World's Best Protagonist [BL]-Chapter 111: Jealousy

The morning sunlight had just begun spilling through the tall, arched windows of Lewellyn Mansion, painting the grand hallways with golden light. Soft footsteps echoed faintly along the polished marble floors—hurried, yet light.

Noir’s curly, light pink hair flared behind him as he strode through the east wing, his pace quickening with every step.

He needed to be somewhere, so despite this, his first time in that place after two years, he did not waste time admiring the mansion and continued walking at a hurried pace.

The Lewellyn Dukedom was nothing short of magnificent, a place befitting nobility.

Towering ceilings held up by carved pillars, velvet drapes that whispered with every breeze, and chandeliers that caught the morning light like scattered stars.

But none of it mattered to Noir right now. He reached a heavy oaken door and didn’t bother knocking. He pushed it open.

"Etienne!" he called, voice echoing slightly through the quiet room.

He didn’t get the chance to take another step. Because, suddenly, something barreled into him—arms wrapped tightly around his waist, almost knocking the air from his lungs.

Noir staggered back a step, surprised. But he knew those arms, the trembling in them, the weight pressing against him, and the familiar scent of daffodils.

Etienne.

"Noir..." came the soft, cracked voice.

Noir’s heart twisted as he steadied them both. He took a step back to look, only to inhale sharply.

Etienne clung to him as though afraid he might vanish if he let go. He was barefoot, wearing a loosely tied robe that hung off one shoulder, revealing angry, purpling bruises along his collarbone and side. His cheekbone was discolored, and his lip bore a healing cut.

Noir swallowed hard. His fists clenched at his sides. He might not care if it was the others, but this was Etienne.

It was just as the servant had whispered—Etienne had been brought back bloodied and barely conscious. Noir’s expression turned grim after recalling something again.

Ever since Duke Eugene had rescued them and taken them to his territory, Noir hadn’t been allowed to see him.

The duke insisted on verifying Etienne’s identity before granting any interaction. It was because of his sense of duty, and because of the recent ’kidnapping’ of Noir, that he was being too strict and careful.

Noir, desperate to keep his own secret, had agreed. But he hadn’t expected the wait to feel so suffocating.

He gently grasped Etienne’s shoulders and pushed him back just enough to look into his face.

"What in the world happened to you?"

Etienne gave a faint smile, wincing as the cut on his lip pulled taut.

"The explosion. I wasn’t fast enough. After the place exploded, I tried to rescue a few remaining victims inside, but I was caught up in the collapse and, luckily, barely survived."

Noir eyed the maid standing by the corner. She was there before Noir entered, preparing Etienne’s breakfast. She appeared to be minding her business, but Noir knew she was listening to their conversation.

Guiding Etienne further inside the room after closing the door behind him, Noir caught the attention of the silent maid. His sharp gaze flicked on her, making the maid flinch.

"You can leave now. I will take it from here," he ordered calmly, without needing to raise his voice.

The maid hesitated for a bit, but after seeing the seriousness and strange sense of commanding authority in Noir, the maid bowed and hurriedly left. As soon as she was gone, Noir hastily turned to Etienne.

"You’re a healer," he hissed, voice low and furious. "Why didn’t you heal yourself? Use your ability on yourself now!"

Etienne sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, one hand covering his ribs. "Because you told me not to," he said simply. "If I suddenly recovered overnight, they’d start asking questions. I can if they weren’t checking on me every day, but since their master kept sending a doctor, I have to endure it."

Noir’s eyes narrowed, guilt surging up his throat. "Even these ones?" He gestured to the bruises. "Are you sure alright? Fuck, Eti, you’re covered in bruises. How long are you going to endure it? Just heal some parts!"

Etienne shrugged weakly.

"If I only healed part of it, I’d still have to pretend to be in pain. That’s not exactly something I’m good at. This was simpler."

"Etienne—"

"It’s fine." Etienne looked up, eyes a little too bright beneath the dim morning sun. "Stop treating me like a child or a fragile glass. I’m still a man, Noir. I can survive this."

Noir’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t like hearing that. He didn’t want to see Etienne enduring anything—not if he could help it. It wasn’t just because Etienne was his mother’s cure, but because he honestly sees him as a precious friend.

But even now, Etienne’s voice held that same steady resolve that had once soothed him, and that gentle demeanor.

He reached out, brushing his fingers against a small, discolored bruise just beneath Etienne’s collarbone, so faintly that it might’ve been a whisper of touch.

"I’m sorry you had to go through this," he muttered, but the concern in his voice hadn’t lessened.

Etienne only smiled faintly.

Noir gave a soft scoff, barely a breath of laughter, before lowering his gaze. "I could imagine the vice-captain tearing me into pieces if he sees you like this."

"The vice-captain? Why is that?" Etienne innocently blinked, genuinely confused.

Noir rejoiced inwardly at the thought of how clueless his friend was, and how amusing it would be to see the vice captain get utterly dismayed from that. Terrius had always been on his tail, glaring at him, observing him whenever he was messing with Etienne.

A beat passed between them, warm and familiar despite the bruises, the aches, and the unspoken weight hanging overhead. Then Etienne tilted his head, watching Noir with gentle curiosity.

"So," he began, quieter this time, "what’s the next step? And where are we? Do you know the master of this house, Noir?"

Noir opened his mouth to answer, but the door burst open before a single word left his lips.

The loud clatter of the handle slamming against the wall startled both of them, and Noir instinctively stood, turning toward the door with narrowed eyes.

There stood Duke Eugene Lewellyn, tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing in his dark formal coat. Behind him was the same maid who had been dismissed earlier, her head bowed in apology.

Noir’s eyes immediately darkened. He didn’t need to ask. It was obvious who had summoned the duke.

Eugene’s sharp eyes swept over the room, lingering a little too long on the robe slipping off Etienne’s shoulder, before settling on Noir.

"So this is where you went."

"I was just checking on Etienne," Noir replied coolly, folding his arms across his chest. "I can’t wait until you permit me. I can’t sleep properly until I see he’s fine."

Eugene didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his expression remained unreadable, his voice calm but cold.

"There’s something we need to talk about. Privately."

Noir frowned. "Can’t it wait?"

"It cannot."

The finality in the duke’s tone left no room for argument. He turned without waiting for Noir’s reply and began walking.

Noir sighed, shooting a sharp look at the maid before he turned to Etienne.

"I’ll be back," he said under his breath. He wanted to stay and explain things to Etienne, but he feared that if he refused to follow the duke, his request to keep his real identity hidden would not be honored.

Maybe it was high time he spoke with Duke Eugene about everything.

Etienne only nodded, pulling his robe tighter around himself as Noir followed the duke out of the room.

The walk to Eugene’s office was silent, the only sounds were their footsteps on the polished floors and the distant cry of birds in the morning air. The doors to the office creaked open, and Eugene stepped aside, allowing Noir in first.

Noir walked in like he owned the place.

Without hesitation, he sauntered toward the duke’s grand chair and sat in it like it was made for him. One leg crossed over the other, fingers lazily drumming the armrest. His light pink hair, slightly tousled from earlier, glowed against the backdrop of heavy drapes and mahogany shelves.

Eugene closed the door behind them, his brows arching slightly in visible amusement. "Comfortable, are we?"

"I am," Noir said, reclining. "But I’d be more comfortable if we skipped the dramatic pauses and got to the point. What did you want to speak to me about?"

Eugene approached the desk, but before answering, Noir brought up the subject again.

"I heard you send a doctor every day to check on Etienne. Thank you. But since you’re at it, make sure that the doctor heals him faster. We have something to do. We can’t afford to waste time lounging here."

The amusement vanished from Eugene’s face.

He halted by the desk. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he placed one hand on the edge of the desk... and the other beside Noir’s.

Noir blinked as Eugene leaned down.

The duke didn’t stop.

His arms braced on either side of the chair, hands gripping the armrests—caging Noir in, shadows cast across his face. His presence was suddenly suffocating, his gaze sharp and unreadable, voice dipping to a dark murmur.

"Who is he?"

Noir’s breath caught.

Eugene was close. Too close. Noir could smell faint traces of cedarwood and something colder—steel, perhaps, or the storm before rain. His voice was low, the kind of whisper that scraped against your skin.

"Why," Eugene asked, "are you so concerned about him, Your Highness?"

Noir stared at him, stunned for a heartbeat, then narrowed his eyes. "What’s with you?"

The duke didn’t move. "I am allowed to act like this after hearing that my intended ran through my halls, opening doors, and finding him in the presence of a naked man, am I not, Your Highness?"

Noir was stunned. Eugene already knew he was a man, and yet he was still referring to him as his intended!

Has he lost his mind?! Noir exclaimed inwardly.