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

Chapter 94



[Translator - Pot]

[Proofreader - Kawaii]

Chapter 94: What I Was Thinking

“Have you ever seen such motherfuckers?”

Zizek and his subordinates, having searched Vincent’s organization's hideout, felt immense rage.

“They were kidnapping children, those sons of bitches.”

The sight of several malnourished children staring back at them with dead eyes in a cramped basement that looked more like a chicken coop than a prison was horrifying.

Some of them had severe injuries.

“…Boss.”

Even while evacuating the children, the subordinates checked on Zizek.

“Are you alright?”

“Rob.”

“Yes.”

“If we had been a bit late, Moritz and his younger sibling would have been captured by these bastards too, right?”

“…That’s right.”

Zizek saw his own past in the children before him.

If he had been just a little less perceptive as a child, or if he hadn't strived to earn the infamous reputation of a ‘damn fierce little brat’ among the adults…

Someday, he himself might have suffered a similar fate and lived a miserable life.

“These fucking assholes.”

Realizing that Zizek’s anger had reached its limit, his subordinates grabbed his arms and legs.

“Calm down, Boss!”

“You’re too agitated!”

“Is there any reason I should keep those bastards alive?”

“…Well, there isn’t, but…”

Zizek looked back at Vincent’s remaining organization members, who were kneeling and trembling.

“P-please spare us!”

“I didn’t know anything!”

“He did it all!”

Seeing them scrambling to save their own skins by selling out their boss, Zizek twisted his lips into a sneer.

“Kids.”

He said to the rescued children.

“Among them, point out the ones who captured you, the ones who beat and tormented you, and any others you unforgivably hate.”

“……!”

“They said they’re innocent? Alright. I’ll spare the ones who are truly innocent.”

Despair fell upon the faces of the remaining members.

“P-please spare me!”

“I just did as I was told!”

They were dragged out one by one, pointed out by the children they had once tried to sell.

As a result, only five out of dozens of remaining members were spared from the execution.

“This person secretly came to us and gave us food and treated our wounds.”

“This person too.”

Thick tears fell like chicken dung from the eyes of those whose lives had been spared by small acts of kindness in the midst of the evildoers.

“Hic, heooock.”

“Atone for your sins. Because there’s no doubt that you were all accomplices.”

“I’m s-sorry, Boss.”

“We deserve to die.”

Zizek sighed deeply and looked up at the night sky.

“There are too many fuckers like these. It’s a world of evil men.”

He felt like he understood what Karzan was trying to do.

‘Did he perhaps foresee something like this and say those things back then?’

He realized that the ‘disgusting work’ that Karzan had hinted at Vincent’s organization carrying out was this.

“Rob.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“We may be the bottom of the barrel in the underworld, but if we overlook something like this, we’re not men.”

“That’s right.”

“Let’s become stronger.”

On this day, one organization was completely annihilated in the Grunewald underworld—

And from the heart of a man who lived in the shadows of night, a single fragrance began to bloom.

***

Having finished cleaning up the scene, Venion immediately went to Duke Georg to report.

“Impressive.”

The Duke nodded calmly after hearing the entire report.

“Not only did he discover it was a fake, but he also finished eliminating them on the spot?”

“Yes. I was also quite taken aback.”

Even sending a decent Special Operations Division member to the scene wouldn't have accomplished such a feat. It required a combination of martial prowess, judgment, and exceptional cunning.

But for Allenvert, it was certainly possible. Duke Georg nodded, thinking of the sparkling eyes of his son he had met directly.

“By the way, that tiara is a difficult item to find.”

“Indeed.”

The Duke had been preparing a gift for the young, ambitious avenger for quite some time.

“Another fruitless search, then.”

However, this was also a gain. By tracing and eliminating each source of the rumors, the real one would surely appear eventually. After all, forgeries were rampant in the black market.

“We must find it before it’s too late. It seems we need to deploy more personnel.”

However, thanks to Allenvert, confirming and eliminating one option for sure was a significant gain.

“Ah, now that I think of it—”

Venion recalled one omitted fact.

“I heard a strange story from Young Master about a man named Mordecai.”

“What is it?”

“He said that the man, at the last moment, used a peculiar yet powerful Severing Strike.”

Venion roughly demonstrated the movements he had heard from Allenvert.

“Hmm.”

The Duke, having carefully observed the move, gave a simple evaluation.

“Somewhat crude, but if executed by an expert, it would be terribly powerful. It’s an extreme technique, even prepared for mutual destruction. This isn’t a technique from a renowned Clan’s sword style.”

“I think so too.”

“It seems likely that someone from a foreign underworld is targeting Grunewald’s underworld.”

“We cannot rule out that possibility.”

Conflicts between underworld organizations were not something they would directly intervene in—

But it was necessary to confirm the truth of the matter first. The chaos of the night was bound to affect the day as well.

“Good work. You may return and rest.”

“Yes. It’s been quite a long day.”

The Duke said to Venion, who was rubbing his stiff neck.

“When you leave, give an order to the head butler.”

“What should I tell him?”

“Tell him to send Ulbhild as soon as it dawns tomorrow.”

It was now a situation that required the Special Operations Division to take action.

***

Early morning, with a clear sun shining through scattered clouds.

Ulbhild Grunewald arrived at the reception room of her father, Duke Georg Grunewald.

“I greet the Head of the Clan.”

“Sit down.”

The two exchanged words in a formal tone.

“I’ll explain briefly. Do you know of the Webern County, which was destroyed decades ago?”

“I know of it. I recall it was a Clan that possessed a strategically important port located midway along the Lindella River.”

The Duke nodded at Ulbhild’s answer, which revealed that she hadn’t neglected her studies any more than her swordsmanship.

“Do you also remember the last head of that Clan?”

“It was probably a name like ‘Strong’ Countess Ellicella Webern, I believe.”

“The tiara that Countess Ellicella wore at her wedding is circulating in Grunewald’s underworld.”

“Ah, I see. So, the task is to retrieve it?”

As a Commander, Ulbhild was the type who didn’t require lengthy explanations from her superior.

Georg was inwardly satisfied and nodded.

“Yes. I’ll explain the reason.”

“I’m listening.”

“In truth, Countess Ellicella’s grandson grew up under the protection of the Pergrins, and he is secretly raising an army, dreaming of avenging his grandmother and restoring the county.”

“!”

That was information even she, the Commander of 2nd battalion of the Special Operations Division, didn’t know.

“Grunewald will lend a hand in that revenge.”

“…Yes.”

“I intend to present the tiara as a token of that goodwill, so mobilize all your intelligence capabilities to retrieve it. I authorize any necessary bloodshed.”

Ulbhild gave a military salute.

“I receive the Head of the Clan’s command.”

Her attitude was always decisive and refreshing.

She was an excellent and intelligent daughter, a genius warrior, and a reliable soldier.

“However, Ulbhild.”

Ulbhild reacted to the change in address.

“Yes, Father.”

“Are you really planning to have Allen meet that child?”

Even at the sudden and intimate question, Ulbhild didn’t waver. She wasn’t newly surprised or frightened by ‘how her father knew about it.’ He was that kind of man.

“Yes. I am.”

The Duke looked straight into his daughter’s unwavering eyes. Having confirmed her firm resolve, he nodded.

“Understood.”

“I will formulate and execute the operation within today.”

“Discuss the details with the head of the Special Operations Division and handle it.”

“Understood.”

After Ulbhild withdrew, the head butler Aiden, who had been quietly watching, spoke.

“You didn’t mention that Young Master Allenvert was involved.”

“She’ll find out eventually, even if I don’t tell her myself.”

The Duke replied as if it were nothing.

“Indeed, that’s true.”

In truth, even Aiden, who managed all the affairs within the ducal castle, didn’t know everything about Georg.

Therefore, the head butler dared not try to fully fathom the Duke’s true intentions, who controlled everything from the top of this intricate web.

“…….”

And this gravity, this lack of excessive curiosity, was precisely why he had been able to serve the Duke for so long.

***

On the way back, Ulbhild was lost in thought.

‘This will be no easy task. I should discuss it with Harold as well.’

Missions conducted in the underworld always carried unexpected dangers.

And one more thing—Nôv(el)B\\jnn

‘Since Father has also permitted it.’

The time had truly come to arrange a meeting between Allenvert and Rudgarda.

And ultimately, she would connect ‘power’ to Allenvert.

As she walked, thinking about her younger brother, she sensed the presence of a familiar boy in her perception.

“Barclava.”

“I greet my sister.”

Barclava Grunewald.

The puppet-like youngest brother, chained and raised due to the ‘sin’ of being Verdzig’s full-blooded younger brother, was heading somewhere in martial arts attire.

“…Are you going to train?”

“Ah, yes. That’s right.”

Barclava answered hesitantly, as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

“…….”

His dejected appearance was so pitiful.

‘Brother. You so casually trample on and dominate people’s hearts. Like a gardener who snaps off sprouts, cuts down weeds, and shapes vines as he pleases….’

She wanted to say something to this pitiful boy, her younger brother, who, unlike Allenvert, hadn’t awakened so resolutely, and unlike Somerset, couldn’t maintain his sanity while completely casting something away.

But it wasn’t easy.

“Barclava.”

“Yes, Sister.”

She advised her younger brother, who was afraid of being scolded.

“Pay a little more attention to your posture when walking. Always imagine your footwork in your mind as you walk. Focus on making the movements natural even without mana, without being conscious of strength and speed. Become a man who can embody martial arts in every action of daily life.”

“……!”

Barclava’s eyes widened at the unexpected teaching.

“If you do that, martial prowess will be contained in your sword intent ‘without having to try hard.’ Simply taking spirit medicines and training your mind to swing stronger attacks isn’t the only way.”

Barclava, sensing some sincerity in her advice, bowed his head with a politeness he hadn’t shown before.

“I will respectfully engrave your words in my heart.”

“Hmm. Then train diligently.”

“Yes, I will take my leave then.”

Ulbhild, watching Barclava’s retreating figure with a somewhat surprised heart, tilted her head.

‘…Did he become polite after being scolded by Allen?’

So, the saying ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ is true after all. She was suddenly admiring the profoundness of classical disciplinary methods.

‘What am I thinking.’

***

At the same time, Verdzig was also receiving an important report.

“You’re saying Peter didn’t go out today?”

“Yes. Instead, Young Master Allenvert went out with Venion and has just returned.”

“How coincidental.”

Despite going out so often, he didn't go out today of all days, when Allenvert had other plans.

“Did you confirm what Allenvert did outside?”

“Yes. He entered the mansion of a private collector named Mordecai alone, and it is reported that a large battle subsequently took place.”

Verdzig fell into thought. It was probably an assignment given by Venion. Judging from the circumstances, it must have been a test to retrieve something.

Verdzig had also taken a similar test once in the past.

‘But it’s too fast, even at the fastest.’

Although the circumstances were different from his own time in many ways, the fact that Allenvert was already performing such a practical assignment was clearly an exceptional pace. Too much to simply brush aside.

“Accurately ascertain the facts of what happened there and report back.”

“Understood.”

The butler replied.

“And one more thing. From now on, there’s something that must be checked whenever Peter goes out.”

“What is it?”

Verdzig smiled.

“The mask. We must check whether the Mask of Aminicrus is still in its place.”

…His suspicion was piercing a precise and sharp point.

[Translator - Pot]

[Proofreader - Kawaii]

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