The Terminally Ill Prince is the Mad Dog of the Underworld (Novel) - Chapter 22
Chapter 22. Cunning Like a Snake, Strong Like a Lion
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m,
There was, of course, a good reason for suspecting that my mother might hold the key to solving my terminal condition.
‘No one in Grünewald has found a clue to cure this incurable disease.’
If that’s the case, it might be a hereditary disease passed down from my maternal lineage.
If the reason I became terminally ill is truly due to a family trait passed down through bloodlines, then naturally, someone from my maternal side must know the solution. Wouldn’t that be the case?
And my mother, who might know that secret, is currently in seclusion.
‘Then I must meet her somehow.’
I won’t place all my hopes solely on that elusive elixir called Erishker, which is said to be as difficult to obtain as plucking stars from the sky.
‘Well then.’
Who would have thought that regaining my memories would become such a burdensome task? The weight on my shoulders has grown heavier than it was yesterday with all the grudges and debts I now have to handle.
‘But I have no intention of turning away from it.’
The Mad Dog Karzan and the terminally ill prince Allenbert are all just parts of the vessel that is ‘me.’
…And the only way out of an endless cave is to keep walking forward endlessly. I’ve never once blamed myself for lacking perseverance.
—
By the time the conversation ended, the butler came to find me as promised.
“Apologies for being late.”
“It’s fine. It couldn’t have been easy to deal with the unprecedented situation where Grünewald’s fifth prince attacked his brother and returned in tears.”
“Thank you for your understanding.”
Despite my joke, the butler remained calm. He’s well-trained. Julia’s nostrils had flared earlier.
“Thanks to prescribing a healing potion, Prince Baklava’s wounds should heal quickly. Fortunately, it was only a minor fracture.”
“That’s because he’s well-trained in martial arts. Impressive.”
I praised Baklava’s training.
“But how do you plan to make him pay for his tongue’s crime?”
I arrogantly crossed my legs and asked.
“The second wife has ordered Prince Baklava to remain under house arrest. She will send a gift through someone to comfort Prince Allenbert.”
“I see.”
I’m not one to refuse gifts.
“That’s all?”
“I believe further discussions are ongoing.”
“Who’s discussing this? My second mother? The head butler? My father?”
“The second wife and the head butler.”
The butler answered as if he had been waiting for this question. Had he anticipated what I would ask? Competence often shows in small details.
‘This must be what the head butler was like in his younger days.’
With his straight back, composed expression, refined gestures, and neat appearance that seemed ordinary yet dignified—if someone asked me what kind of person should be a butler, I’d want to show them this man.
He’s not someone you’d easily encounter in the underworld, so even I felt a bit awkward. You could say he’s a typical figure who lives under the sun.
“Your Highness.”
“Speak.”
The butler straightened his posture and bowed his head toward me.
“As of today, I will be serving you personally.”
“You?”
“It has been vacant until now, but as the fourth prince of a ducal family, your status is equivalent to that of an earl or viscount among nobles. It is only fitting that you have a personal butler.”
“Is this part of the compensation for this incident?”
“If you see it that way, I would be grateful.”
So they’re finally treating me like a proper prince. That means Grünewald is even more performance-oriented than I thought.
“How do you plan to assist me?”
“Originally, attending to Your Highness, managing all affairs of your residence, and supervising your servants are tasks too demanding for just an attendant.”
I replied,
“In other words, you’re acting as both an aide and secretary.”
“That is correct. Young Peter is loyal but hasn’t received sufficient training as an attendant.”
“You’re right about that. He’s mostly ignorant.”
I gladly agreed with Peter’s shortcomings.
“…Therefore, it will also be my duty to strictly supervise and train the servants if necessary.”
“That’s good news. Especially if you can teach Peter something useful.”
“Yes.”
Once again, the butler did not smile. Had he mastered some technique for cultivating unwavering composure?
“Also, since I have trained my body in martial arts to some extent, it is my duty to take the sword before you in case of an emergency.”
“That’s quite grim. Is this some kind of hint? Like there’s an assassin after me or something?”
“No, that’s not the case.”
“Good. You’re a straightforward man.”
It’s hard to find someone like him to serve under me. If the head butler selected him, I should be grateful.
“In that case, I’d like to ask you for one thing.”
“Please give your command.”
“I need exercise to rehabilitate my body after being bedridden for so long, right?”
“That is correct.”
“Prepare a training ground by tomorrow morning.”
The butler asked,
“It’s not a difficult task. Are you planning to train in martial arts?”
“As I said, first I need to get my body back in shape.”
“I understand.”
This is quite an easy conversation. He’s clearly well-educated in many ways.
“Then, Your Highness, let me formally introduce myself. From today onwards, I will be serving you as your butler. My name is Olivier. Please feel free to call me by my name.”
The butler bowed his head.
“Olivier, I will do so.”
“Then I shall take my leave now.”
“Oh, wait a moment.”
I stopped Olivier as he was about to leave.
“There’s actually one more thing I want you to do.”
“What is it?”
I grinned and said,
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
There are two ways to annoy someone: one is by stopping mid-sentence, and the other is…
—
Baklava’s dignity had hit rock bottom.
“Damn it! Aaargh!”
Unable to control his anger, Baklava began smashing objects around him.
“That b*st*rd! I’ll kill him!”
He had been insulted and mocked by Allenbert, whom he had always looked down on. His wrist was twisted, he was thrown to the ground, and his knuckles were broken. What kind of humiliation was this?
‘How am I supposed to show my face now?’
But what tormented him even more was how he had been forced to remain completely silent in front of the guards and servants who had witnessed everything.
How much must they be laughing at him now? They were probably gleefully gossiping about his disgrace with their filthy mouths wide open, spitting disgusting saliva everywhere. Those b*st*rds… mocking me, Baklava.
Consumed by paranoia and rage that swelled like foam in his mind, Baklava’s eyes turned bloodshot.
“……”
The guards watched him closely in case something went wrong but showed no sign of stepping in or offering comfort.
Not only them—the butler and attendants didn’t dare intervene either. They knew all too well that it was best to let Baklava rampage until he calmed down on his own during times like these.
Of course, there was someone who could stop him if they wanted to.
“The second prince has arrived!”
The man Baklava feared the most appeared.
“My brother?”
Baklava immediately fell silent as if nothing had happened. His pitiful and pathetic demeanor made the servants lower their heads and pretend not to notice.
“We greet the second prince.”
The guards greeted him with utmost respect as if meeting their superior.
“You’ve all worked hard because of our youngest,” said the beautiful prince with a commanding presence that captured everyone’s attention and a cold sneer that froze the room.
“Leave us.”
As if they had been his people from the start, the guards and butlers quickly exited. Watching them leave, Baklava suddenly felt like a man stranded on a lonely island yearning for the tide to return.
“Baklava.”
“Yes, brother.”
At the sound of his voice—one that made him forget both his humiliation and thoughts—Baklava straightened his back.
“Hold out your hand.”
“…?”
Though suspicious, Baklava couldn’t dare refuse and extended his left hand.
“Not that one—the injured hand.”
With hesitation, Baklava extended his right hand, which the second prince grabbed tightly.
“Aaaargh!”
“Quiet down.”
*Slap!*
As Baklava twisted in pain and screamed, he was struck across the face. Holding back tears that welled up in his eyes, he forced himself not to cry.
“…Hmph.”
He was receiving exactly the same violence he had intended for Peter earlier.
“Baklava.”
“Yes, brother.”
The second prince’s pale fingers wiped away Baklava’s tears.
“I told you not to act like an idiot.”
“I’m sorry…”
“You were completely toyed with by that brat from beginning to end. Who do you think you are? Insulting our fourth mother and dragging our family name through the mud in front of servants?”
Baklava’s blood ran cold.
“That’s because Allenbert slandered me—”
“Don’t make excuses. If you fell for your opponent’s slander, at least have the decency to be ashamed.”
The second prince looked at his younger brother, who shared the same blood, with disappointment.
“To think you cried after breaking your bones in a failed attack against someone who hasn’t even trained in martial arts and has been hiding in his room for seven years. There’s no disgrace greater than this. How could someone as pathetic as you be my full-blooded brother?”
Baklava wiped his tears.
“I’m sorry. I’ll somehow—”
“Shut up. What do you think you can do?”
“I’ll, somehow—”
“And what exactly are you going to do?”
“……”
“Don’t just spout nonsense to get out of the situation.”
The second prince was utterly exasperated by his brother.
“If things could be solved with just enthusiasm, why would you be standing here getting slapped by me?”
Too immature, he muttered to himself before speaking again.
“Mother doesn’t know yet.”
“Ah…!”
“Go and tell her yourself.”
“B-brother…”
Baklava wasn’t concerned about what his mother might say to him.
“Baklava.”
Instead, the second prince asked,
“Did you really lose to someone who can’t even use mana and hasn’t reached the first rank?”
“No.”
Baklava bit his lip.
“I don’t understand it either… but his movements were impossible without the aid of mana. I swear it’s true.”
“I’ve never heard of him properly training in martial arts.”
“I don’t understand it either. He only read a martial arts manual for one night, yet he moved like that.”
“Hmm.”
The second prince stroked his chin. Baklava’s martial talent wasn’t bad. In five years, he would become quite skilled among the young nobles. Hadn’t he himself predicted that?
‘On the other hand, Allenbert went into seclusion at the very time he should have been starting his martial training.’
It should have been an easy fight. So how had Allenbert overwhelmed Baklava? Could it really be that he succeeded in accumulating mana in his body just by reading a book in the library yesterday?
‘Even if that were true, he would have barely reached the first rank.’
The second prince could only consider possibilities similar to those of the head butler and their father.
‘Has he been secretly training in martial arts all this time while deceiving everyone? If so, it means he has a considerable depth of mind.’
He was judging Allenbert from a purely rational perspective. It was a reasonable attitude, and with the limited information available, it was the best conclusion one could draw.
In fact, anyone would agree…
It was far more believable that Allenbert had quietly trained in secret than that he had mastered martial arts overnight after waking from an illness and easily toyed with someone at the third rank.
‘The head butler must have sensed something when he met him.’
But now that such a commotion had occurred, stirring up more trouble wouldn’t be wise.
‘I should have accounted for Baklava’s incompetence. That was my mistake.’
…And it was also true that Allenbert’s response and abilities were beyond what he had anticipated.
“Baklava.”
“Yes.”
The second prince sighed and ordered,
“Take a few days to reflect and cool your head.”
“I understand, brother.”
Finally freed from his ordeal, Baklava quietly let out a sigh of relief.
‘Allenbert…’
As he walked down the corridor, the second prince thought about his long-forgotten younger brother.
‘I can’t begin to understand what delusions he’s having.’
A mixed-blood with commoner lineage, and even worse, someone whose maternal family had been completely wiped out—he had nothing to gain from them.
He had wasted all the time when he should have been building power and honing his skills by hiding in his room. And now, after all this time, was he dreaming some foolish dream?
…It was pathetic to the point of being pitiable—so much so that it was infuriating.
‘There’s nothing more disgusting than a pig who is incompetent yet greedy.’
If I don’t like him, I’ll crush him.
But if he proves useful…
‘It wouldn’t be bad to manipulate him like I do with Baklava.’
After all, as the fourth prince of the Duke of Grünewald’s household, there was value in that title alone.
“I’ll need eyes and ears to keep watch over him.”
A voice responded from within the shadows.
“I’ll make preparations.”