The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld - Chapter 47

Chapter 47: The Dirt on One’s Back is a Swordsman’s Pride

It was a night when the bright moon hung between the clouds. The blue eyes of Duke Georg Grunewald glimmered faintly under the moonlight.

“How absurd.”

In the entire castle, only Georg had effortlessly discerned Allenvert’s true intentions.

“What a mischievous fellow, causing so much trouble for so many.”

A faint smile graced the duke’s typically cold and solemn face. How had Allenvert managed to conceal such wit and liveliness for seven years?

“And he seems to have a natural talent for combat, too.”

This wasn’t merely about extraordinary martial prowess—it was something on an entirely different level.

“When someone like Jeffrey confidently calls him a genius, it’s safe to say it’s no ordinary talent.”

The Head Butler was inwardly astonished by the duke’s words. How long had it been since he spoke so frequently about his own son?

Just a few days ago, Georg had instructed that unless there was something particularly noteworthy, there was no need to report on Allenvert’s actions. Yet now, nearly every day, he requested updates on his son’s movements.

“As for the Somerset affair, give him a light warning.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Georg already knew everything. He was aware of Somerset’s actions and even of how Bianca had quietly orchestrated everything to eliminate obstacles.

‘Son, you’re still rough around the edges and lack discernment.’

Moreover, Allenvert had been reckless. The story of how he ransacked the annex’s elixir storage the moment he arrived had nearly made Georg burst into laughter.

Even so, Georg had no intention of crushing the ambitions of Somerset or Bianca himself. How could he, as a father, prevent them from striving to their utmost? However, it was his duty as the head of the clan to warn them not to overstep boundaries.

“There’s one more thing to report, Your Grace.”

“Go on.”

“This afternoon, Lady Ulbhild came to see me. She asked why you haven’t assigned a swordsmanship instructor to Young Master Allenvert.”

“It’s been a long time since that girl showed such interest in someone else’s abilities.”

Nevertheless, Georg’s stance remained unchanged.

“There’s still more I want to confirm.”

The Head Butler understood exactly what he meant.

‘…This is unusual. For him to observe this long…’

It was a signal that Georg had high expectations. It also meant he was deliberating over the most suitable candidate.

“It seems we can’t assign him just any instructor.”

“Do you have someone in mind, Your Grace?”

Georg gave his answer, and upon hearing the name, the Head Butler was stunned.

“Your Grace… Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“…”

Georg smiled faintly at the Aiden’s reaction.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so shocked.”

“It will truly be a formidable trial.”

If Allenvert could endure the training under that man…

‘This might lead to developments beyond what anyone could expect.’

The Head Butler felt sweat pooling in his palms before he even realized it.

***

The morning sky was overcast.

It didn’t seem like it would rain, but my mood wasn’t great either.

‘When the harbor becomes so gloomy, my heart does the same as well.’

This reaffirmed my belief: the seaside should always be bright and sunny.

“Well, at least I’m fully healed.”

Unwrapping the bandage, I saw that the palm of my hand had completely recovered. The potion’s effect must have been remarkably effective.

“Could it be that Joseph is a brilliant healer after all?”

“He’s quite well-regarded among the guards.”

“He might seem a bit scatterbrained, but he’s actually very capable.”

Olivier and Peter chimed in. Their reassurances somehow made me uneasy.

“So, he meets with a lot of people? I hope he doesn’t end up spilling nonsense during idle chatter.”

“I’ll remind him to be cautious about that.”

“Good.”

Olivier, as always, was quick to handle things.

“Well then, Olivier, are you ready?”

“…Are you truly planning to go?”

“Of course.”

Today, I intended to observe training.

“With no instructor and no sword manuals to study, how else am I supposed to learn except by watching?”

Since permission was granted without much fuss, it seemed my father didn’t mind this level of freedom. Like yesterday’s excursion, my father, Duke Georg, leaned strongly toward a hands-off approach.

A man determined to raise strong children—that’s Georg Grunewald for you.

“Young Master, are you sure about this?”

“Sure about what?”

“There’s someone of concern in the 4th Battalion.”

It was clear what Olivier was worried about.

One of the Royal Guards, Keseg.

Two days ago, the third son of a vassal family had given me an unsettling look. Rumor had it he was desperate to curry favor with Verdzig.

That same Keseg belonged to the 4th Battalion, and Olivier likely feared unnecessary conflict.

“What’s the big deal? Do you think I’ll lose?”

“You’re planning to fight him outright, aren’t you?”

Olivier sighed deeply.

“Keseg is a proper, full-fledged member of the Royal Guards. He’s a 4th-tier swordsman, an elite soldier.”

By contrast, I’m just a beginner at 3rd-tier, barely trained in swordsmanship.

…At least, that’s how others see me.

“After seeing me fight yesterday, are you still doubtful?”

“The outcome wouldn’t have been much different even if Keseg had been there.”

This time, Olivier was firm.

“Young Master, spar with me just once.”

“You want me to prove myself?”

“That’s the only way to convince me.”

This was what set Olivier apart from Peter. Olivier wasn’t a retainer who merely whispered sweet words to please me. This was his way of showing loyalty.

And in my view, bitter medicine is better for you than sweetness.

‘This is exactly why I can’t share all my thoughts with you, Olivier.’

If he knew everything, his opposition would be even fiercer.

Still, I had no intention of demanding blind faith. Just as a retainer proves their loyalty, a lord must sometimes prove their worth.

“Olivier.”

For that reason, I respected this man’s candor. If I were to be obstinate, Olivier wouldn’t be able to stop me, but I didn’t want to disregard his intentions.

“I’ve ended up with a particularly nagging butler, haven’t I?”

“Apologies, Young Master. It’s the way I was taught by my uncle.”

“Dropping the Head Butler’s name makes it hard for me to argue, doesn’t it?”

I smirked and called out to Peter.

“Bring me a wooden sword.”

“Ah, y-yes, right away!”

Peter scrambled off in a hurry.

‘This works out well.’

Truth be told, I had been curious to cross swords with this man at least once. It wouldn’t hurt to broaden my understanding of the Borgart Clan’s martial arts while I was at it.

‘This is a great excuse for it.’

“I won’t use mana.”

Olivier said in a calm but resolute tone.

“If you can endure ten exchanges against me, I won’t presume to stop you anymore, Young Master.”

Olivier Borgart.

Though a Butler, he possessed greater martial prowess than Jeffrey, the captain of the Royal Guards.

‘He probably surpassed the entry level of the fifth tier long ago.’

Across all my past lives, there weren’t many who could last ten exchanges in a wooden sword spar against someone of his caliber.

‘But I’m not most people.’

***

“Could you lighten up your expression a bit?”

“…”

On the way to the training grounds where the 4th Battalion was practicing, Olivier’s face was a picture of dejection.

“It was a good match.”

“…”

The ten-exchange bout had ended far more anticlimactically than he had anticipated.

“I never thought you’d throw yourself to the ground so brazenly.”

“The Dirt on One’s Back is a Swordsman’s Pride.”

“Isn’t it usually the opposite?”

“Would you rather lose your head or dirty your clothes a little?”

“…”

That philosophy had been central to Karzan’s teachings.

In my past life, I survived countless humiliating moments without ever once being ashamed of them.

“Well, I did learn something from this. In real combat, unexpected variables can catch me completely off guard.”

“Good. A valuable lesson.”

I quickly replayed the fight in my head.

Olivier had tested me lightly with his first three attacks. Once he realized my responses were far more skillful than expected, he ramped up the speed and intensity of his strikes.

‘Seamless flow, like water.’

I’d learned from Peter beforehand that this fluidity was the hallmark of the Borgart Clan’s swordsmanship.

‘These styles typically focus on limiting their opponent’s options through successive attacks before delivering a decisive blow.’

It was like a game of chess.

‘And in my experience, swordsmen with that mindset tend to have one major flaw.’

They all shared an almost perverse satisfaction in finishing their opponents with a perfect, final strike.

‘Knowing an enemy’s tendencies makes it easier to plan your strategy.’

So, I let Olivier guide the fight through to his ninth attack. My sword’s balance was broken and my stance was wide open, giving me no room to retreat.

In that flawless setup for a checkmate, Olivier launched his finishing strike to seal the match.

And at that exact moment, I rolled across the ground.

Even someone as composed as Olivier could only let out a bewildered.

“Huh?” as he watched me perform a perfect Donkey’s Roll.

“A victory in tactics, strategy, and psychological warfare.”

I said, basking in my own praise.

Olivier sighed deeply.

“Let me make this clear. When sparring with Keseg, you mustn’t use tricks like that. Even if you win, you’ll earn nothing but ridicule.”

“I know. That’s why I used it against you.”

I replied with a smirk.

“…”

His face betrayed a mixture of irritation and resignation as if he wanted to retort but couldn’t find the words.

‘Not that I needed to use a trick to last ten exchanges. But power should always remain hidden—that’s my creed.’

That wasn’t to say Olivier’s swordsmanship was unimpressive. On the contrary, it was exceptional enough to catch even me by surprise.

“Anyway, Peter.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re turning back here.”

“W-what? Why?”

Peter stammered, his face a picture of shock.

“You’ve got tasks to handle back at the annex in my absence.”

“W-what kind of tasks?”

Peter’s face grew more apprehensive.

“The annex will be in chaos for the next few days. If there’s a spy planted there, they’ll seize the opportunity.”

I pointed at Peter.

“Keep an eye on things, talk to Julia, and gather some information. Stay vigilant.”

“Understood.”

“Also, make sure to rein in Marco. Be thorough—hunt him down like a rat.”

“Oh, I can do that?”

“Of course.”

“Understood!”

“You look way too serious. Relax your eyebrows.”

Peter gave an awkward chuckle.

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re too relaxed. You look foolish. Stop that.”

“That’s too much!”

“Just go.”

“Yes, sir!”

As Peter bounded off with a spring in his step, Olivier lowered his voice and spoke up.

“By the way, Young Master…”

“What is it?”

“This matter with Keseg—why are you so intent on fighting him?”

I frowned slightly, already weary of the subject.

“Do you still not understand?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“My uncle always said, ‘A Butler’s role isn’t to question their master’s judgments or actions but to anticipate them and offer unyielding support.’”

I pictured the sharp glint of Count Aiden’s monocle as I answered.

“Wise words. And?”

“I understand there’s a specific reason why it has to be Keseg. I just can’t figure out exactly what that reason is.”

I met Olivier’s steady gaze.

“It may be presumptuous of me, but I feel as though I overstepped yesterday by asking for proof of your ability.”

It seemed yesterday’s spar still weighed on his mind.

“However, I have always admired the relationship between my esteemed uncle and the great head of our house. Because of that, even if I can’t yet fully share in everything, I aspire to become a retainer who can one day completely understand your intentions, my lord.”

“…I see.”

I lifted my gaze.

In the distance, the voices of the Royal Guards shouting their drills echoed. It blended strangely well with the vast expanse of the sea stretching beyond them.

This scene, I thought, spoke volumes about the character of the Grunewald Clan.

Olivier is a man who wishes to uphold that tradition. And I, though a stranger to this world, am no longer entirely an outsider.

“The Royal Guard is, without doubt, one of the most proud and prestigious units in the Duchy. That pride must stem from their skill and history, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Indeed.”

“So, if someone like me—who has yet to formally learn swordsmanship—defeats a full-fledged member of that Royal Guards, how do you think people will react?”

“…It would be a spectacular sight.”

“Could there be any better proof of extraordinary talent?”

“Hardly.”

“That’s exactly why I deliberately chose Keseg, someone who clearly dislikes me. If the opponent were someone who was already inclined to go easy on me, I would likely be suspected of having arranged the outcome.”

“Ah!”

Olivier’s expression lit up with realization.

“So that’s why it had to be Keseg…”

“Now you understand.”

“Yes.”

Reputation, after all, is built on memorable stories that people can’t stop talking about.

In ancient times, the founders of kingdoms claimed to have hatched from Dragon Eggs or to be the children of the Sun. Such myths bolstered their authority.

‘What I aim to do isn’t so different.’

One day, when I vie for the position of heir, I’ll need an array of remarkable tales to my name. Stories like ‘He defeated a Royal Guard after only a week of self-taught training.’

Call it building my legend ahead of time.

“Actually, there’s one more reason.”

“Oh? What might that be?”

“I plan to ‘borrow’ some of the Royal Guard’s sword techniques.”

“What?”

“If my father won’t assign me an instructor or let me read sword manuals, I might as well make a point by learning them myself.”

“I see. So that’s your plan.”

Olivier nodded in admiration.

“If you’ve considered things this deeply, I have no reason to stop you.”

He looked as though he had come to understand me a little better.

“That’s good to hear.”

Men like Olivier, who never hesitate to speak their minds, tend to offer unwavering support once they align with their Master’s vision.

“Let’s be off then.”

Hopefully, Keseg sees me as an easy and tempting prey.

Only then will he step into the sharp trap I’ve set for him, completely unaware of what awaits.

———-