The Terminally Ill Prince is the Mad Dog of the Underworld (Novel) - Chapter 6
Chapter 6. An Attendant, but a Fallen Noble
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“Young master, how can you walk around right after waking up! And besides, how many years has it been? Someone who usually only appears briefly with a grim face during truly important annual events…”
I was heading back to my room, letting the attendant’s nagging flow in one ear and out the other.
So it seems I wasn’t completely secluded? Well, as a noble’s son, there must be times when you have to show your face whether you want to or not.
“It’s especially dangerous to come out without any escorts. Young master, are you listening to me?”
“You’re noisy.”
I replied, my ears getting irritated.
“That’s rich coming from someone who didn’t show his face for hours after I woke up.”
“Th-that, I’m sorry. There was a sudden matter at home that I had to handle all night…”
Indeed, dark circles were heavily set under the attendant’s eyes.
“Oh, but why has your way of speaking changed so much?”
“How did I speak before?”
“How should I put it, you were more proper and gentle…”
Unlike Josef, who was an adult and a doctor though somewhat careless, this fellow was around my age and dim-witted, so I didn’t feel like watching my speech.
“Josef didn’t tell you?”
“The doctor? Well…”
“I have amnesia.”
“Whaaaat?”
The attendant’s eyes bulged as if they might pop out.
“R-really? How much can’t you remember? Do you not remember me either?”
“Nope.”
“Oh dear…”
I covered the attendant’s mouth and gestured with my eyes.
“Let’s talk inside.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Go tell them to prepare a meal. I’m starving to death.”
“Ah! Yes. I’ll bring it right away.”
“You’re bringing it yourself?”
“Huh? That’s how it’s always been.”
The attendant muttered “You really don’t remember” worriedly and said:
“Then shall I bring oat porridge?”
“No.”
“Pardon?”
“Why would I eat something so tasteless?”
“Whaaaat?”
“I want meat. Bring plenty.”
“But young master, what wind has blown…”
“I get irritated when people keep talking while I’m hungry. Keep that in mind.”
“Eek. Yes, sir.”
As the attendant ran off hurriedly, I called after him.
“By the way, what’s your name?”
“…I’m Peter, young master.”
Peter answered with a somewhat bitter voice.
* * *
Back in my room, I leaned back in my chair with my feet on the desk, lost in thought.
‘Peter, Peter. Chatterbox Peter.’
Probably fifteen years old. Two years younger than me.
As his name, face, and way of speaking came together, fragments of memory remaining in my body surfaced like droplets. True to his nickname of chatterbox, he talked a lot but never carelessly spread word of my faults.
Given that even the naive Young Master Allenbert thought he was somewhat simple-minded, my first impression wasn’t wrong.
‘Speaking of simple-minded?’
In my hometown, they’d say he has ‘flowers in his head’ or an ‘innocent noggin.’
‘Generally not the type to harbor ill will toward those he serves. Often loyal despite being slow.’
I have experience managing many people. Since he’s not clever enough to accomplish great things or cunning enough to form factions, he should be fine as an attendant.
‘Though I’ll need to watch longer to be sure.’
Anyway, it was fortunate to have even one person who cared about and worried for Allenbert.
However, when Peter returned shortly after, his eyes were red.
“What’s this, were you crying? You’re an amusing fellow.”
“I wasn’t crying.”
Then he sniffled.
“You were crying.”
“I wasn’t crying.”
“Fine. Let’s say you weren’t crying. You heartless wretch, not shedding a single tear when your young master wakes from a fever with amnesia.”
“Hey, you’re turning me into trash in an instant.”
Peter started crying as if feeling wronged, confused, and suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.
“My poor young master, what should I do… waaah…”
“Why are you crying so disgustingly?”
“Amnesia, how could this… boo hoo…”
He was generally a tearful and pathetic fellow.
“Put down the tray before you cry.”
“Yes.”
Peter took out a crumpled handkerchief to wipe his tears and blow his nose while muttering.
“But why are you so calm? I’m the only one suddenly becoming an emotional wreck…”
“What’s there to be sad about when I can’t remember anyway?”
“Ah! Is that so?”
Leaving Peter muttering with his foolish face, I started devouring the well-prepared meal.
As expected of coastal cuisine, they had perfectly grilled large white fish. Though I wasn’t sure, I also liked the dish covered in a sauce full of well-cooked onions.
“Oh, this is decent.”
Though I’d eaten fish to the point of being sick of it, this dish was quite enjoyable with the sauce covering the clean taste of the meat.
Above all, the grilled beef dish was quite excellent. Compared to where I was before, they generally use spices well here to create complex flavors.
“Delicious.”
At this rate, I could eat plenty without getting tired of it. Eat well, Allenbert. Meat is the source of strength.
‘Even for an outcast young master, they serve good food.’
There’s nothing as dirty and vulgar as those who make people feel miserable through food, but the servants here at least don’t cross that line.
“But young master, why are you eating so undignifiedly…”
Peter, watching me eat, spoke as if bewildered.
“Shut up. It’s my choice.”
I scolded Peter while cutting meat.
Thunk!
Though a rather tough sinew caught on the knife, to the blade wielder Karzan, this was no different from cheese.
I subtly twisted my wrist angle and cleanly cut through the taut sinew. Just like stabbing a knife into the firm side of a hostile organization’s executive and stirring their intestines…
“You cut meat really strangely.”
Peter muttered as he watched my knife work containing the martial arts of blade wielder Karzan. What an ignorant fellow.
“What does it matter? As long as it’s cut well.”
“True, but usually it’s more like…”
Peter demonstrated the nobles’ refined knife work. The grip method here is somewhat different from our side.
“Like this?”
“Wow, that’s right. Did you remember after seeing it just once?”
“Something like that.”
“As expected, young master is different. Even doing the same motion, it’s elegant and refined…”
What are you talking about when this is my first time? Are you good at flattery?
…Though actually, my observational skills are exceptional. As I keep saying, my talent for understanding and copying others’ movements and principles is outstanding. It’s just embarrassing to make a fuss over mere meat cutting.
‘How else could I have created a new technique to break a jewel box that supposedly required an 8th-tier master?’
The frustrating thing is that technique is hazy and I can’t remember it. How did I do it?
“This isn’t enough. Bring more meat.”
“Huh? There’s still plenty left?”
“Just right when you consider the time it takes to bring more.”
“Can you really eat more than this?”
“Plenty. Ah, bring more bread and soup too. If I only eat meat, I’ll get hungry again quickly.”
“But…”
His eyes seemed to ask, ‘Why are you eating so well?’
“Don’t steal any meat on your way back.”
“Who do you take me for? I’m not that disloyal.”
“Hmm.”
Loyalty. Didn’t expect to hear such words here.
“What’s with that ‘hmm’? Though you can’t remember, I may not look it but…”
I looked at the clock while letting Peter’s babbling flow past me.
Lunchtime had already passed, and still my mother, Duchess Lusatia Grünewald, hadn’t come to visit. The same went for my siblings.
‘Mixed foreign blood, and terminal, they said.’
Compared to other young masters, my bloodline isn’t ‘pure,’ and I’m set to die in a few years. Even with a weak personality on top of that?
That was enough to understand where the servants’ attitudes came from – watching and badmouthing me behind my back.
If I’m a cut-off young master anyway, it means I have the lowest importance among the five direct children. Not many would be able to refuse if other siblings ordered surveillance.
‘Though Marco had a foul mouth, it wasn’t because he was particularly crazy.’
The high and mighty often forget that the people prostrated at their feet are humans who think just like them.
But for those living at the bottom, what are nobles? Even kings get cursed at.
“…Young master! Are you listening to me?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Have some water first. You’ll choke.”
“Seems like you’re the one who needs water.”
“Hehe. My throat is a bit dry from talking.”
When Peter scratched the back of his head, dandruff fell like harvest wheat.
“Haven’t you washed your hair?”
“I did! I really did!”
“Then what’s this dandruff on your shoulders? Did it snow?”
“Ah, there are lots of bedbugs at my house…”
“What do bedbugs have to do with dandruff?”
“They’re related. Generally, kids who live in houses with bedbugs tend to have dandruff.”
Come to think of it, that’s true. I had lots of dandruff when living with grandfather too. In the back alleys, everyone had dandruff so it wasn’t particularly something to be teased about.
“You make sure to get rid of the bedbugs before coming to my room, right?”
“Of course! I change clothes when I come here. I wash them frequently.”
“Then why the dandruff?”
“That just won’t go away no matter how much I wash my hair. I’m sorry.”
Anyway, a house with bedbugs was a symbol of the lower class.
‘This is absurd.’
For a young master of a ducal house to have an attendant who’s a boy from such a poor household? It really didn’t make sense.
‘A servant would be one thing, but an attendant?’
An attendant isn’t just someone who serves, but a close aide equivalent to a secretary or adjutant.
Even if Allenbert was disrespected, still. Properly, it should have been something like a third son from a vassal family of baron or viscount rank.
“Peter.”
“Yes?”
“Were there any noble people in your family?”
Peter answered with a face showing equal parts pride and bitterness.
“Yes. Until my grandfather’s generation, we had a baron’s title and territory.”
I see. A fallen noble.
While superficially appropriate but substantially insulting, whoever planned this reeked of ill intent in many ways.
‘Whoever orchestrated this must be quite calculating.’
I said to Peter:
“Must have been hard.”
At my casual words, Peter’s eyes began to waver like trembling flowers.
“I-I haven’t done anything…”
“The servants must have looked down on you and bullied you. With the young master you serve being a half-wit fool, and you wearing the title of attendant despite your circumstances, how disgusted and contemptuous they must have been.”
“…!”
Those who fall to the bottom while holding empty noble titles, being neither common folk nor originally poor, face much crueler mockery and contempt.
Perhaps that’s why among the men I met in the underworld, those from fallen noble families often harbored particularly strong anger toward the world and complex feelings about their family names.
“Sob… For young master to understand this Peter’s heart so well…”
Chicken-drop tears fell from Peter’s eyes.
“Stop crying already.”
As Peter reached for his handkerchief again, I casually threw out:
“Did that fellow Marco bully you?”
“!”
Peter was startled as if he’d seen a ghost. Even his emerging tears retreated.
“Wow, how did you know? I just got goosebumps.”
“Saw him while walking around earlier.”
“I see. He’s generally a dog of a man.”
“Foul-mouthed too?”
“He could rack up a million gold in debt with his three-inch tongue.”
I nodded.
“I see. Anyway, please bring more food.”
“Yes. I’ll prepare it right away.”
I pretended not to hear Peter’s sniffling as he turned away.
‘Acting cheerful and bright was your way of dealing with things, huh.’
I recalled a second son from a fallen noble family who had been with me for a long time in my previous life.
“You know, Karzan, I thought it would’ve been better to be born an orphan. I hated listening to my flower-headed father’s drunken rants while living in the gutter.”
“Stop talking nonsense. Have you ever lived as an orphan? If not, shut up.”
“I’ll keep quiet then. You’re such an old-fashioned b*st*rd.”
Come to think of it, I was a bit harsh too. I quietly closed my eyes, remembering the face of a man I might never meet again.
Stay alive. Even though Ivan is a nasty piece of work, you’re not one to fall easily. Wait. Someday I’ll surely…
“Burp.”
Ah, to let out a belch right when the mood was getting serious. My stomach was acting up after eating properly for the first time in a while.
* * *
After finishing the second meal Peter brought, I patted my protruding belly.
“Wow, I’m about to burst.”
“You’re done now, right?”
I smirked at Peter’s face that seemed to ask, ‘Surely you won’t send me out again?’
“Peter.”
“Yes?”
“Are you supporting your family? What about your parents?”
“Huh?”
Peter’s eyes went round. Whether from the suddenly serious topic or because I’d asked something I’d never asked before, I couldn’t tell.
“…Father passed away after living addicted to gambling, and mother is bedridden with poor health. I have two siblings – one is sickly and the other grew up fast. While I earn money, that one takes care of mother and my older brother.”
“Oh my, what a mess.”
“It’s fine.”
It was like a textbook story of a fallen noble family in the slums.
“Then getting fired by me would be terrible.”
“!”
At that, Peter slammed his head before me with lightning speed.
“Oh my lord! Young master! Please don’t abandon me! If I lose this job, my whole family will end up on the streets! Please, please have mercy!”
I backed away in shock.
“You crazy fool, when did I say I’d abandon you?”
“You said getting fired would be terrible!”
“I was just thinking out loud!”
Peter quickly grabbed my trouser leg. His hands were as swift as a well-trained assassin’s blade.
“Young master. I was wrong. I’ll do everything you order well and serve you faithfully. I won’t complain. If I’ve been lacking in any way, please be generous…”
I sighed looking down at the trembling Peter.
“You haven’t done anything wrong. Just get up, please.”
“…Really?”
“This is wrong now. Get up or you’re fired.”
“Yes!”
Peter quickly stood up and dabbed his eyes with his handkerchief again. Did he cry again already?
“Wash that thing.”
“Yes, sir.”
He was someone with an absurdly abundant supply of tears.
‘Turns out he has a talent for making people feel sorry for him.’
That too was a talent of sorts. At this rate, he could make a family fortune just by collecting alms if he chose begging as a career. You’re wasting your talent, Peter.
“Peter.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t worry. If you just trust and follow me, someday you’ll live in a proper house like the attendants of other young masters.”
Peter’s expression was subtle upon hearing those words.
“What. Why.”
“Young master, may I speak frankly, even if it’s rude?”
“Don’t.”
“Yes.”
But once he closed his mouth, human nature made me curious.
“What is it?”
“Did you perhaps eat something wrong? Our young master isn’t the type to speak so boastfully…”
I hit Peter’s head as he muttered about whether a doppelganger had infiltrated as the young master. I’d been patient enough already.
“Ouch! Why did you hit me?”
“Shut up.”
His head was so hard I thought I’d hit a rock.
“How was I usually then?”
“Well, that…”
“Just be honest. Think I’ll whip you or something?”
“Y-you wouldn’t, right?”
Peter scratched his head foolishly.
“Stop that, you’re dropping dandruff.”
“Ah, sorry. It’s become a habit…”
Peter slapped his own hand and said:
“How should I put it, you were very serious. Spoke little, and often cried alone.”
“Why?”
“Saying you missed your mother…”
“Have I been unable to meet mother for a long time?”
“…That, yes.”
It was the same expression as Josef’s. As if afraid to even mention something that would be greatly taboo just by speaking of it.
Does that mean mother is in a similar state to me? What exactly happened, Allenbert?
“Let’s do this.”
I said.
“I won’t ask about things too taboo to mention. But with my memories gone, I don’t even know exactly what situation I’m in right now.”
“Yes.”
“Answer what you can tell me. Can you do that?”
“…”
Peter’s eyes settled calmly.
“If I can’t do that, will I be fired?”
“I’m not the type to threaten subordinates with such things. If I can’t hear it from you, it just means things will be more troublesome and I’ll have to take the long way around, but it’s not like there’s no other way. There won’t be any firing.”
“But you won’t give me your trust, young master.”
“That’s fair, Peter. Trust requires sacrifice and courage.”
“Trust.” Peter muttered as if unfamiliar with the concept.
“Young master, though I’m foolish, I think I’ve realized something. Trust goes both ways.”
I grinned.
“Correct, Peter.”
“So even a lowly person like me and a noble person like you must give something to earn someone’s trust.”
“You’re quite perceptive.”
“Then I too will gladly cast aside my fears and earn your trust, young master.”
I pointed my finger at Peter.
“Good. You’re a loyal fellow.”
“Hehe, not quite that much.”
“True. My praise just now was excessive.”
“Yes.”
I pointed to the chair opposite me and said:
“Then sit there. From now on, you can only answer my questions with yes, no, or silence.”
“Huh?”
We had become like an excellent interrogator and suspect.
“Come on, let me keep my moment. I was just feeling like a real man.”
Peter grumbled.
“Quiet. Just answer the questions. Pathetic fellow.”
“You’re too much, really.”
There was a small smile on Peter’s face even as he made a crying expression.
It was the same for me. Having confirmed that I had at least one ally was a small but significant gain.