.
'He's been quiet since the trial... and now he's watching me?'
Not welcome news at all.
'And the King's Proxy, that means...'
Incansus Vermotem.
I remembered the dragonewt who had once visited the Immigration Office.
His resuming activity meant that the King — or the Queen — had issued a directive.
'This is intelligence about the Royal Castle itself. Something I should never be hearing.'
And she had given it away for free, as casually as a passing remark.
This was, without question, an act of goodwill from Melanie.
"Thank you, Direct— Melanie."
- It's been a while since you called me that.
After so very long, I had addressed her by her name rather than her title.
- Don't try to do everything alone like some fool.
The merchant's face fell away, leaving behind the face of a woman.
- People like you are... rare, after all.
She showed me a smile laced with complicated feeling.
- Ending transmission.
And with that, the serpent's visage vanished from the orb.
"Whew..."
With a sigh of relief, I leaned back into my chair.
"Somehow, it all worked out in the end."
We had secured intelligence on the Evil God Cult.
And Erzena's security had been reinforced once more.
'Everything we can do on our end, we've done.'
As the Immigration Office, and as an officer, I had taken every measure available.
All that remained now was to wait for the Intelligence Department's response — and the Director's.
And then—
- BANG.
The Smell Officer flung open the meeting room door, his face drained white.
"C-Central Officer, sir!"
Just when I thought I might finally rest.
"...Smell Officer. What is it."
"You need to come see outside. Now."
What on earth now?
I dragged my heavy body toward the window.
And there, in the far distance, something familiar came into view.
"Oh, damn it all."
A banner emblazoned with a rose emblem.
Erzena, who had followed the Smell Officer in, and the other Five Senses Officers, gathered at my side and gazed out at the scene beyond the glass.
She murmured, her voice trembling with a tangle of every emotion at once.
"The pilgrimage..."
Those who had been denied their grand design of a Holy Temple were turning back toward the South.