The Young Male Protagonist Who is Destined for Ruin Fell for Me - Chapter 93

Fringles’ pupils trembled visibly, and his legs shook just as much.

Any businessman standing before the Duke of Chaield would have reacted the same way.

“Y-Your fiancée, you say…?”

“Count Amelia Diane. As the owner of this newspaper, I doubt that you do not know who she is.”

“I—I don’t claim ignorance, Your Grace, but I swear, I have never met the Count of Diane in person. P-Please, believe me.”

Completely overwhelmed by Kyle’s presence, Fringles hastily reiterated that he had never seen her before.

Amelia Diane was a major figure in Hail’s political, economic, and diplomatic circles—someone far beyond his reach.

“…Yet I have reason to believe she is here.”

“I swear, she’s not! I have no reason to hide the fiancée of the Duke of Chaield…!”

Fringles’ mustache twitched as he stammered out a desperate defense.

Kyle’s expression hardened as a familiar scent reached his nose—the same fragrance that Amelia always carried after her outings.

Even when she had given him perfume as a gift, this had been her preferred scent.

And now, this man was wearing it—a distinctly masculine fragrance.

“……”

A sudden, unbidden memory surfaced—an advertisement printed on the back of Vanessa’s newspaper just days ago.

“A Perfect Day for an Affair.”

His mind, as if mocking him, replayed a series of past moments—a disguise cloak, frequent outings, Vanessa burning letters, whispers exchanged behind closed doors.

Each detail clicked together like puzzle pieces.

Kyle clenched his fist to suppress the throbbing in his temple, his gaze raking over the man before him.

Fringles, with his round face and soft features, looked like a teddy bear in human form.

Even his button-like eyes and curled mustache suited him perfectly.

“She likes cute things…”

If cuteness was the measure of competition, Kyle had lost outright.

But… she had said she loved him.

Granted, she had only ever said it in bed.

“…Could it be…?”

For a split second, it felt like the floor beneath him crumbled.

All those fleeting “I love you”s—could they have meant only his body?

No.

No, he knew better than anyone that Amelia was weak to physical touch and desire.

He had trained his body relentlessly, knowing she responded to it.

He had spent countless nights proving his devotion to her.

“That can’t be it.”

His single-minded faith in his fiancée reasserted itself.

After all, a person is made of both body and soul.

And if she loved his body, that meant she loved half of him already.

“…Your Grace, should I escort you to the annex where the ladies gather?”

“……”

Kyle, his face grave, nodded in affirmation.

Even as he walked, his heart pounded so fiercely he thought it might burst.

Meanwhile…

Having meticulously reviewed the documents that Fringles had gathered, Amelia stretched and leaned back in her chair.

The warm sunlight streaming through the large window put her in an excellent mood.

“Good lighting, spacious office… not bad at all.”

She had overheard a group of young ladies downstairs gossiping earlier—apparently, she was the only one granted a private office in the annex.

She felt a bit guilty.

Once this was over, she planned to step away from column writing, yet Fringles had gone out of his way to provide her with such consideration.

“And he even went through the trouble of collecting all this data for me.”

She had asked Fringles for two things:

1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. Records of Cordelia leaving Chaield’s estate.

1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. 1. Public reactions when Iana died.

With his vast connections among journalists and his massive newspaper archive, he had produced impressive results.

“Madam, find anything useful?”

“Not really. Just that Cordelia and Steward Hild started off as bitter enemies.”

“…Then how did they end up married?”

“When Hild first came to work at Chaield, Cordelia, who was already part of the household, challenged him to a duel.”

“Oh, so Steward Hild must have won decisively, and she fell for him?”

“No. He lost. Badly.”

“…What?”

“He was bedridden for a week, and Cordelia, feeling guilty, took care of him. I guess that’s how love blossomed.”

Amelia was genuinely amazed at how journalists managed to dig up such details.

Then again, thinking about the Amelia Gold Mine Incident, it was clear that reporters had an insatiable hunger for information.

But her real concern was Itar and Iana.

She glanced at the folder she had set aside.

It contained all available records on Traiha’s succession war—a war that had split the nobility and the government into two fiercely opposing factions.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • The First Prince, who became Crown Prince.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • The Third Prince, his greatest rival.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • The nobles and officials, bitterly divided.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • The fallen princess, Iana.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • The shattered Itar.

And in the end, the victor—First Prince Enoch, now the heir to the throne.

“It all fits too perfectly. Almost… too perfectly.”

Would Itar, during such a brutal war for succession, really have allowed his sister to roam freely?

At the very least, he would have ensured she was escorted by his men at all times.

And yet, she died suddenly.

If that were the case, Itar would have torn apart the empire to uncover the truth.

His faction was powerful, after all. If Amelia were Enoch, she would have fought desperately to avoid creating a political scandal.

And yet, neither Enoch nor the Emperor had ever denied the allegations that Iana had been assassinated.

Instead… they had silently accepted the accusation.

“It feels like they didn’t even try to resist. Why would that be?”

There was a nagging sense that another hidden truth lurked beneath the surface—something far larger than I could comprehend.

With Enoch attending Lién and Verd’s engagement ceremony as Traiha’s representative, it would be wise to assign someone to watch over the event.

Yet, the name that unsettled me the most, appearing multiple times in the documents, was Marabas Lydel.

“Vanessa, do you know why Marabas left Traiha and came to Hail?”

“Hm… He was originally a Royal Alchemist, but I heard he was dismissed for some reason. When I first met him in Hail, he was practically a beggar. Why do you ask?”

“The timing is just too perfect.”

After comparing the records, I realized that the timeline of Iana’s death aligned exactly with Marabas’ dismissal from his position as a Royal Alchemist.

Marabas wanted to build a global empire, and Itar needed his abilities. Their partnership was deeply symbiotic, meaning it wouldn’t have been easy to separate them.

And yet, the Emperor and Inoch ultimately cast Marabas out.

“I doubt they did it just to sever Itar’s ties. Itar wouldn’t have allowed that so easily.”

There was a real possibility that Marabas’ departure from Traiha was directly linked to the princess’s death.

“Ugh, my head hurts.”

“You probably need some sugar. There’s a cafeteria downstairs—why don’t you go grab something to eat?”

“…Maybe I should.”

“Go ahead first. I’ll wrap up the documents and follow you shortly.”

Vanessa had been working hard lately, and it showed in how swiftly she began sorting through the materials.

Deciding it would be best to order ahead, I made my way downstairs.

The first floor of the annex housed a cafeteria, open to both employees and visitors.

With my cloak pulled over my head, no one seemed to recognize me.

“I’ll have two glasses of cold lemonade and a plate of madeleines, please.”

“Of course. Please take a seat, and we’ll bring it to you shortly.”

I settled down and began flipping through the day’s newspaper.

Most of the articles focused on the upcoming engagement between Hail and Keltman, while a few chilling reports described an unknown figure digging up graves in the capital’s cemetery.

Just as boredom began to creep in, I caught snippets of conversation from the cafeteria staff.

“The fireworks for the engagement ceremony are going to be spectacular.”

“I wonder if His Majesty is really as strikingly handsome as the rumors say?”

It seemed someone had been spreading nonsense.

The women behind the counter, clearly employees, chattered excitedly about the upcoming event. Then, I heard my name.

“I heard Count Amelia Diane received the Lily Order for arranging the engagement.”

“Yes! And just earlier, the young ladies were saying younger men are trending these days. It’s all thanks to Count Diane.”

That much was fine.

But then—

“A younger man would feel like raising a child. Do you think he’d be good for anything?”

“Older men have far more charm. What could you possibly do with a younger one?”

“Younger men barely even count as real men…”

“They lack self-control and have no sense of time.”

Hearing my name multiple times, I couldn’t just let it slide.

Rushing in with a flustered defense would be amateurish.

Instead, I gracefully stood, moved toward them with the elegance of a butterfly, and lightly tapped my lips as if suppressing a yawn.

“Do you happen to have chocolate? I’d like to add it to my order. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I’m exhausted…”

Speaking in a soft, weary tone, as though I had spent ten sleepless nights, I immediately noticed them flinch.

“We can serve it on a plate with your order. But… why couldn’t you sleep? Something happened?”

“My young husband keeps me up at night… Ugh. I guess it’s true—younger men have no concept of time.”

Thunk.

The women, who had been drying dishes, froze.

Their gazes snapped to me, filled with curiosity, as if urging me to elaborate.

“…But aren’t younger men a bit… inconsistent?”

“Oh, absolutely. Gentle up top, but relentless down below. No consistency at all. No patience, either—just doesn’t know when to stop.”

Drip—

One of the employees pouring tea didn’t notice that her cup had overflowed.

“…Still, I doubt a younger man knows what he’s doing.”

“Ha… In some ways, you’re right. He doesn’t know anything… which is why he just does everything I ask. He only cares about what I want.”

The faint scent of burning filled the air.

A batch of madeleines had been left in the oven too long, turning into charcoal.

Perfect.

The key to shutting people up was to mockingly boast at the same time.

I was about to land the final blow when one of the employees, squeezing a lemon, hesitated before speaking.

“…But marrying just for that seems a bit reckless…”

“Oh, no, no. That’s not it at all. I married my young husband because he’s sweet, affectionate, and adorable. You wouldn’t believe how precious he is. He’s always trying new things for me—and when he smiles, it’s the most beautiful sight in the world.”

“…Ah.”

“Only a fool would marry someone just for their stamina.”

At this rate, I might actually die.

I sighed dramatically, pressed a hand to my forehead, and gave the final blow with a knowing shake of my head.

“That being said… Could I get a coffee with extra caffeine? I need to prepare for tonight.”

I flashed a playful wink.

But instead of looking at me, the entire room’s attention shifted toward the entrance.

And then—

A low, rumbling voice echoed directly into my ear.

“Sister… I think you’ll need two more cups.”

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