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[Translator - Pot]
[Proofreader - Kawaii]
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Chapter 158: Old stories.
“To be honest, I was quite surprised too. How on earth did you manage to contact the Eisenach and win their trust?”
“Well, to be honest, I’m still a bit dazed myself.”
Zizek scratched his head awkwardly.
“Maybe they recognized that I was being sincere and not scheming?”
“Hmm.”
“Above all, the fact that Young master Allenvert sent someone to them must have been both surprising and deeply moving for them.”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
As I shared a drink with Zizek, I listened to the stories of my maternal relatives living in the shadows of Grunewald.
“The actual leader is an elder named Balthazar, while the one leading the group on the frontlines is a young and powerful man named Knut. To Young master Allenvert, they are his maternal great-uncle and cousin, respectively—”
“Hmm.”
“Both of them are figures I’d never even seen before. I was completely overwhelmed by their presence the entire time.”
From Zizek, I heard in detail about the wisdom of Balthazar Eisenach, the great-uncle, the strength of his cousin Knut Eisenach, and the strangely infuriating aspects of Tara Eisenach.
“Is Knut really that strong?”
“It’s like a tiger or a lion speaking in human form, I’d say.”
As if the mere thought of it was overwhelming, Zizek clicked his tongue.
“Not long ago, I almost died messing around with that guy, and even then, I felt a dangerous, eerie aura from him. But in terms of sheer, palpable pressure…”
After pondering for a moment, Zizek concluded:
“I’ve never seen a man like that, even among the Bisakino Brotherhood.”
“Hmm.”
Whether Zizek’s belief that Knut is stronger than Rudgarda is true or not, it’s safe to say that there isn’t a significant gap between their levels.
If that’s the case, then Knut Eisenach is likely a powerhouse born from the essence of the clan’s martial prowess. He must have inherited the wisdom, martial skills, and robust physique of the Eisenach.
‘He’s a different kind of strong compared to the warriors of Grunewald or the assassins of the underworld.’
I’m curious. If I could just meet my mother and obtain her handwritten letter, I’d find a way to justify crossing swords with him.
‘Well, well.’
Looking at this, it’s clear that I’m also quite obsessed with swords and martial arts.
“Boss, I brought the jerky.”
At that moment, a boy opened the door and stepped in.
“Oh, who’s this?”
It was Moritz. The orphan boy who used to wander around with his non-blood-related younger brother, singing beautiful songs to beg for alms.
“Long time no see.”
“It’s been a while, Sir Karzan.”
I smiled contentedly.
“You’ve grown quite well, all cleaned up and dressed nicely.”
“Th-thank you.”
Indeed, Moritz now looked like a boy you’d see in a choir, neat and cute.
“As they say, it’s all about how you present yourself.”
“So, does that mean you don’t dress up, Boss?”
“Shut up.”
I was utterly baffled by Zizek teasing me about my face.
“You’re in no position to talk about others’ faces, are you?”
“Eh, honestly, if you walked around the streets, people would find you scarier than me.”
“Ridiculous. You’re absolutely dumbfuck.”
“Why are you swearing in front of the kid?”
This is beyond absurd.
Unfortunately, Karzan’s rough and menacing face is a thing of the past.
Now, I am the peerlessly handsome Allenvert Grunewald, who even blasphemes the gods. What would some ugly thug from the underworld know about that?
“By the way, why is he running such errands? Did you scold him for being a freeloader or something?”
“Wow, with just a few words, you’ve turned me into trash.”
“Shut up, you trash.”
“He volunteered. Said he wanted to earn his keep.”
“Did he?”
“And didn’t you tell me to take him in and have him run errands?”
“That’s true.”
“Unbelievable.”
Zizek grumbled.
“He’s still weak, but he’s got skillful hands. He’s smart and quick-witted too.”
“So?”
I nodded.
“It’s not easy to live a life looking out for others at such a young age. It’s only natural that such a kid would be more resourceful than others.”
Just like Karzan’s childhood.
“Moritz, if this ugly guy bothers you, report it anytime.”
Moritz waved his hands in surprise.
“No! He’s been really good to me.”
“Then why are you tearing up?”
“I-I’m just so grateful to both of you…”
“Turns out you’re a crybaby.”
I chuckled.
“…….”
Zizek’s expression as he watched was quite complicated.
“Zizek.”
“Yes.”
“Do you see your younger self in Moritz?”
“……Yes.”
Zizek’s face was filled with sorrow.
“Moritz. Stop running errands and sit down.”
“Huh? Oh, okay.”
I looked back and forth between Zizek and Moritz, then raised my glass.
“Listen, both of you. In a way, we’re men with similar stories.”
“…….”
“Moritz is still young, but in a few years, he’ll grow into a man who can hold his own.”
I proposed.
“So let’s have a drink today.”
“M-me too?”
“Is that okay?”
“What’s the big deal? I had my first drink around his age too.”
“I couldn’t drink because I had no money.”
“Ah, I see.”
I pointed at Moritz.
“You just drink water. No need to learn the taste of alcohol yet.”
“Okay.”
I quickly downed the cheap liquor. A burning heat ran down my throat.
“Sometimes, it’s not bad to reminisce about the old days.”
“…I agree.”
Zizek, who had also downed a glass, spoke up.
“I’ve been wanting to tell you my story, Boss.”
* * *
Zizek’s father was originally a merchant who processed and sold leather in this alley.
His mother died from puerperal fever while giving birth to him, but thanks to his father’s affectionate care, Zizek grew up with a very lively personality, never feeling the absence of his mother.
“I was energetic even as a kid, so I ended up being the leader of the alley.”
Zizek reminisced.
“I wasn’t the type to bully weaker kids for no reason, so I was pretty popular.”
“Wait.”
Karzan raised his hand.
“What?”
“You were popular?”
Zizek raised an eyebrow and asked back.
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“I was just curious. Let’s move on.”
“Okay.”
Zizek cleared his throat and continued.
“I just wanted to learn my father’s trade, expand the business, take care of him, and start a family.”
But his dream-like childhood came to an abrupt and absurd end. His father was stabbed to death by a customer who argued over the price of goods. It was the doing of a thug who was part of a minor gang in the underworld.
It was a truly futile and meaningless death. Zizek held his father’s corpse and wept bitterly.
‘Can a human’s death really be this meaningless?’
There are so many who live by committing crimes, so many who thrive on others’ tears, yet they go unpunished. Why did father have to…
“I couldn’t accept my father’s death.”
By now, Zizek’s face was flushed with alcohol as he confessed his past.
“So, I took revenge.”
“How?”
“It was actually quite simple. That guy lived like an asshole, so I waited until he was drunk out of his mind, causing trouble, and then I ambushed him on his way home and stabbed him in the throat.”
“…….”
Karzan nodded.
“You did well. But it must have felt hollow.”
“Yes. I can’t describe how furious and devastated I was that my beloved father had been taken by such a worthless piece of trash.”
As the two spoke, Moritz’s eyes also welled up with tears.
“I spat on the corpse of my enemy and cut off his head. People who saw it called me a demon.”
“Oh? That’s fine.”
Karzan sneered.
“So what if they cursed you? Isn’t it better to be a demon than a coward who can’t avenge their father?”
“I think so too.”
Zizek smiled bitterly.
“So? What happened after that? Did someone come after you for revenge?”
“Thankfully, people who mourned my father’s death and respected him helped me.”
It was an act of courage on their part. They couldn’t stand by and do nothing after the death of a kind and good neighbor, and when they saw his young son take revenge, they felt they had to save him, or else it would have been a disgrace.
“Zizek, don’t do this. Hide yourself.”
“Uncle.”
“The gang members are roaming the alleys, looking to kill you. I’ll hide you for a few days.”
They went out of their way to save Zizek, even pleading with a member of the Bisakino Brotherhood.
“You’re quite a remarkable kid. Are you going to die like this, or do you want to roll with me until you die?”
“……I’ll join.”
“You’ll be an apprentice for a few years. If you survive, I’ll promote you to a full member. By then, no one will dare seek revenge on you. The Bisakino Brotherhood will be your shield.”
In many ways, he was lucky. In the end, it was his father’s intangible legacy that saved Zizek.
Moreover, when the gang members heard the story of how Zizek had avenged his father, they admired him and treated him well.
However, surviving by serving his superiors, enduring insults and beatings, and secretly learning how to wield a knife wasn’t an easy life.
“I endured there for eight years.”
“That’s a long time.”
“During that time, the gang member who brought me in died in a conflict, and I was left alone. I gritted my teeth and worked hard, eventually earning recognition as a potential future leader.”
As Zizek set down his empty glass, Karzan silently refilled it.
“But then I made a stupid choice.”
“What choice?”
“I was offered a position as an executive by the leader of the Black Night Society, a subordinate group that had branched off from the main organization. We had no bad blood between us, and I thought it was my chance to rise, so I accepted.”
Karzan nodded. It was common for men in the underworld to move to subordinate groups and become executives or even branch off on their own.
“But life in the Black Night Society wasn’t what I expected.”
Zizek gritted his teeth.
“It didn’t take long for the leader to show his true colors.”
“That’s not uncommon.”
Karzan nodded.
“Someone who was humble, diligent, and likable while under someone else’s command can change once they gain a taste of power.”
“That must have been his true nature, that bastard.”
While carrying out increasingly vile tasks, Zizek clashed with the leader several times.
“In the end, I took a few subordinates and broke away again. From a young member of the Bisakino Brotherhood, to an executive of the Black Night Society, and now to a subordinate of the Black Night Society.”
“You went from the head of a dragon to the waist of a snake, and now you’re the head of a worm.”
Karzan’s sharp remark made Zizek laugh bitterly.
“You’re not wrong, but it stings.”
“You did well. I would’ve done the same.”
“……Really?”
Zizek muttered, feeling the alcohol taking effect.
“In the end, I returned to the streets where I had memories with my father and where the neighbors who tried to protect me lived. I took in the pitiful ones and protected those who had helped me, asking for little in return.”
“Impressive. You’ve truly become the guardian of this street’s night.”
Karzan grinned.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because I’ve confirmed that I wasn’t wrong about you.”
“…….”
Karzan pointed at Zizek.
“And now, you’ve been chosen as the secret blade of Allenvert, the Fourth Young master of Grunewald, a figure far beyond the likes of the Bisakino Brotherhood, and you’re growing stronger.”
“I’m not quite at the level of being called a blade yet. At best, I’m more like a kitchen knife.”
Karzan responded to Zizek’s humility.
“A kitchen knife is too generous. Right now, you’re more like a fruit peeler or garden shears.”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
Zizek grumbled.
“But you’re getting stronger every day, Zizek.”
“Of course.”
Zizek swallowed the words he was about to say.
“What? You have more to say, don’t you?”
“No.”
He had gained opportunities, met the remnants of the Eisenach clan, and broadened his horizons. It was also a joy to find a man he could trust and follow wholeheartedly, sharing in his dreams.
……But Zizek couldn’t bring himself to say that out loud, so he quietly sipped his drink.
“Hehe.”
“You look even uglier when you laugh like that.”
Zizek frowned at his superior’s habit of ruining his mood.
“I’m in a good mood right now, so don’t ruin it.”
Karzan raised his hand in apology.
“Oh, was I? Sorry.”
“…….”
It was clearly an apology, so why did it make him even angrier?
“Sigh.”
Zizek sighed and held out his glass.
“Just pour me another drink.”
“You insolent brat.”
Karzan refilled the glass and chuckled.
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[Translator - Pot]
[Proofreader - Kawaii]
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