101
A Gift to a Shallow Age
After trying hard to recall that envelope for quite some time, I could only remember one thing. I felt something odd back then, and now I realize that letter hadn’t come from overseas. It had clearly been sent domestically. So back then, I briefly thought “Huh?” But soon I erased it from my mind, thinking it was someone else’s private business.
I couldn’t remember the address or any details, but I did recall when I received that letter. It was around autumn. And our company is the Security Bureau. That means all incoming mail is scanned—a company that doesn’t respect privacy at all.
I went straight to the company’s mail team the next day. Of course, with the Director’s permission. The Director now had no means to catch Canaris. Despite having spent a huge amount of money. So she absolutely needed to produce results. Therefore, as soon as I said I needed it to catch Canaris, she approved without hesitation.
The mail team handed over the list of letters sent to Otto Layer and scanned copies of the envelopes. Nakaban analyzed the data and discovered several things.
“Lilith dropped the letters in mailboxes. That’s why she was never captured on camera at post offices. We can’t confirm which mailbox exactly, but we can narrow down the neighborhood. And here’s something interesting: this letter came from Munben Street.”
Munben Street. That’s where the Security Bureau headquarters is located. Coincidence?
“Lilith is likely the code name for a spy inside the Security Bureau. It seems Lilith and Layer communicated with each other through mail. A good method. Digital communication always risks being hacked, and the Security Bureau has particularly high surveillance standards.”
“Pen pals, how romantic,” Kouri sneered. His remark brought faint laughter among people. Nakaban continued.
“Layer must have sent letters back. And he probably frequently used mailboxes on Munben Street.”
Nakaban’s green eyes emitted a savage light. He added in a tone like a seeker in hide-and-seek saying “Found you!”:
“Now we can catch ‘Lilith.'”
As Nakaban said, we were able to catch Lilith.
Director Andrea Dill walked in front, with Nina Volkari and me following right behind. Nina Volkari was there to assist the Director, and I was there for security. The Director walked majestically, but I wasn’t the only one who felt like an Arctic wind was blowing from her body; the staff behind us kept shivering.
After receiving my report, the Director rose with a “Where is that bastard?”, grabbed her gun, and started walking. Naturally, her office staff followed, and Volkari, who had been in the briefing with me, followed with eyes full of worry. She gave me a fierce nod. What are you doing, come right now! So I ended up assisting the Director alongside Volkari.
The Director slammed the office door open and entered. The man working at the desk saw her and me behind her and smirked.
“Mesmer!!”
When the Director shouted, Mesmer stood up with a sigh. He took off his silver-rimmed glasses and tapped the desk, tap, tap.
“Well, you finally figured it out.”
The Director had just thrown at least 500 million Lids into the garbage. That money was public funds, and she would naturally have to account for it. If she couldn’t explain, dark clouds would certainly gather over her smooth-sailing life. For an ambitious Director, this was unacceptable.
“Who figured it out? Surely not that gun-slinging idiot.”
He was referring to me, of course.
The Deputy Chief tapped the desk with his index and middle fingers, clickety-clack. Eventually, he struck the desk sharply with his middle finger, like beating a drum.
“It must be Riegel!”
Come on, he’s not some grandmother sitting in an armchair, knitting and seeing a thousand miles ahead. Why can he figure this out so easily in this office? It’s scary.
Does a legendary spy have to have some kind of superpower? As I frowned, the Deputy Chief smiled brightly.
“Yes, that man is useful. Even if he is the offspring of capitalist pigs.”
Capitalist pigs…
Wow, look at his word choice. Even Canaris people don’t use such terms these days.
King, Queen, Rook, Bishop, Knight, Pawn.
Canaris has six executives. I know who the Bishop and Queen are. What is this man? He’s not the King, so that leaves Rook, Knight, or Pawn.
I know a little about chess, thanks to my dear father, Richard Schnieke, our pastor. Father often sat us brothers down for chess, and the chess sessions would get longer if we got into big trouble. We lost, lost, and lost to our father in chess. Getting beaten in chess was elegant but painful because with every move came criticism like “You’re not thinking” or “Ah, so this is why you lack observation skills and made that mistake.” The longest record was 12 hours for one brother. The one who endured 12 hours of verbal lashing without food, barely sipping water, behaved impeccably for a whole month afterward. It must have hurt quite a bit.
Anyway, according to chess rules…
“You must be the ‘Pawn.'”
At my words, Mesmer’s eyes widened.
“I thought you were stupid, but you surprise me. I’m curious, why do you think I’m a pawn? Do I look like a farmer? Or because I only seem worth one point?”
“Because you’re neither a minor piece (a term for bishops and knights) nor a major piece (a term for queens and rooks).”
He doesn’t fit in with anyone. That’s the nature of a spy, after all.
Mesmer fell silent at my words. He rubbed his face hard with his right hand, more like scrubbing than washing.
“If you know about the Pawn, then Gleinach, that bastard, must have spilled everything he knew. I told the King we shouldn’t associate with capitalist pigs, but he wouldn’t listen. And now look what’s happened.”
He chuckled quietly. Despair flowed from his body. Perhaps he had foreseen this situation. He might have felt like a passenger unable to jump off a moving train heading straight for a cliff.
He sighed.
“The world has become too shallow these days. Freelance spies? What’s that? Espionage without patriotism—they deserve to be torn apart.”
As if performing in a play, he was elegant and equally verbose. Ah, I knew this would happen. He shook his head and asked the Director, “Will you let me have a glass of brandy?” The Director answered with a brief “Ah,” not concealing her contempt. Yes, he could drink, but she didn’t feel like giving him a complete sentence.
“During the Blaiberg era, everything was so clear and noble. We all gave our lives for the country. We had dreams. It was a different time than now. Not like today when people don’t even know their parents’ faces because they’re too busy looking at those small machines in their hands. We looked up at the sky. At the universe above. It was that kind of era… and at the end of that era came things like you.”
Mesmer’s eyes touched all of us.
“Such stupid and shallow creatures. To think that the future we risked our lives to secure is filled with your kind. What irony is this?”
“Is that your excuse?” the Director asked. Her voice clearly showed the sentiment “what nonsense.” Mesmer grabbed a brandy bottle from deep inside the glass cabinet. He took a glass from nearby, placed it on the desk, and slowly poured the brandy. The amber liquid filled half the glass. He downed the drink in one go and showed us the empty glass.
“To a beautiful era. And.”
At that moment, I felt something was off. Was Mesmer always this sentimental?
I had just thought that he seemed to have foreseen this situation. And I also felt like he was performing. Was his attitude strange? No, it was very natural. It wouldn’t be incomprehensible for an upper-class man who would now live as a prisoner for the rest of his life. But unconsciously, my eyes turned to the glass cabinet.
Why, among all those drinks, did he choose that brandy from so far inside?
As I thought that, my body moved. My brain couldn’t keep up. I moved purely by instinct. And.
BOOM—
Mesmer’s office exploded.
My ears were ringing. I couldn’t open my eyes. I was tired and just wanted to sleep. In the midst of it all, someone screamed.
Mr. Riegel, no! Please!
Riegel? Who is Riegel?
After a while, I remembered who he was. Riegel. Sebastian Riegel. My fiancé, whose melancholic appearance is sexy and whose struggle to hold back mean comments is cute. Why Riegel?
What do you mean “no”? What is he doing?
The moment I got up, the sharp pain made it hard to breathe properly. Damn, what is this? My eyes wouldn’t open well. Something sticky was clinging to them. Why was I lying down? Was it because of the pain? There was terrible dust.
I got up and walked slowly. It felt like my brain was shaking. I couldn’t walk well, but I tried anyway. Staggering, staggering. I could see things burning. How could a fire be this… I removed wooden debris blocking the way with my hands. My hands hurt, so the wood must have been hot. I probably got burns.
It hurt, but I could walk.
Since I couldn’t open my eyes properly, I walked with them half-closed. Instead of striding confidently as usual, I ended up dragging my feet. As I was walking like a newly born snake, suddenly someone screamed, “Team Leader!!”
And chaos broke out.
“Over here!”
“The Team Leader is here!”
They seemed to be from our team, but what were they doing inside a burning building? Then someone ran over and picked me up. I knew who this was. I could tell by the scent from his body.
“Sebastian.”
When I called his name, he whispered, “Yes, I’m here.” Ah, yes. I actually wanted to keep sleeping, but I couldn’t because I heard your name. Someone was shouting that you shouldn’t do something. I felt like I needed to see you. And now that I’ve seen you… it’s okay now.
I passed out.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
