The Young Male Protagonist Who is Destined for Ruin Fell for Me - Chapter 74

The Chaield Duke’s estate had become a hive of activity, moving so quickly that even I couldn’t pretend not to notice. Unidentified informants were visiting Kyle’s office with increasing frequency.

“There’s even more tension now than when the Harmonia necklace went missing.”

It didn’t feel overdone, though. After all, no one understood better than I did that Keltman’s nobles had abandoned Kyle in his moment of need, washing their hands of him.

“It still makes me angry. What was it again? They said they’d help with the search only if I broke up with Kyle?”

According to Mr. Hild, the head butler, Kyle had been found barely conscious. He’d exhausted himself using Arete continuously to fend off Marabas’s magic. His strength and body heat were severely depleted, and he had collapsed, unable to stand, in that dangerous mountain terrain.

“It’s a miracle Kyle came back alive.”

I was just as eager as Kyle to make Gidima pay. As Claire had warned, if we didn’t deal with this decisively now, it would undoubtedly become a bigger issue later.

In Keltman, reports condemning Hail for its diplomatic missteps were making headlines. Meanwhile, Hail’s newspapers were emphasizing the escalating protests by Keltman miners over unpaid wages, framing the demonstrations as increasingly violent.

“Chaield must have had a hand in this.”

I could already picture how Kyle planned to secure an advantage. There were definitely ways I could help.

“Vanessa, how about a quiet outing for just the two of us?”

“Where are we going?”

“Now that we’ve returned, it’s only proper to inform those we’ve been associating with.”

“…I’ll fetch your cloak.”

Vanessa seemed to guess our destination without needing further explanation.

Newspapers were publishing article after article on the relations between the Hail Empire and Keltman, though the lack of fresh information meant the same stories were being rehashed over and over.

“If only we could land an exclusive scoop, it would elevate the paper’s standing overnight…”

Fringles Shartré of the Hail Times opened a window to clear his throbbing head. From the square below, a voice shouted, “Give us something new for once!”

Fringles didn’t want to churn out repetitive articles cobbled together from similar sources. However, there was an alarming lack of new information. Since most dealings between nations were kept confidential, bribing an insider for details—a common tactic—was out of the question. The other party was the powerful Chaield Ducal House, and a misstep could spell disaster. Not only would his dream of expanding overseas vanish, but the paper itself might cease to exist. Surviving such fallout would be a blessing.

Cornered, only one face came to mind.

Ann Smith—the very person who had catapulted the Hail Times to prominence during the Harmonia incident.

“Come to think of it, didn’t Ann mention she was traveling to Keltman? We probably won’t be able to reach her for a while.”

Fringles once again congratulated himself for hiring her on such a generous salary—it had been the best decision of his life. Her refined speech and gestures hinted at noble or wealthy origins, but her cloak seemed to issue a silent warning against probing further. Even her last letter had been a clear directive: “I plan to take a break from column work for the time being, so don’t contact me.”

“Whatever her background may be, if we could bring her back to the paper, even just once more…”

Fringles sat down and began drafting a desperate letter. He offered her triple her previous salary in exchange for insights on Keltman.

[Miss Ann, if anyone can turn ordinary material into extraordinary writing, it’s you.]

Just as he pondered how to close the letter, his secretary knocked.

“What is it?”

“Sir, there’s a visitor here to see you.”

Fringles, with no appointments scheduled for the day, resolved to quickly finish the letter. “Please convey my apologies and ask them to arrange another time.”

He resumed writing, but a chill suddenly ran down his spine. “Wait. Who is the visitor?”

“They said their name is Ann. Although it’s such a common name… Sir? Are you all right?”

Crash—

The ink bottle toppled over, spilling its contents across the desk. But Fringles didn’t care. His face lit up with joy, brighter than it had been in ages.

“Miss Ann, please come in. How’s the cake? If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve prepared something even better.”

“It’s delicious. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Thank me? I should be thanking you! I can’t tell you how glad I am that you came.”

Fringles’s naturally cheerful demeanor now radiated such warmth that he looked like someone who could forgive even the gravest of crimes.

“Did something good happen?”

Fringles was about to blurt out, “It’s because you’re here,” but he managed to restrain himself.

Perhaps Ann had simply dropped by casually, like visiting a friend after returning from a trip. If he overwhelmed her and received a firm rejection, like “I’m not writing,” it could ruin everything.

In moments like these, nostalgia was the best approach.

“Good news? Not quite. Surely you’re aware of the state of things these days. I’m just glad to see you after so long. It reminds me of the Harmonia necklace case.”

“It’s already been half a year since then.”

“Thanks to the exclusives you brought us back then, our paper experienced tremendous growth. You must’ve noticed on your way here.”

“You flatter me.”

“Flatter? Nonsense! On your way up, you must’ve passed some young women, no? Those ladies came here inspired by you, hoping to learn the craft.”

“…Really?”

“Absolutely. Lately, it’s become a trend among merchants to teach their daughters writing and economics. You’re practically a legend in Hail Empire journalism.”

Amel felt her cheeks grow warm and laughed awkwardly. Though Fringles had always overestimated her, this level of praise caught her off guard.

It seemed like the right time to get to the point.

“Sir, during my travels in Keltman, I came across a few things.”

To be precise, she had been at the heart of it all. But there was no way she would reveal everything.

“Things you saw and heard? The Hail Times would be thrilled to feature a travel column by you.”

“Oh, come now. You know I’m better at writing about this than that.”

“You mean…?”

Fringles Shartré, now in his fifties, felt his heart race as if he were a young entrepreneur starting his business all over again.

“If you can provide what I need.”

“Anything you ask for—supplies, resources, promises—whatever you need, consider it done.”

“With such generous support, I think I’ll focus and write a Keltman feature for you.”

“Re-really? For the Hail Times?”

When Amel nodded, Fringles clenched his fist and let out a triumphant cheer. The legend had returned.

A few days later, Vanessa placed a thick bundle wrapped in kraft paper on my desk.

“This is ready already?”

“It seems Fringles is eagerly awaiting your submission, my lady. Preparing all this material so quickly shows how much he values your work.”

“Well, I can imagine how frustrating it must be with no new information to work with.”

In my old life in Korea, whenever a major incident occurred, rumors and speculative posts would flood the internet in no time.

Although many of them were false, accessing information itself was rarely a challenge.

But here, the series of events surrounding the Hail Empire and Keltman were shrouded in secrecy.

“Looks like I’ll be glued to the papers for a while.”

I once read in a book that people tend to believe the first piece of information they encounter as the truth.

It made sense. In times like these, the quality of the information mattered, but so did the timing of its release.

“Keltman has no choice but to respond to whatever information Kyle decides to reveal.”

Gidima’s grave mistake in abandoning Kyle during his ordeal had turned out to be unexpectedly helpful.

My plan was to subtly hint at Keltman’s wrongdoings in my articles for the Hail Times, steering public opinion toward resentment against them.

The Chaield House wasn’t just the backbone of the royal family but also the economic lifeline of the Hail Empire. The number of people directly or indirectly employed by Chaield enterprises was immeasurable.

“People won’t stand by while a company that feeds their nation is mistreated by another country.”

I’d seen it happen often in Korea, too. When South Korea’s leading companies faced unfair treatment abroad, citizens rallied behind them, seeing them as symbols of national pride.

“Chaield deserves protection just as much.”

Leaking any damaging information about Chaield was out of the question. The fact that Gidima had practically wished for Kyle’s death was enough to give us the upper hand.

“Will you be writing now? Should I leave you alone?”

“No, not yet. I need to confirm something first.”

“Confirm something? You already have so much information on Keltman. What else is left to check?”

Vanessa had a point—the materials were more than sufficient, and the details were clear. But there’s wisdom in double-checking even a sturdy bridge before crossing it.

“Oh, are you finally going to use that gadget you bought in Tryha? Can I see? I’m curious if the sound quality is as good as they say. It was expensive, after all.”

I simply smiled. I already had the evidence I needed, so there was no rush.

What mattered now was…

“Not yet. First, I need to make sure the rat is still alive.”