Saul reached out with both hands, trying to take the potion.
But his right hand was stiff as a board, and his left was nothing but bare bone.
Seeing this, the woman didn't hand him the crystal bottle. Instead, she uncorked it herself and fed him directly.
Saul tilted his head back stiffly, cooperating as she poured the potion into his mouth.
Being fed medicine by a beautiful woman might be a blessing.
Being fed by half a beautiful woman… not so much.
Still, the potion worked wonders.
As soon as it went down, a cold current flowed from his throat to his stomach. The shivering stopped, and sensation began to return to both hands. His right hand quickly regained mobility.
He felt an itch on his forehead and raised a hand to touch it—only to find the scabs on his old wounds had all fallen away.
Only his left hand remained skeletal, showing no signs of recovery.“With your current constitution, your left hand likely won't recover,” the woman said casually, placing the bottle on the table. “Unless you become a wizard’s apprentice.”
Saul gave a bitter smile. “I’m just a servant.”
“So what?” the woman smiled. “If you’re interested, I have a test opportunity. The only question is—do you dare take it?”
A test to become a wizard’s apprentice?
Saul immediately looked up.
“I do, milady. I want to become a wizard’s apprentice.”
“Ohohoho~” The woman wasn't surprised by his answer.
From the moment Saul volunteered as a live test subject, she could already tell—he had strong willpower and courage. Even if he felt fear, he remained relatively calm.
These were qualities a wizard’s apprentice should have.
Saul waited for her laughter to fade before asking, “Milady, if you help me become a wizard’s apprentice, what would I owe you?”
“Owe me?” The woman’s tone shifted sharply. “What do you think you have that could match the value of an apprentice’s slot?”
Saul froze, the excitement draining from his face.
Just a few days as a servant, and he was already desperate to leave that role behind. That was why he’d been so eager, even ready to accept any terms.
But with a single question, she snapped him back to reality.
Right now, he has no value. Nothing that could justify being given such an opportunity.
He fell silent but he wasn't giving up on becoming an apprentice.
He believed the woman wasn’t simply toying with him by offering the test.
He just had to wait for her to name her price.
“Do you really want to become a wizard’s apprentice?” she asked again. “Even if it means ending up like me?”
She leaned forward abruptly. The glass dome atop her head shook violently. The milky white liquid inside sloshed, forming bubbles and waves. Eyeballs floating in the fluid bumped against the glass, making dull thudding noises.
Saul had seen wizard apprentices before, but none looked anywhere near as terrifying as this woman.
Still…
“I do,” he replied, his voice low but firm, staring straight at her distorted head.
Better to die chasing power than live every day in fear of being turned into fertilizer.
“Good.” The woman nodded with satisfaction. “In a couple of days, a new batch of apprentices will be brought in. Most of them—seven or eight—will probably die on the way. As usual, they’ll pull some replacements from the servants. I’ll make sure your name is among them.”
“Thank you, milady.”
“Kongsha.”
“…?”
“Second-level wizard apprentice, Kongsha. If you pass and become an apprentice, remember to choose Mentor Kaz.”
“I understand, Lady Kongsha. My name is—”
“No need,” she interrupted. “If you become a wizard’s apprentice, then you can tell me your name.”
Saul fell silent.
Until then, to her, he was just a nameless servant—not even worth a name.
Harsh, but in the wizard tower, identity always matched power.
Saul exited Kongsha’s room. The door shut silently behind him.
When he turned, the pool of blood that had once been on the floor had vanished. He had no idea how Kongsha had managed that.
The candles on the wall were burning a near-golden yellow.
Saul quickly surveyed the hallway.
Nothing filthy in plain sight.
He didn’t have time to continue cleaning. As long as there wasn’t anything obviously dirty, the stewards wouldn’t bother checking the floor with white gloves.
Saul turned and sprinted down the hallway, pushing his cart. Just before the candle flames turned white, he made it to the corridor on the fourth floor.
Gasping for breath, he returned the supplies to the storage room and emptied the trash.
“Just in time before the stewards come to inspect.”
Saul reflexively wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his left hand—only to wince in pain as the bone scraped his skin.
“My left hand still has no feeling—not even touch.”
He flexed his fingers.
“But at least I can move it freely now. Is this the power of a wizard?”
Accepting that his left hand might forever remain skeletal, Saul was still captivated by the power it represented.
He looked down at his right hand. It might just look smoother, but he could feel the strength inside.
He picked up a stone from the trash bin and gently squeezed it.
The stone crumbled into several pieces.
“The right hand must be a successful result from the experiment. The grip strength is insane—far beyond a normal grown man. I bet even the so-called warriors or knights in this world wouldn’t be much stronger.”
All it took was a few extra ingredients, and the potion’s effects were completely different.
Saul’s desire to become a wizard’s apprentice solidified even further.
With that thought, he left the storage room and approached the door to their shared bedroom. He pushed the door open slightly.
Still examining his hand, he moved slowly.
Voices from inside made him pause.
“Saul’s still not back. Guess he’s finally dead this time.”
“Hmph. It’s a miracle he survived this long after offending a wizard apprentice.”
“Well, now that he’s gone, we’ll have to take turns doing those early-morning hallway cleanups again.”
Silence followed.
Saul’s brow furrowed. So the hallway cleaning was supposed to rotate?
Had they used his memory loss to dump the dangerous job on him?
After a moment, someone spoke again.
“Come to think of it, we might’ve been better off letting Saul live. He’s lost most of his memory—he has to follow whatever we say. Now we’re stuck with the dawn shifts again. Who knows when someone’ll just drop dead.”
“Who said the dawn shift has to rotate?”
“What do you mean?”
“We kept making Saul do it, and the stewards never said a word. From tomorrow, we’ll make George do it.”
“He’s not memory-wiped. He won’t agree.”
“Then we’ll beat him until he does.”
At that point, everyone seemed convinced Saul was dead, and they started arguing over who the next unlucky sap would be.
Bang!
The door was kicked open.
“Starting tomorrow,” Saul said, sweeping his gaze across the room full of boys, “hallway cleaning goes back to being on rotation!”
Some were startled by his return. Others—like the one who smiled cruelly were clearly planning a beating.
That smirking boy was Brown, the strongest among the servants. He had the best sleeping spot near the light and got to be first in line for meals.
All earned by fists.
Now, some little brat dared defy his rule? Brown cracked his knuckles, ready to teach Saul a lesson about rules.
He marched over and threw a punch without a word.
Smack
But Saul raised his right hand and blocked it.
“Bastard!” Brown shouted, trying to pull his hand back for another strike.
But he couldn’t move.
His fist was clamped in an iron grip.
Since when did Saul have this kind of strength?
He looked like a scrawny ten-year-old!
Saul, feeling the force in his right hand, stayed expressionless. He clenched harder.
Crack!
“AAAHHHHHH!”
Brown collapsed, howling and clutching his arm.
When Saul finally let go, Brown fell to the ground, convulsing in pain.
(End of Chapter)