The Terminally Ill Prince is the Mad Dog of the Underworld (Novel) - Chapter 16

Chapter 16. Know Yourself and Know Your Enemy

Read it only at Utoon.net!
Discord

“So you were my teacher.”

Allenbert’s speech changed to a level of respect he hadn’t used even with the head butler.

“Peter, bring some tea.”

“Yes!”

The attendant boy’s brisk attitude was unusual. Wasn’t the attendant usually more protective and supportive of Allenbert?

“Please sit. You must have struggled teaching such an insincere student.”

“…!”

The tutor was internally startled by Allenbert’s suddenly polite demeanor.

‘He really has changed.’

He realized the head butler’s concern wasn’t exaggerated.

‘Though he wasn’t disrespectful before, he was certainly a passive and unsociable boy.’

Above all, he was a troublesome student who showed little reaction during lessons. He rarely answered questions and clearly showed his unwillingness.

Yet he wasn’t violent so he couldn’t be hated… a ducal family’s child of incredibly noble status. Wasn’t he a challenging student in many ways?

‘I heard he was so clever in his early years that he drew his siblings’ jealousy.’

The Allenbert he taught showed no trace of that former brilliance.

“While we wait for tea, I’d like to catch up a bit.”

“Ah, shall we?”

Allenbert even skillfully led the conversation.

“You must have heard about my amnesia?”

“Yes. It’s truly unfortunate…”

“I’m fine. Rather, I feel reborn.”

“That’s fortunate then.”

“However, I regrettably forgot everything you taught me.”

“Hmm. Young master.”

He unconsciously gave the answer Allenbert wanted.

“Then shall we review today?”

“Ah, that would be good.”

As Allenbert readily agreed, the teacher’s heart lightened, having always been exhausted from explaining why today’s lesson was necessary.

“Where should we start? Literature, mathematics, rhetoric, history…”

“I’m interested in history.”

Allenbert answered promptly.

“Oh, history?”

“Yes. Probably because of my lost memories.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

The tutor briefly showed a sympathetic expression.

“But if we forget history, we cannot navigate the future, can we?”

“Oh, you remember that saying.”

“Seeing you, some of your precious teachings seem to come back.”

“Haha, precious teachings! You flatter me!”

The tutor’s smile reached his ears.

“I’m grateful you came. Please guide me well.”

“Of course. Though inadequate, I’ll do my best…”

.

.

.

Shortly after, Peter returned with tea and blankly watched the two engaged in friendly conversation.

‘Wow, what’s all this?’

It was amazing, almost strange, to see the scholarly tutor grinning helplessly at the young master’s skillful speech, still bearing traces of youth.

‘Completely wrapped around his finger.’

Not realizing that he too had already fallen for that silver tongue-

Peter watched their conversation until the tea grew cold.

‘…Don’t interfere, just watch from there.’

Somehow, he seemed to understand exactly what Allenbert’s glance meant.

* * *

“Brother, you called?”

House Grünewald’s youngest, Young Master Baklava, stood respectfully before his brother with clasped hands.

“Baklava.”

“Yes, brother.”

Baklava barely answered, not daring to look directly at his brother.

His brother was so beautiful he was said to surpass even fairy folk. This otherworldly beauty, however, felt more chilling to Baklava.

If his brother’s appearance had snake-like slanted eyes that looked cruel and cunning at first glance, or a rough and fierce appearance exuding violence and barbarism, he might not have been so frightening.

But his brother was as beautiful as a statue carved in God’s image, yet incomparably eerie, cruel, and powerful. Like a rose hiding thorns or a gorgeous spider containing poison.

“You’re a bit late.”

At the cold words, Baklava buried his head down.

“I’m sorry. Having received the urgent message…”

“Didn’t I tell you to be ready to come anytime?”

“It’s your younger brother’s oversight. I apologize.”

Young Master Baklava shrank like a child afraid of being beaten. It was rare to see this 15-year-old boy, normally dignified and confident everywhere, shrink so much before someone.

“Have you heard about Allenbert?”

“I heard father showed no particular reaction.”

“Yes. But we need to confirm if the head butler noticed something.”

Baklava carefully observed his brother’s expression.

“Is there need to care so much? After all, he’s just someone who wasted time in his room until seventeen-“

“The youngest has grown much.”

The second young master smirked.

“Making judgments before me.”

“I-I’m sorry. I just-“

“Shh, shh.”

When he placed a finger on his red lips, Baklava immediately fell silent.

“Judging based on mere rumors is meaningless, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You are right, brother.”

“But sending a subordinate to deal with a fellow member of House Grünewald would be beneath our dignity, don’t you think?”

“…!”

Baklava immediately realized why his brother had summoned him.

“Go and prod him a bit, see how he reacts.”

Baklava shuddered.

“After all, he’s just a weakling who doesn’t even know how to use mana. Go scare him a little, intimidate him.”

Baklava couldn’t bear to meet his brother’s cold, snake-like gaze.

“If he’s just bluffing, he’ll probably burst into tears soon enough. Or you could beat him up and humiliate him.”

“Do we really need to go that far?”

Baklava mustered all his courage to ask.

He also found his older brother Allenbert pathetic, but he didn’t hate him enough to go as far as beating him up.

“Don’t want to do it?”

“…No, it’s not that. It’s just…”

The second young master threw the glass he was holding at Baklava.

Crash!

“!”

“Do I need to say it twice? Little brother.”

Baklava shivered at the gentle tone in his brother’s voice. He didn’t want to receive ‘punishment.’

“S-sorry, I’m sorry, brother. I was wrong.”

Blood trickled down Baklava’s pale cheek where the glass shards had cut him.

“Be careful. You’re bleeding.”

His brother reached out with long fingers to wipe away the blood. Baklava froze like a frog before a snake. Who knew that kindness could be so terrifying?

“And your answer?”

“I-I’ll go right away.”

Only then did his brother nod.

“Off you go.”

The hellish moment finally ended. As Baklava bowed his head and left the room, flames of anger burned in his eyes.

‘Damn it, damn this.’

What was he supposed to do with this anger and humiliation?

But even if his brother slapped him and spat on him, Baklava Grünewald, the fifth young master completely dominated by fear, couldn’t even muster hatred toward him.

“…Allenbert.”

He directed his misplaced fury at his fourth brother Allenbert Grünewald, who had caused this situation.

‘Why couldn’t you just stay locked up in your room instead of suddenly acting up, you idiot.’

Baklava didn’t realize that even his tendency to redirect his suppressed anger into violence toward those beneath him was all part of his older brother’s plan.

As the boy who had earned the reputation of being a delinquent made his way toward the pitiful older brother who had just recovered from a long illness…

“This is going to be trouble.”

“Shh.”

The castle’s servants watched Baklava’s retreating figure with unease.

* * *

How much knowledge would one need to become the tutor of House Grünewald’s fourth son?

It seemed like you’d need a brain pickled in ink—like sardines preserved in salt—to keep talking non-stop without even looking at a book. This was driving me crazy, damn it.

“…So let’s return to the beginning once more.”

I subtly rubbed my earlobe. It felt like my eardrums had taken internal damage. Was I bleeding?

“Young master, when discussing history, it’s essential first to consider geopolitics.”

The tutor spread out a map with an excited expression. He’d been talking non-stop for two hours without even drinking water; lunchtime was fast approaching.

‘Take a breath while you’re talking.’

Is it every teacher’s pleasure to stuff as much knowledge as possible into their smart student’s head until it bursts?

I stared blankly at the tutor’s mouth as he recited what felt like an entire thesis. It was amazing that he still had saliva left. Did he have an endless spring in his salivary glands?

‘I think I’ve heard enough now.’

But thinking about how hard this man must have worked teaching an unresponsive student like me, I decided to endure it a little longer. I’m such a considerate person.

“As you can see, the continent is surrounded by vast oceans, and within it lies an expansive inland sea like a lake.”

“I see.”

“We divide the three nations north of this inland sea as the northern region, the three nations surrounding the inland sea as central, and the two nations below as southern.”

“A straightforward classification.”

“The simpler such classifications are, the better.”

The tutor pointed toward the top of the map.

“In the north lies the oldest empire that once ruled most of this continent. To its left and right are kingdoms established by settled nomads and warrior kingdoms pushed back by their pressure.”

“The empire must have had its hands full on both sides?”

“Indeed. But what’s truly remarkable is how this old empire not only avoided collapse but also managed to civilize two hostile nomadic tribes—a surprising historical twist that shows how powerful culture can be, like a sword.”

At this point, his pride as a scholar shone through.

“So as I’ve explained so far, while this empire that originated in the north expanded across the continent and lost power when it was attacked from behind by nomads seeking wealth from colder lands—”

“The warlords rising in various regions and subjugated peoples along with countries outside its sphere took advantage of this opportunity to carve out their own territories and divide up the continent over several centuries.”

With my concise summary, the tutor slapped his knee in delight.

“Brilliant! I could quote you in my thesis! How did you grasp it so well?”

“You explained it so clearly,” I said insincerely.

“Now let’s move on to the central region. As you can see here in this peninsula lies our Kingdom of Litvaloir.”

Though Litvaloir was technically part of central region geography-wise and climate-wise, it felt closer to southern-central.

“To Litvaloir’s west is an island nation; to its east is a magic kingdom. These three countries form central region like three legs of a tripod.”

When the tutor pointed at the island nation on the map, I couldn’t let it pass unnoticed.

“This island nation is part of central region but located at western edge between outer sea and inner sea?”

“That’s correct.”

Feigning indifference while pointing at that island nation specifically:

“I’m curious about this country—Flanderen’s history.”