Lover

3

Crazy Fruit Fly

The National Security Bureau’s ‘Special Counterintelligence Department’. Commonly known as Department 1. The position of Department 1 Chief, considered the elite of the elite, was held by a man in his mid-40s named Otto Layer. Saying it like this might make it sound like I’m seeing him for the first time, but of course that’s not the case. He’s our department chief, and he and I are, well…

“Hey, Schnieke. Do you really want to get demoted?”

Otto gritted his teeth and brought his face close to mine.

“No. If I get demoted, my salary will be cut. I don’t want that.”

I took a step back from him and slightly pulled my head back.

Ugh, there are so many things I need money for.

As I waved my hands in protest, Otto threw some photos at my face.

“Then, you bastard. What’s all this?!”

Looking at the photos, I saw our team members drinking with their helmets off in a corner of Maderke.

These bastards.

It seems they had been drinking together with Maderke citizens. The worst part was that their faces were clearly visible in the photos.

Maderke had been under lockdown for nearly three months. A city under lockdown quickly reverts to a medieval way of life. People behave barbarically, and currency loses its value. In such places, things like alcohol, medicine, and hygiene products become highly valued. A drink or two can create a traitor.

“We were looking for those Canaris bastards.”

“Why? Couldn’t you have captured blowing off the Canaris bastards’ heads too?!”

Otto shouted with a red face. I was about to snap back that he was going too far, but I held back. I might just get scolded here, but for Otto, it’s a chain reaction. He’ll go get scolded by Director Dill, be mocked by other department chiefs, and have to sit in when congressmen berate the director.

Right, thinking about that, I should be able to endure this much.

“It’s really hard earning other people’s money.”

I must have muttered that out loud without realizing. Otto’s anger, which seemed to be subsiding, flared up again.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, sir.”

I answered while standing at attention, briefly averting my gaze. Otto leaned in from below, saying, “Let’s do well, okay?”

Huh? Huh?! Ah, this is workplace bullying too. I should just punch…

I can see our guys in the photos on the floor, giggling and drinking heavily.

These crazy bastards even drank with a beautiful woman.

They probably just grabbed someone who seemed likely to know about the Canaris people, but in the photos, they look like crazy guys flirting with a beautiful lady during a mission.

Ah, father. Father on earth, father in heaven. I’m enduring again today.

“Armin Schnieke, aren’t you going to answer?”

“I’ll do well, sir!”

Only after I gave a sharp, disciplined answer did Otto seem to calm down, letting out a snort.

What I find really ridiculous is that Otto Layer is a desk jockey. As Lee said, Otto is a graduate of Fates University Law School and has never strayed from desk work. Since he works at the Security Bureau, he probably knows how to shoot a gun… probably? He should, right?

But no one in the Security Bureau would trust Otto’s shooting skills. I once saw him trying to put on a plate carrier, and it was terribly clumsy. I can’t understand why such an Otto has become such a military-style old fogy.

No, there’s a saying, right? Those who have rolled know how to roll well. But Otto has never rolled, so why does he want to roll people so badly?

Otto finally started to get to the point. Whew. Barely swallowing a sigh that was about to escape, I pointlessly stared at the photos on his desk. A solo picture of his daughter who apparently attends a private school.

While inwardly cursing that his daughter probably hates having such an old-fashioned dad too.

By the time the nauseating time with Otto ended, it was already dark outside. I went into the office, organized my desk, returned the equipment that needed to be returned, and shoved the rest into my locker.

Otto nags us not to use personal items. But the things provided by the company often don’t suit individual tastes. Still, we use company items for the big stuff. After all, we’re likely to be photographed or filmed often.

Ha, our seniors lived in such a convenient world. No YouTube, no phones. They really had it easy.

As I was leaving headquarters and opening my phone, the first message caught my eye.

Where?

It was just like Lee to get straight to the point without any pleasantries.

Where are you?

After sending that, I was heading to get a latte from a franchise café that I couldn’t have in Maderke, but before I even entered the café, a message came.

Come now. I’ll send the address.

     Now?

Let’s drink.

Of course, Lee said he would buy the drinks, but I didn’t think he’d really do it. Moreover, Lee had told me to contact him, but this was as if he had been waiting to contact me.

     Isn’t this a club?

Aside from it being a club, I think I see the word ‘hotel’ in this address.

Moreover, I know this hotel. Ah, of course, it’s one-sided knowledge on my part. But how could I not know it? Who in Rotman doesn’t know this hotel? It’s one of the most expensive hotels in Rotman.

I’m not saying let’s go hunting. Just come.

     This place is crazy expensive. Did you get shot in the head?

Come and see.

At this point, the latte wasn’t the issue. I had to go rescue a friend who might have been shot in the head.

Ah, but I still wanted to drink it.

After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to drink it tomorrow and turned around to catch a taxi.

Throughout the taxi ride, I tried to think about why Lee would want to buy drinks at a club. To pick up women? Ah, first of all, I’m not very useful as a billboard for attracting women. They say Asian men are popular these days, but not in Rotman. It’s a shame.

Popular men in Rotman are classified into three categories. The athletic type with a big bear-like build. Or the smart, elite type. And the most popular are the nouveau riche.

Often, the media and older people tsk and say it wasn’t like this during the socialist era, that it became corrupt when the capitalists’ world arrived, but in my opinion, it was probably like that back then too. Of course, I wasn’t in this country then, so I can’t be sure. And it’s not just women we can criticize. When men are asked about their ideal type, it’s ‘a rich beauty.’

An ideal type is something you can’t attain anyway.

“Sir, we’ve arrived. How would you like to pay?”

“I’ll pay by card.”

I handed over my card, opened the door, got out, and waited for my card to be returned. This is fine in Lumaier, but if you did this in a provincial city with poor public safety, the taxi would immediately take off and I’d be left with a card fraud incident. In fact, it’s better not to do this even in the capital, but I’ve gotten into the habit of moving quickly, so I don’t like sitting and waiting slowly.

The front of the club was crowded with people. The long line was impressive. Although all clubs make people line up, this line was particularly long. It seemed to be a popular club. Since I had company inside, I went to the front and met a guard.

“I have company inside,”

I was about to say, but the guard’s face looked familiar. As I stared at that face, he also seemed to find my face familiar and stared back at me. Then he gasped first.

At that moment, someone came running out of the club. Looking closely, it was Lee with disheveled clothes.

“You’re here!”

Seeing Lee, I understood.

I turned to the club guard with an “Ah” sound.

“Did you change jobs?”

The guard gave a bitter smile at my question.

“No, I’m on duty.”

I got it.

This hotel club is currently an operation area. And.

As I looked at Lee in disbelief, he grinned broadly.

“Hey, drink all the expensive alcohol. Your big brother is buying.”

This crazy bastard?!

Calling a friend to drink, saying “No one will notice if a few bottles of alcohol go missing” during a joint operation involving not only Team 4 but other departments as well, is truly the act of a madman.

Of course, it was possible because that friend, namely me, was also from the Security Bureau.

The inside of the club was noisy. I saw a few people from the analysis team, but most were from the operations team. Usually, white and black don’t mix, but here they were mixed like goods in a market stall. Whatever the operation was, the overall atmosphere was rather soft, suggesting it wasn’t a life-or-death situation.

So I was drinking expensive alcohol when a long-haired man stared at me intently before entering a room, and from that point on, it was no longer someone else’s business.

“Who is this crazy fruit fly?!”

Ha, is today the day for getting cursed at?

A glamorously dressed woman came and cursed at me out of nowhere. I glared at Lee who had called me here.

Why did you call me to a place like this?

Lee laughed awkwardly, “Ha, ha ha,” at my resentful gaze.

“I said, who are you, damn it!”

The woman shouted.

I know who this woman is. She’s the chief of Department 2. The dark horse rumored strongly to be next in line after Director Andrea Dill. The queen of the operations team. She only looks to be in her mid-30s, but she’s actually in her early 40s.

There’s no way she’d hear me even if I spoke up, and shouting would probably make me seem more aggressive in this situation, so I just mouthed “I’m sorry…” But Lee whispered into the chief’s ear.

As Lee whispered something, the chief, who had been irritably saying “Why should I care!”, suddenly frowned and said “Ah” at Lee’s continued words. Lee seemed to be continuing to persuade her, and although she made sounds like “Ugh” or “Ah” in anger, she couldn’t bring herself to curse at me.

What could he be saying?

He definitely told her who I am, but did he also mention that this situation was caused by him? Or is he making me out to be some kind of person?

Ah, I should have just not come in!

As all sorts of thoughts were swirling in my head, suddenly the chief came to me and called out ominously, “Team Leader Schnieke.” It took no ordinary skill to maintain such ominousness in a space where you had to shout just to communicate due to the music.

“Yes…”

“Just quietly drink your alcohol and leave, okay? If you mess up the operation, I’ll mess you up. Understand?”

Right, without this level of toughness, how could one rise to the position of department chief?

In that sense, it was clear that I would never make it to department chief. When I answered obediently like a kindergartener, “Yes,” the chief glared at me with piercing eyes and disappeared.

As soon as she disappeared, I tried to grab Lee by the collar, but Lee hugged me tightly. He whispered:

“Riegel’s out.”

Oh, that long-haired man has been nothing but trouble for my life since earlier.