The Terminally Ill Prince is the Mad Dog of the Underworld (Novel) - Chapter 17

Episode 17. Who Dared Touch My Child

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“The Kingdom of Flandren? Why do you mention that?”

The tutor’s eyes sparkled, awaiting my answer.

“Somehow, I feel they might be the strongest competitors to our Grünewald Duchy and the Kingdom of Litvaloir.”

He leaned forward, encouraging me to continue.

“Amazing. What made you think so?”

“After waking from my long sleep, I saw that this city is truly a massive port.”

I pointed to the sea beyond the window.

“It’s a beautiful and majestic sea. Even at this moment, precious goods from various countries are busily moving back and forth through those waters.”

“Among them, Grünewald is indeed the kingdom’s premier trading port.”

“Just looking at this, it’s clear how advantageous our kingdom’s position is for trade, being located in the center of the continent with seas on three sides.”

“Excellent insight. You already possess the vision of a ruler.”

The tutor expressed quiet admiration. How thrilling it must be to see a previously disinterested student suddenly demonstrate such comprehensive understanding.

Of course, I was just spinning a tale based on what I already knew.

“If my guess is correct, the island nation of Flandren must also be specialized in trade by necessity. Or rather, I think they have no choice but to stake their survival on the sea.”

“How remarkably perceptive you are.”

The tutor’s eyes gleamed. If I weren’t the young master of the ducal family, he looked ready to kidnap me as his assistant right then and there.

“No matter how vast the sea is, resources and interests are limited. It would be strange if the two countries weren’t engaged in a power struggle for maritime supremacy.”

“You’ve seen it exactly right. They are truly wicked people who have historically engaged in plunder and piracy against the Kingdom of Litvaloir.”

“So they’re actually impossible to deal with.”

“It’s a continental saying that islanders have never been trustworthy.”

I had heard that saying even before crossing over to that kingdom.

‘After experiencing it firsthand, it really proved true.’

After all, the previous Karzan was treated like a hunting dog by the shadow master who controlled Flandren’s light and darkness, only to be discarded.

‘That b*st*rd.’

I’m not sure exactly what I destroyed, but it must have made him shed tears of blood.

If you’re going to use someone, you should properly acknowledge their work when it’s done. What kind of gangster doesn’t follow the proper code?

“Teacher, it seems these islanders are invariably petty and sinister folk.”

“They’re generally pathetic. A true son of Grünewald should rightfully build his strength to crush those Flandren hook-noses.”

We enthusiastically badmouthed the islanders.

“By the way, has anything notable happened in this country recently?”

Remember, if you really want to know something, you should drop it casually like this.

“Well… Now that you mention it, there was an unclear change of monarch about 10 years ago.”

See what I mean?

‘Something smells fishy.’

I know someone who has both the ability and cunning to manipulate even a country’s king.

“What do you mean by an unclear change?”

“There were rumors of illness, and then suddenly the third prince inherited the throne without anyone knowing. Many found it surprising since he was a prince who hadn’t left much of an impression.”

“That is certainly strange.”

‘So the king changed seven years after my death. And of all people, to that third prince I know.’

This is significant. Because originally, there were rumors that trouble would break out earlier than that.

Could something have gone wrong when I destroyed that jewel box?

Of course, the king might have truly been sick and passed on the throne. But my instincts tell me that if there was a conspiracy behind it…

There was only one being in that country capable of replacing a king.

‘Was this your doing?’

That ugly toad who ordered me around was merely a proxy; the true shadow master was someone else.

But because they always remained in the shadows, no one knew their true identity. In short, their very existence was like an urban legend.

‘Even I only knew their alias as the Dark King, not even their real name.’

In any case, I hope that b*st*rd isn’t dead.

‘Please live a long and healthy life. Because you must die by my hands.’

Neither raging flood waters nor ocean-turning typhoons could wash away Karzan’s grudge.

‘I’ll be sharpening the blade of revenge just for you.’

No matter how long it takes.

Whatever lies at the end of this path.

He intended to repay everything he had received.

* * *

“When the hell is this going to end?”

Baklava, who had come to Allenbert’s annex with murderous intent, was growing impatient with the endless lesson.

“…”

His original plan was to pick a fight while the other was eating.

But barging in during a lesson in his private chambers would look rather strange.

“Nothing’s working out, damn it.”

If he went back to his brother saying ‘I returned because he was in class,’ it probably wouldn’t end with just a glass being thrown at him.

Slap!

Baklava, who had struck his own cheek, pointed at a maid fidgeting nearby.

“You there.”

“Y-yes!”

The freckle-faced maid answered startled.

“Report to me immediately when the lesson ends. I need to speak with Brother Allen, and don’t tell anyone.”

“N-no one at all…?”

“What, you don’t want to?”

The maid shrunk at the glare from the 5th prince, notorious for his fiery temper and thuggish behavior.

“No, sir.”

Though anxious about what the prince might do, she couldn’t disobey his order.

‘It’s already one o’clock.’

Baklava checked the time and looked at the dining hall busy with lunch preparations.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t eaten yet. He’d been too busy being summoned by his brother and coming to find Allenbert since morning.

“Bring me food. Anyone who eats noisily won’t be spared.”

“Y-yes, understood.”

Baklava, who naturally ordered the servants around, put his feet up on the table.

‘That idiot. How dare he make me wait?’

How should he teach him a lesson? Throw soup in his face? Or maybe slap him?

The servants watched fearfully as Baklava sat with tightly pressed lips, looking ready to explode at any moment.

* * *

“Well then, Young Master, that will be all for today.”

“It was an enlightening time. I look forward to our next lesson.”

“Haha, those are my words exactly.”

The resignation letter he had held in his heart was long forgotten. The tutor left, excited as if he had gained a brilliant new student.

“Whew, thought I was going to die.”

Allenbert stretched dramatically while muttering.

“Why does he talk so much?”

Peter clicked his tongue at the sudden change in attitude.

“No, young master.”

“What?”

“You were such a diligent student earlier.”

“Was I too nauseating?”

“A little.”

“So what about it?”

“Nothing, I’m not suggesting anything.”

Peter started to scratch his head but stopped. He couldn’t show dandruff falling.

“That’s a good attitude. You have a good memory.”

Allenbert pointed at Peter.

“Hehe, thank you.”

“In that spirit, go fetch some water.”

“Yes, sir. But at this rate, should I just bring a large water pitcher?”

“So you’re saying you’re tired of going back and forth?”

“Well, it’s not that, but I feel bad making you wait each time…”

“Your intention is impudent, but the idea isn’t bad. Bring a water pitcher.”

“Yes!”

Entering the dining hall with light steps, Peter realized something was off about the atmosphere.

‘What’s this, did someone die?’

Everyone’s expressions were uniformly dark. As if they were being extremely careful about something…

“Ah.”

A young maid who met his eyes hesitantly approached someone.

‘B-Baklava, Your Highness?’

The youngest prince of the Grünewald family, feared by all for his sensitive and violent temperament, was looking at him with slanted eyes.

“You there, lowborn.”

“D-did you call for me?”

Peter quickly approached and clasped his hands. Baklava, who had been looking at him coldly, slowly rose from his seat.

Had he been slapped somewhere? With a face twisted like a demon from extreme anger, Baklava spoke.

“You dare meet my eyes without showing proper respect?”

“I-I’m sorry. That was-“

“Do you want to die?”

A cold shiver ran down Peter’s spine.

‘He came here with this in mind from the start.’

It seemed his back would be caught in the crossfire between whales.

* * *

Even after waiting a long time, Peter hadn’t returned.

“Is he drawing water from some distant well?”

That couldn’t be.

I had an ominous feeling.

‘Has it finally come to this?’

A servant’s position reflects their master’s. And it was obvious without checking that Peter wasn’t treated well in this castle.

In the current situation where I was drawing attention by acting out of character, could Peter’s sudden delay in fetching water be mere coincidence? Or was he being harassed somewhere?

If it was the latter, this was significant.

‘Is there a servant powerful enough to stop and waste the time of the 4th Prince’s attendant?’

Probably not.

‘If trouble has occurred, someone behind the scenes must have sent a scapegoat to test the waters.’

In the underworld, before organizations fought over territory, they always started by picking fights and causing trouble to test reactions and build justification for attacks.

I didn’t think noble houses would be any different. I had expected such attacks would come after I started showing my presence yesterday.

But to make such a move after just one day – that’s quite a quick response.

‘Perhaps this one might be the most capable and cunning competitor.’

Who planned this?

The first prince? The second? Or the third?

…Of course, this could all be my overreaction, and Peter’s delay might have a trivial explanation.

In such unclear situations, I already knew the safest course of action. Just wait and see.

If I ignore it, nothing happens, but if I step outside, I’ll have to deal with whatever situation awaits.

‘If I don’t handle the situation properly then, I’ll become a laughingstock.’

That’s how the underworld operates.

‘These noble b*st*rds are all the same, good grief.’

But I didn’t hesitate. My choice was clear from the start.

Burying your head like a pheasant and waiting for the rain to pass isn’t called prudence.

Besides, this was a situation I had anticipated. An opportunity to announce to the world that I had reached 2nd tier power in one night, that I possessed remarkable genius, and that there was one more lion eyeing the throne of the Grünewald Duchy.

‘Whoever you are, you’re quite unlucky.’

I looked down at myself. Though lacking in muscle, the skeletal structure itself was surprisingly good. Thick wrists and large hands. A frame well-suited for wielding swords and exerting force.

Above all, if they tried to play foolish games with this body that had reached the third star of the Ocean Circulation Method and gained superior caliber, that would be a painfully miscalculated move.

“So they took me for a fool.”

Yesterday I might have ended this with words, but not today.

‘My fists are crying.’

I gently stroked my whimpering fists.

“There, there. Good boy.”

After consoling my fists, I kicked open the door and stepped outside.

BANG!

The heavy impact against my foot – indeed, doors taste best when opened with a kick.

“Which b*st*rds are they!”

I stepped out with the mindset of an action hero going to crush his enemies.

While my heart raced at the arrival of this anticipated opportunity, I was angry that they targeted the powerless Peter instead of me.

That’s cowardly behavior. Even when I was weaker than now, I was the man who single-handedly stormed an organization that had taken my powerless brother and caused a bloodbath.

If someone really was messing with Peter…

“They’re all dead.”

Mad Dog Karzan is coming.