Chapter 164: Conspiracy
Act on impulse.
After confirming that the diary didn’t issue any warnings, Saul climbed up as if stepping onto another level.
Soon, his head emerged through the floor of the fourteenth level. The lights were on—clearly, someone was inside this dormitory.
A Level Three Apprentice’s dormitory was twice the size of a Level Two Apprentice’s.
After making sure there was no danger, Saul fully emerged and started exploring the room.
Despite its increased size, the extra space wasn’t used for luxury. It was as austere as a monk’s quarters.
Those who indulge in pleasure can never become Level Three Apprentices before the age of thirty.
Besides the usual living room and bedroom, the dorm also had a sizable storeroom and a compact laboratory.
Just as Saul was about to enter the lab to check what its owner was researching, the diary suddenly appeared with a warning:
"Don’t look around recklessly. Be careful, or you’ll be sealed!"
"So, what Level Three Apprentices research is still dangerous to me?"
"The diary says 'sealed' instead of 'driven mad'—could it be that this person is studying spirit confinement?"
Saul immediately retreated a few steps, keeping his distance from the laboratory.
This retreat landed him in the bedroom next to the lab.
Before he could turn around, a hushed conversation reached his ears.
"What the hell are you thinking? Are you really going to let that little runt steal your job?"
Little runt? Steal a job?
Saul immediately connected the dots.
"What a coincidence—they’re talking about me!"
He turned to see two tall, muscular men standing face-to-face in the middle of the bedroom.
They were arguing in hushed voices, even their anger was suppressed.
"Instructor Katz personally sent him over and didn’t even allow me to argue. What could I do?"
The man speaking in a dejected tone was Kujin, the one whose job Saul had taken.
Saul didn’t recognize the other man, but judging by his demeanor, he was clearly another Level Three Apprentice.
"What can you do?" The other man’s expression darkened. "Kill him. If the worker is gone, the task will surely return to you."
"Ferguson!" Kujin's eyes widened, his voice involuntarily rising before he quickly lowered it again. "Are you insane? We can’t do this again! You think the instructor really doesn’t know?"
"Why not? Since when has the tower ever cared if someone dies? Has any instructor ever interfered?" Ferguson countered, his gaze sinister. "Don’t forget—without access to the storeroom, we’ll run out of materials. Do you really want to go back to being that useless failure?"
Kujin squinted, his expression turning unfriendly. "You're the one who's desperate, aren’t you? If we get caught, I’ll be the prime suspect, while you can stay out of it. After all, on the surface, no one knows about our connection."
Ferguson nearly lost his temper but held back as if remembering something. Instead, he lowered his voice and even softened his attitude.
"I am desperate. But I have no choice. Do you know why I haven’t been leaving the tower lately?"
Kujin pressed his lips together, remaining silent, but his eyes flickered with doubt.
"I'll show you."
Ferguson suddenly began unfastening his belt.
Watching from the side, Saul’s eyes widened in shock.
With a flick, Ferguson's pants slid effortlessly to the floor—so smoothly that it seemed as if there were no legs inside them at all.
Underneath his loose trousers, he was wearing a pair of tight-fitting black pants.
And inside those pants—his legs were shockingly thin, completely disproportionate to his muscular upper body.
It was as if two different people’s halves had been stitched together.
Kujin sucked in a breath, his face immediately changing color.
But Saul noticed something else.
He moved closer and examined the material of Ferguson’s pants—it was exactly like his old pair of black gloves.
"The ones I barely used before the Tower Master cruelly discarded them. That was a massive loss of magic crystals..."
While Saul mourned his past loss, Ferguson grabbed his waistband and yanked downward, fully exposing his legs.
Saul instinctively took two steps back.
The sight was horrifying.
Ferguson’s legs were almost completely charred, as if they had been incinerated by fire. Just standing there, tiny black fragments of burnt flesh crumbled to the floor.
"How is he even able to stand or walk?"
Suddenly, white electric arcs flickered across his carbonized legs.
"This energy looks familiar..." Saul thought carefully, then realized the resemblance to Instructor Monica.
But unlike Monica, whose burned flesh quickly regenerated, keeping her beauty intact, Ferguson’s legs looked beyond saving.
"My gloves were meant to defend against external electricity—his pants must be isolating internal currents." Saul shook his head and imitated the Tower Master’s tone:
"Such primitive methods."
At this moment, Kujin finally found his voice, trembling as he spoke:
"W-Why are you like this?"
Ferguson silently pulled his pants back up, his expression heavy. "Borrowing someone else’s method to advance always comes with severe side effects."
"Will I end up like this too?" Kujin clenched his fists, veins bulging on his forehead.
"If we don’t get more materials..."
Before Ferguson could finish, Kujin stepped forward and grabbed him by the collar.
"You never told me this would happen!"
Ferguson’s expression remained unchanged. "Would you have changed your mind if I had?"
Kujin took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "At the very least, I could have had other options."
"You’re just a failure who couldn’t advance before thirty. What other options did you have?"
Kujin’s pupils trembled, his brows furrowed deeply, and his grip on Ferguson’s collar tightened further.
Saul and Ferguson both stared at Kujin, waiting for his decision.
Finally, Kujin let go, his voice weak but resolute:
"We have to take back the storeroom."
Ferguson finally exhaled in relief. "How do you want to do it? If you're afraid of trouble, we can lure him out. I’ll take care of it while you stay clear of suspicion."
But Kujin only rolled his eyes. "Is murder the only thing you think about?"
Ferguson frowned in confusion.
"We can get Saul to work with us."
"But he doesn’t need those materials." Ferguson was puzzled.
"I know the Second Storeroom well. Some materials are freely available, but they’re either scarce, useless, or have severe side effects. Even after years, I’ve only identified a few that we can actually use."
"So you mean...?"
"We’ll tempt him with academic credits or something else he desires, making him steal a seemingly unimportant yet crucial material."
"What material?" Ferguson and Saul both asked simultaneously.
Kujin enunciated clearly: "Candles."
---
Saul returned to his dormitory.
The diary suddenly warned him:
"You've been out too long. The old house is about to catch fire."
He had no time to keep eavesdropping—he quickly sank down, retraced his steps through the washroom, and returned to his body.
"Ahchoo—!" Saul sneezed as he hurriedly put on his clothes.
"Candles..."
The world spun around him.
Barely making it out of the washroom, he collapsed onto the ground.
His eyelids felt as heavy as lead, his arms weak like noodles.
As he lost consciousness, one final thought crossed his mind:
"Did Lady Yura send this soul-separation as a warning?"
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