Chapter 59

Chapter 59: A Beggar-like Life

— First.

Ferda started the conversation.

A damp echo, characteristic of the underground, resonated through the place.

— I am truly grateful to you.

— …….

— If you hadn’t carried out the raid that day, I would have had to keep Chancellor Bernard under surveillance for days on end, and that would have been a pointless waste of time.

— If you are so grateful… could you untie this?

— I don’t want to. I’m grateful to you, but I’m not stupid.

Ferda brought over a chair and placed it in front of him.

— That shapeshifting art is quite fascinating. It isn’t copying with magic or distorting cognition, nor is it a clumsy imitation like that of those doppelgängers.

— If it’s so incredible, can you make one for the Regent too?

He tossed out a joke with a soft laugh.

— Can I become one too?

Ferda took the bait of that joke eagerly.

— If there’s blood, it’s possible.

Ferda took out a clean dagger from his chest and cut his own arm.

Bright red blood flowed down his forearm.

— Try turning into me.

— …….

The man drank the dripping blood.

As a considerable amount of blood entered his body, Chancellor Bernard’s appearance began to shift.

He turned into Ferda himself.

Gray hair, blue eyes.

A frail body that wanted to become a knight but couldn’t.

Bruised and with broken teeth, yet undeniably bearing Ferda’s face.

— It seems it cannot heal wounds. What happened to that monster-like healing power?

— My role is to become that human. There’s no way a human would have that kind of healing power, right?

— Meticulous.

Deliberately shedding the demons’ enhancement factors and pouring effort into imitating a human.

Ferda stared at him intently.

The man, meeting his eyes, burst into laughter.

— Ferda Valdrova. I thought you were an insane bastard, but you exceed even my imagination…

— What do you mean?

Ferda tilted his head.

— What you are looking at is yourself. Your own broken, shattered self. And you’re sitting there looking like you’re enjoying the view.

— I’m not enjoying it.

— Even so, your eyes didn’t waver even once?

Just as the man said.

Ferda showed not the slightest sign of looking away or of fear.

He was observing his own shattered form.

— You… were cast out by the Rosnova family, weren’t you?

— …….

— I can feel through this body how much you struggled. No muscles, yet you crushed your bones and worked until blisters formed on your hands, right?

— …….

— But your father didn’t acknowledge it.

— That’s right, that’s how I became a fiancé.

— No. That was just an excuse they made up to kick you out. You know that too, don’t you?

The man smiled cunningly with Ferda’s face.

— You were abandoned because you had no talent. A human discarded like old shoes, just like me.

His eyes appealed to camaraderie.

Camaraderie felt toward the same emotion called revenge.

The man wearing Ferda’s face craved revenge.

A man seeking revenge against a king who betrayed his trust.

A man seeking revenge against a father who expelled his son.

That emotion called rage was something Ferda could deeply understand.

— That’s right, I was abandoned.

Ferda showed disgust at that scene.

— But you and I are different. Different as a demon.

— What’s different?

— The soul.

Ferda stabbed his own chest with his hand.

— My soul has always been mine.

Ferda looked down on him with contemptuous eyes.

The man grew enraged at Ferda’s words and yelled.

— I never sold my soul to anyone! This is the path I chose!

— No, you sold your soul. You let that trash evaluate you and didn’t hesitate to demean yourself. That’s why your revenge turned into cheap shit worse than a dog’s.

He screamed as if stunned.

— Does that even matter?! As long as I get my revenge! Even if I break, making that bastard suffer worse than hell is all that matters!

— No, revenge cannot happen without a soul.

Ferda reached into the bag he had brought.

— Even if it gets dirty and broken, it is only achieved when you have kept your soul completely as your own.

What he pulled out was a medicine bottle.

A medicine bottle without color or label, of unknown efficacy.

Seven in total.

— So stop pretending you understand me just because you wear my face.

He opened one of the caps and approached.

— Enjoy life.

Upper Castle, Alchemy Workshop.

The alchemist was in the middle of cleaning up.

— May I enter?

At the familiar voice of the old man, the alchemist paused and bowed his head.

— Greetings, Count Consillus. Of course, you may enter at any time.

— Thank you for allowing Regent Valdrova the use of the workshop.

— Not at all. How could this humble servant refuse the count’s request?

Count Consillus feigned looking around and then spoke.

— By the way, do you know what medicine Regent Valdrova made?

— This is the list of ingredients the Regent requested.

The insightful alchemist showed him the list he had written down.

Consillus examined the list.

He was a knight and a soldier, but he had gathered plenty of knowledge along the way.

Among it was knowledge of alchemy, and he could grasp the basics quickly.

That was why Consillus wore a puzzled expression.

— This is… these seem to be ingredients for a healing potion, am I correct?

At Count Consillus’s question, the alchemist nodded.

— Yes. That is correct.

— Did he come all the way here just to make a healing potion? If it’s just that, he could have asked you as well, couldn’t he?

— That’s what I thought too.

— That’s what you thought too?

The sigh he was about to let out was suppressed.

The alchemist stammered.

— No, that is…

— Speak. I will forgive you even a bit of grumbling.

— Risking my life to speak… Regent Valdrova’s alchemy skills are a bit… no, simply the worst.

Displeasure permeated his voice.

Count Consillus blinked at that reaction.

— Would you go that far?

— Yes. He committed acts that completely defied the methods of manufacturing and application, things that not even a novice would do. If my disciple did that, I would have slapped him immediately.

— Hmm…

— He swallowed a sigh, my apologies. I was rude…

Count Consillus stroked his beard, thought in silence, and then spoke.

— It probably isn’t inexperience.

— But it doesn’t hit the mark at all in manufacturing and application. Unless he’s a novice…

— Tell me. If it defies the manufacturing method, what effect does it have?

— Well…

The alchemist began to read what he had recorded.

— First, among the actions the Regent performed, the stirring speed was far too fast.

— What happens if it’s fast?

— The effect of the healing potion diminishes.

— And the others?

— He shook the cauldron during the cooling process. Shaking during the process where the efficacy distributes evenly diminishes the healing effect. And…

He began reciting the worst actions one after another.

In a short process, he had made over twenty mistakes.

— All those processes…

The alchemist could not hide his astonishment.

He hadn’t realized it while watching, but pointing them out one by one made it obvious.

Alchemy is delicate.

If something goes wrong in the process, the healing effect could completely disappear or turn into water worse than juice.

Yet every single one of the Regent’s clumsy actions led to a consistent effect.

— They all cause the recovery speed and healing power to decrease…

Far too intentional to be called the work of a novice.

— Kkeueueuk!

The man’s entire body tensed to the limit.

Veins bulged on his neck, and he gritted his shattered teeth until they cracked even further.

— Do you feel it?

Ferda asked, shaking the empty bottle.

Everything that had been inside entered the man’s body.

— Doesn’t it feel like a burning field? As if it’s burning you slowly and incredibly hot.

— Kkeueueuk… what… did you do to me…?!

He couldn’t finish his sentence.

But Ferda answered for him.

— A shitty life.

— T-that’s wha…!

— A name I gave it. The most painful life for bastards like you who resolved to die. And what you are feeling are the growing pains of nerves that died from severe torture coming back to life.

— Kkeueueuk…?!

— That’s right. This isn’t killing you. I am saving you.

— S-shit…!

By no means was this healing.

Ferda shook the empty medicine bottle and spoke.

— Isn’t it amazing? The better the effect of a healing potion, the denser and faster it heals. That’s why high-quality healing potions are always popular. Well-refined so there are no aftereffects even if drunk in the middle of battle.

The man was once a knight.

He had been on battlefields, so he knew very well what the effects of high-quality healing potions were like.

— On the contrary, cheap healing potions are painful. Slow recovery speed, weak healing power. What I made is the cheapest of the cheap. So when I press like this…

Ferda firmly pressed a bruised area with his index finger.

— Kyaaaak!

A scream burst out.

The man who had endured the torturer’s torment let out a single scream for the first time.

— Revived nerves are fucking sensitive. Just one finger does all this.

He picked up the tool the torturer had left behind.

Long and sharp-tipped.

A needle.

— How about this?

Clank clank!

— S-stop!!

He began to thrash, losing his mind.

— I’ll speak! I’ll tell you everything!

— What thing?

— There’s a purpose to this torture, you son of a bitch! I’ll say it! I’ll tell you where our base is, everything! Just stop! Please! Pleaaase!

Five minutes.

The time it took for him, who had endured the torturer’s torment, to surrender.

It ended remarkably quickly.

That’s right, he had learned to resist while dying, but he had never learned to resist while living.

— No.

Instead of interrogating him, Ferda gagged his mouth.

— Your surrender is scheduled, but not now.

He set down the empty bottle and took the one next to it.

It splashed.

To his sensitive ears, it sounded like waves crashing in a storm.

— Sing a little more. Feel a little more of that shitty life you threw in the trash.

The spiral staircase led to the underground.

Below, the screams of a villain fallen into hell did not cease.

Three hours later, Ferda faced Count Consillus again in the reception room.

— I learned a few interesting things.

— What are they?

— They call themselves Dopplers.

— Doppler? Sounds like it’s derived from doppelgänger.

— That’s right. They call themselves Dopplers, meaning beings superior to doppelgängers.

— Narcissism. So typical of demons.

Count Consillus laughed with a ha ha ha.

— I never imagined we’d obtain information about demons.

— Rather than demons, the fact that they were close to humans was key. If they weren’t close to humans, the torture methods I know wouldn’t have worked.

— Truly incredible. Creating something we couldn’t even imagine…

Even the alchemist who had served the castle for thirty years clicked his tongue at the idea.

Ferda had botched it dozens of times in a manner more difficult and precise than making a normal healing potion.

It was at a level worthy of being called an art.

— Those Doppler bastards, Chancellor Bernard wasn’t the first… do you know when they started as well?

— They say they started ten years ago. He said he just got promoted from servant rank to knight rank, so he doesn’t know precisely.

Demons have a hierarchy.

The servant rank consists of ordinary human followers, disposable pawns.

From the knight rank upward, they properly wield demonic power and authority.

— If they started ten years ago, quite a few must be hiding already.

— Escolleia, and even the Grand Council, are probably already infiltrated.

— That is… impossible. How could forces of chaos exist in the domain of the Aspect of Great Order, Blancaros-nim?

— Chancellor Bernard’s words at the Grand Council are already known. Whether human or Doppler, demon followers being inside is a given fact.

Count Consillus understood that as well, but accepting it completely was too much.

— The Grand Council created for the continent’s harmony is losing trust now.

The Grand Council created for the harmony of the Serdes Continent.

The news that the Evil Dragon Godwin’s subordinate is planted in Blancaros’s Absolute Zone will shake the continent.

A repercussion too massive to use politically.

— What will you do?

Consillus asked Ferda.

Perhaps he would make a wise judgment in this situation.

— A preemptive strike is best.

— Ambushing the enemy is indeed an excellent tactic. But you’d need to know the enemy’s base to ambush them, wouldn’t you?

— Of course.

Consillus belatedly understood the intent behind those words and had an epiphany.

— Don’t tell me you’ve found the enemy’s base?

— Not the base, but a key facility. He said he served as captain of security at the research facility that creates those bastards. So he knows the vulnerable parts better than anyone else.

— Then we can simply go strike them immediately.

Knowing the location, the conditions were perfect.

— One problem.

— What is it?

— That research facility is in Silverwind’s territory.

— Ah…

Consillus knew how things stood with Silverwind right now.

— It has become problematic. If we requested Silverwind’s cooperation, it would be resolved easily…

— They won’t do it. And requesting it would take time too, wouldn’t it?

— True. Then providing the information would be best, but… that’s not a pleasant matter either.

— If it’s just subjugation, we could collapse the mountain and erase it.

The target of the preemptive strike is not the demons’ gathering place, but the research facility.

Which means a place where information, not military force, is key.

Among that, there would surely be not only information about the Dopplers, but also about the demons’ plans.

Ferda decided.

— We will have to strike in secret, collapse it, and retreat.

A pinpoint special operation that could turn into war with a single misstep.

Just as Ferda attempted to structure the plan, Count Consillus suddenly intervened.

— A presumptuous request, but could you give this old man a chance?

— A chance?

— Yes.

Count Consillus knelt and placed a hand over his chest.

— As the Shield of the Empire and a loyal knight to the Aspect of Great Power, I want to be of great help to the Regent.

He was a white-haired old man.

Yet in his prime, he had been a knight recognized by the Empire.

A knight who lost everything and voluntarily demoted himself.

Ferda gladly accepted that request.

— We depart tomorrow. Prepare immediately.