The Terminally Ill Prince is the Mad Dog of the Underworld (Novel) - Chapter 26
Chapter 26. A More Pathetic Man Than I Heard
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Discord
A man hastening his death with his mouth, Marco had spent the past few days as uncomfortable as if he were sitting on a cushion made of rose thorns.
‘I thought I’d be fired, or at best transferred somewhere else.’
Was it thanks to the points he had quickly earned with Peter and Julia? He barely managed to keep his head attached. Even he found it miraculous.
‘After that incident, I’ve kept my mouth shut. Yep.’
The day he witnessed Baklava getting beaten up. Marco had felt an overwhelming urge to rip apart the mouth that had been bad-mouthing Allenbert.
‘Did Peter not snitch on me? I think I picked a lot of fights with that guy too. Ah, damn. What if I get beaten up like Lord Baklava?’
While tormented by the fear that he might have to quit and disappear immediately, an unexpected meeting with Butler Olivier was arranged.
‘He looked like someone who wouldn’t bleed even if you stabbed him. His eyes were…’
As soon as Marco received that man’s cold gaze, he confessed all the sins his mouth had committed. He had run his mouth so filthily over time that even while confessing, a chill ran down his spine. He thought he’d get slapped right then and there, but…
Nothing happened. He was merely issued a cold dismissal order.
That wasn’t all. For some reason, while others were packing their bags, Marco remained safe. Why?
‘The Lord must have taken pity on me. This is my last chance. I need to keep my head down from now on.’
Where else could he find a job like this?
Though it seemed like the atmosphere would become stricter from now on, Marco knew well that he had nowhere else to go.
…It was at this moment that Allenbert summoned him.
“Oh, you’re here?”
Just like when he had been swinging Baklava around recklessly and provoking him, Allenbert looked at him with a cocky gaze. The face that once appeared beautiful and fragile now seemed nothing short of demonic.
“I-I’ve committed a grave sin!”
Marco immediately bowed his head.
But Allenbert said nothing in response.
“…”
As an uncomfortable silence filled the air, cold sweat dripped down Marco’s back.
“You do have some sense.”
The cocky voice suddenly dropped and transformed into one of authority.
A shiver ran down Marco’s spine. Yes, this was it. This was Allenbert’s true nature—the beast hidden behind his fairy-like face.
“I don’t want to see your face, so keep your head down.”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
The change in tone was so terrifying that Marco wished he’d just be ordered to lick Allenbert’s shoes instead.
“For someone who’s been acting like that, you sure don’t want to get fired.”
Allenbert’s sharp tongue pierced Marco like Karzan’s from the underworld.
“I’m sorry! My lowly mouth has committed a blasphemous sin.”
“How admirable. Even someone like you is desperate to survive.”
“Yes! That’s right! I’m very desperate…”
Marco answered without even knowing what he was saying anymore.
“You once said I lacked desperation.”
“…!”
Did I really say that? Marco swallowed hard.
“You said it was because I was a flower in a greenhouse? You also called me an idiot.”
“I-I-I’m s-s-so sorry! How dare I utter such disgraceful words—”
“Judging by how you’re answering, it seems you’ve said so much nonsense that you can’t even remember it all. Didn’t you know that sins committed by the tongue are scarier than those committed by the sword?”
Marco answered with a face as if he would wet himself any second.
“Kill, kill me, please.”
“Shall I really kill you?”
“Eek!”
“Even now, you say things you can’t handle.”
“S-Sorry! I’m sorry!”
Marco slammed his forehead against the floor.
“Is death so light to you?”
He shuddered with fear.
“N-No, it’s not.”
Allenbert never joked in front of Marco. Because Marco was a man unworthy of such effort.
If Peter had seen this scene, he would have been greatly shocked.
“Marco.”
“Y-Yes, at your command.”
Allenbert looked down at the trembling Marco, who couldn’t even lift his head, with a pitiful expression.
“There is something you need to do with that frivolous and filthy mouth of yours.”
“…Pardon?”
At the unexpected words, Marco instinctively lifted his head.
“Go around and badmouth Baklava. Keep doing it until it reaches everyone’s ears.”
“Gasp!”
Marco immediately prostrated himself again.
“P-Please spare me! Please! If I do that, my life will be forfeit!”
“You had no problem badmouthing me, but you’re too scared to badmouth my brother?”
At that moment, a chilling murderous aura crept over him as if a blade was pressed against his back.
“So, you must have thought I looked like an idiot.”
Like a frog before a snake, like cattle or pigs before a butcher, like someone facing a madman who kills without reason…
Marco’s heart tightened with an overwhelming fear that seemed endless.
“H-Huff…”
As saliva and snot dripped from Marco’s face, Allenbert asked coldly.
“So, is there any reason I shouldn’t tear that mouth of yours apart?”
Tremble tremble.
Allenbert’s words exuded the same deadly aura as a ruthless assassin from the underworld. Marco was completely paralyzed with fear.
“I-I will do as you command.”
“Use the crowd you usually hang out with to spread the rumors. Then report everything you’ve said back to Peter without missing a word.”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
“Now get out.”
“Y-Yes! I’ll be leaving now.”
Dripping with cold sweat, Marco hurried out of the bedroom and walked quietly for quite some time.
Only when he was far enough that his voice wouldn’t be heard did Marco finally mutter timidly to himself.
“…Wow. I almost wet myself.”
Just from that brief encounter, he had been reduced to nothing but a tail between his legs. And he knew he’d never dare lift that tail again.
* * *
“What a more pathetic guy than I had heard.”
As I muttered this to myself, Peter quickly chimed in agreement.
“Right? That’s exactly what I was saying.”
“I’m starting to feel a bit sorry for my brother.”
To think someone like that would be badmouthing him.
But my goal was to humiliate Baklava and provoke those behind him.
I knew full well—anyone who got involved with me would end up with scandals. They better be prepared… That was more or less the message I wanted to send.
‘I hope it gets across.’
If the second son is smart enough, he’ll understand my intentions. If Marco ends up getting beaten because of it, well… that’s unfortunate for him.
‘Not that it’s any of my concern.’
That’s just the consequence of what his mouth has done.
I stretched and turned my gaze toward the window.
“The sun is setting.”
“It is indeed.”
“After dinner, you can clock out. Come find me if something comes up.”
“Understood.”
After sending Peter off, I went over to the bedside and lifted up the mattress.
“Wow, so it really was hidden here?”
As they say, it’s always darkest under the lamp.
I pulled out a diary wrapped in parchment.
…Inside here lies the true nature of Allenbert that I had forgotten about.
I quietly opened the first page of the diary.
* * *
“Come closer.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Amidst the splendor of a bedroom adorned with beautiful foreign fabrics, paintings, and sculptures, a noblewoman radiated a distinct presence.
Baklava approached his mother slowly, taking care not to be reprimanded for his posture or movements.
“Your hair has grown long.”
“I will get it cut.”
Emengarde Grünewald.
The noble second wife of the Grünewald ducal family gently brushed her son’s bangs aside with her fan.
“Baklava.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“How far do you intend to disgrace your mother?”
“…I’m sorry, Mother.”
“You should not have brought shame even upon your elder brother.”
As her voice turned cold, Baklava’s heart froze as well.
“How was your time in reflection?”
“It was a time for me to reflect on my shame, Mother.”
“You speak well. Were you only thinking about how to escape this situation?”
“No, Mother. I swear it.”
Normally, the second wife would have pressed him until he was in tears, but today was different.
“Your brother is keeping an eye on Allenbert.”
‘Again? Damn it.’
It was always about his brother—his brother, his brother.
His mother cherished his competent, sharp-witted elder brother who understood her heart so well. So much so that Baklava had been starved of her affection his entire life.
“If the rumors are true, that boy might have developed dangerous and blasphemous ambitions in his heart.”
The second wife spoke as she opened her embroidered fan to cover her face.
“It seems I will have to meet him myself.”
“Pardon? Why would you need to see him…?”
“I don’t mean a private meeting.”
She shook her head.
“I will arrange a banquet where all the direct members of the Grünewald family can gather together.”
“Ah!”
Baklava let out an exclamation that could have been either shock or admiration.
“It’s been seven years since we’ve all gathered together, hasn’t it?”
“It would seem so. Though Lusatia won’t attend anyway.”
Originally, the direct members of the Grünewald family would gather several times a year for banquets.
That tradition had become half-hearted seven years ago when the fourth wife and Allenbert stopped attending.
“Without that lowly foreign woman and her half-breed child around, the gatherings have certainly been more dignified and refined.”
Despite her harsh words, there wasn’t even a hint of displeasure on her face as she spoke calmly.
“Make sure you find a good fragrance and get new formal attire tailored before then. It will be an occasion where the first wife, myself, the third wife, and all six siblings will be present.”
“I will prepare accordingly.”
Baklava felt himself suffocating without even realizing it. The situation triggered by his own disgrace had now escalated into a banquet involving all his siblings and their mothers.
How much more uncomfortable would he feel at that event? Especially in front of his third brother…
“And one more thing.”
The second wife spoke again.
“I plan to give that boy an elixir tomorrow.”
Her tone was as if she were tossing coins to a commoner who had been run over by her carriage.
“He may not be my own flesh and blood, but since your mouth almost caused trouble for him, I must compensate him somehow, don’t you think?”
Beneath those words lay the complex emotions she harbored as the second wife toward the son of the fourth wife.
However, Baklava was neither intelligent nor mature enough yet to grasp those feelings.
“I will give him something special. Just know that much.”
“…Yes, Mother.”
“Now go. If I hear that you have neglected your martial training again, you should be prepared for what comes next.”
“I won’t disappoint you.”
“Make sure you don’t.”
As Baklava left his mother’s chambers, he quietly bit his lip and thought about his mother, his brother, and Allenbert.
‘Everyone is treating me like I’m irrelevant.’
To think he would even be surpassed by Allenbert—the one person he had always considered beneath him.
“Damn it.”
The boy still didn’t know what to call this feeling.