The Young Male Protagonist Who is Destined for Ruin Fell for Me - Chapter 98

Vanessa had a knack for handling unfamiliar tools, and it took her no time at all to wield the foreign power of Arete as if it were her own.

Several luminous orbs, trailing long comet-like tails, floated at her command. A swift downward motion of her hand sent beams of light plunging from the sky like spears.

Watching her, Amel felt an unexpected rush of exhilaration.

This is even more incredible than what I read in the book. I thought she could only wield a whip of light, but this…

Vanessa’s platinum hair shimmered as she moved with precise control, striking only the vital points of Marabas’s puppets. In an instant, the entire horde collapsed, rendered unconscious.

Not only the guards but even the nobles stood frozen, mesmerized by her brilliance.

“How much is the Duke of Chaield even spending on Count Diane’s security?”

“That… that’s just one bodyguard? She’s stronger than the entire imperial guard!”

“Why hasn’t someone like her built her own faction instead of working as a bodyguard? Is there really something special about the Little Countess Diane?”

As the stunned gazes shifted naturally from Vanessa to Amel, murmurs filled the hall. When Vanessa nonchalantly brushed off her hands and approached Amel, small gasps followed.

“Thank you, Vanessa.”

Amel smiled warmly, her expression brimming with pride and satisfaction. Vanessa, avoiding her gaze as if embarrassed, muttered in response.

“No need for thanks between us. Protecting my lady is my duty. Besides, you even gave me an Arete-infused pendant…”

“That was Claire’s gift. We should thank her together later.”

“Before that, just a moment.”

Vanessa reached for Amel’s hand, where her engagement ring gleamed, and placed a brief kiss on the back of it.

In Heil, such a gesture was a knight’s formal vow of loyalty. Seeing an elite warrior pledge fealty to Count Diane filled the onlookers with both admiration and envy.

“You’re watching this, aren’t you?”

“…My lady, thank you. For everything.”

As Amel listened to Vanessa’s thoughts, a slow warmth spread in her chest.

Now, all that remained was breaking the enchantment animating the corpses. Fortunately, a skilled alchemist was present.

“This way. The spell is complex, but since the undead are immobilized, removing it should be far easier.”

Enoch personally guided the alchemists, who had rushed from the Chaield estate, on how to dispel the magic.

The process was swift. Within moments, the emergency was resolved. Feeling somewhat abashed, the imperial guards quietly set about reinterring the corpses.

It seemed that Berd and Lienne’s engagement—the union that would bind two of the continent’s greatest powers by blood—would conclude without further incident.

＊＊＊

The nobles and officials supporting the Third Prince gathered, clad in dark, somber attire. They loomed over the imperial palace like a storm cloud ready to unleash a torrential downpour upon the storied halls of Traiha.

At the vanguard stood Ithar, his gaze devoid of emotion as he took in the palace grounds.

The imperial audience chamber, where Leocis II always required an attendant physician at his side just to breathe.

The vacant quarters of the crown prince.

The lily garden where Iana had died.

With every place he surveyed, the justification for his rebellion grew only more resolute.

Without hesitation, he drew his sword, the sharp ring of steel cutting through the night.

“If the crown prince had been here, it would have been even better. A shame he’s conveniently attending an engagement ceremony.”

“This is the only stroke of luck we need. He’ll return to Traiha powerless, with no army to defend him.”

“Indeed.”

Ithar chuckled at Venom’s words. Thanks to Cordelia unleashing the beasts at the Royal Lily Medal Ceremony, Heil had grown wary of both Traiha and its alchemists.

Had the crown prince traveled with a full escort, as befitted his rank, he would have been met with resistance at the border. That was why Enoch had left for Heil with only a handful of feeble scholars—men who had likely never lifted a sword in their lives.

By the time he returned, everything would already be over.

“What about the containment spells?”

“They’re functioning perfectly.”

“Then let’s begin.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Ithar strode toward the emperor’s chambers. His sword caught the faint glow of moonlight before vanishing into the darkness.

The moment the doors burst open, the emperor’s attendants turned wide, panicked eyes toward him, their expressions filled with alarm.

“I-Ithar, sir! We must inform His Majesty—”

“Don’t bother. I’ll inform him myself.”

With deliberate steps, Ithar advanced, his subordinates cutting down anyone who stood in their way. The air filled with the sickening splash of blood, red blossoms staining the floor with every swing of a blade.

For each step he took, another attendant collapsed lifelessly.

Doors that had remained sealed for years were now thrown open without resistance.

“What is the meaning of this—?!”

“Be quiet.”

Ithar silenced the emperor’s chief physician with a single slash.

The room was dim, kept shadowed for the sake of the emperor’s fragile health. As always, Leocis II was coughing weakly on his bed.

“So, Your Majesty, you almost seem as if you expected this.”

The emperor did not flee to the balcony, nor did he hide himself in the wardrobe. He simply remained seated, gazing at his son with a calm yet piercing stare.

“Ithar. Will spilling my blood ease your anger?”

“…”

“Please, let my death be enough. I only hope you will stop destroying yourself for the sister you have already lost.”

“Regrettably, Father, your blood alone will not suffice. Even if I were to offer my own alongside the Crown Prince’s, it would still not be enough.”

At Ithar’s subtle gesture, his subordinates rushed forward, seizing the emperor. In an instant, Leocis II, once revered as the wise ruler of Traiha, was stripped of his imperial robes and the honor they represented.

“Lock him in the underground prison. I have use for him, so ensure he remains alive.”

“Understood.”

Ithar watched without a trace of emotion as the emperor, showing no resistance, walked himself to his own captivity. He swallowed the questions that had burned inside him for years.

Why did you let Iana be driven to her death?

Why did you never question her passing?

But those words could never be spoken aloud. Instead, Ithar blinked slowly before asking another question.

“Has Amelia Diane been taken yet?”

＊＊＊

The moment the emperor declared an end to the banquet, most nobles wasted no time in departing.

Beyond the discomfort of lingering in a place where such a grim incident had occurred, the mere fact that the emperor’s engagement celebration had been marred by undead rampaging through the hall was considered a bad omen.

But not everyone had left.

Chaield and Diane remained behind to monitor Hild’s condition. Having been struck down by an unknown force, he remained unconscious, his state concerning enough that they decided to stay.

Naturally, this also meant that Enoch and the nobles seeking economic aid from the Duke of Chaield had remained in the palace as well.

“Are you certain Hild will recover? He seems to be in more pain by the moment,” Enoch asked.

“Our apologies, Your Highness,” one of Chaield’s attendants replied. “We’ve administered medicine and placed a release charm on him. For now, we can only hope for improvement.”

Kyle studied Hild with a troubled gaze. The other Chaield personnel who had been patrolling alongside him remained unconscious as well.

From what Kyle knew, Hild was not someone who could be easily overpowered. If he had been brought down this thoroughly, there was only one likely culprit.

Did Cordelia show up in person, like at the medal ceremony?

Amel was thinking the same thing. If Cordelia had reappeared, Hild would have been defenseless before her.

“…How did this happen to him?” Amel murmured, gently brushing Hild’s hand in sympathy. But something felt… off.

“My lady is worrying about me.”

She could hear his thoughts.

Despite believing him to be unconscious, Amel could hear Hild’s inner voice, and even faintly see glimpses of his thoughts as if they were being projected into her mind.

Isn’t he supposed to be unconscious? How can I hear him if he’s passed out?

Even Kyle—who was as sharp as they came—fell silent when he slept, his thoughts unreadable. Amel had long confirmed through experience that her Arete only worked on the conscious thoughts of others.

And yet, she could hear Hild’s mind.

Deep in thought, Amel turned to Chaield’s alchemists.

“Is there a spell that can make a conscious person appear unconscious?”

“Well… that’s not exactly our area of expertise,” one of them admitted.

“Our research is more focused on gold refinement than magic,” another added awkwardly.

As the alchemists avoided her gaze, it was Enoch—standing quietly behind them—who answered.

“Yes. It’s a failed derivative of a spell designed to feign death.”

“How do you break it?”

“It’s complex but reversible. However, to dispel the spell, you must first know who cast it and how it was applied.”

Enoch’s explanation reassured Amel more than it disappointed her. If the only requirement was knowing the caster, then she could simply extract that information from Hild’s mind.

Relying on the Crown Prince of Traiha could easily create an unwanted diplomatic situation, so she had no intention of asking him for further help.

Instead, she focused, gently running her fingers over Hild’s hand. As soon as their Arete made contact—

A sharp cry broke the air.

“Ugh… What is this?!”

Enoch suddenly clutched his shoulder, his face contorted in pain. His reaction was so urgent that the Traiha attendants immediately rushed to remove his outer garment.

“Y-Your Highness… what is that…?”

A dark navy magic circle was drawn across his skin. The markings were unfamiliar, their origins unknown.

But Enoch recognized the truth in an instant.

“Don’t be so suspicious. Just prepare for your trip to Heil. Diplomacy is more important right now.”

Ithar’s words echoed in his mind.

Just before saying those words, he had done something unusual—he had touched Enoch’s shoulder.

The very shoulder where the enchantment was now burning into his skin.

His face twisted in fury.

“No! Count Diane—!”

But before Enoch’s warning could be fully spoken, Amel’s breath hitched.

A cold sensation swept through her body before vanishing in an instant.

Terror gripped her as she clenched her eyes shut. It felt as though she was being flung in every direction, like a passenger on an out-of-control roller coaster.

There was a brief moment of dizziness—a sickening rush of motion.

Then, just as suddenly, the sensation of being pulled somewhere took hold.

As if being dragged through space.

A flash of Cordelia’s face—just as she had appeared at the medal ceremony—flashed before her.

Then darkness.

“Ka—Kyle, what was—”

Amel’s eyes snapped open, but the world around her had changed.

The familiar surroundings of the palace were gone, as if she had woken from a dream. The air was thick with shadows.

Before she could fully process what had happened, a voice—deep, mocking, and laced with madness—filled the air.

“Well, well. It’s been a while since we’ve last met, Lady Diane. Or should I say… Count Diane now?”

The man before her was grinning, his eyes gleaming with unhinged excitement.

Marabas Rydell.

The moment she recognized him, Amel’s expression hardened.

Her wrist tingled, and as she lowered her gaze, she noticed the bracelet on her arm—once again changing color, its glow fading weakly.

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