The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld-Chapter 232

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]

Chapter 232. An Excessively Clean Record

Upon receiving Allenvert's request to dispatch Special Operations Division members as examiners, Ulbhild put forth one condition.

"In exchange, I'll send Barclava, so make sure he can observe."

Of course, this was a proposal Allenvert had no reason to refuse.

"Young Master Barclava, what do you think?"

At the question from Harold, the deputy commander of the 2nd Battalion, Barclava responded gravely.

"If I were an applicant, passing wouldn't be difficult."

Having surpassed the 4th tier, Barclava was now firmly consolidating his position through special training.

"Well, I suppose so."

The Special Operations Division members had been keenly feeling lately that blood doesn't lie.

Barclava, whom they had subtly looked down upon due to his lack of talent and motivation...

Now, after finding his resolve through Allenvert's influence, he was growing stronger rapidly, as if regretting the time he had wasted.

'Moreover, for some reason, Young Master Verdzig hasn't been interfering at all.'

Harold believed that at this rate, reaching the middle of the 4th tier wasn't far off for him.

"Look at their ages. They're all about 10 years older than you, my lord."

"Thank you for saying so, but they and I have different circumstances, so I'm not particularly pleased."

Harold smiled faintly, well aware of whose comparison was the source of Barclava's strict standards.

"Then, among them, how many do you think you could defeat?"

Barclava narrowed his eyes, lost in thought.

"If we were to rank them, I could probably manage to place in the top 5 somehow."

"Who do you think would be difficult to defeat?"

Harold asked again.

"Recognizing formidable opponents is also a skill."

"...Taris, Kaimak. And-"

Barclava had been counting on his fingers when his gaze stopped somewhere.

"Who is that man? He seems extraordinary."

***

What Geninghen had lent was a sword.

Of course, it was far from the kind of artifact sword that emits fire and lightning.

"This sword is imbued with the magic of truth, devised by the Elder Geninghen."

Olivier placed an old sword on a small ornamental stand.

"You must line up and each inject your mana into this sword."

"!"

The 30 applicants who had passed the second stage looked at each other's faces.

"The sword will then analyze the user's tendencies and character, glowing in different colors."

Someone cautiously raised a hand.

"Ask your question."

The man, having received Olivier's permission, asked.

"Will our acceptance or rejection be determined by that color?"

"That's correct."

"!"

The man's expression hardened.

"Do you have an objection?"

"Rather than an objection, it's just difficult to accept that-"

Olivier coldly countered.

"Are you doubting Lord Geninghen's magic?"

"Ah, that's not what I-"

"What is your name and tier?"

"...Egon of the 1st Battalion of the Royal Guard."

"Egon. Refrain from making statements that show a lack of respect for Grunewald."

"I apologize."

I maintained a stern expression while thinking to myself.

'What a childish way of speaking.'

But it was definitely effective. No one else raised their hand.

"Then line up in order. Applicant number 5, step forward."

The applicants came forward one by one, grasped the sword, and channeled their mana into it.

"Ah?"

"Ohhh!"

"What does this color mean?"

"Just now! It turned green twice in a row?"

As more applicants took their turn, the sword glowed in a rainbow of different colors.

"Hmm. White, you say?"

I glanced at the paper Olivier was holding.

The content was Geninghen's summary of what each color symbolized based on extensive experiments.

'Green generally represents a sincere soldier type with high loyalty. Conversely, red represents a mercenary type with strong impulses like anger and desire. White represents a noble and good type like a holy knight, while gray is neutral. Dark red often indicates a tendency toward betrayal or an assassin type harboring murderous intent.'

And as for black...

"Young master, black hasn't appeared yet, has it?"

"As expected."

What black symbolizes is pure malice. It's not easy for a human to be that dark inside.

'You'd have to bring in someone like the Dark King for that.'

Previously, I would have thought Verdzig would be black, but...

Considering how that man behaves with father and Skella, he would surely display a more complex color.

"Finally, it's time for my noble chivalry and loyalty to shine!"

At that moment, Kaimak, who had stepped forward, muttered something while striking an impressive pose.

"Everyone, witness the nobility of this Kaimak!"

Kaimak raised the sword high, like a hero from ancient mythology.

"Ohhhhh! Gold! It's gold! Is this not a truly noble and brilliant color!"

Kaimak exclaimed jubilantly, as if to say, 'See that?'

"What does gold mean?"

Olivier answered my question.

"...Arrogance and intoxication."

"Ah."

I nodded.

"He's frighteningly honest."

"At least he seems to be a man who doesn't pretend to be something he's not."

"That's what makes him scarier, the crazy bastard."

"He'll hear you, young master."

Taris's color that followed was an odd light mixed with cyan and gray in a 3:1 ratio.

"What does that mean?"

"It seems to mean that he finds everything bothersome but still possesses loyalty."

Jeffrey then muttered.

"...That's creepy. It's completely accurate."

It was right then.

"...Huh?"

"What is that?"

There was a color that surprised all of us.

"A rainbow? No, that's much more varied and subtle-"

I added to Olivier's muttering.

"Opal, or aurora."

It was a color that contained all kinds of hues, seeming to change moment by moment depending on the angle of light.

"Wow, that's absurd. How are we supposed to interpret that?"

"How coincidental."

Olivier's voice became serious.

"Severian Oralein. One of the 'persons of interest' I had in mind."

***

On a seawall path with a lonely old lighthouse.

Members of the Bisakino Brotherhood, dressed in black mourning clothes, stood in formation facing the sea.

"...Godfather."

"Godfather."

What lay in the small boat was the coffin of the former Godfather, killed by Huten.

The carved boat, with the deceased's sword stuck in it instead of a gravestone, was drifting away, becoming a small black dot as it bobbed on the waves.

This was a funeral custom long handed down in the criminal organizations of Litvaleur, especially in the city of Grunewald.

"Godfather, we have slain Huten and avenged you."

Nagan declared as if proclaiming to the whole world with a voice infused with mana.

"Now rest in peace. We will accompany your final journey with our tears."

Nagan personally aimed an arrow with its tip set ablaze at the carved boat.

Peeeeeng-!

When the arrow, flying like a meteor, struck the oil-soaked boat, flames immediately erupted.

Whoooosh!

Nagan and the organization members silently watched the boat's final journey as it drifted away, engulfed in flames.

"Chief, we will follow you as the legitimate successor of the former Godfather and our new Godfather."

Thump! Thump! Thump!

As the members knelt on one knee and pledged their loyalty, Nagan's eyes were still wet with tears.

"...I accept."

Godfather. A position akin to a father, responsible for the lives and futures of hundreds.

Feeling the pressure of that weight anew, Nagan raised his hand.

"Comrades. Today, let us raise glasses in mourning. And from tomorrow, we shall bury all that sorrow in our hearts and greet a new morning."

"Yes, Godfather."

"I will stay here a little longer, so mourn freely as you wish. You may leave if you want."

However, until the flames that consumed the carved boat subsided into the sea, and the burning sunset pursued it below the surface...

No one left their place.

.

.

.

"The Godfather of Pawelmoon has changed, and a new meeting has been called."

Returning from the funeral, Nagan frowned at the urgent news that didn't even allow time for mourning.

"Sir Damien, what does that mean?"

"Just as it sounds. There was a bloody incident at Pawelmoon last night."

Damien's face, after attending the Godfather's funeral together and moving to deliver the urgent news, showed signs of weariness.

"It's an outrageous affair. Recent trends in the underworld are not looking good."

"...Not good indeed."

Nagan asked.

"Do you know who the perpetrator was?"

"Information suggests Young Master Verdzig personally took action."

Damien tipped him off.

"Those killed were the Godfather and executives who were reinforced with the 'Cup of Demonic Arts,' received in return for being recruited by the Black Society. Just three people completely destroyed Pawelmoon."

"..."

Nagan swallowed dryly at the chilling story.

"Then who has become the new gate master?"

"Hercassel. It seems he informed Young Master Verdzig about the Godfather's betrayal."

"...I see."

Finally comprehending the situation, Nagan sighed heavily.

"Those Black Society bastards, they're crossing the line more and more."

The problem was that they too were in a position where they had to get involved in the brewing storm in the underworld.

And their forces were still insufficient to win that fight.

"Um, Godfather. So about that-"

Zizek, an executive and direct subordinate of Karzan who was keeping his position, cleared his throat and spoke.

"'That person' I mentioned earlier is waiting outside."

"...Knut of Haglandere."

Nagan nodded gravely at the name of a figure so prominent that even he could not take it lightly.

"If things go well, we'll gain a force equivalent to ten thousand soldiers."

However, even for Nagan, it was a cautious matter to fully accept someone who was both an exiled royal of a foreign ethnicity and the leader of a mysterious organization shrouded in veils.

"...First, we should meet and talk."

In any case, he too agreed with the picture Allenvert was painting.

"By the way, it's truly impressive. Both Young Master Allenvert and Karzan."

Nagan chuckled.

"They seem to have a different perspective than us. I wonder if all this is a thought from the Young Master's mind, or Karzan's idea."

Zizek's expression became strange.

"Why the look?"

"It's nothing."

Zizek had not yet told Nagan the truth that the two were the same person.

'How could someone so beautiful act so perfectly like a man who's been rolling around in the underworld for decades?'

Surely the Karzan side couldn't be the Young Master's true form?

'Impossible. No way.'

How impertinent and terrible of you to think such thoughts, Zizek, shame on you.

"...What's wrong?"

"Ahem, it's nothing."

Zizek cleared his throat and said.

"Then I'll bring in Brother Knut now."

***

A total of 30 people passed the third stage of the test and were confirmed for the Personal guard selection.

Among them was Severian, the man with the opal color.

"The reason I found Severian Oralein suspicious is simple."

Olivier said.

"He's too clean. His past, his origin, his achievements, even his reputation."

"You mean it seems artificial."

"That's right."

Olivier said.

"The Oralein clan is a fallen noble clan from some remote border far from here."

"You've already investigated that far?"

"The strange thing is that his other siblings have no presence whatsoever. Almost as if-"

Olivier, choosing the appropriate expression, said this.

"As if they're siblings who exist only on paper."

"Indeed."

That smells suspicious.

"...Do you think Young Master Verdzig sent him?"

Peter asked cautiously.

"I'm not sure."

That's a strategy that had already failed once.

'Would he use the same strategy in such an obvious way at such an obvious time?'

I thought probably not.

"Perhaps Bergen or Agrippa, or..."

I named the most suspicious culprit.

"It could be the work of the Black Society."

They might want to plant a spy on me as I emerge as a new axis of power. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

If that's the case-

'Thank you, you bastard.'

A known spy is no different from a trump card.

How powerful an effect could critical misinformation have at a decisive moment?

That depends on my hand going forward.

"...Investigate him once more, Olivier. There must be traces somewhere that have been cleanly laundered."

"Yes."

Having finished our private conversation, I stepped forward and infused my voice with mana.

"Truly, only excellent elites remain. Let's have special individual interviews with the final successful candidates."

"It's, it's an honor!"

"Loyalty!"

While most of the applicants looked happy or excited at the sudden proposal-

'You don't look very pleased.'

I thought, glancing at Severian's face.

'Of course. A variable is an element to be wary of.'

I couldn't help but smirk.

'Let's see. Between you and me, who will be the one to get stabbed in the back.'

In our private meeting, I planned to dig into Severian's true nature.

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]