The Young Male Protagonist Who is Destined for Ruin Fell for Me - Chapter 33

Lady Reyna flinched. Had this been the ballroom, she might have exploded in anger. But here and now, surrounded by five intruders, she swallowed her pride and bent the knee before me.
“I-I’m sorry, Lady Diane… I was being immature…”

“You’re barely younger than me. Stop using that as an excuse to tick people off. Try saying something stupid again—just once.”

“I-I won’t! I’m sorry! I swear I won’t do it again. Please…”

“No need to whimper. I’ll deal with them.”

Clang!

Steel clashed with steel, the sound reverberating through the dim space. My father, Pershe Diane, was once known as the legendary captain of the Imperial Marksmen. Not that his reputation did much for my swordsmanship—my skills came solely from relentless practice.

But this wasn’t just about swordsmanship. There was another weapon in my arsenal—one far less tangible. Confidence.

Gripping my sword tighter, I declared loudly, “I already know you’re from the Arretiste Guild.”

Their eyes widened in shock. “How did you…?”

Easy. I can hear your thoughts.

“My father, the legendary Pershe Diane, may no longer wield his blade, but his bl00d flows through me. You don’t stand a chance against me.”

I could feel my face flush from the sheer absurdity of my boast. Not even my middle-school self—queen of melodrama—would have dared such a line. But in the darkness, no one could see my embarrassment.

Their hesitation was palpable. Without missing a beat, I lunged, driving my blade into the weak point in their guard.

Clang!

A sword flew from my opponent’s hand as I struck. Another moved in, attempting a clumsy punch, which grazed my side but left him exposed.

“Damn, I overextended! My face is wide open!” his inner voice shouted.

Thank you for the tip.

I slammed my fist into his jaw, following it up with a strike to the back of his neck. He crumpled to the ground like a broken marionette. Silently mouthing “sorry” three times, I planted my foot on his unconscious body.

“Anyone else?”

My grin must have been insufferable because the remaining three hesitated. One lashed out with his sword, but his half-hearted swing was easy to block. Their thoughts were practically screaming now.

“What kind of noblewoman fights like this? Is she an offensive Arete user? If so, we’re doomed…”

Interesting. Offensive Arete users are a threat, are they?
“For your information, I, Amelia Diane, am one of the Empire’s top offensive Arete users. I won’t hold back anymore.”

That did it. Panic flared in their eyes before they turned and vanished into the night. The surrounding gloom lifted as they fled, leaving the scene bathed in pale moonlight.

From behind me, a slow clap began. Turning, I found Lady Reyna and Lady Gretchel staring up at me with awe-struck expressions.
“Pathetic. They weren’t even worth the effort,” I muttered, tossing in a flourish of bravado for good measure.

Reyna’s cheeks flushed pink, and I remembered the rumors—young noblewomen were apparently obsessed with tales of knightly heroines.

“Lady Diane… could I… call you ‘sister’ from now on?” Reyna stammered, her voice breathless with admiration.

“No. Address me properly,” I said, feigning sternness.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Gretchel, meanwhile, bowed deeply, her voice shaking with gratitude. “Thank you, Lady Diane. You saved our lives.”

Something, however, felt off—like a missing piece in a puzzle.

“Lady Gretchel,” I began slowly, “where is the Harmonia necklace?”

“Huh?” Gretchel’s hands flew to her chest, patting frantically. But the necklace—a royal treasure, large and unmistakable—was gone.

“How… how could this happen?” Gretchel gasped, staggering back as though struck.

The shock hadn’t fully settled when another voice cut through the tension.

“You three! Don’t move!”

Imperial knights, conspicuously absent when we’d actually needed them, now stormed the scene, surrounding us with swords drawn. Their demeanor shifted immediately as they grasped the situation.

“You are all suspects in the disappearance of the Harmonia necklace. By royal decree, you are under arrest. Come quietly.”
And just like that, I became the first noblewoman in the history of the Empire to find herself imprisoned twice in the royal dungeons.

Thirty minutes earlier…

Lady Claire Chyeld stood in the center of a circle of noblewomen, her expression calm but her thoughts anything but.

“Why did Amelia vanish so suddenly? And what does she mean by asking me to ‘finish the story’?”

Eager, wide-eyed noblewomen stared at her, waiting expectantly for her to speak. Claire’s poker face betrayed nothing of her inner turmoil. She sighed.

“Well then… what would you like to hear?”

Just the presence of Claire Chyeld, the so-called Queen of the Social Scene, was enough to leave the gathered noblewomen breathless. But now, she was offering to tell them a story—a scandalous one, no less.

The young ladies pinched their arms to confirm they weren’t dreaming, then quickly spoke up, afraid she might change her mind.

“Lady Diane was talking about her… her wedding night,” one ventured hesitantly.

“Her wedding night?” Claire echoed, amusement flickering in her eyes as she regarded the girls, who were at least ten years younger than herself. She chuckled softly. Why were they so eager to hear secondhand stories when they’d experience it themselves soon enough?

“Fine. I’ll humor you. Which wedding night, though?”

The girls squealed, hanging on her every word, as Claire began recounting her fifteenth wedding night. Unlike Amelia’s chaotic tales, Claire’s experiences were on an entirely different scale. Her expression remained poised, her tone calm, as she described the events without so much as a blush.

“No matter the country, men from the capital tend to be insufferably boastful. Most of them can’t back it up. The one I met, though, was… decent.”

Claire’s tale reached the part where her high heels slipped from her feet, falling to the floor, and she lamented the ruination of her favorite gown. But before she could continue, the festive atmosphere around them abruptly shifted.

Whoosh—

The grand hall fell silent as the lights suddenly went out. The flickering glow of decorative candles cast eerie shadows on the walls.

“Your Majesty, this way!”

The imperial knights sprang into action, surrounding the emperor with their gleaming swords. Their urgency was overkill; the lights flickered back on almost immediately.

“My apologies,” Claire said, rising gracefully. “I’ll have to finish the story another time.”

Her instincts were sharp, though. Sending a trusted servant to investigate, she soon learned that the incident was no mere accident.

“An Arretiste operative targeting the Harmonia necklace?” she murmured, her brow furrowing.

“And Lady Amelia?” she pressed her servant.

“Her location has been identified, my lady…”

“Well, where is she?”

“…In the imperial dungeons.”

“…Again?” Claire let out a dry sigh.

Without hesitation, she employed her rarely-used Arete and made her way to the royal dungeons. However, her approach was blocked by imperial guards wielding long spears. They were resolute in their orders, refusing her entry.

Claire stepped back, her expression as neutral as ever, but her clenched fists betrayed her irritation. Fine. She’d play her next card.

“Bruno,” she said to her attendant. “I’ll send you to the ducal manor. Speak to my father. Quickly.”

“Yes, Lady Claire.”

She cast a teleportation spell on her aide, watching him vanish before turning her gaze back toward the imposing dungeon gates.

Inside the dungeon, I sighed heavily, staring at the tiny window set into the door. My second time here. At least, thanks to Claire’s influence, this cell was more like a luxury suite.
Instead of straw, the floor was covered in cashmere rugs. The chair had a lumbar support cushion, and the bed came with a full set of plush bedding.

“Sure, the perks are nice, but I’d rather not keep coming back here. Even if it’s a private cell, it’s still a cell,” I muttered.

It had only been thirty minutes since my arrival, but a steady stream of noblewomen had followed, each wearing the same aggrieved expression.

“I didn’t touch the Harmonia necklace!”

“I swear I’ve never even seen such a thing!”

“How dare you accuse me of theft!”

The emperor was clearly furious about the theft, ordering anyone with even the slightest suspicion detained. The knights grumbled about the cells being full, their patience wearing thin.

As the noblewomen were ushered past, I scrutinized each face.
And then, I saw her.

Platinum-blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and a graceful yet commanding presence despite her simple attire.

“…!”

I scrambled to the door, flinging it open. (How? Let’s just say it was another perk of being associated with the Chyeld family.)

“Excuse me, sir knight,” I called. “You mentioned the cells are full, right?”

“Er, yes, but…”

“I’d feel guilty enjoying such privileges alone. I’ll share my cell.”
The knight hesitated, then sighed, nodding as he led the woman into my premium accommodations.

[Vanessa Maybrante.]

Holy—! I’d found her. The heroine of this story. Finally! My excitement bubbled up, though I kept my expression neutral as I guided Vanessa inside.

Her jaw dropped as she surveyed the luxurious cell. “Damn, this place is incredible!”

“…What?”

“What kind of strings did you pull to get treatment like this?”
This wasn’t right. Something felt off.

“Miss Vanessa,” I ventured cautiously, “would you like a cookie?”

I offered her the plate of cookies the knights had smuggled in for me. Vanessa arched a brow, then snatched the plate with an exasperated sigh.

“Just hand me the whole thing.”

“Uh… excuse me?”

“Don’t pretend you’re starving. I barely got to eat at that damn banquet because I’m just a commoner.”

“A commoner? You’re a noble lady! And you’re being quite rude—”
“Shut it. Titles mean squat in the slammer.”

I gawked, utterly speechless, as Vanessa nonchalantly picked up a cookie, took a bite, then spit it out.

“Gross. What’s this crap?”

“…?!”

“Here, have it back,” she said with a smirk, flicking her chewed gum straight into my hair before stealing the entire plate of cookies.

This wasn’t the kind, shy, and compassionate heroine I’d read about. No, this woman cursed like a sailor and had the manners of a rogue.

“Y-you… What’s wrong with your personality?!” I finally burst out.