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

[Translator - Pot]

[Proofreader - Kawaii]

Chapter 169: The Mastermind Behind the Curtain

The interrogation proceeded peacefully and smoothly.

Our dear Marlok seemed utterly terrified of me and the mysterious black-clad figure, Zizek, who stood silently beside me, revealing only his eyes.

"So, you’re saying that you, along with other pleasure-seeking brats like yourself, ran around enjoying the nightlife under the leadership of Young master Somerset of the Grunewald clan?"

"W-well, it’s more about appreciating the finer arts rather than just—"

"Cut the crap. Don’t give me that nonsense."

"I-I’m sorry."

"Watch your mouth."

"Yes."

"Anyway, so you recently got tangled up with the Bisakino Brotherhood, is that it?"

"Y-yes. They run a tavern, and the drinks are good, and it’s well-managed, so we frequented—"

I had a question that bothered me.

"Who paid for it all?"

"Ah, I’m not entirely sure, but I heard one of their executives was trying to win our favor."

"Is that so?"

I couldn’t help but laugh.

'I knew it.'

Somerset, you fell for such an obvious and blatant scheme.

"Well done. You enjoyed yourself without even knowing whose money you were spending, huh? You’re clueless about how the world works."

"……."

Marlok, with a blank expression, asked, "Isn’t it just because we’re nobles that they treated us so well?"

"What does being a noble have to do with it? Do you think money grows on trees?"

"Well, our clan is quite wealthy—"

"Right. Your clan is wealthy. Not you."

"Isn’t that the same thing?"

"This guy's head got eaten by wolves or something."

I pointed at Marlok in frustration.

"Are you on good terms with your father?"

"……Not really."

"If you suddenly asked your father for money, what would he say?"

"He’d scold me harshly. He might give me a little, but…"

"What if your older brother asked for money?"

Marlok’s expression darkened.

"He’d give him as much as he wanted. After all, most of our father’s wealth will go to him anyway."

"See? Even if your clan is rich, it’s not your money."

"……."

Marlok bit his lip bitterly.

"But if you were in debt or kidnapped, your father would have no choice but to pay up, right? Even if you’re a disappointment, you’re still his son."

"……I suppose so?"

"Exactly."

If that weren’t the case, Marlok wouldn’t have been able to flaunt his clan’s name so freely.

"……So, are you planning to ransom me?"

"Don’t get ahead of yourself. I never said that."

"Yes."

I clicked my tongue in frustration.

"You idiot, do you still not get it? The Bisakino Brotherhood were using your parents’ love for you to squeeze out a fortune."

"Huh? What do you—"

"At first, it might’ve been small gambling debts, but they’d gradually demand more and more. And with a few scandals and some well-placed threats, even a viscount like your father would find it hard to withstand the pressure."

"……!"

Finally, the color drained from Marlok’s face.

"Big organizations like the Bisakino Brotherhood target the children of dukes and marquises, while smaller groups like the Black Night Society go after the sons of viscounts and barons."

It seemed Marlok finally realized that the drinks he’d been enjoying weren’t free.

"Ah, you naive fool. Did you really think someone like Krahel would fawn over you and serve you drinks because he liked you? He was just trying to suck your clan dry."

"……."

"What, do you feel sorry for him because he died so miserably at my hands? You didn’t even realize he was here to ruin your life, you fool."

I kept berating Marlok without pause.

'What an idiot.'

"Did you think they were bowing to you because they respected you? If you knew how meticulously these underworld scum strip people bare, you’d probably faint."

Zizek elbowed me.

"He’s going to cry."

"Let him cry. Pathetic fool."

I glared at Marlok.

"Did it feel good to look down on those gamblers and laugh at them? Those broken souls, selling their families to feed their addiction—that’s your future, you idiot. You’re so clueless it’s almost laughable."

"……Sniff."

The grown man finally started shedding tears like a child.

"Oh? Crying? What a loser. Cry some more."

"Waaah!"

I let Marlok cry for a while before getting back to the main point.

"Stop crying and answer me. Who was it that seduced Young master Somerset?"

"……."

"You’re not going to tell me you don’t know, are you?"

"I-I remember now. His name was… Huten, I think?"

"Ah, really?"

I exchanged a glance with Zizek.

'I knew it.'

Zizek also looked shaken.

"Let’s step outside for a moment."

Once in the hallway, Zizek whispered to me.

"Damn. I had a feeling, but it really was Huten."

"Yeah. What a coincidence, huh?"

The same guy who was trying to manipulate Somerset to get to Grunewald was also the one who sent people after Zizek, suspecting him?

'This stinks. It reeks of something rotten and suspicious.'

The puzzle pieces were falling into place in my mind.

'That guy… he’s not just a simple inspector. There’s more to him.'

I knew exactly what to call someone like him.

'A spy, a mole, an infiltrator.'

His actions didn’t seem to benefit the Bisakino Brotherhood as much as they seemed aimed at destabilizing Grunewald for some other purpose.

'How ironic.'

Of all the organizations I could’ve targeted, the Bisakino Brotherhood already had a parasite sucking them dry.

"This is getting interesting."

I smirked.

'Let’s use our imagination.'

I left Marlok, who was still sniveling pitifully, and Zizek, who looked deep in thought, to stew in their own worries.

'Huten is carrying out a meticulous scheme with some clear objective.'

His strategy to manipulate Somerset clearly worked. But in the process, Somerset suffered a massive blow to his reputation.

'So, was this a failure or a success for Huten?'

If it’s the latter, this might be more dangerous than I thought. Somerset would have no choice but to rely even more on Huten.

'Not to mention, Verdzig is also trying to bring the fallen Somerset under his wing, ultimately aiming to gain the power of the Agrippa Count clan.'

How ironic. Either way, Somerset’s downfall seems to benefit their plans.

'……In that case.'

I might have to interfere. When you don’t fully understand the enemy’s intentions, the best course of action is to disrupt their calculations.

'And by listening to Somerset’s account of Huten’s actions, I might be able to piece together what his true goal is.'

Let’s assume the worst-case scenario. Naturally, great power attracts many enemies, and my father has no shortage of them.

'Huten is an enemy of my father and Grunewald.'

This assumption is likely true because—

'No sane person would deliberately antagonize a noble, let alone one of such high standing.'

Moreover, to make an enemy of the entire duchy… the position of a mid-level executive in a third rate organization is far too weak.

'There’s someone higher up pulling the strings.'

In my mind, Huten was already starting to feel like a parasite, leeching off the Bisakino Brotherhood.

'The kind of parasite that drags its host to the water’s edge, kills it, and then moves on.'

I remember seeing something like that when I was younger. Was it called a horsehair worm?

'Ugh, disgusting.'

While I don’t have any particular affection for Somerset, it’s better to keep him from becoming an enemy.

'Even if he’s annoying, it’s better to have him on my side than to let him fall into the enemy’s hands.'

It’s a simple calculation.

'The problem is that Somerset has been lying low since that day.'

Well, I’ll have to force my way in and assess his mental state.

'But if he doesn’t want to escape this mess and is still enchanted by Huten’s sweet talk…'

Then I’m out of options.

If that’s the case, he can just drop dead. What an idiot.

"Alright. I’ve got a rough plan."

Zizek looked at me.

"What are you going to do?"

"Well, first—"

I pointed at the door.

"Thanks to Marlok, we’ve unexpectedly become aware of the enemy’s existence. He’s not entirely useless."

"So, are you going to let him go?"

"Are you crazy? No, I’m just saying."

Besides, his mind isn’t fully fixed yet.

"Listen carefully. It’s not a doctor’s duty to discharge a patient before they’re fully healed."

"Understood."

As we walked down the old hallway, I said to Zizek, "Anyway, I can’t be sure how the Black Night Society will react to this. They might go berserk trying to find me, or they might suddenly decide to blame you and come barging in, shouting nonsense."

"Hmm."

"So, I’ll make sure you can handle the worst-case scenario."

Zizek looked at me.

"How?"

"After facing Krahel directly, I think you’ll be able to handle him once you break through to the 4th rank."

In other words.

"You’ll be able to handle the Black Night Society’s leader, who’s on a similar level to Krahel."

"……But you took down Krahel like it was nothing."

"That’s because I’m strong."

Don’t compare yourself to me.

"Zizek, I’ll get you to the 4th rank tonight."

"Is that even possible?"

"It is. I’m a genius."

Zizek looked like he wanted to make a sarcastic remark but held back.

"Even if that’s true, I’m not a genius."

"Well, true. But you’re still quite talented."

"I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment."

"Take it as a compliment, you twisted bastard."

"……Am I really that talented?"

"If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble to recruit you."

For example, Zizek is currently at a level similar to Barclava.

But even though they’re both at the peak of the 3rd rank, if they were to fight seriously, Zizek would probably dominate.

'That’s the difference in experience and combat sense.'

Barclava’s talent isn’t far behind Zizek’s, but Zizek is a rare talent even in the underworld.

In terms of pure talent, he’s not inferior to Zamuel, who inherited everything from me, Karzan.

'Moreover.'

Because it’s rare to have access to spirit medicines, cultivation techniques, and high-level martial arts, most underworld swordsmen are stronger than their rank suggests.

And most importantly—

I now had a way to easily resolve Zizek’s imbalance.

"Follow me. I’ll give you a crash course."

* * *

Skella quietly descended upon the Black Night Society’s main business site, now in ruins, and examined the traces of the battle.

Strangely, none of the Black Night Society members cleaning up the scene and collecting the bodies found her presence unusual.

This was thanks to her unique stealth technique, which distorted perception and erased her presence to an extreme degree. A special ability passed down through her vampire lineage, further enhanced by her martial arts.

'How strange. It’s as if two or even three people took turns fighting.'

The bodies that had been dead for a long time bore rough and violent wounds.

The ones that had died more recently had wounds that seemed to have been inflicted by a skilled underworld swordsman, both crude and precise.

Finally, the bodies near the second floor bore clean wounds, the kind left by a trained soldier or a knight from a prestigious clan.

'It’s as if they grew stronger as they fought.'

But that couldn’t be, so Skella considered another possibility.

'Did they experiment with different fighting styles during the battle?'

If so, what kind of person could alternate between two completely different martial arts and even combine them?

'How peculiar.'

Skella looked at a body on the second floor, cleanly severed at the waist.

'How many people can fight like this?'

Moreover, Karzan’s sword style wasn’t a direct imitation of the Azure Sea Moon Shadow Swordsmanship but rather a fusion with his own style, making it difficult for Skella to suspect anyone from Grunewald based on these bodies.

'At the very least, this was the work of a master at the 5th rank or higher.'

Otherwise, too many things wouldn’t add up.

'There aren’t that many masters of that level.'

Just then, sensing commotion nearby, Skella hid in the shadows and moved to the top of a chimney.

'Who would do something like this, and for what purpose? And why did they take the third son of the Cardovan clan?'

Finding that man seemed to be the top priority.

Splat!

Skella bit her own wrist with her sharp fangs, and blood gushed out.

"Go."

As soon as her command left her lips, dozens of blood bats born from her blood scattered into the night sky.

Swoosh—

Skella’s crimson pupils, staring at the moon, watched as the bats’ vision unfolded like a mosaic. Her eyes darted rapidly as she scanned through their perspectives.

What she was looking for was the third son of the Cardovan clan. But—

'Dead?'

One bat’s vision suddenly cut off. A single attack from outside the bat’s field of view had taken it down.

'……A blood bat hiding in the darkness of the night. Even seeing it isn’t easy.'

Only a master of heightened senses or someone capable of delivering a precise slash or arrow shot could have done such a thing.

'Is this a warning that we’ve intruded into the domain of an ancient being, or—'

Skella’s eyes narrowed.

'You two, go and check it out.'

Two blood bats flew toward the scene of the attack.

In other words, her eyes were now directed toward where Karzan and Zizek were.

[Translator - Pot]

[Proofreader - Kawaii]