Proper Punishment
"My God!"
The knights who burst into the room couldn't hold back their shock at the hellish scene unfolding before them. The acrid stench of blood assaulted their noses. The walls and floor were smeared everywhere with red bloodstains. On the floor, a servant with his entire shoulder torn off was howling like a beast, spilling blood everywhere. Next to him lay Dick, collapsed. His face was completely caved in. His neck was twisted at an grotesque angle. He had passed out.
"What did you expect?" Kyle flicked the bloody clumps off his shoes and smirked. "I just gave a light lesson to a punk who talked back to me without any manners."
Kyle's lips twisted. "When a dog bites its master, isn't it natural to beat it down?"
It was an utterly nonchalant answer. Arrogant. Cruel. And without a shred of guilt.
The knights ground their teeth. They wanted to draw their swords and press them to Kyle's throat right then and there. But they couldn't. No matter how much of a powerless wastrel he was, Kyle was still the legitimate eldest son of the Grand Duke's family. Without a clear order or approval, no knight could arbitrarily draw a blade against the blood of their lord.
"…We'll report every detail of this horrific situation to His Grace the Grand Duke immediately."
The knight spat through gritted teeth. Kyle waved him off lazily, as if annoyed.
"Do whatever you want."
Then he jerked his chin toward Dick and the servant sprawled on the floor. "Before that, clean up the trash littering the place first."
The knights' shoulders trembled with rage. But now wasn't the time to deal with Kyle. The servant with his arm torn off could die from blood loss any moment. The knights hurriedly supported Dick and the servant.
"Urgh…."
"Uwaaaah… My arm… My arm…!"
The agonized screams clawed at the air in the room. The knights left, radiating killing intent. And in the room remained only one young servant who had followed them but collapsed to his knees, legs giving out.
Kyle glanced down at the trembling servant.
"Hey."
"Hiiik! Y-Yes, yes! Young Master!"
"Not that dried-up dog food the last punk brought."
Kyle nodded toward the table. "Bring back some proper meat."
The servant's face drained of color. The bloodstains filling the room. The severed arm. The knight buried in a pool of blood. All those scenes were vividly etched in the servant's mind. Terror that the mad wastrel might rip off his arm too dominated his thoughts.
"R-Right away!"
The servant fled the room. Kyle leisurely leaned back in the chair at the center of the blood-soaked room, reeking of gore. It was an environment that would make any normal person retch and bolt. But not for Kyle. To the Blood Cult Leader who had waded through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, this much blood smell was everyday life.
'Ah, I'm hungry.'
Not long after, the servant cautiously entered with a large silver tray.
"H-Here it is…."
The servant's trembling hands set the tray on the table. The silver lid lifted. The aroma of thickly grilled steak seeped through the metallic tang of blood.
Kyle silently stared down at the steak. It looked appetizingly well-grilled on the surface. But.
'Ha.'
No eyes dulled by poisons and conspiracies in his past life could be fooled. The faint alien slime glistening over the juices. The trace moisture soaked into the grain of the meat. It was obvious. Someone had maliciously spat into it.
'Which bastard?'
Kyle's eyes darkened coldly. Even in his previous life, he despised dirty tricks with food. Poisoning meals was strictly forbidden even in the Blood Cult. Tampering with food crossed a line for Kyle.
Kyle didn't hesitate. He grabbed the steak plate from the table. And hurled it straight at the face of the still-trembling servant.
"Argh! Hot!"
The hot meat and sauce smashed into the servant's face. He screamed, clutching his face and rolling on the floor.
Kyle stood. And seized the fallen servant by the collar.
"You dare bring me food spat into like this to eat?"
Kyle's voice sank low. "Spit it out. Which bastard did this?"
"I-It wasn't me!"
The servant spewed tears and snot. "I swear, I just got it from the kitchen!"
Kyle looked into the servant's eyes. No lie there. Fear. Grievance. Desperate thrashing to survive. That was all.
"Fine."
Kyle flung the servant to the floor. "Then guide me to the kitchen."
The servant felt sorry for the head chef. But he didn't hesitate long. His own neck was on the line. Save himself first. Human shallowness.
Kyle swallowed a inward chuckle. 'At least he has some sense.'
"H-Here it is."
Guided by the servant, they arrived at the dining hall and main kitchen. A bustling space preparing for dinner. Noisy clamor. Heat from the blazing hearths. Smells of meat and spices. But it all froze the moment Kyle stepped in.
Kyle, shoes and pant hems caked in red blood. As he entered the kitchen, the noise halted like ice water poured over it.
Kyle slowly scanned the kitchen.
"Who made the steak I had brought?"
A chilling question. The guiding servant pointed a shaking finger at the plump man standing in the center. The Grand Duke's head chef.
He furrowed his brow and approached Kyle.
"Young Master, what brings you here?"
His words used honorifics. But his eyes didn't. Nor his attitude. Clear contempt and disdain toward Kyle lurked within.
He hadn't heard yet about what happened to Dick and the servant in Kyle's bedroom. He clearly saw him as the usual drunken wastrel come to cause trouble.
A position like head chef had solid standing in the household. Plus, he'd likely earned trust catering to Karon, the favored heir. So he felt no fear.
'Typical frog in a well.'
Kyle stared piercingly at the arrogant pig's face.
"Did you make the steak sent to my room?"
"I did."
The head chef answered boldly, chin raised. A sight to behold.
Kyle twisted his lips upward.
"There was filthy spit in my steak. Was that you?"
Direct accusation. The head chef's facial muscles twitched faintly. But he soon snorted.
"I have no idea what nonsense you're spouting."
And brazenly retorted. What're you gonna do? Got proof? A sneering undertone, subtly trying to crush Kyle's spirit.
Kyle sighed shortly. He'd felt it smashing Dick's jaw earlier—the vermin in this mansion didn't learn from words.
'Gotta show them clearly.'
Fists and water know the answers, after all.
Kyle's fist flew.
Thwack-!
"Oink!"
A heavy rupture echoed with a pig's death squeal through the kitchen. The fist landed squarely on the jaw; the head chef spun like a top. And crashed onto the counter.
Crash!
Utensils scattered to the floor.
"Urgh… Y-Young… Master… What…!"
The head chef crawled, lips split and bleeding.
Kyle strode forward.
"No need for popcorn with rude trash."
Kyle's shoe rose. And mercilessly stomped down on the head chef's mouth.
Crack!
Snap!
"Gaaaahhh!"
The head chef's front teeth shattered. Bloody shards scattered across the floor.
"Argh!"
"What the—!"
The kitchen staff screamed and backed away. A few bold ones rushed forward desperately.
"Y-Young Master! Calm down!"
"You'll kill him!"
But none dared grab Kyle.
Right then—
Bang!
The dining hall door flew open violently.
"What the hell is this!"
A shrill, irritable voice. Kyle paused his foot grinding the head chef's mouth. And turned.
A young man in flashy attire stood with a fury-twisted face. Derek Hartvalt. Eldest son of Edmund Hartvalt, the current Grand Duke's brother. Kyle's cousin.
Nineteen this year. One year older than the second son Karon. One year younger than Kyle—an awkward age. He was Grand Duke blood. But sidelined from succession as not direct lineage.
From his view, Kyle was the wastrel squandering the eldest son position he desperately craved—drowning days in booze and debauchery. Kyle Hartvalt. Derek despised him more than anyone. Having everything he yearned for yet wasting it was contemptible.
But Derek's inferiority and jealousy? None of Kyle's business.
"Can't you see?"
Kyle rubbed his bloody shoe on the floor. Then answered with a bored look, as if asking why state the obvious.
"Teaching a lowly worm who spat in his master's meal and mocked him to his face—where his place is."
Derek gasped in disbelief. He seemed not to buy Kyle's words from the start.
"You're insane."
Derek's face flushed with anger. "Even so, he's the household head chef! You think beating him mercilessly over your bad mood makes sense?!"
Derek raised veins bulging. "Your trash rampage shames the family…!"
"Haa…."
Kyle sighed deeply. Derek's words cut off. Kyle eyed him.
'This guy's talking nonsense.'
Pure bullshit. Even a head chef spitting in the eldest son's meal was treason. But Kyle didn't rage. Instead, he nodded bitterly.
"Yeah. You're right, Derek."
The kitchen air froze oddly. Kyle continued.
"I was wrong."
"W-What…?"
Derek blinked. The brutal wastrel who just shattered teeth suddenly admitted fault. Even Derek, always clashing with Kyle, panicked at the unexpected response.
Kyle shook his head, as if truly remorseful.
"I get your feelings—blaming me for not chopping this scum's head off on the spot because my heart's too soft."
"W-What are you…."
"As the Grand Duke's heir, ending it with a few punches? My honor as a noble of the Grand Duke's house is soiled like this—I should've killed him right away to make amends."
A cold blood-red glint in Kyle's eyes.
"I was too soft."
Kyle picked up a heavy butcher knife from the nearby counter.
Shing—
The sharp blade gleamed in the light.
"Thanks sincerely for pointing out my weakness, cousin."
Kyle smiled. "I'll follow your advice and kill him properly here."
At that eerie declaration, Derek's face paled like paper.
"Y-You mad bastard! When did I say that?!"
Derek shrieked in horror. But Kyle ignored him. He twirled the knife lightly and approached the fallen head chef.
All teeth gone, the chef crawled in a bloody mess. Then he saw the weapon in Kyle's hand.
"Uh, wha?"
His eyes tore wide in terror. His crotch wet. He'd pissed himself.
"Hiiik…!"
The chef crawled desperately. And flailed bloody hands toward Derek.
"De-Dereek siw! Sp-Spare me! Pwease spawre meee!"
Toothless speech garbled grotesquely. Kyle pinned the chef's nape under his shoe. And pressed the blade coldly to his neck.
"Just wait a bit."
Kyle whispered low. "I'll slice you sashimi-style, fitting your crime."
"Stop right now, you crazy fuck!!!"
Derek screamed desperately, face ashen.