The Terminally Ill Prince is the Mad Dog of the Underworld (Novel) - Chapter 31
Chapter 31. Welcome, Third Brother
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Discord
After finishing my afternoon training and having a late dinner, I finally returned to my room.
Was it because I had hit a wall while trying to learn a new sword technique? Or perhaps, was it the restless spirit of the swordsman Karzan within me?
My body itched with the desire to swing a sword, to learn something new.
“So, when exactly are they going to send me a sword instructor?”
“Aren’t you overworking yourself? You’re already pushing yourself so hard,” Peter said, sounding concerned.
I replied dismissively, “This much is nothing. It doesn’t even register with my muscles. Pathetic fool.”
“Why are you insulting me?”
Although Karzan’s martial arts were ingrained in my mind, I had hit a wall on that path. I intended to walk the new path of Grünewald’s martial arts and eventually challenge that wall again.
‘Does Father still think I’m not qualified enough?’
What could possibly be lacking in Allenbert, the unprecedented genius who reached the 3rd rank in just one week?
If there was something more I needed to prove, it certainly wasn’t my martial prowess. That much was clear.
There were a few possibilities I could consider.
Perhaps Father wanted to see how I would handle the opposition from my brothers and maternal relatives. After all, I had already clashed with Baklava’s side and drawn clear battle lines.
‘He’s raising me to be strong in every way.’
But other noble families had far worse situations. Some heirs ascended to the head of their family while bearing the notorious label of kin-slayer.
And that wasn’t all—adultery, slander, assault, intrigue… In some ways, the world of nobles was even more twisted than the underworld.
“Your Highness.”
While I was lost in thought, Olivier entered the room. He hadn’t left for the day yet.
“Oh, our butler. Welcome.”
“Ahem.”
Olivier cleared his throat awkwardly as if still not used to my casual greetings.
“An invitation has just arrived for you, Your Highness.”
“Huh? At this hour?”
“Yes. Tomorrow evening, there will be a banquet where all of Lord Grünewald’s children and wives are expected to gather. You are required to attend.”
“What? Really?”
Peter seemed more surprised than I was.
“I’ve been saying we should all get together at least once.”
“You should be on your guard. The purpose of this gathering is likely to either humiliate someone or test their abilities.”
“That’s probably true.”
That was exactly what I wanted. Whether or not Father was hosting this event himself, if I handled myself well there, it might lead to some reward.
“But shouldn’t they have told me earlier if it’s happening tomorrow?”
I had planned on working up a sweat with the guards tomorrow. This completely threw off my schedule.
“That’s part of the power play. The other siblings were likely informed in advance.”
“Damn it. How petty.”
Given this underhanded malice, it probably wasn’t Father who organized this gathering.
“It seems like something our second brother or second wife would have arranged.”
The second brother who sent Baklava to provoke me.
And the second wife who tried to mock me by sending tribute from the Mountain Folk as a so-called reward.
‘Mother and son—what a pair of troublemakers.’
There were always people like them in the underworld—those who manipulated others behind the scenes while playing politics. Some of them met their end at my hands; one of them even killed me, which is why I ended up in this situation now.
“The biggest issue is your formal attire,” Olivier pointed out.
“That’s true.”
He was right.
A noble’s formal attire is custom-made, tailored stitch by stitch to fit their body perfectly. We had only taken my measurements today—there was no way a formal outfit could be ready by tomorrow. Even making clothes for a dog would take longer than that.
“They really planned this down to every detail. So what do we do?” I asked as I rubbed my chin before suddenly slapping my knee in realization.
“Aha!”
“You scared me! What is it?” Peter asked, startled.
“Peter! Do you remember?”
“Remember what?”
“The tailor! He said my body shape is exactly like Father’s when he was younger!”
“Oh!”
Peter gasped in admiration.
“Maybe Lord Grünewald still has some of his old formal attire stored away?”
I looked at Peter with surprise.
“What’s this? That was actually a good idea. Your instincts are improving.”
“Heheh. My mother used to say that if I had studied more instead of being uneducated, I would’ve done well.”
“How impressive. Anyway, we should ask the tailor about it,” I suggested.
Olivier nodded in agreement.
“That makes sense. However, the style might be somewhat outdated.”
“So what? If anyone mocks me for looking old-fashioned, I’ll just say it’s one of Father’s old outfits.”
Who would dare criticize a son for wearing his father’s clothes? Even though my maternal family had nearly been wiped out in disgrace, Father had never once denied my or my mother’s status.
That means I possess a legitimacy far beyond that of a typical illegitimate child.
“What if Lord Grünewald gets angry?”
“He probably won’t care.”
Even recalling what was written in the diary, Duke Georg Grünewald seemed to lean toward a hands-off approach. My conclusion was that he was the type to observe closely but rarely intervene.
“We’ll solve the formal attire issue like that.”
I clapped my hands to get Peter and Olivier’s attention.
“I understand your concerns, but this is a gathering I must attend. I need to see for myself what kind of people my brothers really are.”
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Olivier asked.
“I’ll be fine. What could they possibly do to me? At most, I’ll face some subtle persecution and contempt.”
But I wasn’t the kind of man to sit quietly and endure such tricks.
“…It’s different from when it was just Prince Baklava,” Olivier warned.
“Don’t worry, I won’t cause any trouble.”
Though I was once called a mad dog, in truth, that reputation was part of a carefully calculated strategy. Even acting crazy requires reading the situation.
“I should also thank the second wife for the honey she so graciously sent.”
I’m such a polite man, after all.
‘How dare they mock me by exploiting my mother’s tragedy?’
I no longer intended to be underestimated or hide my strength. Seven years of seclusion had been enough for that.
‘The bigger the light, the bigger the shadow.’
Behind the reputation of Allenbert, I planned to cast a shadow that would one day reach into the underworld. Now that I had reached the 3rd rank in power, I had more than enough strength to plant the seeds of a small force in the underworld.
‘Let’s proceed according to plan, step by step.’
In my previous life, I had no such thing as a plan. More precisely, I couldn’t afford to make one. As a child, all I worried about was where my next meal would come from and finding shelter when it rained.
‘Even after joining the underworld, nothing really changed.’
I made up rules as I went along and beat up anyone who caused trouble. If someone picked a fight with me, I made sure they regretted it. That was all there was to it.
Thus, Karzan’s guiding principle was simple: repay every grudge.
‘In short, I’ve lived by reacting to whatever came my way.’
But now things were different.
I was no longer just a young man driven by anger and stubbornness. Nor was I the man who lay awake at night, suffocating under the weight of responsibilities that had suddenly piled up on him.
Now, I had experience, power, dignity, and conviction. While my essence as a person hadn’t changed, my future would be completely different from my past.
“Olivier, Peter.”
“Yes?”
“Tell me everything about my brothers and stepmothers—their reputations, characteristics, and past actions.”
They knew me well enough; it wouldn’t do for me to walk into this battlefield without knowing them in return.
“Tomorrow, we’ll see who might be on my side.”
Of course, it was already clear who my enemies were.
Verdzich Grünewald.
The scheming second prince who sent Baklava after me.
—
The next morning, I went straight to the tailor.
“Luckily, I’ve kept several of Lord Grünewald’s old formal outfits in storage. Please feel free to choose one. They’ve been regularly ironed and starched for maintenance, so they should be perfectly wearable.”
“Thank you for helping so willingly. But is this really alright?”
The tailor smiled faintly.
“What’s there to worry about?”
“Well… someone might say something like ‘How dare you wear Lord Grünewald’s clothes!’”
I asked half-jokingly.
“Who would recognize Lord Grünewald’s old formal attire from his younger days?”
“True.”
That made sense.
How many people can even remember what someone wore just a few days ago? Let alone clothes worn decades ago. If anyone did recognize them, that would be more unsettling than anything else.
“Please be careful tomorrow,” the tailor advised with concern in his voice.
“It will be a difficult event. Your brothers and stepmothers are not easy people.”
“…So I’ve heard.”
He looked at me thoughtfully before speaking again.
“But truly… you are remarkably handsome. It seems you’ve inherited all the best features from both your mother and father in perfect harmony.”
“Is that so?”
“So if you don’t mind… before attending tomorrow’s banquet, why not get your hair cut and tidy up your face and eyebrows? It’s your first appearance in seven years—shouldn’t you outshine everyone there?”
He clearly understood that among nobles, physical beauty could also be a form of authority.
“Ah yes, of course. Olivier has already made arrangements for that.”
“That’s excellent. Olivier is a young man you can trust.”
“I agree,” I said with a grin.
“But he’s so stiff that I often tease him. Thanks to that, he’s gradually loosening up.”
“Haha! In that regard, you didn’t inherit either Lord Grünewald’s or Lady Grünewald’s temperament.”
The tailor chuckled heartily.
Like Ludan, this man had lived quietly amidst the grandeur of the palace, but I could tell that they were both lonely men at heart.
Afterward, I called for a barber to cut my hair and trim my eyebrows. My skin was naturally clear, so no makeup was necessary.
Once the grooming was done, I donned the formal attire my father had worn in his youth. By then, I had already eaten lunch, and it was well into the afternoon.
“How do I look?”
“Wow. Woooow.”
Peter’s jaw dropped as he stared at me, fully dressed and ready for the banquet.
“You look incredibly handsome, my lord.”
“Hm. Is that so?”
I replied coyly, even though I already knew. Lately, I’d been receiving compliments on my appearance more frequently—something I’d never heard in my previous life. It wasn’t unpleasant at all. It made me wonder why I had been so indifferent to my looks before.
‘Well, if there had been any hope back then…’
If there had been any potential for it, I probably would have done something about it. You only stretch your legs as far as your blanket allows.
“I swear, you look like an envoy sent by the Elves or something. Don’t you think so, Mr. Butler?”
“I used to think Prince Verdzich was the most handsome among your brothers, but today that ranking might change.”
“Oh really now.”
I scoffed.
“Is my second brother really that good-looking? Could he possibly compete with me?”
“…”
“…”
Did I overdo it? I smacked my lips and looked in the mirror again.
“Even I have to admit—I look ridiculously handsome.”
“You speak as if you’re looking at someone else’s face.”
“Shut up. That’s what amnesia does to you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Compared to how pale and gaunt I looked when I first woke up, my complexion had improved significantly, and healthy muscle and flesh had filled out my frame.
I had gone from looking like a sickly noble to a lively young aristocrat.
“I feel confidence welling up inside me.”
I straightened my shoulders like a triumphant general who had just mounted a fine steed after donning a legendary sword and expensive armor.
“Let’s go.”
“Where to?”
“The banquet hall.”
Olivier looked startled as he asked,
“Your Highness, are you going already? There’s still plenty of time before dinner…”
“I plan to arrive early, introduce myself one by one, and exchange greetings in advance.”
“Oh, if that’s your plan…”
Olivier nodded in understanding.
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“Right?”
Rather than arriving awkwardly in the middle or making a grand entrance at the end, it seemed better to settle in early and get comfortable.
—
“Prince Allenbert?”
“Don’t mind me; carry on with your work. You’re all doing great.”
I casually took a seat in an appropriate spot. The servants were busy setting the tableware and preparing the food.
“It smells wonderful. What kind of lavish dishes are being prepared?”
“They’re likely serving a whole roasted suckling pig with spices and butter, crispy roast duck, and a seafood stew as the main dishes,” Olivier answered my idle question.
“How do you know?”
“I recognize the smell.”
“Oh. Impressive.”
As expected of a butler—he even had extensive knowledge of palace cuisine.
“My lord… This feels really awkward,” Peter muttered as he glanced around nervously.
Having never attended such an event before, Peter was clearly out of his element.
“Stop acting like a country bumpkin. Pathetic fool.”
I scolded Peter while taking in the sight of the banquet hall. On one side, musicians were busy tuning their instruments; on another side, guards were fussing over their positions and formations.
“What a spectacle,” I muttered under my breath.
It suddenly hit me how grand this banquet truly was—such an enormous space that could easily accommodate over 100 people was being used for just a handful of diners.
I’d attended many banquets in my previous life too, but those were nothing compared to this—those gatherings of nouveau riche thugs from the underworld lacked any semblance of class or dignity.
To think that this mad dog Karzan would ever be invited to such an event—it made my heart swell with pride. No… actually, this banquet was practically being held because of me. Doesn’t that make me the star of the show?
“So… what do we do now?” Peter asked dumbly.
I replied,
“What do you mean? Just stand there quietly and look important.”
“Yes, sir.”
Olivier was already accustomed to such settings, and thanks to assisting with my preparations earlier today, even Peter now looked somewhat presentable—almost like a well-bred young man.
‘Hmm… No, not quite.’
I mentally adjusted my assessment of Peter with cold realism.
Anyway, after spending some time dozing off here and there or chatting idly with passing servants, finally one of my brothers made an appearance.
“Oh? Is that the third prince?”
“Yes,” Olivier confirmed.
A towering figure with rugged features entered—just as described yesterday. It was Somerset Grünewald—the third prince—who was 20 years old this year.
‘Let’s see what he’s like.’
I raised my hand in greeting with a cheerful smile.
“Welcome, third brother!”
“…?”
Prince Somerset turned toward me with a bewildered expression on his face.
‘Did I mess up?’