The Young Male Protagonist Who is Destined for Ruin Fell for Me - Chapter 103

Kyle Chaeild found himself momentarily bewildered. He had learned in Keltman that Marabas’ mind control could be broken if it triggered an intense subconscious desire.

When he had succumbed to Marabas’ control, his fiancée had gently swept her hair back and, in a soft voice, stirred his desires.

“Kyle… It’s cold, you know.”

He vividly remembered how he had felt at that moment. Mind control or not, all he could see was his fiancée before him.

Revenge and hatred became secondary to the sight of her playful, sultry gaze. He had wanted her—right then and there. And so, he acted on that desire.

‘But why… isn’t this working?’

Despite speaking in a similarly seductive tone, Areté’s wind showed no signs of subsiding. If anything, it seemed to be getting even stronger.

Growing slightly anxious, Kyle added in a teasing voice,

“If you’re feeling hot, I could help you with that.”

Watching his shameless seduction unfold in real time, Amel was on the verge of losing her mind.

To be fair, it wasn’t an unpleasant sight. His chiseled chest, lean yet toned abs, and sleek waistline naturally drew the corners of her lips upward.

How could any woman keep her composure when a handsome, younger man was showering her with such blatant temptation?

The only problem was that she wasn’t under Marabas’ control—his words simply had no effect on her.

Of course, Kyle was oblivious to this fact. He grew a little sullen, frustrated that he couldn’t rescue Amel using just his body, face, and voice.

‘Why?’

His sharp Chaeild intellect quickly processed the cause-and-effect of the situation, and the conclusion he arrived at was difficult to believe.

‘Don’t tell me… I’m not what she desires?’

Thud. A crushing sense of disappointment overcame him. He suddenly felt the urge to crawl onto the bed and bury himself under the blankets.

The idea that his desire-driven fiancée did not, in turn, desire him was almost unbearable.

But he quickly shook off his dejection. This wasn’t the time for self-pity. If Amel showed no reaction to his exposed upper body—the one she used to love so much—then…

‘Maybe it’s not about my upper body anymore.’

With newfound determination, Kyle looked at Amel with an almost sacred sense of duty.

Amel, meanwhile, watched in horror as his hand slowly began to move downward.

“No! That’s not it!” she screamed inwardly.

Fortunately, the strong wind reflecting her will intercepted his movement. With a sigh of relief, she exhaled.

Kyle, however, interpreted this completely differently. His uniquely optimistic reasoning—reserved only for Amel—led him to a striking conclusion.

‘If she doesn’t desire me… then she must be seriously injured. Most likely, a head injury.’

Otherwise, there was no way his fiancée wouldn’t want him. Alarmed, Kyle began devising a solution.

As Amel read his firm conviction, she internally reflected on the image she had built for herself thus far.

Kyle carefully layered multiple barriers of Areté for protection and took a cautious step forward. Breaking through the fierce wind to reach her was difficult—but not impossible.

Keeping his body low to evade the gales that threatened to tear at his skin, he soon spotted his fiancée tied to a chair.

“Kyle…!”

Hearing her tremulous voice call his name, a brief flicker of temptation surged within him. But he quickly pushed it down, maintaining composure as he tore Cordelia away from Amel.

As soon as he did, the storm-like winds of Areté subsided.

After untying her bound hands and feet, Amel, now free, immediately leaned into him with a choked sob. Kyle gently stroked the back of her head, quickly scanning her for injuries.

At a glance, there were no major external wounds.

“You don’t seem to have any serious injuries on the surface, but you should see a physician immediately to check for internal trauma—especially head injuries.”

“…A head injury?”

“Didn’t you get hurt?”

“That’s not it…”

Amel reached for his shirt and buttoned it back up as she briefly explained the situation.

Realizing how much of himself he had just exposed, Kyle flushed with embarrassment. But at Amel’s remark about how difficult it was to resist him, he couldn’t help but feel a little proud.

“Thank you for coming to save me, Kyle.”

“It’s only natural to save my beloved. Though, I may have arrived a little late.”

Kyle’s gaze fell upon the confession drug still visible on Amel’s forehead. The blue magical glow indicated that its effects had yet to wear off.

Just then, Chaeild’s soldiers, who had been waiting beyond Areté’s storm, entered the underground chamber. Only then did Amel finally feel at ease.

“My lady! Are you alright?”

“You look pale. We should return to the ducal estate at once.”

“Sir Ferche Diane is also here.”

“Thank you, everyone…”

Amel wiped away the tears welling in her eyes with the back of her hand.

Though it had been brief, being abducted to a foreign land and forced to hear the unwanted truths of others had been an ordeal she never wished to experience again.

“Let’s go back. We should take Cordelia with us as well.”

Despite saying this, Amel knew they couldn’t return to the Chaeild estate just yet.

Thanks to Cordelia’s lingering power within her, she could sense the approaching thoughts of Marabas and Itar.

As they finally appeared, Kyle’s fury erupted. Without hesitation, he punched the dazed Itar, who was still trying to grasp the situation.

“Urgh…!”

Itar was sent sprawling to the ground, where dozens of Chaeild’s soldiers swiftly surrounded him. Marabas received the same treatment.

Realizing they had been completely outmaneuvered by Chaeild’s forces, Itar and Marabas remained silent, cautiously assessing their surroundings.

Itar glared at one man looking down at him. As the man pulled down his black hood, his identity was revealed—just as expected.

The Crown Prince, Enoch.

“A crown prince, crawling to Chaeild for help like a sewer rat?”

“Itar. Are you truly saying this knowing what you’ve done? Where is His Majesty?”

“…”

Itar chose silence instead of answering, but his silence spoke volumes. For a moment, an eerie stillness settled over the room.

Amel watched as Enoch, having lost his composure, grabbed his half-brother by the collar. She then closed her eyes.

With Cordelia’s lingering power amplifying Areté, she could read Enoch’s inner thoughts without even touching him.

The moment he heard of the Emperor’s passing, Enoch was simultaneously reminded of Iana’s death, his grief overwhelming him. It was as if the final puzzle piece had fallen into place.

‘So that’s how it was all along.’

Amel turned her gaze to Itar. He was fiercely resisting the soldiers trying to restrain him, his struggle the very definition of a last, desperate stand.

“I’ve come too far to just step back now… Ugh!”

A sharp strike to the back of his neck forced Itar to his knees, his hands swiftly bound behind him. Compared to when he first launched his rebellion, he now looked utterly pathetic.

“You should rest now,” Kyle Chaeild murmured, gently guiding Amel. She instinctively clutched his hand tightly. More than anything, she longed to return to Haile and rest in peace.

But the thought of leaving Itar’s lingering desires unresolved—the very desires that had led to this chaos—held her back. She had to put an end to them. Seeking Kyle’s understanding, she spoke in a calm yet resolute voice.

“Prince Itar.”

Hearing his name, Itar blankly looked up at her. He assumed the kidnapped woman was addressing him only to hurl curses at him.

But instead, Amel wore an expression eerily similar to the one Iana always had.

“You wanted to hear the truth, didn’t you?”

“……”

“The confession drug is still in effect. Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

The room fell silent. Everyone was taken aback by Amel’s bold offer—allowing a man deserving of death to question her and even promising him answers.

“Amelia Diane… why are you…”

Of course, Amel wasn’t doing this out of consideration for Itar. The surest way to prevent his resurgence was to reveal the truth.

Glancing at Marabas, she noted his expression before continuing. She made sure to look sorrowful as she spoke.

“Didn’t Your Highness want to know the truth about that day?”

A soft smile, dimples appearing faintly. Something inside Itar seemed to crack. It was clear that he could no longer threaten her or force her to act against her will.

“…Then I’ll ask you. Why did the Emperor turn a blind eye to my sister’s death? He cherished her.”

“He didn’t turn a blind eye. On the contrary, while you were drowning in despair, His Majesty and Prince Enoch worked tirelessly to uncover the truth.”

Itar’s gaze fell on the single drop of confession drug glistening like a jewel on Amel’s forehead. She showed no signs of pain, meaning her words were the absolute truth.

“…Then what truth did they uncover? And why wasn’t I told?”

“Because both His Majesty and the Crown Prince feared it would destroy you.”

“Destroy me? They would benefit the most if I crumbled, and you expect me to believe they were concerned?”

“Yes. Because learning that Princess Iana was murdered by someone from your inner circle would have been unbearable for you.”

A chilling silence fell over the room. Itar wasn’t the only one shocked—the surrounding knights and soldiers were visibly shaken as well.

Itar’s pupils trembled violently. Slowly, he turned to Enoch, who looked stricken, as if the truth had just been dragged into the light.

“…What the hell are you saying?”

“His Majesty and the Crown Prince endured the suspicion of assassination for your sake. They knew the mental anguish you would suffer.”

Amel’s lips curled into a faint smile.

“And yet, Prince Itar, you forced His Majesty’s death and launched a rebellion.”

Itar shook his head frantically, like a man clinging to denial. His late father’s affectionate gaze surfaced in his mind like a haunting specter.

“No… This isn’t the truth I knew…”

“Not the truth, but different from your assumptions.”

Her voice was sharp as she delivered the final blow.

“You should start thinking now, Your Highness. Who killed Princess Iana, and for what purpose?”

Itar’s lips parted slightly as if pleading for an answer, but Amel only looked at him with a sorrowful gaze. She couldn’t physically harm him, but she could still shatter him mentally.

After all, she wielded the most powerful weapon—the truth.

“Princess Iana died because of a bouquet of lilies given to her by someone she loved. Someone had laced the flowers with minute traces of a magical plague.”

Itar’s breath hitched. One name instantly came to mind—a highly skilled alchemist known for manipulating magic through living organisms rather than minerals like most others.

A sinister alchemist, one adept at weaving spells into even the most delicate of life forms.

“…Marabas Rydell. Why you…?”

Itar’s wide, trembling eyes turned to one of his most trusted subordinates. For a long moment, Marabas remained silent, then slowly, he let out a twisted smile.

“Did you really think I was the only one involved?”

Support