Spy Classroom - Volume 8 - Chapter Ep1

Secret Epilogue

Serpent

Code name Silver Cicada. Icedew Park, Bumal Kingdom. KIA.

Code name Blue Fly. Endy Laboratory, Galgad Empire. KIA.

Code name White Spider. Hyrin Railroad, Fend Commonwealth. KIA.

Code name Green Butterfly.

Escaped the CIM prison thanks to instructions from “Puppeteer” Amelie. Headed to a safehouse to arm herself but was ambushed by “Cursemaster” Nathan. Died from a blow to the chest. She, along with her old identity, Magician, were erased.

Afterward, Nathan declined to share this information with the CIM, his official organization, and instead conveyed it solely with another organization altogether.

Code name Purple Ant.

Escaped during a torture session conducted by the United States’ JJJ intelligence agency when his interrogator took his eyes off Purple Ant for the briefest of moments. The phrase “Rainbow Firefly” was found written on the scene in blood. Purple Ant’s legs were broken from the torture, so he’d been in no state to escape on his own.

Two months later, Purple Ant was found dead with a thin smile on his face.

Code name Black Mantis.

Instead of boarding the smuggler’s ship as planned in the south Hurough port, Black Mantis simply stared out at the night-darkened sea. The meeting time had come and gone, and Green Butterfly and White Spider were nowhere to be seen.

He sat atop the abandoned shipping container, sighed, and turned his gaze to the Hurough skyline off in the distance. His two prosthetics quivered as he mumbled to no one. “What a fool of a man. With this, you’ve left me no choice but to avenge you.”

Then he sensed someone behind him.

Thinking that perhaps one of his comrades had finally arrived, he turned around.

“Ya-ya-ya, what do we have here? Looks like I found the Serpent survivor.”

It was a young man. One he didn’t recognize.

The youth was wearing a beige trench coat that went down to his knees and a pair of round glasses. His black hair was done up in a disheveled perm, and his features were muted, like a traveler from some distant land.

His footsteps echoed out as he walked with his hands deep in his pockets.

“Yeesh, I wish you hadn’t killed my double. That was a real drag.”

Black Mantis readied his prosthetics. “I have no memory of those I’ve slain. Name yourself.”

“I’m Ouka.” The youth gave him a faint smile. “One of the people your guy Purple Ant killed.”

“………!”

The name was well-known in the intelligence community.

Purple Ant had murdered scores of agents during his indiscriminate spy killings in Mitario. The ranks of the dead had included Hearth and a number of other world-class operatives, and one of them had stood out most of all: code name Ouka, a mysterious spy who operated behind the scenes in countries across the world like a gentleman thief.

The youth had referred to a “double.” Perhaps the code name didn’t belong to an individual, but rather a group.

With another “Ya,” Ouka drew his hand out of his pocket holding a gun.

“________”

Black Mantis blocked the quick-draw shot with a mechanical arm. However, that was no ordinary bullet. The smell of chemicals rose up into the air.

“I wouldn’t use that arm anymore if I were you,” the youth said.

Black Mantis had gotten doused in flammable liquid. If he wasn’t careful, he might blow himself up.

“So you came to kill me.” Black Mantis gave a small nod. “What’s your aim? Tell me. We at Serpent are short on personnel, and we have justice on our side. If you beg nicely, I’m prepared to offer a spot at the bottom of the hierarchy.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve already got my own place in the world,” the youth replied. “With Cherubim, the grave keepers of the holy tree.”

“Huh?”

“We’re a team founded by Hearth, the Finest Spy in the World—and our aim is to see the Nostalgia Project to completion.”

Black Mantis nodded. It made sense. Even in death, Hearth had a plan. By that point, she’d already made her move. Spies from across the world had been gathering in Mitario, and she’d taken advantage of that to build up a new force separate from Inferno.

So that was the choice her schism with “Torchlight” Guido had led her to…

“You’re being awfully forthcoming with that information,” Black Mantis noted.

“Personal policy of mine. I’d hate for someone to die without knowing the score, you know?”

“You’re a funny man.” Black Mantis rolled his shoulders. “I’m afraid I’m in the dark, so you’ll have to explain something to me. How is it you intend to defeat me, the Unrivaled, and end my career as a spy?”

He held his prosthetics aloft and gazed up at the sky.

“Ah, I can feel retirement inching away from me.”

Code names Indigo Grasshopper and ________.

Over in the Galgad capital Darton, there was an individual reading a book. They’d gotten it from their subordinate, Indigo Grasshopper. “Thought you mind find this interesting,” Indigo Grasshopper had told them.

The book had been written by Fend novelist Diego Kruger and published posthumously shortly after Kruger succumbed to his drug addiction. It was a ludicrous spy novel that had been panned by critics as the worst publication of the century.

A single read was all it took for them to realize who’d truly penned it.

“Christhardt.”

That was real name of the man they themselves had dubbed White Spider, the man who’d gathered up combatants and built Serpent up to make a stand against the forces of the world. He had been the heart and soul of the team.

The novel was packed full of fabrications, but as the story progressed, it became more and more clear just how much the protagonist loved his organization. For all his cussing and complaining, he did everything he could to bring them success.

Now, though, Christhardt was gone, and they’d lost contact with all the combatants he’d assembled.

“Who would have imagined that making enemies of the world would be such a trying ordeal?”

Serpent had failed. The spies Hearth left behind had overpowered them.

Was there really no way left for them to stop the Nostalgia Project?

“Indigo Grasshopper,” they said, calling to their agent by name. “I want to negotiate with Lamplight. Would you be so kind as to send them a letter for me?”

Before anyone knew it, a full year had passed since White Spider’s death.