Chapter 41: The Dog

“A mere… second son of a viscount!”

“A wretch who can’t even inherit a title!”

“Get out! There’s no place for you here!”

“This fool, has he forgotten how to even fight back? Haha…”

Shaking images.

Jeering shadows.

An overturned bucket.

Filthy shoe prints.

Pain, rage, numbness…

And blood.

It was like a nightmare.

Like the encroaching darkness.

He had thought it would never end.

He had believed he was long accustomed to it.

Until then.

“Why don’t you fight back?”

Brilliant golden hair.

Defiant eyes.

He was like the sun itself.

“They’re all bullying you like this, why don’t you hit them back?”

“Because… I am merely the viscount’s second son.”

“A viscount? Ah, I see, I understand. Then… if I were to grant you a higher status, would you dare to fight back?”

A higher status?

Of course, he would dare.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t defeat them; it was simply that…

“Hmm, I see, I understand now. If that’s the case…”

The golden-haired man extended his hand. “Would you be willing to be my dog?”

“A dog?”

“Precisely, a dog.

I am not particularly clever, and my temper is often volatile. There are always people who pay me lip service while speaking ill of me behind my back.

Therefore, I need a dog—a dog that will bite wherever I point, a dog that will never question my commands.”

“What would be the benefits?”

“Benefits?”

The golden-haired man seemed to smile.

“The benefit is this: from now on, even if someone wants to beat the dog, they must first consider its master.”

“So, do you accept, Aemon Bianchi?”

****

“Did I have that dream again?”

Inside the dim, dilapidated wooden shack, Aemon startled awake on a plank bed riddled with holes.

Streaks of light, thick with dancing dust motes, pierced through the cracks in the wooden walls, faintly illuminating his unshaven face, which betrayed a profound weariness and dishevelment.

“Am I… still holding onto hope for such things?”

He rose and walked towards the wall.

His gaze fell upon the portrait of the golden-haired man hanging there, and his eyes momentarily clouded with confusion. Then, in an instant, that confusion transformed into a blazing fury, as if capable of incinerating everything in its path.

“No!”

“I cast aside such notions long ago!”

“Now, all I feel is hatred!”

“I hate you, Ewan Campbell!”

He slammed his fist into the tattered portrait, already scarred with countless knife marks and indentations. With a resounding bang, the entire small wooden house trembled.

Innumerable dust particles rained down, like a sudden shower, engulfing him.

He hastily withdrew his hand, looking even more disheveled.

“Knock, knock.”

A knock sounded from outside.

Aemon instantly grew wary. He cautiously moved along the wall to the door, pressing his ear against it. “Who is it?”

“Me.” The voice was familiar.

Aemon let out a sigh of relief.

He opened the door, and a gaunt, monkey-like face greeted his eyes.

“I’ve completed everything you asked me to do!”

The monkey-faced man spoke impatiently the moment he saw Aemon.

“Completed it?”

Aemon’s eyes lit up. “Quick, let me see the results!”

“Here.”

The monkey-faced man produced a square magical device.

With a light press, a projection-like image unfolded before Aemon. Although the picture was somewhat blurry and shaky due to the angle and lighting, it was clearly a scene from a martial arts class.

Aemon leaned in close, eagerly observing everything that transpired on the screen.

When he saw Ewan being criticized and surrounded by many people, he clapped his hands in excited approval.

“Yes, exactly! Expose his false facade, reveal his true nature! What change? He’s still that arrogant, good-for-nothing young master!

Haha, look at his face—it’s as ugly as a child who’s had his candy stolen!”

Yet, as he continued speaking, a sorrowful expression crept onto his face, his eyebrows drooping weakly, like a stray dog drenched by rain.

“No, no, this isn’t Young Master Ewan. This isn’t Young Master Ewan at all. If it were Young Master Ewan, he would surely, *surely* have ordered me to break the legs of anyone who dared to speak like that! He would never tolerate such things.

This isn’t Young Master Ewan!”

His anger flared anew, and he violently smashed the magical device.

“Ah, my magic projector!”

The monkey-faced man looked at the shattered remains on the ground with a pained expression. That device wasn’t cheap; it had cost him eight thousand Emil.

The monkey-faced man gritted his teeth and looked at Aemon. “All right, I’ve done my part. Now, pay up!”

“What do you mean ‘done’? Ewan Campbell is perfectly fine, isn’t he?”

“I did my best! Do you know how much risk I took secretly stirring up those people’s emotions? If I were discovered, I’d be finished! In the end, even the student council president showed up, and I suspect she saw me!”

“That’s your problem!”

“My problem? Your demands were unreasonable from the start, you know?

To be honest, if I hadn’t racked up a huge gambling debt recently, there’s no way I would have taken on such a dangerous job!

Make Ewan Campbell lose his reputation? Expose his true self? If it were the old him, I wouldn’t have needed to go to all this trouble to provoke people; his reputation was already in tatters.

But now, everyone knows he’s changed completely. Spreading rumors might work, but taking it any further is impossible!

Do you know? Afterwards, he used his authority as the Duke’s only son to make those people back down. I thought they’d at least lose a layer of skin, but he just made them apologize!

He literally just made them apologize!

Those people were terrified, like quails, but Ewan Campbell only made them bow their heads and gave them a long lecture before letting them go.

Afterwards, those people were all in tears, practically worshipping Ewan Campbell to thank him for his mercy!

How do you expect me to continue after that?”

“Nonsense… nonsense!”

Aemon’s face flushed crimson as he roared, “The person you’re describing is not Young Master Ewan at all!”

“Are you having a schizophrenic episode, you bastard? One moment it’s Ewan Campbell, the next it’s Young Master Ewan?”

The monkey-faced man also roared, “Just give me the money, or I’ll expose your whereabouts! Those people and the student council are looking for you, you know!”

“I…”

Aemon’s expression immediately turned dejected. He reached into his pocket, fumbling for a long time, and finally pulled out a stack of banknotes.

The monkey-faced man took the money and counted it, his face instantly changing.

“Only thirty thousand? Didn’t we agree on two hundred thousand?”

“I… this is all I have.”

“You’re a noble’s son, for crying out loud! You can’t even produce two hundred thousand?”

“My family thought I offended Ewan Campbell and was abandoned by him, so…”

Aemon’s lips trembled. “They cut off my allowance.”

“Damn it!”

The monkey-faced man grabbed Aemon by the collar.

“If you don’t have money, then go get some! You’re not…”

But he suddenly froze mid-sentence. It was only then that he truly noticed how pathetic this man, once somewhat renowned at the academy, had become.

“Ugh.”

The monkey-faced man shoved Aemon roughly to the ground and spat at him.

“The Wolf of Campbell, they called you. Without Campbell, you’re just a dog.”

With that, he stuffed the money into his pocket and left without looking back.

Aemon hung his head dejectedly, letting the spittle run down his face.

Time passed, minute by minute, and Aemon seemed to turn into a statue.

At that moment, the light was suddenly obscured. A figure cloaked in black appeared before him.

“Aemon Bianchi.”

“Who are you?”

Aemon looked up, barely discerning that a woman lay beneath the voluminous black robes.

“Who I am is not important. What is important is that I know you’ve always wanted to take revenge on Ewan Campbell for abandoning you, but you lack the courage.”

The cloaked figure placed a bottle of magic potion in front of Aemon, her voice seductive. “And I can help you.”