The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld - Chapter 18

Chapter 18: The Foul-Mouthed Young Master

“Greetings, Fifth young master.”

Peter, who had come to fetch some water, was unexpectedly caught and bowed his head.

“Throw that away, you lowly wretch. Do you think I summoned you here just to receive your reluctant greeting?”

“I-I’m very sorry. I am ignorant and uneducated, so I failed to properly greet your highness-”

“Don’t you dare stammer like an idiot. You lowly creatures can’t even speak properly.”

“…I apologize.”

“You are the servant who serves Allenvert, are you?”

“That’s correct.”

Calling his own older brother by name without any honorifics – this speech clearly revealed how much Allenvert was being disregarded, and how presumptuous this young man was.

“It’s embarrassing to have a vulgar and unsightly wretch like you as an servant. Do you think this is appropriate?”

“I am ashamed. My family has fallen on hard times, but my grandfather once held the title of baron…”

“So you were a fallen noble. No, wait. Now you’re just a lowly wretch who has lost even your title, aren’t you?”

Seeing the sneer on the young man’s lips, Peter tightly shut his eyes.

This was always how it went. Those who had looked down on him would become even more cruelly disdainful once they learned of his family’s fallen noble status.

‘Just endure it. Insults like that are nothing.’

Thinking of his recovering mother and two younger siblings gave him the strength to brush it off. But…

‘This is a disaster. I’ve gotten myself involved in a quarrel, and this will only bring harm to the young master.’

If his actions caused any trouble for Allenvert, that would be unbearable.

“Young master, if I have done wrong, please punish me.”

Watching Peter immediately kneel down, Barclava clicked his tongue.

“You have no backbone at all, do you? And you claim to be of noble birth…”

What was he supposed to do? Before, they had looked down on him for being a fallen noble, and now they were scolding him for lacking pride as a noble.

But Peter knew all too well how useless it was to argue logic with someone who was intent on trampling and insulting him.

“The fact that even a wretch like you has noble blood running through your veins is an embarrassment to me.”

Barclava spewed out what he thought were the most vicious words. Now that he knew Peter was Allenvert’s servant, he intended to insult him in order to provoke his master.

‘I don’t really want to do this.’

But having started it, he had to see it through to the end.

‘The first time is the hardest, but after that it gets easier.’

Right. If he couldn’t even manage this, how could he call himself the young master of Grunewald? Brother, don’t ignore me. I can do at least this much…

A twisted sense of spite and cruelty surged up in the young man’s heart.

Ptui!

Barclava spat on the floor and said.

“The floor is dirty now. You clean it.”

“I-I understand.”

“Who said you could use your hands?”

Peter, who was about to take out his handkerchief, froze in place.

“Pardon?”

“Lick it clean with your tongue, like a dog.”

“M-my tongue?”

A small crack appeared in the expression of submission on Peter’s face.

“Young master.”

“If you think you can’t handle it, keep talking.”

“…”

Even Barclava felt uncomfortable looking at the unmoving Peter.

But if he returned without properly trampling on this servant, what punishment would he receive from his brother?

The still-immature heart of the young man transformed the fear into rage directed at the servant in front of him.

“Why are you just standing there? Do you find my words amusing?”

“No, not at all.”

Watching Peter slowly lower his head, Barclava gritted his teeth. Ah, well, after this is over, he could just generously compensate the servant, couldn’t he?

‘This might have actually worked out in my favor.’

If he just had to endure some insults and received a month’s worth of wages as a reward, wouldn’t it be a profitable deal for this servant as well?

But this malicious impulse only lasted briefly.

As his excitement subsided, Barclava’s heart softened a little.

After all, despite being called a scoundrel, there was still a trace of noble refinement within him.

“If you can’t do it, then stand up and present your cheek.”

“…I understand.”

Just as Peter was about to rise with the intention of accepting a slap, a voice suddenly rang out from the distance.

“What are you two doing?”

Allenvert was striding towards them.

* * *

“Well, if it isn’t my brother, the one with the tainted blood of a foreigner.”

The young ruffian who was looking around Peter’s age provoked me with that taunt. I let out a slight chuckle.

“How cute.”

This infuriated Barclava.

“You’re laughing?”

“Can’t I laugh as I please?”

I coolly scanned the frozen atmosphere of the restaurant.

‘Look at this atmosphere, oh dear.’

It was as if a high-ranking member had suddenly barged into a pitiful group of youngsters eating in the underworld.

“For goodness’ sake, stop bothering them while they’re eating! Look at all those poor souls rolling their eyes because of you, you wretched brat.”

When Barcalva glared, everyone immediately cast their eyes downward. It was clear from this scene how foul-tempered he normally was.

“Yes, our cute little brother. You’re the youngest, right?”

His hair was a vibrant gold. His physique was well-developed for his age, but his spiteful eyes and undeveloped jawline gave him an unpleasant appearance.

‘I win.’

In terms of looks, this young fellow was no match for the esteemed Allenvert.

“You’ve lost your memory, and now you can’t even recognize your own brother?”

Barclava taunted.

“Why are you speaking so informally?”

“If you want to be treated like an older brother, you should act like one.”

“Oh, is that so?”

I gestured to Peter.

“Come here.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Have you lost your mind? Stay right there.”

Despite the chilling tone of the Barclava, Peter followed my order.

“The lowly wretch has gone insane.”

Listening to the rough yet anxious tone of the young brat, I had a different thought.

‘This kid, he’s just pretending to be angry, isn’t he?’

I’m not the type who can’t tell whether he’s truly angry or just putting on an act for the atmosphere. This one was the latter.

“Were you perhaps sent here by someone?”

“What?”

“Don’t try to deny it. I’ve seen your kind more than once.”

If my guess was right, this boy was just a scapegoat. Of course, I didn’t expect a young master like him to be directly involved.

‘He must have an older brother who ordered him to do this.’

According to what Peter had told me yesterday, the sister didn’t seem the type to orchestrate something like this. So which of the three brothers was the mastermind?

“Peter.”

“Yes, young master.”

“Does this brat have a full-blooded brother?”

“…!”

After a moment of hesitation, Peter resolutely closed his eyes, prioritizing my command before his fear of the Barclava in front of him.

“Yes. The young master Barclava’s full-blooded brother is the Second Young Master…”

At that, Barclava’s expression turned icy.

“You damned servant, have you lost your mind? I’ll tear your mouth apart.”

Gently patting the cowering Peter’s shoulders, I let out a sigh of relief. Peter’s tenseness visibly eased.

‘Putting it all together, this brat is the Fifth Young Master Barclava Grunewald.’

Even amidst this, Peter had considerately avoided mentioning my name, knowing that I had lost my memory. What a good lad.

“So you’re the lapdog, henchman, flunkie, minion, slave, and punching bag sent by the Second Young Master, eh? How pathetic. Just what are you doing here, coming all this way?”

“…!”

“You have the nerve to eat expensive food, wear expensive clothes, and live in an expensive house, and all you do is harass and beat up those poor employees? Even a lowly thug from the slums would be more appreciative if you treated them a fraction as well. But what are you?”

Bombarded by the barrage of insults, Barclava’s face went blank. He must have never experienced such humiliation in his life. Oh, this foolish brat.

“Well? Aren’t you going to answer?”

Barclava hesitantly opened his mouth.

“Uh, I didn’t-”

“Shut up.”

I cut him off.

“From the look on your face, you seem quite indignant. What’s so unfair? Isn’t this your true nature?”

Barclava’s brow twitched. His expression seemed to ask, ‘How did you know?’

“That’s called a pathetic self-justification. I didn’t want to do this either, so don’t resent me. This isn’t my true intention. It’s all bullshit. So what’s the point? You should be ashamed. Do you really think you can just beat someone or steal if someone tells you to? And you call yourself a man?”

I pointed at Barclava.

“The so-called young master of the great House of Grunewald, trembling in fear of his own brother… Oh, you fool. Get out of the family registry. I’m ashamed to have your name in the same lineage as mine.”

Finally snapping out of the verbal onslaught, Barclava retorted.

“What the hell are you rambling about? I just gave a little scolding to your lowly servant, and you’re having these wild delusions…”

“Then why the hell did you come all the way to my place to do this nonsense? Were we that close? Even though I’ve lost my memory, I can tell your ramblings about my tainted blood are nothing but bullshit. Were we really that friendly? Answer me, you fool.”

“Uh, well, my point is-”

“Shut up. Don’t make excuses. You pathetic ruffian.”

Bombarded by my words, Barclava stomped the floor hard.

Boom!

“Stop interrupting me, you bastard.”

Regardless, I was worried about something else.

“Hey, stop! You’re going to break the marble.”

“Shut up, you mixed-blood mongrel.”

“Oh?”

That was quite a venomous insult.

“Since your mother is holed up in some corner, living like a recluse, now you suddenly want to be treated like a brother?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

I prodded him.

“I’m curious. What happened back then?”

In response to my mocking tone, Barclava began spewing increasingly vulgar curses.

‘How cute. Our little brother.’

He may be a foul-mouthed young master, but in the underworld, this level of vulgarity was considered rather charming.

In that world, insulting one’s parents, then cursing the mother, and suddenly calling someone an orphan were like standard greetings exchanged.

‘However, in the nobility, this would be the ultimate insult.’

He had the audacity to heap such humiliation on me, underestimating that I would tolerate it.

‘It’s a free pass to beat him up.’

The moral high ground was on my side, and violence backed by righteousness was not a crime. This held true both in the underworld and in the nobility.

Of course, I would need the preparedness and strength to weather the backlash.

But I am the Fourth Young Master of the House of Grunewald. Even if I’m the black sheep, I’m not so weak that I can’t handle the squabbles of my youngest brother.

‘Most importantly…’

This Barclava is merely a puppet.

This is a fight between me and the Second Young Master. So I intend to spit on the chess piece of the Second Young Master and bury him in the cesspit.

I am the man who once charged into the enemy lines, prepared to face death. Compared to that, this was not even a significant threat to me.

“Barclava.”

“Don’t call my name, you rascal.”

“You keep saying things like I’m of lowly bloodline or something.

I pointed at Barclava.

“Are you insulting our father by saying he slept with a filthy thing?”

At that, Barclava’s face went blank, as if he had been struck.

In our hometown, we call this a ‘brain freeze.’

It’s a good expression, so remember it.

———-