Chapter 59: A Life Like a Beggar
“First,” Ferda spoke, his voice echoing in the damp underground space, “I must thank you.”
“……”
“If you hadn’t attacked that day, I would have had to watch Chancellor Bernard for days. That would have been a waste of time.”
“If you’re that grateful… can you untie me?”
“No. I’m thankful, but I’m not stupid.”
Ferda pulled a chair and placed it in front of him.
“Your transformation skill is quite impressive. It’s not like using magic to disguise or trick the mind. It’s not like those Doppelgangers who just copy things poorly.”
“If you like it so much, I can become you, too.” The man chuckled, making a joke.
“Can I also become myself?” Ferda grabbed onto the joke.
“As long as there’s blood.”
Ferda pulled out a clean dagger and cut his own arm. Bright red blood dripped down.
“Try it.”
“……”
The man caught the dripping blood and swallowed it. As a large amount of blood entered his body, Headmaster Bernard’s face began to change. Now, he looked exactly like Ferda: gray hair, blue eyes, a weak body that had once dreamed of being a knight but never could. His body was bruised, his teeth broken—but it was Ferda’s face.
“So, you can’t heal wounds. You don’t have that monster-like healing ability?”
“My job is to become human. No human has such healing powers, right?”
“How thorough.”
He had deliberately removed all the demon-like enhancements and focused only on copying humans.
Ferda stared at him. The man, now wearing Ferda’s face, suddenly laughed.
“Ferda Valdrova. I always thought you were crazy, but you’re even worse than I imagined.”
“What do you mean?” Ferda tilted his head.
“You’re looking at yourself—a broken, ruined version of yourself. But you’re watching without a hint of fear.”
“I’m not enjoying it.”
“But your eyes haven’t wavered even once.”
The man was right. Ferda wasn’t looking away. He was calmly observing his broken self.
“You… were cast out from the Rosnova family, right?”
“……”
“I can feel how hard you tried. Your body has no muscles, but I can tell. You trained until your bones broke and your hands bled, didn’t you?”
“……”
“But your father didn’t recognize that.”
“Yes, and that’s how I got my engagement.”
“No. That was just an excuse to throw you out. You know that, don’t you?”
The man, wearing Ferda’s face, smirked.
“You had no talent, so they abandoned you. Just like me. We were both discarded like trash.”
His eyes were filled with something familiar—revenge. The same emotion, but for different people. A man seeking revenge against a king who betrayed him. A son seeking revenge against a father who abandoned him. Ferda understood that rage deeply.
“Yes, I was abandoned.” Ferda’s face twisted in disgust.
“But you and I are different. Completely different.”
“How?”
“Our souls.” Ferda placed his hand on his chest. “My soul was always mine.”
His sharp gaze pierced the man in front of him. The man clenched his fists and shouted,
“I never sold my soul to anyone! This is the path I chose!”
“No. You sold your soul. You made yourself be judged by those trash and didn’t hesitate to make yourself cheap. With that, your thirst for revenge became nothing more than a worthless bargain.”
“Does that even matter?! As long as I get my revenge, it’s fine! Even if I destroy myself, as long as that bastard suffers more than hell, it’s worth it!”
“No. Revenge is meaningless without your soul.”
Ferda reached into a pouch. “Even if it gets dirty, even if it’s broken, revenge only means something when you keep your soul completely yours.”
He pulled out a small bottle. It had no label, no sign of what was inside. Seven bottles in total.
“So stop pretending you understand me just because you look like me.” He opened one bottle and walked closer. “Enjoy life a little.”
Holy City, Upper District – Alchemy Workshop
The alchemist was busy cleaning up.
“May I enter?”
A familiar old voice spoke. The alchemist quickly bowed.
“Count Consillus! Of course, you’re always welcome.”
“Thank you for letting Regent Valdrova use your workshop.”
“No need to thank me, Count. How could I refuse your request?”
Count Consillus pretended to glance around before asking,
“By the way, do you know what kind of potion Regent Valdrova made?”
“Here is the list of ingredients he used.”
The alchemist, quick to notice things, handed over the notes. Count Consillus read them carefully. He was a knight and soldier, but he had some knowledge of alchemy. Basic things were easy for him to understand. Which was why his face twisted in confusion.
“This looks like… healing potion ingredients?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“He came all the way here just to make a simple healing potion? He could have just asked you to make it.”
“That’s what I thought too.”
“You thought so too?” Count Consillus stopped mid-sigh. The alchemist hesitated.
“Well, that is….”
“Speak freely. I won’t be angry.”
“To be honest… Regent Valdrova’s alchemy skills were… not just poor, but awful.”
The disgust was clear in the alchemist’s voice.
Consillus blinked. “He’s that bad?”
“Yes. He’s a complete beginner—no, worse than a beginner. If one of my students had done that, I would have slapped them immediately.”
“Hmm…”
“Oh! I-I’m sorry! That was rude of me…!”
Count Consillus stroked his beard in thought before speaking again.
“I don’t think he was simply bad at it.”
“But the manufacturing and usage were completely off. A beginner wouldn’t even make those mistakes…”
“Tell me, what happens when the method is wrong?”
“Well….” The alchemist looked through his notes and began reading.
“For example, he stirred the mixture too fast.”
“What does that do?”
“It reduces the effectiveness of the healing potion.”
“And anything else?”
“During the cooling process, he shook the pot. Shaking during the process reduces the healing effect.”
The alchemist kept listing mistakes. In just a short process, Ferda had made over twenty errors. But as the alchemist looked through them all, he finally realized something.
“Wait… every mistake… reduces healing?”
It wasn’t random. It was all intentional.
“Ughhh!” The man’s entire body tensed. His veins bulged. His broken teeth clenched so hard they shattered.
“Can you feel it?”
Ferda shook the empty bottle. Everything inside had gone into the man’s body.
“Your body must feel like it’s burning, right? Slowly, but so very, very hot.”
“Ughhh…! What did you do to me?!”
He couldn’t finish his words. But Ferda answered for him.
“A beggar’s life.”
“W-What does that mean…?”
“That’s the name I gave it. It’s the most painful life for those ready to die, like you. And what you’re feeling now is growing pain, as your nerves—once dead from torture—come back to life.”
“Grrr…!”
“Yes. This isn’t killing you. It’s saving you.”
“B-Bullshit…!” There was no way this was healing.
Ferda shook the empty potion bottle.
“Isn’t it amazing? The stronger a healing potion is, the faster and smoother it heals. That’s why high-grade potions are always popular. They are well-refined, so you can drink them in battle without side effects.”
The man had once been a knight. He had fought in battles and knew well how good healing potions worked.
“But cheap healing potions are painful. They are slow and weak. And the one I made is the cheapest of the cheap. So if I press here…”
Ferda pressed his bruised skin with his finger.
“AAARGH!” A scream burst out. The man had endured executioner’s torture, but this time, he screamed.
Ferda picked up an item the executioner had left behind. A long, sharp object. It was a needle.
“How about this?”
CLANK! CLANK!
“No! STOP!!” The man lost control and started struggling.
“I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!”
“What will you tell me?”
“The reason you’re torturing me! I’ll tell you everything! I’ll tell you where our base is! Just stop! Please! PLEASE!!”
Five minutes. That’s how long it took for him to break, after enduring the executioner’s torture. It ended very quickly. Yes, he knew how to resist death, but he had never learned how to resist life.
“No.”
Instead of asking questions, Ferda tortured him further. He set down the empty bottle and picked up another one. It sloshed inside.
To the man’s sensitive ears, it sounded like waves crashing in a storm.
“Sing a little longer. Feel the beggar’s life you abandoned.”
A spiral staircase led down to the basement. There, the screams of a wicked man trapped in hell never ceased.
Three hours later, Ferda met with Count Consillus again in the drawing room.
“I learned some interesting things.”
“What did you find out?”
“They call themselves Dopplers.”
“Dopplers? Sounds like it comes from ‘Doppelganger.’”
“Yes. They believe they are even better than Doppelgangers, so they call themselves Dopplers.”
“Hah, such arrogance. Truly demonic.” Count Consillus chuckled.
“I never imagined we’d get information about demons.”
“It helped that they are more like humans. If they weren’t, my torture methods wouldn’t have worked.”
“Incredible. You created something we never even thought of…”
Even the alchemist, who had worked in the castle for 30 years, was amazed. Ferda had ruined a healing potion in a way that was more difficult and precise than making a proper one. It was like an art.
“These Dopplers… Bernard wasn’t the first, was he? Do you know when they started?”
“They started 10 years ago. The man I tortured was just promoted from Servant level to Knight level, so he didn’t know all the details.”
Demons had ranks. Servants were just human followers—disposable pawns. Knights were the ones who truly gained demonic power.
“If they started 10 years ago, they must have spread a lot.”
“They must be hidden not only in Escolaya but also in the Grand Council.”
“That’s impossible! The Grand Council is under the protection of the great order of Blancaros. There’s no way chaos could exist there!”
“But we already know what Bernard said in the Grand Council. Whether they are humans or Dopplers, demon followers exist among them.”
Count Consillus understood, but it was hard to accept.
“The Grand Council was meant to unite the continent… But now, it’s losing trust.”
The Grand Council was created to bring unity to the continent of Serdes. If people found out that a servant of the evil dragon Godwin was hiding in Blancaros’s sacred territory, the entire continent would shake. It was too dangerous to use politically.
“What will you do?” Count Consillus asked Ferda. Perhaps Ferda would make the wisest decision in this situation.
“The best option is a preemptive strike.”
“Attacking first is a good strategy. But we need to know their base to strike them.”
“Of course.”
Realizing what Ferda meant, Count Consillus’s eyes lit up.
“Did you find their base?”
“Not their base, but a key facility. The man I tortured was a security captain for their research lab. He knows its weaknesses.”
“Then we can attack immediately.” They now had the location. Everything was ready.
“But there’s one problem.”
“What is it?”
“That research lab is in Silverwind’s territory.”
“Ah…” Count Consillus understood the situation.
“This is tricky. If we ask Silverwind for help, it would be easy…”
“But they won’t help. And asking them would take too much time.”
“That’s true. Giving them the information might be better, but even that is unpleasant.”
“If it was just about destroying them, we could collapse the mountain and be done with it.”
The target wasn’t a demon stronghold, but a research facility. It wasn’t an army—information was the key. Inside, there would be details about Dopplers and the demons’ plans. Ferda made his decision.
“We need to strike silently, destroy it, and escape.”
A dangerous special operation that could spark a war.
Just as Ferda was finalizing his plan, Count Consillus suddenly spoke up.
“With all due respect, may I have this opportunity?”
“An opportunity?”
“Yes.”
Count Consillus knelt and placed a hand over his chest.
“As a knight who serves the empire and the great power of order, I wish to aid you.”
He was an old man with gray hair. But in his prime, he had been a respected knight of the empire. A man who had lost everything and voluntarily stepped down.
Ferda gladly accepted his request.
“We leave tomorrow. Prepare yourself.”
