The Terminally Ill Prince is the Mad Dog of the Underworld (Novel) - Chapter 19
Chapter 19. So, Am I Your Sister?*
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“What did you say?”
I looked at Baklava, who was flustered as if he couldn’t understand how the conversation had taken this turn.
“You said my blood is tainted with lowborn foreign blood. How is that different from insulting Father, who married that foreigner?”
“That’s not the same—”
“Shut up. You pathetic wretch, like a worthless appendage dangling between a rat’s legs, how dare you insult the head of the Grünewald family? Even tearing out your tongue wouldn’t be enough punishment for such a grave offense.”
Baklava’s face twisted into a terrifying scowl as he finally processed my words.
“Did you just call me a rat-dick b*st*rd?”
“I didn’t say it so crudely, you vulgar fool. Try acting like a proper prince.”
Having been cursed at and then scolded again, Baklava’s eyes rolled back in fury.
“Huff.”
But perhaps he wasn’t entirely stupid, as he took a deep breath and replied,
“That was Father bestowing his grace upon a lowborn.”
“Well, that’s an interesting logic.”
“You should be grateful that Father even acknowledged you as half a son after bestowing such grace upon that lowborn woman.”
“Oh, is that how it is?”
Baklava puffed out his chest, satisfied with his reasoning.
“Exactly. So how dare you, without any shame, try to stand on equal footing with me, who shares the noble bloodline of the great Count Bergen family?”
It was an answer he had clearly thought through.
‘So you and the second prince are from the Bergen family on your mother’s side? Got it. I’ll remember that.’
It was the name of an external family that might become my future adversary.
But more importantly…
“Baklava. So what you’re saying is that Father didn’t unite our families for political reasons but instead brought a lowborn woman into his chambers purely out of personal desire?”
“…What?”
“As your older brother, I can overlook you insulting me. But insulting Father is something I can’t ignore.”
Sensing that he couldn’t win this argument with words, Baklava changed his approach.
“If you can’t ignore it, what are you going to do about it?”
“As your elder brother, sometimes I have to discipline you properly.”
“What? Hahaha!”
Baklava laughed in disbelief.
“Discipline me? You?”
“Yeah.”
“You must have lost your sense of reality along with your memory.”
Baklava pounded on his chest.
“Look at me. While you were locked away in your room, I’ve been training hard in martial arts and wielding the sword.”
“I can see that.”
Indeed, Baklava had a well-trained body capable of easily taking down most warriors.
“And what about you? I’ve never heard of you practicing any martial arts. You were so weak that you nearly died from an illness common among peasants. And now you’re telling me you’re going to do what to me?”
I smirked.
“If you get beaten by such a weakling, wouldn’t it be too embarrassing to even show your face again? Right?”
And that humiliation would serve as undeniable proof of my strength and potential.
“Hah.”
Baklava let out a hollow laugh.
“This b*st*rd has lost his mind.”
“Is ‘b*st*rd’ the only insult you know? Your tongue is as underdeveloped as your brain, kid.”
“Shut up! Or I’ll really kill you!”
“Oh no! I’m so scared. Look at this idiot—he’s got no respect for his elder brother.”
As I casually picked my ear and responded, Baklava grabbed me by the collar. Of course, I let him do it on purpose.
“You filthy half-breed keep demanding respect from me as if you’re my elder brother!”
“So what? Am I supposed to be your sister then?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, you b*st*rd!”
Unable to contain his anger any longer, Baklava swung at my face.
“Aaaagh!”
I easily countered by pressing hard on the pressure point in his wrist that was holding my collar and twisting it sharply.
“Wow, you’ve got some strong bones there.”
Even though his wrist was still underdeveloped, there was something satisfying about grabbing it. His bones were different—after all, he was still a child of a noble family. In a few years, he’d grow into quite the formidable warrior.
“Aaaagh! Let go!”
Baklava desperately tried to infuse mana into his body to break free, but in this position, no amount of strength would allow him to shake me off.
“Ugh!”
I twisted his wrist even harder.
“Hurgh…”
Now all Baklava could do was let out groans of pain. Leaning close to his ear, I whispered,
“You’ve got some nerve.”
“Stay still. If you say one more word, your joints will be shattered.”
“…!”
Baklava froze, clearly sensing the danger.
“Good. Just stay like that. I might just hold you here until you wet yourself.”
Baklava growled in response.
“You b*st*rd! Do you think you’ll get away with leaving a mark on me?”
“What mark? What are you talking about? Want to check?”
I let go of his wrist with ease and gestured for him to look.
“Where’s the mark? Not even a bruise, right?”
“…!”
Twisting the pressure points on the wrist was a technique I often used. It left no external injuries.
“Stop whining.”
Baklava, realizing how ridiculous he looked, seemed to think it was his turn now that he’d been released.
“I’m going to kill you for real this time!”
With a face full of rage, Baklava clenched his fists and slowly approached me. Look at those eyes—he’s completely lost it.
*Whoosh!*
His punch came with a sharp sound as it cut through the air. Even if it’s from a brat like him, a punch like that could be deadly if it hit the jaw or temple. The power behind it was no joke.
But if it doesn’t hit, it’s meaningless. I easily ducked under his punch.
“Swish, swish swish, swish.”
I made sound effects with my mouth as I dodged his attacks using only upper body movements. Remember this: to make your upper body move fluidly like a flag, you have to start the movement from your knees. You could call it the Karzan-style footwork.
“Grrr!”
As I kept dodging, Baklava’s punches became more forceful and exaggerated. This made them easier to dodge and created bigger openings.
“You need to keep your elbows closer to your body when you swing. That’s right, like that. And always focus on retracting after each punch.”
“Shut up!”
Dodging another punch, I tripped him with my foot and sent him sprawling to the ground.
“Ugh!”
The move was so subtle that from a distance, it would look like he tripped over his own feet.
‘If I start throwing punches now, it’ll weaken my justification.’
I had no intention of hitting Baklava directly. Think about it—how embarrassing would it be for him to hurt himself while throwing a tantrum? He wouldn’t be able to show his face for a while after today.
“You’ve been acting crazy since earlier. Have you been drinking? I haven’t even touched alcohol yet, and here you are getting drunk as the youngest sibling. You’re in for a big scolding today.”
“Aaaaargh!”
Driven mad by frustration, Baklava finally infused his fist with mana for an empowered punch.
“Wow, our little brother knows how to use mana too?”
This meant he’d at least reached 3rd tier in martial arts. Considering Peter’s age group, Baklava was around fifteen years old—reaching 3rd tier at that age was quite impressive. In fact, this was perfect.
‘The story will go: *Prince Allenbert, who recovered from illness, beats up Prince Baklava—a 3rd tier warrior—after mastering martial arts in just one day.*’
I liked the sound of that.
‘If this were yesterday’s me, I wouldn’t have stood a chance against him head-on.’
Too bad for you, Baklava—you came just one day too late.
“If that punch lands on me, it’ll really hurt, won’t it?”
“Just die already!”
Baklava threw his entire body into another punch, but I dodged it effortlessly.
‘Gotcha.’
Behind me was a solid brick wall.
*BANG!*
A sickening sound echoed through the room.
‘No matter how much mana you’ve infused into your fist, breaking through stone isn’t easy.’
Sure enough, it wasn’t the wall that broke—it was his hand.
“Aaaargh!”
A piercing scream filled the air like a pig being slaughtered.
“Did you break your hand, little brother?”
“Aaaargh! Get me a doctor! Call a doctor!”
“What kind of idiot gives orders around here?”
Of course, having your bones broken is excruciatingly painful—pain that someone pampered like him has likely never experienced before.
“Hic… I’m going to tell Mother everything!”
Baklava started whimpering and tearing up.
“Oh dear… You’re pathetic. Crying like Peter over there? You sound like you’re not even ten years old.”
I tapped Baklava’s tear-streaked face lightly as he sobbed and whined. The second prince must be thrilled watching this pitiful display from his younger brother.
“Stand up. We’re not done yet.”
“What?”
I leaned in close enough for only Baklava to hear me and whispered,
“Let me teach you something while we’re at it. When someone who usually doesn’t act out suddenly does so with confidence, it’s smart to question what they’re relying on. If you’d been even slightly cautious about the rumors surrounding me, you wouldn’t have ended up like this today. Got it?”
“W-what are you talking about…”
Baklava stammered in fear at the sudden shift in tone. Instead of answering him directly, I stepped back and said,
“I told you—get up unless you want to die.”
“…!”
Baklava hesitantly got back on his feet.
“Good. Now stand up straight.”
At last, things were starting to look like they should between brothers—one standing tall and the other knowing his place.
***
“It was truly an enjoyable lesson. The young master is incredibly sharp. And that’s not all! Despite his noble status, he was so courteous!”
The head butler, Aiden, felt a bit perplexed by the tutor’s glowing praise, having been completely captivated by Allenbert after just one lesson.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I now understand why they called him a prodigy when he was younger.”
Aiden adjusted his monocle, deep in thought.
‘He’s already charmed the librarian and now even the tutor is on his side.’
It was a baffling development.
The praise for Allenbert’s intelligence was somewhat understandable. It was true that, as a child prodigy, he had earned both the jealousy of his siblings and the other wives in the family.
But back then, he had never possessed this… quality—something one might call “charisma”—that could sway those around him.
Young Allenbert had been more of a beloved young master, adored for his natural beauty, talent, and unexpected kindness despite his high status.
But who was this Allenbert now? The boy who had once stared Aiden down with the intensity of a young lion now possessed a remarkable ability to win people over to his side in an instant.
“Hmm.”
It was a puzzling situation. After all, Allenbert hadn’t promised them any rewards or compensation.
And yet, here were two people actively defending and supporting him without any expectations of gain. They weren’t motivated by anything other than genuine admiration for Allenbert’s charm and intellect.
If one had to name this ability, “captivation” seemed more fitting than anything else. Even his older brothers hadn’t managed to gather people around them in this way.
Most surprising of all…
‘Courteous?’
Was this the same Allenbert whose eyes had once flashed with madness?
‘…It must be an act. But it’s impressive nonetheless.’
Living as a noble required one to skillfully wear many masks. But how had he learned such a skill?
“Were there any unusual occurrences during the lesson?”
“No, nothing out of the ordinary. He did show particular interest in the history and politics of the continent.”
“I see.”
So he was still preoccupied with his lost memories. The head butler nodded thoughtfully.
“Understood. Please continue with the next lesson as planned.”
“I will take my leave then.”
“Thank you for your time.”
The tutor bowed politely and left. As someone who oversaw all the affairs of the household and held the title of count himself, Aiden didn’t consider such interactions bothersome.
As he walked away, the tutor recalled something he hadn’t mentioned earlier.
‘…There was one moment when I felt something strange from him.’
It had happened while they were discussing Flandren.
‘What was that? Just an odd chill?’
It had been a fleeting sense of unease. By the time he’d realized it, Allenbert had already returned to calmly studying the map as if nothing had happened.
…But he chose not to report this minor detail to Aiden. He judged that it would be better for Allenbert if he didn’t mention it.
“Hmm.”
Aiden exhaled softly as he stared at the chair where the tutor had been sitting moments before.
‘He’s hiding something.’
Though Aiden couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, he wasn’t someone who missed subtle signs like hesitation or withheld information.
‘Even Rudan, that old librarian, has been acting strangely.’
It was unexpected for Rudan—the quiet man who rarely involved himself in external matters—to suddenly start supporting Allenbert so fervently.
‘Something is definitely off. He’s completely changed.’
Aiden trusted his instincts—they were rarely wrong. In fact, he realized now that he might have underestimated Allenbert before. But for now, there was no need to take further action.
‘Sooner or later, someone will test him.’
His brothers were all fierce lions in their own right. They wouldn’t sit idly by while a new competitor rose among them.
The real question was how Allenbert would respond when provoked by his older brothers—who were not only older but also more firmly established in their positions.
“Head butler! I have urgent news!”
A frantic knock interrupted Aiden’s thoughts.
“What is it?”
“Prince Baklava went to visit Prince Allenbert’s annex… and there are reports that they got into a fight.”
“What?”
Aiden’s brow furrowed deeply.
“And?”
“Prince Baklava got beaten up badly… and is crying.”
“…Who’s crying?”
For once, the usually composed head butler looked completely shocked.
“You didn’t mix up their names by any chance?”
“I’m afraid not, sir.”
Aiden unconsciously massaged his temple and sighed heavily.
“This is madness.”