Shooting a Spy Thriller

Want to shoot a spy flick?

He looked like an utterly ordinary guy. No standout features, nothing worth a second glance—just your typical quiet everyman. The kind of pedestrian you pass dozens of times a day without a thought. And ironically, it was that very ordinariness that made him the most terrifying spy.

"Andrey Volkov. Commonly known by his codename Bright Dawn. A big-name operative who copied the Empire's missile blueprints and handed them over to the Red League. He's been trained to resist any torture, any mental magic, or even miracles."

That was the greatest driving force behind turning the man before us into a fearsome spy. The Argos Chief's gaze wasn't friendly. It almost sounded like a polite yet vicious growl rumbling from his throat.

"We've tried every interrogation technique over three days straight, but he doesn't even scream."

At the Chief's words, I slowly approached the interrogation room door.

"Don't worry. You'll get to see him scream soon enough."

"I'd love to witness that."

The Chief opened the door himself, and the two of us stepped into the interrogation room together.

Andrey Volkov didn't even blink at our entrance. His clothes were torn from all the interrogation and torture, his body marked with odd bruises and burn scars, but his expression remained remarkably relaxed.

"I told you, Chief. I don't know anything. I'm not some big shot to begin with. You already know everything I do. Why drag this out? Just put a bullet in my head and be done with it. That's the easy way for both of us."

His tone was almost concerned. I could see his molars had been forcibly removed from inside his mouth. The Chief stared at Andrey Volkov in silence.

"Wonder what course you've got lined up today. Electric shocks getting a bit stale, aren't they? Pain magic? Mind control? The Miracle of Confession sounds fun too. Bring it on. Even if you pry, nothing's coming out of my head. It's a waste of time, Chief. For you and the Empire."

The Chief said nothing. Neither did I. Seeing us stare at him blankly, a smirk crept into Andrey Volkov's eyes.

"Just staring, huh? That's a new one. Trying to shame me into spilling everything?"

Just as his snide remark hit the air...

"Andrey Volkov is an alias. His real name is Sergei Popov. Age 39, spy for the Red League's Secret Committee."

My gaze shifted from the spy before me to the Chief. A smile tugged at the Chief's lips.

"Popov, was it? Please continue, Great Sage."

"Contrary to what he claims, he is a big shot. He's running a fairly large sleeper cell called Dusk. Total of 14 spies scattered across the Empire, communicating via special long-range magic tech."

"Frequency?"

"They use 28.7 MHz shortwave radio frequency mixed with Kalanikov cipher magic for decryption."

"We've already cracked the Kalanikov cipher at Argos. 28.7 MHz, you say? That's all we need. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Their comms are in our hands now."

As the Chief and I conversed, Andrey Volkov—no, Sergei Popov's face twisted in real time, rotting away.

"What the hell are you two? What?!"

He bellowed, but I ignored him and pressed on.

"One notable detail... he's got a weakness."

"A weakness?"

"A female spy in Dusk, Sonya Ivanovna. He's fallen for her—they even have a child. Beautiful daughter. He's paranoid about hiding their relationship; even the Secret Committee doesn't know."

The Chief's eyes widened.

"I didn't know that either."

"Sonya Ivanovna is disguised as a regular bank teller in the Empire. Address: Lux Bank in the Karkov Barony. Window 32, under the name Emily Kaison. Redhead with a few freckles—not hard to spot..."

"Stop!"

Sergei Popov roared. Terror filled his eyes. His body shook like he had epilepsy, then he squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head.

"...Tell me what you want, Chief. I'll tell you everything I know. Let's make a deal. Just... leave Sonya alone."

The Chief's smile deepened.

"Now you're being cooperative, Sergei. No need to worry. We don't want blood on our hands either. Cooperate nicely, and you can live out your days here in the Empire under your current identity. But if you lie or feed us disinformation?"

The Chief quietly patted my shoulder.

"Remember, we can spot your lies instantly. And when we do, you won't die easy. You'll watch, nice and slow, what happens to your wife and daughter. I don't enjoy kids' screams myself. So let's not go there."

"Please. I'll tell you everything. Just don't touch my wife and daughter. Please."

The Chief signaled his agents to release Sergei.

"Get him some warm food and drinks. Bring our Empire's pride, the fizzy soda. Feed him well, let him rest. Then start the interrogation. He'll cooperate now."

The black ops agents under the Chief blinked in surprise.

"How the hell did you do that?"

The Chief grinned at me.

"Looks like Argos will be visiting the fortune shop more often from now on, Great Sage."

"Not too often, please. My heart can't take it."

Sergei Popov ultimately spilled everything in exchange for Argos protection, choosing to live as an ordinary citizen in the Empire. Most of Dusk followed suit, though some were eliminated. It wasn't just vague future-reading and advice—this had dismantled an entire cell and drastically altered human destinies.

It felt helpful to the Empire, yet deeply unsettling at the same time.

"So, did you find the bug? Sergei’s main mission was eavesdropping on palace talks."

"Yes. We did."

"What was it?"

I let out a hollow chuckle. Human ingenuity could be astounding sometimes.

"Red League elementary kids gifted the palace a craft with a bug inside."

"That eagle statue? But Argos checked it dozens of times—no mana reactions, no electronics."

"Of course. It's just a tiny metal resonator plate and antenna. No battery, no magic circles."

The Chief's face shifted from confusion to realization, then shock and horror.

"I'll show you. Let's head to the palace."

And soon enough, both the Chief and His Majesty confirmed my words were true.

Yesterday's enemy becomes today's ally, and vice versa. Hard to imagine now, with nukes and strategic magic aimed at each other, snarling like beasts—but just a few years ago, the Red League and Cardran Empire fought side-by-side against continent-wide madmen swept up in frenzy.

Back then, the two nations were allies. To commemorate it, innocent Red League elementary kids carved wooden statues from trees with clumsy hands and gifted them to the palace.

And one of those statues had secretly transmitted palace conversations to the Red League every single day for over a decade.

"...This tiny thing was eavesdropping?"

The Chief stared incredulously at the metal device from the wooden statue. No battery, no magic circles or enchantments—just a small metal resonator plate and antenna.

Its simplicity was why it had evaded detection for so long in the Empire's palace.

"You blast it with radio waves from outside. Sound waves make the plate vibrate, altering the waves, which you read to eavesdrop. I'm no engineer, so that's the best I can explain."

His Majesty carefully lifted the device, examining it.

"Impressive. I never saw it coming. A brilliant, ingenious idea."

The Emperor smiled. The Chief shot up, bowing deeply.

"My failure, Your Majesty..."

"No. No one's fault. The enemy outplayed us this time. That's all."

The Emperor was a perfect calculator. But you can't output conclusions without input data. Now, we had input.

His Majesty handed the device to the Chief.

"Put it back in the statue. Return it to its spot."

The Chief instantly grasped the intent.

"Feeding them disinformation, eh? Target?"

"Red Baron."

The Chief's eyes widened slightly.

"Going for the big fish. But there's still a problem, Your Majesty. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The Red Baron's extremely cautious. He won't show for just anything."

One piece of info flashed in my mind.

"The Red Baron’s list of sleeper agents."

The Chief and His Majesty turned to me.

"Argos will get the same from interrogating Sergei soon. The Red Baron knows 40% of the sleepers planted in the Empire. Issue ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is, he manages them with his three closest aides."

From Sergei's info window, the Red Baron highly valued those three aides' abilities yet suspected them utterly.

"Leak via the bug that one of the three betrayed him. If he hears from Your Majesty's mouth that the traitor’s handing the sleeper list to us secretly at a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Verbva theater, he won't stay put."

I provided the clue. The rest was up to the pros.

"Chief, latest known location of the Red Baron?"

"Verbva. We know that much, but not the exact residence."

"Doesn't matter. We'll lure him out. Leak the disinfo, scout a good spot in Verbva for arrest. Mobilize Intelligence full force."

"Right away."

The Chief bolted from the room. His Majesty gazed at me in awe.

"Excellent, Aiden. But it's not over. Can you do one more for me?"

"Of course. What do you need?"

"Go to Verbva yourself and ID the Red Baron."

My eyes widened slightly.

"In person...?"

"We don't even know the Red Baron's face. Even if we lure him, we can't recognize him for arrest. Plus, top-tier Red League spies like him have memory-wipe magic implanted in their brains. Capture him alive, and it'll burn out."

A gruesome thought.

"But with you, it's different. Just looking at him reveals everything. Only you can do this. Close the shop for a week. I'll explain to the nobles with Yurtel Count consult tickets."

True, only I could. But of course, I wasn't doing this for free.

"For the Empire, I'll accept. But in exchange, one request."

"What?"

"Give me a full medical exam. You know I have an incurable disease."

Mana Dispersion Syndrome, survivable with Sun's Tear. But the doctor in Yurtel might not have been precise.

"I want the exact cause and if it's curable."

His Majesty smiled.

"Granted. Bring me the Red Baron's info, and it's yours."

For the Empire—and myself—I couldn't refuse. And so, I ended up starring in a spy flick I never asked for.