Chapter 84: I Saw the Devil Part 2

Let’s think positively.

On his first day of infiltration, Schult was discovered by his assassination target.

Unfortunately, this target turned out to be a deranged sadist who thrived on danger, and he made an outrageous demand:

“Entertain me, or your life is forfeit.”

Resistance was futile, as the power gap between them was overwhelming.

Now, Schult was left with no choice but to undertake a suicidal mission: opposing Riyan, the rising star of the Empire.

But… there was still a glimmer of hope.

‘It’s not like it’s an impossible problem,’ he thought.

If the condition for passing this test were to overpower Riyan physically, all hope would indeed be lost.

However, as long as the solution lay outside brute strength, there was still a chance.

Instead of killing Riyan, tarnishing his reputation might be a task Schult’s abilities could manage.

‘People have a dark side, don’t they?’

Humans are often drawn to watching the downfall of the mighty.

Wealth, fame—all of it becomes a spectacle when someone at the top tumbles down.

The higher they climb, the more spectacular the fall.

If the Empire’s latest sensation, the new professor, were to be caught in a scandal, it would surely draw the attention of every citizen.

Determined, Schult steeled himself and sprang into action.

***

“P-please… Someone! Anyone, help me!”

In the heart of the Imperial capital, a desperate voice rang out.

This wasn’t some seedy slum known for lawlessness but the very center of the Empire—a place where such cries were unheard of.

Naturally, the plea drew everyone’s attention.

A crowd gathered, and their eyes fell on a boy in a terrible state.

His entire body was covered in bruises, bearing unmistakable marks of a vicious beating.

The pitiful sight left the onlookers horrified.

The boy, tears streaming down his face, began to speak in a trembling voice.

He explained, with sobs breaking his words, how someone had beaten him mercilessly.

He had begged them to stop, cried out in pain, and even asked why they were doing it—but they wouldn’t answer.

‘Who could see such a scene and not feel sympathy?’

The gathered crowd was united in outrage.

It didn’t matter who the perpetrator was—such a monster deserved to be brought to justice.

Empowered by their support, the boy found his courage.

He hesitated for a moment, then finally named the assailant.

“Riyan. It was the new professor, Riyan, who beat me.”

For an instant, silence fell, chilling in its intensity.

The pitiful boy—none other than Schult in elaborate disguise—felt as though he had stepped into a horror film.

The warmth and pity in the crowd’s eyes were replaced with suspicion and doubt.

‘When you hear someone like Yoo Jae-seok assaulted someone, you wouldn’t first think disappointment—you’d wonder, “What could drive such a good person to violence?”’

Riyan was known as a paragon of virtue.

A man without a blemish on his character, someone who forgave even those who had harmed him.

Suspicion was natural, and without it, it would have been strange.

Sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, Schult wasted no time.

He turned and bolted, running as fast as his legs would carry him.

Behind him, he heard the angry cries of the crowd:

“Catch that boy! He’s clearly up to no good! Find him and bring him to justice!”

Schult’s face twisted into a wry grimace as he ran.

‘Not yet,’ he thought.

Schult stood in the middle of the slums, his voice ringing loudly for all to hear.

“You must all rise up!” he shouted.

“Riyan is determined to eradicate all criminals. If he continues to rise in power, people like us, those in the slums, will have no choice but to be arrested for crimes!”

Of course, Schult had prepared thoroughly.

The deranged sadist, Riyan, had essentially aided Schult’s attack on him.

Using the recording device he had prepared, Schult played Riyan’s voice.

The words played clearly:

“I can’t stand the sight of criminals. There is no salvation for those who have sinned. They are rotten to the core. I’ll sweep through the slums and purify this world.”

With such inflammatory remarks, there was no way public opinion would stay calm.

Schult was sure of this, and indeed, the crowd reacted strongly.

***

Though… the direction of their anger wasn’t quite what he expected.

An apple came flying at him.

The thrower was an old man with snow-white hair, standing with a yellow-furred retriever beastman at his side.

The beastman growled, baring its teeth as if ready to pounce on Schult.

“Maybe we are unforgivable people,” the old man said solemnly. “Maybe we do deserve such criticism. But… that professor would never say such things.”

‘Never say such things? He said them himself!’

Schult barely managed to hold back a retort.

He tried to logically prove that the recording wasn’t fabricated, but no one would even listen.

“Stand back,” the old man said. “I’ve seen enough bloodshed for a lifetime. I won’t let you dirty your hands.”

Beside him, the scruffy retriever beastman whined tearfully, vowing to protect the old man and fight alongside him.

The two of them might as well have been acting out a melodrama.

While Schult gawked at their bizarre display, he snapped back to reality when he noticed the other residents.

They were silently drawing weapons, their expressions tense as they glared at him.

The threat was clear—they looked ready to bash his skull in at any moment.

Schult had no choice but to flee once again, sprinting away without a backward glance.

***

The reunion with his assistant was a disaster.

The Empire’s citizens, the slum dwellers, beastmen, the thieves’ guild, the adventurers’ association, the mercenary union, and even the Resistance—his assistant had managed to anger them all.

Delivered to Schult completely bound, with a dotted line neatly drawn across his neck for decapitation, the assistant wailed in despair.

“Please fire me….”

This wasn’t an enemy trying to kill him or an innocent bystander—it was his own assistant, being worked to the brink of insanity.

After spilling all the details of his predicament and begging for help, Schult had agreed to assist him without hesitation.

But even the most diligent of subordinates had their limits.

“Yes, it’s only right to let you go,” Schult said, sighing. “But… one last job.”

It wasn’t fair, but he had no choice.

The assistant looked utterly defeated, his face a picture of misery.

“This time, it’s simple. Just attend a press conference. All you have to do is tell the truth, and I’ll let you go immediately after.”

Riyan’s madness had reached new heights.

He had given bizarre orders, claiming he wanted to be condemned by everyone.

For some inexplicable reason, he believed that if he wasn’t fired, he would die.

The assistant had only to expose Riyan’s behavior honestly.

It was a win-win: the assistant could vent his frustrations, and Riyan would achieve his goal of public condemnation.

Even if the crowd doubted the assistant’s words, Riyan planned to step in and confess to his sins himself.

‘How could Schult let such an opportunity slip?’

He put on his best pleading look.

‘Sometimes sincerity wins people over,’ Schult thought.

He didn’t have the power to coerce anyone, but the assistant eventually nodded.

For the first time, Schult felt lucky to have such a capable assistant.

***

The press conference was chaotic.

Riyan had announced a major revelation, drawing a massive crowd of journalists.

But instead of Riyan standing at the microphone, they found a black-haired boy.

Schult stood there, staring into the cameras with lifeless eyes.

The whole world seemed to revolve around Riyan.

No matter where he went or what he did, Riyan’s supporters were everywhere.

Schult, thoroughly broken by their fanaticism, knew he had become nothing more than a toy.

Riyan, standing off to the side, intended to confess everything and end it all.

The sight of him was infuriating, but Schult couldn’t deny the irony.

If you try to kill someone, you must be ready to face the consequences.

Schult had come to assassinate Riyan, only to be exposed and face retaliation.

Complaining about injustice now would be laughable.

‘Let’s just get this over with,’ Schult thought.

He resolved to confess his plot.

“I… am an assassin from the Five Fangs Alliance,” he began, his voice trembling.

The reporters murmured among themselves.

“Black hair and blue eyes… isn’t that the one spreading strange rumors?”

Schult’s actions had naturally spawned rumors.

He was labeled a demon’s minion, a terrorist plotting to kill the Empire’s hero, Riyan, to bring about its downfall.

It was to be expected, but something felt off.

‘Could all of this really be just a coincidence?’

Riyan’s behavior had been odd from the start.

A man known for his integrity, suddenly using a captured enemy as a pawn in his games?

Letting Schult defame him without counteraction?

‘No, there has to be a reason behind it all,’ Schult thought.

‘What if all of Riyan’s actions were deliberate?’

‘What if this chaos was a calculated move to fabricate a narrative?’

‘No matter how influential Riyan was, even he had limits.’

‘Abusing power without justification would tarnish his image.’

Deploying foreign troops or using imperial knights as his private force required solid pretexts.

‘What if he was using Schult to create those pretexts, justifying his purge of the Five Fangs Alliance?’

A chill ran down Schult’s spine, but his lips moved of their own accord.

“I confess. We betrayed humanity to resurrect the Demon King and destroy this world.”

In front of countless reporters, Schult’s trembling voice delivered his declaration.