Officially, Major Tanya Degurechaff died a war criminal's death, a name consigned to history along with the Empire that created her. Unofficially, she lives on—traded away like a piece of classified hardware, the last currency a defeated nation has left to spend. Her knowledge of the Empire's captured nuclear arsenal is the only thing standing between her and the hangman's noose, and Lieutenant General Zettour has made the calculation without sentiment: a dead hero is worthless, but a living sec
Silver, Posthumous Deal - Hijacking the surveillance network — the watchers become messengers
Spring passed, summer came, autumn went, and winter came around again.
Nearly two years had passed since Tanya Degurechaff had been taken in at the private residence of Lergen von Waldstein.
The upscale residential district on the northern outskirts had changed little by little over those two years. The wave of postwar reconstruction was pushing new shops and houses even onto the once-quiet streets. The roadside trees had grown a size thicker, and weeds sprouting from the gaps in the cobblestones had multiplied. But the watchful eyes surrounding the residence alone had not merely stayed the same—they had grown stricter still.
Tanya stood by the window of her room, her silver curls swaying against her shoulders. Her clear blue eyes gazed quietly beyond the garden. Her posture was as straight as it had been in her military days. The stillness radiating from her small frame made the air in the room feel taut.
(The number of surveillance points has increased to twenty-three.)
The map in her head had grown more precise over the two years.
(Two men always at the east window on the second floor of the house across the street. In the shadows of the roadside trees, under the awnings of street stalls, among the passing carriages. The watchers change shifts at two in the morning and two in the afternoon. But lately there have been irregular reinforcements.)
Her fingertips unconsciously traced a small arc in the air. A habit of trajectory calculation. A motion ingrained in the body of the mage aerial soldier who had once soared through the sky.
(The surveillance on me has already gone beyond house arrest.)
A year ago, the "mistress" rumor she had engineered had thrown the intelligence agencies of every nation into considerable confusion. The focus of surveillance had temporarily shifted from Tanya herself to the truth of the rumor, creating a gap in the net. But that gap did not last long. Each nation concluded the rumor was mere disinformation and, if anything, tightened their guard and increased their watchers.
(But that's fine.)
Tanya looked at her own reflection in the window glass.
(The more complex the net, the coarser its mesh. The more watchers there are, the more information they carry.)
She had completely shifted from the side of being watched to the side of observing the watchers.
---
That afternoon, Lergen von Waldstein picked up a single letter of introduction in his study on the first floor.
"A trainee spy from the Unified Kingdom's intelligence department, Erika Alvarez."
He read the name aloud and heaved a deep sigh. His dark brown hair was cropped short, and his sharp gray eyes glared at the document. His left hand pressed against his stomach, as always. At twenty-two, the lines of fatigue on his face had only deepened.
"Again."
This was yet another "new servant," the latest in a long line. The intelligence agencies of every nation sent spies in as servants to get close to their surveillance target. Before this, agents of the Eastern Union's special bureau, of the Western Alliance, and of America had knocked on the residence's gate one after another. Each time, Lergen had watched them, kept them in check, and at times quietly sent them packing.
His stomach gave a sharp twinge.
"Come in."
The study door opened, and a girl entered.
Her chestnut hair, softly waved, was tied back at the sides. Bright amber eyes darted about the room with keen interest. A nose dusted with freckles. A small magical communications device was wrapped around her left wrist. She looked seventeen or eighteen.
"How do you do! I'm Erika Alvarez! As of today, I'll be working as a maid here at this residence!"
She introduced herself energetically. Her voice was lively, her posture good. But Lergen saw, deep in her eyes, the tension peculiar to a rookie spy and an excessive zeal for the mission.
(She's far too obvious.)
He smiled wryly to himself. The spies before her had posed as servants far more naturally. This girl was practically hanging out a sign that read "I am a spy."
"Yes, I'll be in your care. I am the master of this house, Lergen von Waldstein."
"Yes! Colonel Lergen, isn't it! I've heard so much about you! To be in charge of postwar processing at such a young age—that's amazing!"
"...Yes, I suppose so."
He let her blatant flattery wash past him and dropped his gaze to the documents.
(This girl will pull something eventually too. Until then, I'll let her swim free and probe her connections.)
That had been his method all along.
"The head servant will explain your duties. Your room is prepared as well. If anything comes up, speak to the head servant."
"Yes! Thank you very much!"
Erika bowed deeply. There was something puppyishly endearing about the gesture.
(But I can't let my guard down.)
Lergen pressed his stomach as if to remind himself.
---
Three days had passed since Erika arrived at the residence.
Tanya had seen through her true nature from the moment of their first greeting.
(The way the mud clings to those shoes. Within the residence grounds, the garden soil, the gravel before the front door, and the stone paving at the service entrance all differ subtly in mud color. What was stuck to the soles of that girl's shoes was the red-black clay soil found only outside the back gate, at the base of the roadside trees.)
The instant Erika was introduced as a "maid," Tanya had deduced that she had entered through the back gate and confirmed the layout of the house from behind the garden shrubs.
(And those mannerisms. The angle of her bow, the position of her hands, the way she walks. All of it was drilled into her through short-term cram training. Not the natural movements of a servant.)
She deliberately told no one of Erika's true identity.
(I can use her.)
Tanya had seen through Erika's bright, tomboyish nature and the honesty beneath it at their first meeting.
(That type learns quickly. And they're slow to notice when information is being drawn out of them.)
She decided on the spot to use Erika as a piece on her surveillance network.
It was the moment the girl who had spent years on the watched side first stood on the side of observing and assessing the watchers.
---
"Miss Tanya, I've come to clean your room!"
One afternoon, Erika visited Tanya's room with a bright voice. In her hands were a mop, a rag, and a small bucket.
"Yes, go ahead."
Tanya answered without turning from the window.
Once inside, Erika first opened the window to let in fresh air. Then she began cleaning with practiced efficiency. For only her third day, her movements were quite presentable.
(She learns quickly. Just as I expected.)
Tanya observed Erika's movements through the window glass.
"Wow, this room has such a great view! You can see the whole garden—it feels wonderful!"
Erika leaned out the window and looked over the garden.
"Yes. It's my favorite spot."
"Do you always watch the outside from here, Miss Tanya?"
"Yes, well. It helps pass the time."
"Pass the time... I see. Um, Miss Tanya, were you really a soldier? The one they called the Silver Reaper..."
Erika asked hesitantly. Her amber eyes sparkled with curiosity.
(She's forgotten her mission.)
Tanya thought so inwardly.
(This girl came here to watch me. But right now her head is full of interest in her surveillance target.)
"Yes. That's all in the past."
Tanya answered quietly.
"Amazing! That's really amazing! I'd love to hear about the battlefield! About how you flew through the sky, how you fought!"
Erika stopped cleaning and leaned in.
(Honest. And unguarded.)
Tanya analyzed Erika's reaction with cool detachment.
(This girl is interested in me. Not for the mission, but out of pure curiosity. And that curiosity makes a perfect doorway for me to draw out information.)
"I suppose... I can tell you. But listen while you clean."
"Yes! Of course! I'll work hard at the cleaning!"
Erika took up the mop again and resumed cleaning. But her ears stood pricked, determined not to miss a single word.
Watching her through the window glass, Tanya began to speak quietly.
"A mage aerial soldier is a branch that flies through the sky by consuming one's own magical power and stamina. The continuous use time of flight magic depends on training—anywhere from a few hours to a dozen or more. I once flew continuously for sixteen hours at the longest."
"S-sixteen hours!? You can fly that long!?"
"Yes. Advances in magical engineering and the quality of my magic made it possible. Though when I landed, I was so exhausted I couldn't stand."
"Amazing... I can't even imagine..."
Erika listened, entranced.
(This reaction is genuine.)
Tanya was certain of it.
(She finds my stories genuinely interesting. And that feeling is melting her wariness.)
"Are you from the Unified Kingdom?"
Tanya casually changed the subject.
"Huh? Oh, yes! That's right! How did you know?"
"Your accent gives it away. From the south of the Unified Kingdom, a port town, no?"
"What!? Amazing! You're right! I was born in Altenburg!"
Erika's eyes went wide with surprise.
(Altenburg. The old Imperial naval port. Now a civilian port. A town where many veterans live.)
Tanya spread the map in her mind.
(The Unified Kingdom's intelligence department recruits spies from that town to exploit the old naval-port ties and the veterans' networks, do they.)
"I hear Altenburg has delicious seafood. Oysters in particular."
"Yes! Altenburg oysters are the best on the continent! When I was little, I used to eat oysters fresh from the port all the time! I'll never forget that taste!"
Erika's face lit up even more at the talk of her hometown.
(Her attachment to her hometown is genuine. And when she talks about it, her tongue loosens.)
Tanya did not miss that opening.
"Speaking of which, I once heard that the Unified Kingdom's intelligence department keeps a contact station in that town. In the old warehouse district near the port."
"Huh? Oh, yes... Huh? Miss Tanya, you know a lot, don't you?"
Erika looked puzzled for a moment.
(That instant of reaction. She knows where the contact station is. And she was mildly surprised that I knew it too.)
(In other words, the Unified Kingdom's Altenburg contact station is exactly where I expected.)
Tanya quietly recorded that information.
"I saw such information once, back in the military. It's nothing significant."
Tanya brushed it off smoothly.
"I see! As expected of a former soldier—you're so well-informed!"
Erika laughed cheerfully.
(She has no idea at all that I'm drawing information out of her.)
Tanya watched that innocent smile with cold blue eyes.
(This girl is the ideal piece for me. Honest, quick to learn, and she won't realize she's being used until the very end.)
---
After that, Erika began visiting Tanya's room to talk whenever she found a break in her cleaning.
The topics ranged widely—the battlefield, magical engineering, her hometown, the latest fashions...
Tanya sometimes answered Erika's questions politely, sometimes deflected, sometimes turned the questions back on her.
(From her talk, the layout of the Unified Kingdom's intelligence network is gradually coming into view.)
(Their means of contact is mainly magical communication. The ciphers are simple substitution. The liaisons rotate once a week. The surveillance reports are submitted to the Unified Kingdom embassy in Berunstadt.)
From her conversations with Erika, Tanya drew out that information accurately and naturally.
Erika never noticed in the slightest that she was being pumped for information.
If anything, she felt that Tanya was "easy to talk to."
"You really know everything, Miss Tanya! Talking with you is so educational!"
"Is that so? Thank you. I enjoy talking with you too."
Tanya said so with a faint smile.
(Even this smile is part of the calculation.)
She murmured so in her heart.
(But strangely, it doesn't feel like a lie.)
Watching Erika's innocent smile, Tanya felt something faintly warm
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