Chapter 167 - Principles

"Ah... th-that obvious, was I?"

His voice and speech trembled.

Akard couldn't hide his bewilderment.

A feeling that threatened to burst out the moment he tried to suppress it.

The more he looked at that face, the more violently it swelled.

"Haha... I suppose everyone has their own sense of aesthetics..."

Akard turned his head away.

"I-I'll s-serve you some tea!"

He hurried over to the tea table.

He couldn't let Ferda see his face.

The hatred and ugliness, the rage threatening to tear through his own skin.

'I knew no one would ever understand.'

But Akard had revealed the shape of his love.

Believing Ferda would be different from everyone else, he had gathered the courage to show it.

Yet Ferda had called Akard's love—and his courage—disgusting.

Just like that woman who had so cruelly trampled his first love.

'I'm...'

He clenched his fist.

'I'm not disgusting.'

The disgusting one is you, for being incapable of understanding.

At last, something inside Akard snapped.

Every shred of goodwill he had felt toward Ferda instantly turned into oil, feeding the flames of his fury.

No one had the right to belittle his love.

So...

'I'll make sure you understand exactly what my love truly is.'

That single resolve filled Akard's mind.

Carefully, he took a small bottle from inside his robes.

Inside was a transparent liquid—colorless, odorless, and tasteless.

He poured it into Ferda's teacup.

"Please, enjoy. This black tea contains the very essence of my alchemy."

"Thank you."

Pretending to sip his own tea, Akard watched Ferda closely.

Just to make sure he actually drank it.

The porcelain rim touched his lips.

The tea tilted and flowed into his mouth.

He drank it.

Akard smiled with satisfaction.

"Regent Ferda."

"Yes, what is it?"

"I serve as Grand Duke Golt's right-hand man. We communicate frequently and work quite closely."

"Is that so?"

"With that in mind, if it wouldn't inconvenience you, I'd like to lend my support so the Far East can receive proper assistance. I was wondering if I might take a look at the proposed legislation."

Hearing that, Ferda smiled politely.

"If you're willing to do that, I'd be truly grateful."

"What does the Far East need most right now?"

"Transportation infrastructure needs improvement above all else. To accomplish that, we'll need to repair the roads and clear some of the forest..."

Ferda's speech gradually became sluggish.

"The forest... th-the... s-so the fores..."

His head, which had been resting against the chair, suddenly slumped to one side.

Acting as though nothing was unusual, Akard took another sip of tea before standing up and lifting Ferda's head.

"Hmm..."

His eyes were buried in the deepest abyss of unconsciousness.

There was no doubt.

The drug had worked perfectly.

Akard gazed at him with affectionate eyes.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was gentle, as though comforting a woman.

"There was no other choice. You see... I don't care if someone beats me or stabs me. I'm the kind of person who deserves that... because I'm someone so... disgusting."

Pressing his forehead against Ferda's, he apologized again and again.

"But... I swore I'd never forgive anyone who insulted my love."

That woman who had rejected his confession and looked at him with disgust.

That woman who had pretended to love him while leading him on.

Akard wanted to force her to understand what his love truly was.

Because it was his first time, his methods had been clumsy.

Thus, his first love had come to an end.

"Of course, this is my fault. This happened because I trusted you... But even so, I can't forgive you. So..."

Carefully, Akard pulled a leather pouch from inside his robes and untied it.

Inside were needles nearly thirty centimeters long.

He selected one.

"I'll just help you understand my aesthetics a little."

Slowly, he guided the needle toward Ferda's pupil.

Just as it was about to pierce his retina—

"Hm...?"

Akard doubted his own eyes.

For the briefest instant, it looked as though Ferda's pupil had moved.

'That can't be...'

What Ferda had consumed was an anesthetic that turned people into living dolls.

Even a small amount was more than enough.

It had worked on Barbarians twice Ferda's size.

There was no way Ferda could be unaffected.

The victim could still feel pain.

Could still hear everything.

But they couldn't scream.

Couldn't speak.

'Maybe I'm just too agitated.'

Yes.

He must have imagined it.

Thinking that, he aimed the needle toward Ferda's retina once more.

The moment he was about to pierce it—

The candles in the brilliantly lit chandelier suddenly went out all at once.

"What now?"

Startled by the darkness ruining the mood, he looked around.

The chandelier candles had all been replaced yesterday.

Even if they'd burned down completely, they wouldn't extinguish like this.

It was unnaturally abrupt—

As if someone had deliberately snuffed them out.

Akard had lived in this mansion for years and had never experienced anything like it.

This had only happened after Ferda entered the house.

'Don't tell me...?!'

Ferda...?

When coincidence happens twice in a row, it's no longer coincidence.

It's inevitability.

Akard immediately turned toward Ferda.

The eyes that should have been lifeless...

Were glowing an icy blue in the darkness.

He had been awake from the very beginning.

"St—!"

Akard tried to respond with a stun spell.

But the words wouldn't come out.

Something blocked his mouth, interrupting his incantation.

Not only his mouth.

An oppressive pressure wrapped around both his hands and his abdomen—the very places he needed to focus to manifest a Magic Circle.

It was as though countless dead lurking in the darkness had seized him.

Akard was a Five-Circle Mage.

But now he had been subdued so completely that he was nothing more than a helpless, overweight man.

At the same time, Ferda's glowing eyes shifted.

The body that should have collapsed from the drug moved as though nothing had happened.

The one who had been subdued...

Was Akard.

"Akard Dvelung."

A chill ran through his entire body.

It sounded like a messenger climbing up from Hell itself.

"You're wondering, aren't you? Why is that bastard moving around perfectly fine?"

Ferda wiped the spot where Akard had pressed their foreheads together with a handkerchief before stuffing it into his pocket.

"But do you know something?"

Just as Akard had done moments earlier, Ferda calmly revealed one of his own secrets.

"You see... I stopped eating food prepared by other people."

It was back when he had first been acknowledged as an up-and-coming noble.

He still had a tiny bit of faith in humanity.

A small hope that people could be trusted.

He had attended social gatherings, believing in others.

"There were some pieces of trash who drugged me... then tried to bury me alive."

And he had been betrayed.

Fortunately, it hadn't led to his death.

No matter how many times the gods abandoned Ferda...

He always survived.

And returned for revenge.

"So..."

Ferda grabbed Akard by the face.

His blazing eyes slowly lifted upward.

Instinctively, Akard knew exactly what Ferda intended to do.

He struggled desperately.

But no matter what he did, he couldn't stop his mouth from being forced open.

This darkness belonged to Ferda.

"I'll return this to you."

Ferda opened his mouth.

Akard looked inside.

Within it was an even deeper darkness.

The darkness split open like a thin membrane.

Its contents flowed out.

It was the very tea Ferda had swallowed.

"Mmph! Mmmph!"

It poured directly into Akard's open mouth.

He struggled violently to spit it back out.

But the instant it touched his tongue...

There was no turning back.

His body gradually stiffened.

Until at last, his consciousness sank into the deepest abyss.

The sound of door hinges echoed as light entered the room.

The one carrying a candle was dressed as a maid.

Yet the attendant showed neither surprise nor fear at the scene before her.

Silently, she approached, her gaze alternating between Ferda and Akard.

She was a brown-skinned woman who had no business being inside this mansion.

It was Garnet.

"Have you finished cleaning up?"

Ferda asked.

"Yes."

"And the secret passage?"

"I found it, just as you instructed."

"Well done. Let's take him."

"Understood."

Despite Akard's enormous body, Garnet effortlessly hoisted him over her shoulder.

She led them to Akard's alchemy workshop.

Opening the door normally required a security-release spell known only to Akard himself.

That wasn't a problem.

The key...

Was Akard Dvelung's own body.

Carrying him inside, they entered.

Although it was a hidden chamber, numerous ventilation shafts prevented even the slightest trace of mold or stale air.

At first glance, it looked like a perfectly secure alchemy workshop.

But Ferda knew this wasn't all there was.

One of the medicine shelves lined neatly against the wall stood slightly ajar.

Behind it was a passage leading underground.

"Shall we go down?"

Garnet asked.

Ferda already knew what she had found.

That was precisely why she had asked.

"Let's go."

So they descended.

The moment the hidden door opened, foul-smelling vapors billowed out.

The overwhelming stench triggered an instinctive sense of revulsion.

Ferda recognized it immediately.

It was the same disgusting aura he had felt from Akard's abstract paintings.

"Commander of the Shadow Division."

"Yes."

"Seat him, then withdraw."

"...Yes."

Garnet quietly left.

Ferda walked toward the medicine shelves Akard had so carefully organized.

As befitted a meticulous alchemist, every bottle was labeled with detailed notes.

Because of that, finding what he needed was easy.

Some time later, Akard's fingers twitched.

Focus gradually returned to his distant eyes.

His vocal cords regained their function.

But only that.

His mouth was sealed shut.

Every finger restrained.

His arms tightly bound to the chair.

Ferda had no intention whatsoever of giving Akard even the slightest chance to cast magic.

He activated the recording crystal resting on the table.

"Akard Dvelung."

The name of the man sitting before him.

"The miracle alchemist who cured the Black Plague spreading throughout the Empire."

That was Akard Dvelung's greatest achievement.

A terrible plague that had claimed ten million lives over five years.

"But who could have imagined..."

Ferda continued.

"...That the entire epidemic was a staged operation secretly orchestrated by the Empire's upper ranks?"

Akard's eyes widened.

They silently asked:

How do you know that?

"Don't look so surprised."

Ferda's voice remained calm.

"I even know it was ordered by Valdemar Golt."

Akard had spread the plague.

But the mastermind had been Valdemar.

Ironically...

He had done it for the sake of the Empire.

Valdemar wanted the Empire to endure.

To keep the rotten, decaying Empire functioning, it constantly needed new replacement parts.

Those parts were supplied by the ninety percent of the population who belonged to the lower classes.

They were valuable.

But they were also troublesome.

There were simply too many surplus people.

Rather than supporting the Empire, they had become parasites gnawing away at its foundations.

So the population had to be reduced.

The plague was deliberately spread through the slums, killing countless innocent people who never even knew why they were dying.

Valdemar proudly called it quarantine.

"I don't care about that."

It was all in the past.

And Ferda wasn't here to discuss justice.

"However..."

"I hear your family possesses a rather interesting drug."

He picked up one of the bottles he had selected.

Its label read:

Truth Serum.

"I'd like you to drink this."

"Mmph! Mmmph!"

For the first time, the composed Akard struggled violently.

He knew exactly what the drug did.

He couldn't allow himself to consume it.

But completely restrained, he had no means of resisting Ferda.

The murky black liquid poured into Akard's mouth.

Its effects were immediate.

"Ghh..."

Akard groaned.

His face twisted as though suffering an unbearable migraine, shaking his head in agony.

Watching him, Ferda spoke.

"Answer me."

He began with the story behind the potion.

"Who created this drug?"

Akard answered.

"My... father... Jackal Dvelung..."

"Explain its effects."

"It's... an immediate-acting potion... It clouds the mind... and whenever the user tells a lie... it causes unbearable headaches... forcing them... to speak only the truth..."

"What happens if you refuse to speak?"

"The same... It hurts... enough to make you wish you were dead."

"I see."

After leisurely gathering information, Ferda finally asked the question that truly mattered.

"Who did your father administer this to?"

"Th-that's... ngh... Ghhhhh...!"

Akard tried to keep his mouth shut.

But in the end, he couldn't resist.

"...The Third Prince of the Arken Empire... Million Arken..."

Ferda had already known the answer.

But he continued.

At this moment, he needed confirmation.