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

“Young Master, how could you go wandering around as soon as you wake up? And how long has it been since you last did this? Normally, you’d only step out for very important annual events, and even then, you’d just briefly show your face and disappear…”

I let his nagging drift in one ear and out the other as we walked back to my room.

So I hadn’t been completely locked away. Of course, as a noble, there must have been times when I had no choice but to show up.

“It’s especially dangerous to go out without anyone accompanying you. Are you listening to me, Young Master?”

“Quiet.”

I replied, my ears ringing.

“It’s not like you’re one to talk—you didn’t show up until long after I woke up.”

“Th-that’s my fault. I’m very sorry. Something urgent came up at home, and I spent the whole night dealing with it…”

Indeed, there were dark shadows under his eyes.

“But, um… Why has your way of speaking changed?”

“What was it like before?”

“Well, it was a bit more refined and gentle, I’d say.”

Unlike Josef, who was an adult and a doctor, this attendant was about my age and naive enough that I didn’t bother adjusting my tone for him.

“Didn’t Josef tell you?”

“The doctor? Well…”

“I have amnesia.”

“Whaaat?”

His eyes bulged in shock.

“R-really? How much do you not remember? Do you remember me?”

“Nope.”

“Oh dear…”

I gestured for him to keep quiet as I covered his mouth.

“Let’s talk inside.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And tell them to prepare food. I’m starving.”

“Oh! Of course. I’ll bring it right away.”

“You’re bringing it yourself?”

“Yes? I always have.”

He muttered under his breath, “Guess he really doesn’t remember,” then said with concern, “Shall I bring you oatmeal?”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“Why would I eat something so tasteless?”

“What?”

“I want meat. Bring plenty.”

“But young master, what’s come over you…?”

“I get annoyed when people talk too much when I’m hungry. Keep that in mind.”

“Right! Understood.”

As he hurried off, I called out after him.

“By the way, what’s your name?”

“… I’m Peter, Young Master.”

He replied with a hint of sadness in his voice.

———

Back in my room, I leaned back in a chair, propped my feet on the table, and began to think.

‘Peter, Peter… The Chatty Peter.’

He appeared about fifteen, two years younger than me.

Now that I had his name, face, and mannerisms together, fragmented memories started to bubble up.

True to his nickname, he was talkative, but from what I could recall, he never gossiped about my shortcomings outside.

Even the naive Allenbert seemed to have thought he was a bit of a fool, so my initial impression wasn’t wrong.

‘A fool, huh?’

In my old neighborhood, we’d say someone like him had ‘flowers in his head’ or that they were ‘a pure soul.’

‘Generally, these types don’t harbor malice toward their masters. They’re often simple-minded but loyal.’

I had experience managing people in the past. Peter wasn’t particularly sharp or cunning enough to cause trouble or create factions, so he’d make a decent attendant.

‘Though I’ll need to keep an eye on him for a while longer.’

At least there was someone around who appeared to care about Allenbert’s well-being, and that was a relief.

When Peter returned, however, his eyes were red and teary.

“What’s this? Have you been crying? You’re a funny one, aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“You were crying.”

“I wasn’t.”

“All right, let’s say you weren’t. What kind of servant, are you? Not a single tear for your master who just woke up with amnesia. Trash.”

“Whoa! You’re calling me trash all of a sudden?”

Peter’s face twisted in frustration, and then, as if overwhelmed, he started crying again.

“Oh, poor Young Master. This is too much… Wahh…”

“Why are you crying so pathetically?”

“Amnesia? Really…? Boo-hoo…”

He was generally the tearful, pitiful sort.

“Put down the tray before you cry all over it.”

“Y-yes.”

Peter pulled out a wrinkled handkerchief, dabbing at his eyes and blowing his nose, muttering all the while.

“But why are you so calm about it? Am I the only one acting all emotional here…?”

“It’s not like I remember anything to be sad about.”

“Oh! I guess that makes sense?”

Leaving Peter to mutter away with that clueless look on his face, I started eating the meal he had brought.

Being a coastal region, the main dish was a large white fish, perfectly grilled. I wasn’t an expert, but the sauce filled with well-cooked onions added a nice touch.

“Oh, this isn’t bad.”

I’d had more fish than I could count, but the sauce here gave the mild fish a bit more flavor, making it quite enjoyable.

The grilled beef dish was also surprisingly good. They used spices skillfully here, creating complex flavors, a contrast from where I came from.

“Tasty.”

This was food I could eat heartily without getting tired of it. Eat up, Allenbert—meat is the source of strength.

‘Even if I’m the outcast of the family, at least they feed me well.’

There’s nothing more degrading than being denied a proper meal, so at least the staff here maintained a basic level of decency.

“Young master, why are you eating so… unrefined?”

Peter, who had been watching me eat, seemed embarrassed on my behalf.

“Shut up. I’ll eat however I want.”

I cut into the meat, ignoring Peter’s objections.

Thunk!

A thick tendon caught on the knife, but for a skilled sword-handler like Karzan, it was no harder to slice than cheese.

I twisted my wrist ever so slightly, slicing through the tough tendon in one fluid motion, as if cutting into the hardened side of an enemy lieutenant to stir their guts…

“That’s… An unusual way to cut meat.”

Peter mumbled, watching Karzan’s knife skills with bewilderment. Fool.

“What does it matter, as long as it’s cut properly?”

“Well, yes, but usually… It’s done more like…”

Peter demonstrated a more refined way of slicing, apparently popular among nobles. Seems this region’s cutting style was different from mine.

“Like this?”

“Wow, that’s perfect! Did you pick it up after seeing it just once?”

“Something like that.”

“As expected of you, Young Master. Somehow, even when you do it, it looks elegant and refined…”

It was my first time, but what was he going on about? Was he trying to flatter me?

… Though, in reality, I did have a knack for observation. My talent for understanding someone’s movements and replicating them was outstanding. Though making a fuss over slicing meat felt trivial.

‘Imagine coming up with a whole new technique just to break open a treasure box they said only an eighth-tier could destroy.’

The annoying part was that the memory of how I did it was frustratingly blurry. How did I do that?

“There’s not enough. Bring me more meat.”

“Huh? But there’s still a lot left…”

“It’ll be just right, considering the time it takes for you to go and return.”

“You’re really sure you can eat more?”

“Definitely. Oh, bring more bread and soup too. Just eating meat makes you hungry again too quickly.”

“But…”

He looked at me with a mix of confusion and astonishment, as if wondering why I was eating so much.

“Don’t sneak any bites on your way back.”

“What do you take me for? I’m not the kind of guy who’d do that.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm? I know you don’t remember anything, but for your information, I’m actually quite loyal…”

Ignoring Peter’s chattering, I glanced at the clock. It was already well past lunchtime, and yet, my mother, the Duchess Lusatia Grünevald, had yet to make an appearance. None of my other siblings had shown up either.

‘Mixed blood and a terminal case.’

Compared to the other heirs, I was not of ‘pure’ blood, and to top it off, I was supposedly expected to die within a few years. Add a weak personality to the mix?

With that, it wasn’t hard to understand the attitude of the servants who whispered about me or kept a close eye on me.

In a family with five direct heirs, I would clearly be the least significant. And if one of my siblings had ordered people to keep an eye on me, few would refuse.

‘Marco had a filthy mouth, but it’s not like he was particularly crazy or anything.’

Those born to nobility often forget that the people beneath them think and feel just like they do. But to those living on the fringes of society, a noble is just another person to complain about—even a king could be cursed.

“… Young master! Are you listening to me?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Please have some water. You must be parched.”

“You’re the one who seems like they need it.”

“Hehe. I guess talking a lot does make me thirsty.”

As Peter scratched the back of his head, dandruff fell like ripe grains of wheat at harvest.

“You haven’t washed your hair?”

“I did! I totally washed it!”

“Then what’s with the snowstorm on your shoulders?”

“Well… We have a lot of bedbugs at home…”

“What does that have to do with dandruff?”

“It’s related! People who live in houses with bedbugs usually have dandruff.”

Now that I thought about it, he wasn’t wrong. When I used to live with Grandpa, I had dandruff too. In the back alleys, nearly everyone had it, so it wasn’t exactly a cause for teasing.

“You’re making sure there are no bedbugs on you before you come to my room, right?”

“Of course! I change clothes when I get here and wash them regularly.”

“Then why still the dandruff?”

“No matter how much I wash my hair, it just doesn’t go away. I’m sorry.”

In any case, a home infested with bedbugs was practically a hallmark of the lower class.

‘Strange.’

An attendant for a duke’s son coming from such poverty? If he were just a servant, that’d be one thing, but an attendant? An attendant wasn’t merely a servant—they were a close aide, like a secretary or lieutenant.

Even if Allen Vert was treated poorly, it was strange. Normally, a third son from a baron’s or viscount’s family would be assigned to a noble child like him.

“Peter.”

“Yes?”

“By any chance, is there any noble in your family?”

Peter replied, his tone a symphony of pride and bitterness.

“Yes, that’s right. My family held a baron title and land until my grandfather’s generation.”

So, a fallen noble.

No matter how logical it was, it was yet a subtly humiliating arrangement. Whoever planned it was definitely a cunning individual.

‘The one behind this must be quite scheming.’

“You must’ve had a hard time.”

The words were casual, but Peter’s eyes began to glisten with tears again.

“W-what do you mean…?”

“I’m sure the other servants mocked and mistreated you. Your master was a dim-witted, half-witted fool, and yet there you were, stuck with the title of ‘attendant.’ They must have looked down on you.”

“…!”

For those who had lost their noble status like Peter and were now forced to live as commoners, ridicule and contempt were often much harsher.

Among the people I met in the underworld, those who had once been nobility were often filled with resentment toward the world and rage toward their family.

“Sniff… To think the young master understands this pitiful servant’s heart…”

Peter’s eyes overflowed with tears.

“Stop crying.”

I watched him pull out a handkerchief again.

“Did a guy named Marco give you trouble?”

“!”

Peter looked at me, as if I’d seen straight through him. His tears dried up instantly.

“How did you know? That gave me chills.”

“I saw him while I was walking around earlier.”

“Ah! Well, yes. He’s a piece of shit.”

“He’s got a filthy mouth too, doesn’t he?”

“That guy could rack up a million-gold debt with his three-inch tongue.”

I nodded knowingly.

“Got it. Anyway, go bring me more food.”

“Yes, right away.”

I pretended not to hear Peter’s sniffles as he walked away.

‘So, pretending to be cheerful and bright is your way of coping, huh?’

I thought of a young man from a fallen noble family who’d been by my side in my previous life.

“I tell you, Karzan, it would’ve been better to be born an orphan. Even while living in the slums, it was unbearable to listen to my father’s drunken speeches about our ‘glorious family heritage.’”

“Don’t talk nonsense. Have you ever lived as an orphan? If not, shut up.”

“Yeah, yeah. Stubborn old man.”

Looking back, I’d been a bit harsh. Thinking of a face I might never see again, I closed my eyes quietly.

Stay alive. Even though Ivan was ruthless, he was never one to go down easily. Just wait—I’ll come back someday…

“Urp.”

Ugh. Of all times to burp, it had to be now, right when I was getting all serious.

It had been a long time since I ate, and my stomach was rebelling.

———-

After finishing the second meal brought by Peter, I patted my full stomach.

“Man, I’m about to burst.”

“You’re really done this time, right?”

Peter looked at me, clearly hoping I wouldn’t send him off again.

I chuckled and said, “Peter.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you the one supporting your family? What about your parents?”

“Huh?”

Peter’s eyes widened. It was hard to tell if he was surprised by the sudden serious  topic or simply because I had never asked such questions before.

“… My father died after gambling all his life, and my mother is bedridden, too weak to leave her bed. I have two younger siblings; one is also sickly, and the other matured quickly. He takes care of our mother and brother while I’m out earning money.”

“Goodness. That sounds rough.”

“It’s all right.”

It was a classic tale of a fallen noble family in poverty.

“So, if I were to fire you, it’d be a real disaster for your family, huh?”

“!”

At this, Peter quickly bowed his head to the ground with lightning speed.

“Oh, my lord! Please don’t abandon me! If I lose this job, my whole family will end up on the streets! Please, please have mercy!”

I retreated, taken aback.

“You crazy bastard, When did I mention anything about firing you?”

“But you just said it’d be bad if I got fired!”

“I was just joking!”

Peter grabbed onto my leg in a flash, as quick as a well-trained assassin with his blade.

“My lord, I’ve made mistakes. I’ll work hard, be loyal, and won’t complain. If I’ve done anything wrong, please be forgiving…”

I sighed while looking down at Peter, who was trembling and babbling.

“You haven’t done anything wrong. Just stand up, for goodness’ sake.”

“… Really?”

“Get up, or I’ll fire you.”

“Right away.”

Peter quickly stood up and wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. Had he cried again already?

“You might want to wash that.”

“Will do.”

Peter was a ridiculous guy. He cried over the smallest things.

‘Turns out he’s quite skilled at pulling at people’s heartstrings.’

If that’s a talent, then he’s wasting it here.

With those puppy-dog eyes, Peter could probably make a career out of begging.

“Peter.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry. Just stick with me, and one day you’ll be able to live in a respectable house like the other attendants’ families.”

Peter’s expression turned strange.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“My lord, can I be honest? Even if it’s a bit rude?”

“Don’t.”

“Yes, sir.”

Now that he was holding back, I became curious anyway.

“What is it?”

“Did you eat something strange? The young master I know doesn’t boast with such confidence…”

He muttered something about a doppelganger impersonating me, so I gave him a light smack on the head. I’d held back long enough.

“Ow! Why’d you hit me?”

“Quiet.”

His head was as hard as a rock.

“So, how was I usually?”

“Well…”

“Go on, just be honest. What? Afraid I’ll whip you?”

“Uh. I wouldn’t think so…”

Peter scratched his head awkwardly.

“Stop doing that. You’re raining dandruff everywhere.”

“Oh, sorry. It’s out of habit…”

Peter slapped his own hand and continued.

“Well, you were… very serious. You didn’t talk much, and you often cried alone.”

“Why?”

“You’d say you missed your mother…”

“Has it been a long time since I’ve seen my mother?”

“…Yes.”

Peter wore the same expression as Josef, as if even mentioning it could lead to serious trouble.

Did that mean my mother was in a situation similar to mine? What exactly had happened, Allen Vert?

“Let’s do this.”

“I won’t ask about matters you dare not speak of. But I’ve lost my memory, and I don’t even know the exact nature of my current situation.”

“Yes.”

“Answer only what you’re able to. Could you do that?”

“…”

Peter’s eyes turned calm and resolute.

“If I don’t answer, will I be dismissed?”

“I’m not the kind of man who threatens his subordinates over such things. If I can’t hear it from you, it’ll only mean taking a more roundabout route. You won’t be dismissed for it.”

“But then you wouldn’t trust me.”

“That’s only fair, Peter. Loyalty requires sacrifice and courage.”

Peter murmured, finding the word unfamiliar, “Loyalty…”

I smiled slightly.

“Exactly, Peter.”

“So even someone as lowly as me and someone as noble as you have to offer something in return for loyalty.”

“You’re quick to understand.”

“Then I’ll set aside my fear and earn your trust, my lord.”

I pointed my finger at Peter.

“Good. A loyal man, indeed.”

“Hehe, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Actually, I may have exaggerated that compliment.”

“Yes.”

I gestured to the chair across from me. “Now, take a seat. From this point forward, you’re only allowed to answer my questions with ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ or silence.”

“What?”

We were now in the perfect setup of an interrogator and his suspect.

“Hey, I was feeling like a real man for a moment there.”

“Quiet. Just answer the questions, you fool.”

“You’re too harsh.”

A smile appeared on peter’s lips as he pouted.

I smiled as well.

Knowing that I had at least one person on my side. No matter how small, it was a meaningful gain.