The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld Chapter 6

[Translator - Prøks]

[Proofreader - Kawaii]

Chapter 6: The Servant

“Young master, how can you be wandering around like this right after waking up? And goodness gracious, how many years has it been? You usually only co out for important annual events or when you’re on the verge of death…”

I ignored the servant’s nagging as I returned to my room.

So I hadn’t been a complete shut-in, now had I? Well, as the son of a noble clan, there would be tis when I had to show my face, even if I didn’t want to.

“It’s especially dangerous to go out without anyone to accompany you. Young master, are you listening to ?”

“It’s noisy.”

My ears were ringing, so I replied.

“That’s not sothing a guy who hasn’t shown his face for ages should be saying.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I had to rush back ho to deal with a sudden family matter and stayed up all night…”

Indeed, the servant had dark circles under his eyes.

“Oh, but why is your tone different?”

“What was my tone like originally?”

“Well, it was more polite and gentle, like this.”

Unlike Joseph, who was an adult and a doctor, this guy was around my age and rather dim-witted, so I didn’t feel like paying attention to my tone.

“Didn’t Joseph tell you?”

“The doctor? Well, yes…”

“I have amnesia.”

“Whaaat?”

The servant’s eyes widened as if they were about to pop out.

“Really? How much do you not rember? Do you not rember either?”

“Yep.”

“Oh dear…”

I covered the servant’s mouth and gestured for him to be quiet.

“Let’s go inside and talk.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Go and tell them to prepare so food. I’m starving.”

“Yes! I’ll bring it right away.”

“Are you bringing it yourself?”

“Yes? That’s what I always do.”

-I guess he really doesn’t rember.

The servant muttered worriedly.

“Then shall I bring you so oatal porridge?”

“No.”

“Yes?”

“Why would I eat sothing so tasteless?”

“Yeeah?”

“I want at. Lots of it.”

“No, young master. What on earth has gotten into you…”

“I get annoyed when people keep talking to when I’m hungry. Rember that.”

“Yikes. Yes, sir.”

I asked the servant who was running away.

“By the way, what’s your na?”

“…I’m Peter, Master.”

Peter replied in a slightly bitter voice.

***

Back in my room, I leaned back in my chair, put my feet up on the desk, and fell into thought.

'Peter, Peter. Chatterbox Peter.'

He was probably fifteen - two years younger than .

As his na, face, and manner of speaking ca together, fragnts of mories surfaced like droplets. True to his nickna of Chatterbox, he talked a lot, but I had the impression that he never carelessly spread word of my flaws to others.

Even in the innocent young master Allenvert's mories, he was considered sowhat of a simpleton, which confird my first impression wasn't wrong.

'Speaking of a simpleton...'

Back in my holand, we'd say soone like this has 'flowers in their head' or a 'pure minded' - ways of calling soone naive.

'He's generally not the type to harbor ill will toward those he serves. Simple-minded people often show great loyalty.'

I have plenty of experience managing people. He's neither clever enough to accomplish great things nor cunning enough to form factions, so he should be fine as a servant.

'Though I'll need to observe him more to be sure.'

At any rate, it was fortunate that there was at least one person who thought about and worried for Allenvert.

However, when Peter returned shortly after, his eyes were red with tears.

"What, were you crying? You're quite the funny one."

"I'm not."

He sniffed.

"You were."

"I wasn't."

"Fine. Let's say you weren't. Not a single tear for your master who's woken up from a fever with amnesia? What a waste of space."

"Hey, don't just call soone a waste of space like that."

Peter began to cry with a mix of hurt, surprise, and sudden emotion.

"Oh, Young master. Waaah..."

"Why are you crying like a baby, for goodness' sake?"

"You’ve Amnesia…waah..."

Generally speaking, he was a tearful and pathetic fellow.

"Put down your tray and cry."

"Yes."

Peter pulled out a crumpled handkerchief, wiped his tears, and sniffed loudly.

"But why are you so calm? I'm the only one here having a sudden emotional breakdown..."

"Why would I be sad when I can't even rember?"

"Oh! I guess that makes sense."

Ignoring Peter's dumbfounded mumbling, I began to devour the well-prepared al.

As expected of coastal cuisine, the large white fish was grilled to perfection. And the dish with the sauce full of caralized onions was quite to my liking, though I couldn't quite place it.

"Oh, this is good."

I'd had enough fish to last a lifeti, but this dish, with its sauce masking the blandness of the fish, was quite enjoyable.

However, the beef dish was truly exceptional. There were more spices in this region than in mine, making for a more complex flavor than what I was used to.

"Tasty."

I could eat this all day. Eat up, Allenvert. at is the source of strength.

‘So, even if I'm a useless young master, they still feed well.’

There's nothing more disgusting than people who withhold food from others, but it seed the servants here had at least a modicum of decency.

"Hey, Young master, why are you eating so... so rudely?"

Peter seed taken aback by my eating habits.

"Shut up. It's my business."

I glared at Peter as I sliced into the at.

Snap!

A tough tendon caught the knife, but for a master swordsman like , it was nothing.

I twisted my wrist slightly and severed the tendon with ease. It was like piercing the gut of a vicious enemy gang leader.

"You cut at in a really weird way."

Peter muttered, having witnessed the skill of a master swordsman.

"So what? As long as it's cut."

"Well, it's just... usually, people do it like this..."

Peter attempted to mimic the elegant slicing technique of noblen. The slicing technique in this region was slightly different from mine.

"Like this?"

"Wow, you got it right away?"

"It's similar."

"As expected of the Young Master. Even the sa action looks so elegant and refined..."

He was exaggerating. I'd only done it once. But perhaps I do have a knack for picking up things quickly. It's just that I don't like to show off, especially over sothing as simple as cutting at.

‘I wonder how I managed to break that jewel box. I ca up with a new technique for it.’

It's a sha I can't rember the details. How did I do it?

"There's not enough. Bring more at."

"Huh? There's still plenty left."

"It'll be just right by the ti you co back."

"Really? Can you eat even more?"

"Plenty. Oh, and bring more bread and soup too. at alone won't fill up."

"But..."

He seed surprised by my appetite.

"Don't go stealing any of the at on your way back."

"As if I would. I'm not that kind of person. I’m loyal."

"Hmm."

Loyalty, huh. I didn't expect to hear that word here.

"Why the 'hmm'? You may not rember, but even so..."

I glanced at the clock, ignoring Peter's babbling.

It was already past lunchti, and my mother Lusatia Grunewald still hadn't co to visit. Nor had my other siblings.

‘Half-breed, and terminally ill, they said.’

Compared to the other young masters, my bloodline wasn't as 'pure' and even I was destined to end within a few years. And to top it all off, I was said to be weak.

Given these circumstances, I could understand why the servants treated with such disdain.

They were constantly watching and their attitude was a clear reflection of their inner thoughts.

As the least important among the five direct descendants of the duke, I was an easy target. If the other siblings ordered them to spy on , few would refuse.

‘Marco had a foul mouth, but I doubt he was particularly insane.’

People in high positions often forget that those beneath them are also human beings capable of thought and feeling.

But for those at the bottom, it doesn't matter if you're a noble or a king—you're fair ga for insults.

"...Young Master! Are you even listening to ?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Here, have so water. You must be parched."

"Sounds like you need it more."

"Hehe. All that talking has made my throat dry."

As Peter scratched his head and dandruff fell like grains of wheat at harvest ti.

"Haven't you washed your hair?"

"I did! I did!"

"Then what's all this dandruff on your shoulders? Is it snowing in here?"

"Well, we have a lot of bedbugs at ho..."

"What does that have to do with dandruff?"

"It's simple. People who live in houses with bed bugs usually have dandruff."

That made sense.

I had plenty of dandruff when I lived with my grandfather. Back then, everyone in the back alleys had dandruff, so it wasn't anything to be teased about.

"You're making sure there are no bedbugs in my room, right?"

"Of course! I even change my clothes when I co here. I wash them often."

"Then why do you still have dandruff?"

"It's just sothing that doesn't go away no matter how much I wash my hair. I'm sorry."

A house with bed bugs was a symbol of the lower class.

‘This is ridiculous.’

It was absurd that a servant attending to a young master of a ducal family would co from such a poor background.

A servant wasn't just soone who waited on you hand and foot; they were more like a secretary or an aide.

Even if Allenvert was treated poorly, this was going too far. Normally, a third son from a baron or viscount family would be a more suitable match.

"Peter."

"Yes?"

"Do you have any noble relatives?"

Peter replied with a mixture of pride and bitterness.

"Yes, my grandfather was a baron with his own estate."

I see. A fallen noble.

Even though it made so sense, it was humiliating. Whoever had planned this was quite cunning.

‘Whoever did this must be quite scheming.’

I looked at Peter and said.

"You must have had a hard ti."

At my casual remark, Peter's eyes shimred like a flower swaying in the wind.

"M-? What do you an..."

"The other servants must have bullied and mocked you. Your master was a good-for-nothing idiot, and you, a lowly servant attending to him. They must have looked down on you."

"...!"

Those who had fallen from noble status, even if they were only minor nobles, often faced even crueler mockery and contempt.

That was why many of the n I had t in the underworld who ca from fallen noble families were filled with anger towards the world and resentnt towards their families.

"Oh, Young master, to think you understand my feelings..."

Tears welled up in Peter's eyes.

"Stop crying."

I glanced at Peter, who was about to pull out another handkerchief and casually asked.

"Did Marco give you a hard ti?"

"!"

Peter jumped as if he'd seen a ghost. The tears that were about to fall retreated instantly.

"How did you know? I'm getting chills right now."

"I saw it while I was walking around."

"I see. He's a real piece of shit."

"And quite foul-mouthed, too?"

"I really want to chop his tongue off."

I nodded.

"Alright, just bring so more food."

"Yes, I'll prepare it right away."

I pretended not to hear Peter's sniffling as he turned to leave.

‘So pretending to be cheerful and bright was your coping chanism.’

I thought back to a young man from a fallen noble clan that I had spent a long ti with in my past life.

-You know, Karzan, I often thought it would have been better to be an orphan. I hated listening to my father's drunken rants, even though he was a fool with a heart of gold.

-Don't be ridiculous. Have you ever lived as an orphan? If you haven't, shut up.

-I should. You're such a stubborn old man.

Now that I think about it, I'd been a bit harsh. Thinking of the man I might never see again, I closed my eyes quietly.

Stay alive. Even though Ivan is a horrible person, you're not soone who would give up easily. Wait. I will definitely...

"Burp."

Ah, of all tis to burp, it had to be now, right when I was getting all serious. It’d been a while since I last ate, and my stomach was making a fuss.

***

I finished the second al that Peter brought and patted my protruding belly.

"Wow, I'm stuffed."

"Are you finished now?"

Peter asked with a look that seed to say. 'Surely you won't send away again?'

I chuckled.

"Peter."

"Yes?"

"Are you supporting your family? What about your parents?"

"Huh?"

Peter's eyes widened. I didn't know if he was surprised by the sudden serious topic or because I was asking sothing I'd never asked before.

"...My father gambled away all our money and died. My mother is bedridden due to poor health. I have two younger siblings. One is sickly, and the other is very mature for his age. I work to support them while he takes care of our mother and brother."

"Oh, that's rough."

It was a classic tale of a fallen noble family.

"So if I fire you, you'll be in big trouble."

"!"

Peter quickly bowed his head in front of .

"Oh no, young master! Please don't fire ! If I lose my job, my whole family will be on the streets! Please have rcy!"

I stepped back and yelled.

“You crazy bastard, when did I say I’ll fire you?”

“If I get fired, it’ll be a big deal!”

“I was just joking.”

Peter grabbed my pants leg. His hands were surprisingly quick, as agile as a trained assassin's blade.

"Young master, please! I'm sorry. I'll do anything you ask. I'll be a loyal servant. I won't complain. If I've done anything wrong, please forgive ..."

I sighed as I looked down at Peter, who was trembling.

"You haven't done anything wrong. Get up."

"...Really?"

"Yes. Now get up or you're fired."

"Yes, sir."

Peter quickly got up and wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. Had he been crying again?

"Go wash that."

"Yes, sir."

He was such a crybaby.

‘I never realized he was so good at making people feel sorry for him.’

That's a talent. At this rate, even if he beca a beggar, he could gather enough money to start a family. You're wasting your talent, Peter.

"Peter."

"Yes?"

"Don't worry. Just follow , and one day you'll live in a nice house like the other young masters' servants."

Peter's expression was a mix of emotions.

"What's wrong?"

"Young Master, may I be so bold as to speak frankly?"

"Don't."

"Yes."

I beca curious once he shut up.

"What is it?"

"Have you eaten sothing bad? You wouldn't normally be so boastful..."

Thinking Peter might’ve mistaken for a doppelgänger, I gave him a good smack on the head..

"Ow! Why did you hit ?"

"Shut up."

His head was as hard as a rock.

“What was it like originally?”

"Well..."

"Just tell honestly. Do you think I'll whip you?"

"Well, I don't think so..."

Peter scratched his head stupidly.

"Stop doing that, you're spreading dandruff everywhere."

"Oh, sorry. It's a habit..."

Peter slapped his own hand and said.

"You were very serious, you know. You were quiet and often cried alone."

"Why?"

"You said you missed your mother..."

"Has it been a long ti since I've seen my mother?"

"...Yes."

He had the sa expression as Joseph as if he were afraid to say sothing that would be considered taboo. So his mother was in a similar situation? What had happened, Allenvert?

"Let's do this."

"I won't ask about anything you're afraid to talk about. But I've lost my mory and don't know exactly what situation I'm in."

"Yes."

"Just answer whatever you can. Can you do that?"

"..."

Peter's gaze turned calm.

"If I can't, will you fire ?"

"I'm not the kind of person to threaten my subordinates like that. If I can't get the information from you, it'll just be more troubleso and I'll have to take a longer route. I won't fire you."

"But you won't trust , will you?"

"That's only fair, Peter. Trust requires sacrifice and courage."

Trust. Peter mumbled the word as if it were unfamiliar.

"Young master, I'm a fool, but I think I understand sothing now. Trust is a two-way street."

I smiled.

"That's right, Peter."

"Even soone as lowly as and soone as noble as you must give sothing to gain soone else's trust."

"You're quick."

"Then I'll gladly set aside my fears and earn your trust, Master."

I pointed my finger at Peter.

“Good. You’re a loyal fellow.”

“Heheh, I wouldn’t say that.”

“That was an exaggeration, I admit.”

“Yes.”

I gestured towards the chair opposite .

“Sit there. From now on, you can only answer my questions with ‘yes’, ‘no’, or silence.”

“Huh?”

We were now in the position of a skilled interrogator and a suspect.

“Hey, cut the act. I was just starting to feel like a–.”

Peter grumbled.

“Quiet. Just answer my questions. You’re a disappointnt.”

“You’re too harsh.”

A small smile played on Peter’s lips as he pouted.

I was smiling too. The fact that I had at least one person on my side was a small victory.

[Translator - Prøks]

[Proofreader - Kawaii]