Chapter 118: Dog
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 118: Dog
"A mere... second son of a Viscount!"
"A piece of trash who can't even inherit a title!"
"Get out! There’s no place for you here!"
"This idiot doesn't even know how to fight back anymore? Haha..."
Shaky images.
Sneering shadows.
An overturned bucket.
Dirty soles of shoes.
Pain, anger, numbness...
And blood.
Like a nightmare.
Like the darkness.
He thought it would never end.
He thought he had long since grown used to it.
Until.
"Why don't you fight back?"
Brilliant blonde hair.
Arrogant eyes.
Like the sun.
"They’re bullying you like this, so why don't you hit them back?"
"Because... I’m just the second son of a Viscount."
"A Viscount? Ah, I see. I get it. Then... if I gave you a higher status, would you dare to hit back?"
A higher status?
Of course I would.
It’s not like I can’t beat them; I just...
"Hmm, I see. I understand. In that case..."
The blond man reached out his hand. "Are you willing to be my dog?"
"A dog?"
"That’s right. A dog.
I’m not particularly bright, and I have a bad temper. There are always people who obey me to my face while defying me behind my back, pointing fingers at me when I’m not looking.
Therefore, I need a dog. A dog that bites wherever I point, a dog that never questions my orders."
"What’s in it for me?"
"Benefits?"
The blond man seemed to chuckle.
"The benefit is that from now on, anyone who hits the dog will have to answer to the master."
"So, are you willing? Amon Biandi."
*
"That dream again?"
Inside a dim, dilapidated wooden shack, Amon jolted awake from a wooden plank bed riddled with holes.
A few beams of dust-filled light filtered through the cracks in the walls, faintly illuminating his scruffy, haggard face, which betrayed his wretched state.
"Am I... still holding onto hope for that kind of thing?"
He stood up and walked toward the wall.
He stared at the portrait of the blond man pinned there. His gaze flickered with a moment of confusion before instantly transforming into a rage that seemed capable of burning everything to ash.
"No!"
"I abandoned those thoughts long ago!"
"Now, I have nothing but hate!"
"I hate you, Muen Campbell!"
He slammed a fist into the tattered portrait, which was already covered in blade marks and scars. With a loud thud, the entire shack shuddered.
Countless specks of dust fell like rain, burying him.
He pulled his hand back, looking pathetic.
Knock, knock.
A knock came from outside the door.
Amon instantly grew alert. He crept along the wall to the door and pressed his ear against it, listening intently.
"Who is it?"
"Me." The voice was familiar.
Amon breathed a sigh of relief.
He opened the door, and a skinny, monkey-faced man came into view.
"Everything you told me to do—it’s done!"
The moment he saw Amon, Monkey Face spoke with urgent impatience.
"It’s done?"
Amon’s eyes lit up. "Quick, let me see the results!"
"Right here."
Monkey Face pulled out a square magic instrument.
With a light press, a projection-like image unfolded before Amon.
Though the footage was somewhat blurry and shaky due to the angle and lighting, it was clearly a recording of a martial arts class.
Amon leaned in close, staring desperately at everything happening in the image.
When he saw Muen being surrounded and accused by the crowd, he clapped his hands in excitement.
"Yes! Just like that! Tear off his mask, show them what he really is! What 'change'? He’s still that same arrogant, overbearing, useless young master!
Haha, look at his face! It’s as ugly as a little brat who just had his candy stolen!"
But as he spoke, his expression turned sorrowful. His eyebrows drooped weakly, making him look like a stray dog soaked by the rain.
"No... no, this isn't Young Master Muen. This isn't him. If it were Young Master Muen, he would definitely—definitely—have ordered me to break the legs of anyone who dared speak to him like that! He would never tolerate this.
This isn't Young Master Muen!"
He flew into a rage again and violently smashed the magic instrument to pieces.
"Ah! My Magic Image Projector!"
Monkey Face looked at the pile of debris on the ground with heartache.
This thing wasn't cheap; it had cost him eight thousand Emiels.
Monkey Face gritted his teeth and glared at Amon.
"Fine! I’ve done what I was supposed to do. Now pay up!"
"What do you mean 'done'? Nothing happened to Muen Campbell!"
"I did my best! Do you have any idea how much risk I took secretly inciting those people? If I’d been caught, I’d be finished! Even the Student Council President showed up at the end, and I suspect she saw me!"
"That’s your problem!"
"The hell it is! Your demands were unreasonable from the start!
To tell you the truth, if I hadn't racked up a massive gambling debt recently, I never would have taken such a dangerous job!
You wanted to ruin Muen Campbell’s reputation? You wanted him to show his true colors? If it were the old him, I wouldn't have even needed to stir the pot; his reputation was already trash.
But now, everyone knows he’s like a completely different person. Spreading rumors and fanning the flames is one thing, but taking it any further is impossible!
Do you know what happened? After it was over, he used his power as the Duke’s only son to make those people submit. I thought he was going to skin them alive, but he just made them apologize!
Just a damn apology!
Those people were shaking like frightened quails, but Muen Campbell just made them bow their heads, gave them a lecture on morality, and let them go.
Afterward, every single one of them was moved to tears. They practically wanted to put Muen Campbell on a pedestal to thank him for his mercy!
How am I supposed to keep going after that?"
"Lies... Lies!"
Amon’s face turned bright red as he roared, "The person you’re describing isn't Young Master Muen at all!"
"Are you fucking schizophrenic? One minute it’s 'Muen Campbell,' the next it’s 'Young Master Muen'?"
Monkey Face roared back, "Just give me the money, or I’ll leak your location! Those people and the Student Council are all looking for you!"
"I..."
Amon’s spirit suddenly collapsed. He fumbled inside his coat for a long time before finally pulling out a stack of bills.
Monkey Face took the money and counted it. His face changed instantly.
"Only thirty thousand? We agreed on two hundred thousand!"
"I... this is all I have."
"You’re a noble’s son, for god's sake! You can't even scrape together two hundred thousand?"
"My family thinks I offended Muen Campbell and got discarded by him, so..."
Amon’s lips trembled.
"They cut off my funds."
"Fuck!"
Monkey Face grabbed Amon by the collar.
"If you don't have money, go get some! Aren't you—"
But he stopped mid-sentence.
It was only now that he noticed just how pathetic this man—who had once been quite famous at the Academy—really looked.
"Dammit."
Monkey Face shoved Amon hard, knocking him to the ground, and spat on him.
"Some 'Wolf of Campbell' you are. Without the Campbells, you’re nothing but a dog."
With that, he stuffed the money into his pocket and walked away without looking back.
Amon sat there dejectedly, head bowed, letting the spit run down his face.
Minutes turned into hours. Amon sat as still as a statue.
Then, the light was suddenly blocked. A figure hidden in a black robe appeared before him.
"Amon Biandi."
"Who are you?"
Amon looked up, barely able to tell that the person under the voluminous black robe was a woman.
"Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that I know you want to take revenge on the Muen Campbell who abandoned you, but you lack the courage."
The black-robed woman placed a bottle of potion in front of Amon, her voice seductive and alluring.
"And I... I can help you."