The Young Male Protagonist Who is Destined for Ruin Fell for Me - Chapter 118 (Side Story 2)

Having stayed up the entire night without a wink of sleep, Kyle came to yet another realization.

Let’s say he summoned the best doctors from Chaeild Hospital to determine whether Amel was pregnant. But what if the result came back negative?

‘She’d know that I want a child and feel pressured. And not just because of me.’

For nobles, children were not merely a symbol of love. Many noblewomen were expected to bear heirs to secure their family’s standing.

A duchy as old and influential as Chaeild surely carried its own weight of unspoken expectations. If even her husband started talking about children, how suffocating would that be for her?

If she felt both personal and societal pressure, she might end up saying she wanted a child for Chaeild’s sake—even if she truly didn’t.

“……”

Kyle reached into his pocket, reassuring himself that her engagement ring was still there before pulling her into a tight embrace.

If only I could read your heart, too. He wished he could see through her thoughts just as she always seemed to see through his. He didn’t want her to be hurt by all this talk of heirs and legacy.

Just as he was lost in his thoughts, Amel stirred awake. Kyle carefully concealed his emotions, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. She felt slightly warm.

She glanced around the room and then noticed something unusual—his hair. It looked as if he had lost twice as much as usual.

“Kyle, are you okay? Your hair is falling out a lot.”

“I must have tossed and turned too much. Don’t worry, Chaeild has no genetic history of hair loss.”

For some reason, Kyle found himself defending his genes. Amel seemed unconvinced but let it go.

“That aside, where’s my engagement ring? You’re the only one who can take it off.”

“I thought it needed maintenance since you wear it so often. I took it for safekeeping.”

“That’s thoughtful of you. Should we get up?”

She stretched and began to rise, only to suddenly stumble. Kyle’s heart nearly stopped as he caught her.

“Thank you. I just got dizzy for a moment.”

“I’ll summon the physician—”

“No, it’s fine. I’m only dizzy because someone kept me up late last night.”

Amel chuckled lightly, clearly intending it as a joke.

But Kylean Chaeild felt like he had just been struck over the head.

He still didn’t know for sure if she was pregnant. But if she was, the early stages were the most critical for rest and stability.

She had been sleeping more, her body often growing sluggish—and who had constantly pulled her into his arms, coaxing her with whispered endearments?

Who had completely shattered any semblance of a regular sleep schedule?

And if something had happened to the baby because of that? It would be his fault.

Kyle felt the overwhelming urge to bang his head against the nearest solid surface.

There was an old joke that Chaeilds were rewarded for their crimes. But that only applied when those crimes didn’t involve Amelia Chaeild.

＊＊＊

The Duke’s morning schedule began with a meeting at the imperial palace.

Naturally, Kyle couldn’t concentrate on a single word. His thoughts were consumed by one thing.

How to confirm a pregnancy without the person in question knowing.

For most people, this would be impossible.

But Kyle was not most people.

He considered a few options.

Most royal palaces had magical artifacts capable of determining a child’s parentage, confirming pregnancy, and even tracking gestational progress.

The problem was that the one in the Hail Empire combined all of those functions into a single, state-of-the-art device.

‘Why does it even need a paternity test? They indulge in debauchery but still need to verify their bloodline?’

Kyle scowled at the thought.

He could technically use it without her knowledge. But if she ever found out, she would undoubtedly be hurt.

‘She might think I doubted the child’s paternity.’

Which, of course, was absurd. The father was obviously him.

He never let a single night pass peacefully. She always bore the faintest traces of his kisses, and at this point, even their scents had begun to blend.

But that was beside the point—whether he trusted her or not, the very idea could be hurtful.

Furthermore, borrowing a magical artifact from the imperial palace would inevitably spread rumors through high society.

If that happened, Amel would undoubtedly face pressure about producing an heir. Absolutely not.

That meant the artifact was off the table.

The next option was medical testing.

He could summon Paul Remian, the director of Chaeild Hospital, and instruct him to secretly determine whether she was pregnant.

‘…But how do you secretly take someone’s blood?’

If only pregnancy could be detected through something as simple as a strand of hair.

Unfortunately, imperial medicine only confirmed pregnancy through blood tests.

And the only way to obtain a blood sample without her knowing was if she bled naturally.

Which, considering how he and everyone in Chaeild would go to any lengths to prevent even the smallest injury to her… was unlikely.

Kyle’s thoughts grew increasingly tangled. His distracted movements caused ink to smear across the page in front of him.

A shadow loomed over his desk. Kyle looked up.

“Duke Chaeild. Something troubling you?”

The Emperor stood over him, a deep frown on his face.

At some point, the meeting had ended, and yet Kyle remained at his seat, lost in thought.

Ever since marrying Princess Lienne, the Emperor always seemed a little dejected.

Kyle had heard the rumors—though the mighty Emperor of Hail ruled the empire, his spirits would plummet every night.

“It’s nothing of concern. Thank you for your consideration.”

Kyle had no interest in hearing about Emperor Berndt’s boring nights or whatever miracle tonics he was trying.

But today’s topic was different.

“Duke. Would you be willing to bring a physician from Chaeild Hospital to the palace?”

“…A urologist, Your Majesty?”

“……If you must categorize it, then yes. But must you be so blunt? Couldn’t you let it pass quietly?”

“If Your Majesty wishes, I can also summon a psychologist. Your condition may be psychological in nature.”

“Don’t pretend to be considerate while insulting me. Impotent, really? I’m just… a little lacking. You wouldn’t understand the struggles of a man like me, someone as exceptional as yourself.”

“You flatter me.”

Kyle responded smoothly, making a move to stand.

But Berndt grasped his sleeve desperately, his face betraying a deep fear—that if this continued, his wife might eventually abandon him.

For once, that desperation didn’t feel like someone else’s problem.

“Kylean! I’m not asking you to hunt down some elusive miracle doctor from the marketplace and bring him to me. I just need to borrow a few physicians from Chaeild Hospital!”

How dire was the Emperor’s situation that he had gone as far as scouring the city streets—something he usually never bothered with? Kyle was curious about the doctor he was referring to.

“A famous reclusive physician from the marketplace? Who exactly are you talking about?”

“You haven’t heard the rumors? There’s a doctor who supposedly trained in the East, wandering near the central square. They say he treats people by inserting fine needles into their bodies…”

“If that’s the case, why not simply appoint him as an imperial physician? You are, after all, the Emperor of Hail.”

“I tried, but he refused, citing some rigid principles. He’s talented, which makes him arrogant.”

“He must be quite skilled.”

“They say he can diagnose pregnancy just by tying a thread around a woman’s wrist and reading her pulse…”

“……!”

Kyle’s ears perked up immediately.

＊＊＊

A small attic near Hail Empire’s central square. Owen Zhang sat with a newspaper in hand, watching the bustling streets below.

‘Another sharp column from Anne Smith today.’

Sipping his coffee like any ordinary merchant or businessman, he was, in reality, a medical genius who had mastered the art of Eastern medicine.

Back in his homeland, he was so renowned that he could have secured the position of the Emperor’s personal physician simply by breathing.

But Owen had fled in the dead of night, escaping to the West where he had no connections.

The reason was simple.

‘I refuse to dedicate my life solely for the sake of a title.’

Serving the ruler of an empire was undoubtedly an honor. But at the same time, it was only an honor.

If palace intrigue ever took a dark turn, the first to be eliminated was always the imperial physician.

‘I won’t spend my life bowing to someone just to practice medicine.’

That was why, not long ago, he had flatly rejected Berndt Levan de Hail’s envoys when they tried to recruit him for the imperial court.

To Owen, medicine was everything. His pride, his purpose. He had no intention of becoming anyone’s personal servant.

But since he had no official medical experience in this country, getting hired at a hospital was practically impossible.

His dream was to one day open a small clinic, a place where he could freely treat patients on his own terms.

Of course, opening a clinic required money.

‘No Hail businessman is going to lend money to a foreigner from the East. I’ll have to earn it myself.’

Owen sighed and returned to his newspaper. Someone had once told him that reading Anne Smith’s economic columns over and over would sharpen his eye for market trends.

Knock, knock, knock—

Just as he was about to refocus, a knock came at the door.

Thinking nothing of it, he opened it—only to freeze in shock.

Several men in fine suits, clearly professionals in prestigious fields, stood before him. Among them were a group clad in white coats, unmistakably doctors from a major hospital.

His body tensed instinctively. Taking a slow breath to steady himself, Owen watched as the most senior-looking doctor stepped forward and extended a hand.

“Owen Zhang. It is an honor to meet you. I am Paul Remian, director of Chaeild Hospital.”

“C-Chaeild Hospital? You mean the most prestigious hospital in the empire…?”

“Indeed. Chaeild Hospital operates under the full support of the Grand Duke of Chaeild.”

What physician wouldn’t feel a rush of excitement hearing such words?

Owen found himself caught between admiration and apprehension, nodding cautiously.

But Paul’s next words stunned him even further.

“Owen Zhang, His Grace, the Duke of Chaeild, wishes to have you by his side.”

“…I have no intention of serving as a personal physician for any household.”

“That is not the offer. His Grace recognizes your extraordinary skills and wishes to appoint you as Chaeild Hospital’s head of Eastern Medicine.”

“Th-That’s…”

“If you accept, Chaeild’s architects will immediately begin constructing a dedicated Eastern Medicine wing. A building with your name engraved on its plaque.”

Owen’s pupils shook. Could there be a more tempting offer?

But before he had time to fully process it, Paul delivered the final, decisive blow—Chaeild-style.

“Owen Zhang. This is but a small token of His Grace’s sincerity. A mere fraction of the salary you will receive.”

Thud—

With a heavy sound, several wooden chests were brought forward.

As the lids were lifted, gold coins spilled over the edges, clattering onto the floor.

The amount was far too great to refuse.

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