The Cake Is Not a Lie (2)
“...I’ve told you more than once not to call me ‘princess.’”
“Even if it makes you dislike it, you don’t look particularly bothered by it.”
“That’s because if I dislike it, there’s nothing I can do on this side as long as you, Irene Ronska, don’t change.”
“If I get angry, it changes nothing anyway, so I might as well not bother to get angry. Wise of you.”
“...Are you mocking me?”
The reason I had to call Chiyoko Tokugawa, the secretary to the Emperor, “princess” so many times was not really mockery at all.
Rather, it was to make her aware of her own irredeemable origin.
To keep reminding her that no matter how much she accepted communism and worked for the revolution, she was still a member of the privileged class.
To remind her that, no matter how much she claimed to stand for the workers and the people, she could never become like them.
In other words, “Take responsibility for your position.”
When such a fractured reality took root, echoes were bound to return—whether in a positive or negative direction.
Well, if Chiyoko Tokugawa was truly working for the people, she could resolve her own contradictions somehow.
That was the very nature of communism—to overcome such contradictions.
“It’s not mockery. Then perhaps I should tell you something from my side as well?”
“...What is this?”
“As you know, Irene Ronska is a pseudonym. My real name is Yerina Bronska.”
“All of a sudden…?”
I had just revealed my real name to Chiyoko Tokugawa. Of course the reason was that I was certain she could be trusted with it.
One of the tasks of the Organization Intelligence Bureau was to distinguish between the information I had disclosed and the information that must never be disclosed to each person I met.
Given how many people I encountered, some knew me as Yerina Bronska, some as Irene Ronska, and others as Irene Varez.
And not just names. Every organization, every individual, had a different level of access to what was revealed and what could be revealed.
So by now, after nearly a year since I had founded the organization, we had to formalize it as proper business.
The Organization Intelligence Bureau had its own dedicated department for exactly that.
The reason this task fell under the Intelligence Bureau was that it was far from simple.
It involved internal audits and the cover stories the organization presented to the outside world.
Only those who mastered every detail could handle titles and information for the Northern Covenant Syndicate’s contacts in one go.
It was not enough to know one person or one organization.
When one changed, the domino effects on everything else had to be foreseen.
Even in the shadowy existence of the Northern Covenant Syndicate, this was the most critical duty.
Why exactly did the phrase “only you know this” never work in the first place?
After repeating it two or three times, it inevitably became a well-known secret to everyone, didn’t it?
The department handling this side had to be extremely cautious about revealing any information to a contact who might use it as a bargaining chip.
The optimal person for the job was Delis, who represented the Intelligence Bureau.
Except for me, it was the department that knew the organization’s most comprehensively.
And according to the latest briefing, disclosing my real name to Chiyoko Tokugawa and the upper echelons of the Japanese Communist Party would cause no problems.
This was because the Japanese Communist Party was heavily aligned with the anti-American camp.
Excluding the Northern Covenant Syndicate—though the JCP side would know us as Shchechkin-Oder Logistics—there were no external organizations with which we had substantial contact.
Those extremely limited external contacts we had were already under the organization’s full watch.
The Intelligence Bureau was not a department full of well-paid clerks.
Every single member was a subordinate I had personally trained with care, and the department head directed operations with passionate dedication to the soul’s owner.
Before flying to Korea to taste the radioactive cake, Delis had said to me in London:
“Regarding Chiyoko Tokugawa and her close aides, it should be fine to let slip the young miss’s real name.”
“Hmm? What’s the point of that?”
I tilted my head curiously.
“Even though you know, Irene, the Japanese Communist Party is not yet strong enough in its power, and we are still in control of the few relations we have.”
“In other words, the information you disclose has little chance of leaking outside, and even if it does, it would cause minimal risk.”
The doubt was not entirely resolved.
“Wouldn’t it be best to avoid the risk altogether? So my point is… why bother?”
The risk was already low, but I still didn’t understand why bother.
Delis explained:
“It means that when their power matures and grows sufficiently, we can monopolize all the profits.”
“We at the Intelligence Bureau want you, Irene, to reap even greater gains. Just as the United Kingdom came under the organization’s control, one day the Japanese Communist Party will too.”
“At that moment, no one should receive your share. We bought it at the lowest point first. Who dares to dip in a spoon?”
“Therefore, by revealing your name to them, I am declaring this: ‘I am so sincere that I’m willing to tell you my real name.’”
Now I understood a little better.
The meaning was to buy up the shares of the Japanese Communist Party—the cooperation organization I had planted in Japan—before the opportunity arose.
After all, it was the best way to prove sincerity.
By now, even the princess should know I was someone who needed to move in secret. What was the point of revealing my real name?
I understood Delis’s intent well. Calling the lower-level Intelligence Bureau members “kids” showed that the department head had firmly gripped the entire bureau.
All that remained was this single concern.
Before crossing the bridge, I asked carefully:
“Then one last question. If a human outside the Japanese Communist Party learns my real name and it leads in a direction I don’t want…?”
It was an abstract question, but the example was clear.
For instance, the U.S. Magic Defense Agency somehow contacting the Japanese Communist Party and obtaining my real name.
It was not entirely impossible. After all, there were Americans assigned to me.
If my carelessness or their superior ability revealed my movements and led to contact with the Japanese Communist Party… well, the scenario was far from impossible.
Delis answered:
“To be honest, preventing every possible case implied in your question is nearly impossible.”
“We can analyze individual scenarios, but reviewing thousands or millions of possibilities and preparing contingency plans would be a waste of administrative effort for the Intelligence Bureau.”
True. If only one factor increased, the number of interactions between factors would multiply, and from there, the interactions would multiply again.
It was a chain reaction in a direction I never wanted. Reviewing them all in advance was physically impossible.
“Only if the Moscow reds enthusiastically use the OGAS would it be barely possible. Or perhaps even that would be impossible.”
“That’s why we at the Intelligence Bureau can promise only one thing.”
Delis spoke proudly.
I asked curiously:
“What is it?”
“If such a thing happens, we will deploy the Intelligence Bureau’s maximum capacity at any time to prevent further leaks, and we will eliminate all existing leaks.”
“Oh-?”
“And in that process, any damage to the achievements you or the organization have built so far will be none or extremely minimal. I can confirm this here and now.”
It was a remarkable resolve. We would handle it with all our enthusiasm to ensure no damage to you or the organization.
The loyalty of the Intelligence Bureau members was exceptional. Second only to the Protection Bureau, it was almost a source of envy.
Since Delis himself had appealed so strongly that everything was his responsibility, it was hard to refuse further.
She had thought so hard for me. This level of excessive loyalty was not something we could easily cut.
Therefore, I accepted Delis’s request.
When the time came, I would casually reveal my real name to Chiyoko Tokugawa.
It was a satellite phone using British communications satellites, so even Americans could not intercept it. No risk of eavesdropping.
And that time was now.
The fact that the princess raised a question about my casually dropped real name was not particularly strange in context.
“Well, it’s not like I tell everyone everywhere. Though I doubt the princess would do that.”
This time it was a light threat. It meant that if I lightly revealed it, I might see the skills I had painstakingly honed shatter into pieces.
Of course, the words “shatter into pieces” were not uttered, but since she was a Japanese imperial princess, she could distinguish honne from tatemae.
“…I will keep it that way.”
After receiving her voice for the first time in a while, the call with the princess was filled with warmth.
Just a few weeks earlier, I had been sparring on nearly equal footing with Americans, so meeting someone with a clear power gap had a certain appeal.
Well… whether it was truly enjoyable was perhaps only my own thought. The other party’s circumstances were not my concern.
“Ahaha, wonderful. I’ll see you in person soon, so until then, work hard to increase influence in the archipelago. As I said earlier, the compensation will be quite generous.”
Again, one hundred million yen. For a minor errand, one hundred million yen was deposited in the account every time.
Of course, to avoid drawing the attention of Japanese authorities, various means were used, so the actual amount received was less, and converting it to cash took time—
‘Wouldn’t it be a dream for Princess Chiyoko?’
It was not a “pocket money” from the Imperial Household Agency, but a fund she could use freely. The most urgent need for the princess was precisely that.
It was ironic that a communist organization hostile to the Japanese imperial family had a Japanese princess in its membership and that some of its funds were provided by the Imperial Household Agency.
Chiyoko Tokugawa answered me in a voice that was not particularly cheerful.
“I will do as you say. Irene Ronska… no, Yerina Bronska.”
Hearing my real name from someone other than my close aide gave me a strangely fresh feeling. It was not unpleasant.
Perhaps I would soon taste the radioactive cake named plutonium and be humming with excitement.
“Then I look forward to meeting again.”
After ending the call with the Japanese princess, I turned my thoughts back to the efforts for the cake gift.