The Young Male Protagonist Who is Destined for Ruin Fell for Me - Chapter 12

“Right, this is just practice. Just practice,” I reminded myself. Kyle’s boldness may have caught me a little off guard, but I’d known he would want me. So, I nodded in approval, letting a hint of mischief slip into my tone.

“Remember, you need to wait for me to count to three. Understood?”

Kyle seemed to be taking this “tension” concept to heart, his usual confidence slipping bit by bit.

Leaning back into the pillow, I teased him, “One…”

Closing my eyes playfully, I murmured, “Two…”

And then I simply settled in, pretending to drift off to sleep.
When “three” didn’t seem to be coming anytime soon, I felt his patience wearing thin. The irritation rolling off him was almost palpable.

Did I push this too far? Maybe he won’t find it funny.

Peeking one eye open, I saw him going over the situation in his mind.

Poor thing—you got played.

“…So you’re not going to say ‘three’?” he asked, with a hint of exasperation.

“Sorry, Kyle. I’m just too tired tonight,” I replied with a grin, closing my eyes once more. He sighed deeply and lay beside me, his face showing a hint of frustration, something rarely seen from him.

Up close, his striking features were even more captivating, with the soft glow of moonlight giving him an almost otherworldly aura.

“Judging by your look, you want this too,” he murmured, his eyes catching mine before I could look away.

“…Did you have a drink?”

There was no way I’d admit to sneaking a nightcap after my bath, so I quickly changed tack, putting on my best “I’m so sorry, love” expression with a small, apologetic smile.

“…Are you trying to hold me back or egg me on?” he murmured, with an intensity that only made things worse.

“Well, since you noticed, yes, I had a little wine. I’d rather not go too far under its influence—it might be messy.”

“You were more intoxicated the first time we met, when you dragged me to the hotel. And you clung to me, asking for all kinds of things—and it was adorable.”

Oh… the sweetness of his words sent my heart racing.

Maybe letting go just this once wouldn’t hurt.

Just as I was about to respond—

―Knock, knock, knock.

A sudden knock broke the silence, and both of us turned toward the door. I hadn’t called for the staff, so it must have been urgent. Just as I wondered who could be at the door, a familiar voice echoed from the other side.

“Your Grace, I apologize for disturbing you at this hour.

There’s a telegram that seemed important.”

“What’s it about?” Kyle asked.

A brief pause. Surprisingly, the composed Head Butler Hylde hesitated.

“It’s… regarding Lady Claire’s return to the country.”

Kyle froze at that name, and his eager expression darkened.

I couldn’t help but understand his reaction.

Claire Chaield—the last surviving daughter of the Chaield family.

I knew what she’d done to Kyle.

＊＊＊

Claire Chaield.

In the novel The Downfall of the Tycoon and After, Claire’s role was… complicated.

Calling her a villain wasn’t quite right. Her choices were driven by necessity, but her actions were far from noble.
One thing was clear: Kyle saw her as a “monster.”

Kyle’s father, the former Duke of Chaield, had several illegitimate children, and Claire was the eldest, born to a maid.

But the Duke hadn’t cast Claire aside.

The book described how Claire’s resemblance to the Chaield family’s traits was so unmistakable that abandoning her would have been unthinkable.

Her mother, however, was dismissed immediately; keeping Claire was likely a calculated move to protect the family’s honor and image.

Claire was raised practically hidden away in the estate’s most secluded quarters. As a result, Kyle and the legitimate Chaield sons had no idea she existed, and even if they happened to encounter her, they assumed she was a servant’s daughter.

Kyle, ten years her junior, hadn’t thought much of her.

At least, not until “that day.”

The previous Duke, Kyle’s father, had always told him:
“Prove you’re strong enough to protect the wealth and honor of the Chaield name. In the end, only the strongest survive.”

The word “beast” in the Chaield family crest, symbolized by the two lions on the red shield, wasn’t merely a decorative element—it was a defining attribute, especially for the Chaield sons.
Maybe he’d been a bit naive back then, but young Kyle had genuinely tried to befriend his older brothers, despite the cold warnings from his father, which his brothers had absorbed since childhood.

Yet, his older brothers, seeing him as a vulnerable youngest, viewed him as the first obstacle to eliminate.

In those precarious days, where anyone could become prey, something horrible happened on Kyle’s seventeenth birthday: the eldest son, the main heir to the Chaield estate, died in an “accident.”

The official cause was a fall down the estate’s grand staircase… but no one truly believed that story. Instead, everyone was convinced that one of the brothers fighting for the inheritance had killed him.

It was then, at the tender age of seventeen, that Kyle fully grasped the grim reality he was in. The following year, haunted by paranoia and the constant threat of assassination, was pure hell.

Then came his eighteenth birthday.

On that day, Kyle’s life would be scarred forever.

The brother Kyle trusted most—the second eldest—appeared with a dagger, intending to kill him. What he hadn’t anticipated, however, was that Kyle could fight back.

Fortunately or unfortunately, both survived. But Kyle was left with a deep wound near his hip and retreated into isolation, unwilling to step outside his room.

It was during this self-imposed confinement, as he considered starving to death rather than facing more attempts on his life, that someone appeared, holding a tray with a warm bowl of soup and a gentle light.

“You must be hungry, young master,” said the visitor.

The woman, disguised as a maid, was none other than Claire Chaield.

She approached him like a nurturing caretaker, putting him at ease with her soft voice and kind demeanor. To assure him the soup was safe, she even tasted it first.

Ravenous, Kyle devoured the soup, hardly distinguishing between his tears and the broth, as Claire quietly made him an offer.

“Young master, for the sake of Chaield, you must survive. If you wish, I’ll help you.”

“Why… would you do this?” he asked.

“For Chaield.”

Claire Chaield, a master of deception, approached the already broken Kyle as though she were his lifeline.

With a body already wounded and spirit almost shattered, Kyle found himself with no real alternative. Whispering as though her actions were for a greater cause, Claire promised him:

“When you become Duke, don’t turn your back on me. If you agree, I’ll take care of everything.”

I could understand why Kyle had agreed. It was a matter of survival, after all.

He probably hated the idea of killing his brother, but living in constant terror must have been unbearable.

So Kyle nodded to her proposal. The next day, the matter of the Chaield heir was settled.

Two assassinations and one “accident.”

Claire, having lived her whole life confined within the estate, knew exactly how the household operated and who was where at all times, making her plan nearly flawless.

Then, the very next day, Kyle’s father, the Duke of Chaield, passed away due to his “illness.” The timing couldn’t have been more precise.

In retrospect, Claire had probably bided her time, sharpening her blade until the opportune moment to watch the father who had kept her locked away die.

Just as she had planned, people assumed Kyle was the mastermind behind the series of deaths, believing he would be the one to inherit the vast wealth and title of Duke.

Kyle believed this was the best outcome—that is, until the day of the joint funeral for his father and brothers, when Claire revealed her true self.

Her phrase, “for Chaield,” had really meant “for Claire Chaield,” and with this revelation, Kyle fell into despair.
Now, he was the monster Duke, allowing others to be killed to secure his position.

The fact that his hands weren’t directly stained with blood no longer mattered to him—he had become a Chaield “beast.”
After the funeral, Kyle confronted her.

“Claire… what did you want from all this?”

Her answer was one of the most iconic lines in The Downfall of the Tycoon and After.

“I wanted freedom.”

God, it was such a great line.

That one line was enough to make Claire my favorite character. I had to admit, even if Kyle hated her, Claire was absolutely my favorite.

＊＊＊

“Nuna, you’re lying here next to me, and you’re deep in thought about someone else?” Kyle, lying beside me with an unusually calm expression, gently brushed a hand down my arm.

“Sorry, Kyle.”

Maybe I was deep in thought, but after hearing Claire was returning, it was clear that Kyle was somewhat shaken, even if he didn’t show it.

After all, Claire’s arrival would inevitably stir memories of the past.

Kyle’s feelings for Claire were a complex blend of resentment and anger for making him into a “monster,” mixed with fear and disdain for someone who could eliminate their own family without blinking.

Crossing the sea to return from her travels? An unexpected move.
I wondered how their reunion would play out. Even after Kyle became Duke, he hadn’t banished Claire or taken action against her.

Because of his neutrality, both the Chaield household staff and other nobles in the empire accepted Claire as a recognized member of the family.

Claire, being a true Chaield, was brilliant with finances and paperwork, and Kyle made use of her skills, rewarding her accordingly when needed.

Their relationship was more transactional than familial, and Claire never challenged Kyle’s authority.

It’s all so complicated. And honestly… for a protagonist, his past is just heartbreaking.

Since he said he wouldn’t turn down a little comfort, maybe tonight, just tonight, I should try to soothe him.

I scooted forward and wrapped my arms around him, feeling his muscles tense slightly in surprise through my thin nightgown.

“Kyle, when did you get this scar?”

Casually, I ran my fingers over the scar near his hip, pretending not to know, even though I knew the whole story.

With a soft laugh, Kyle started to recount his story, his voice low and calm.

Poor guy. Our male lead’s been through so much.

Watching him, I felt an ache in my chest, like seeing a wounded puppy. Kyle, sensing my sympathy, managed a faint smile.

“Amelia Diane, you being here makes me feel much better.”

“…!”

I must have reacted visibly because Kyle patted my back gently and whispered,
“…I’d like you to stay by my side, always.”

Oh no. Anyone could see that was a setup for disaster!