The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 00

The cold wind brushed against the tip of his nose. It was the air of his homeland, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Taking in that familiar scent, Lyle stepped foot on the land of Beltimore, the place he had longed for.

The branches, stripped of all their leaves, and the frozen ground—everything looked just as it had on the day he left this land for the last time.

‘Has it been 12 years?’

“Wow!”

No, there was one thing that had changed in that time. The sound of children’s laughter could now be heard again. Despite the biting winter, the territory was lively.

A small market had opened in the village, and children ran around joyfully.
Lyle watched the scene with aching eyes. The last time he had seen this place, such liveliness was unimaginable.

His gaze followed the children as they ran, eventually landing on someone.
It was a bard.

“… Even in this season, there are bards around?”
“Yes, indeed,” answered his lieutenant, Stephan, who was walking beside him.

Lyle signaled his army to stop and followed the children, accompanied by a few others. The kids were singing along with the bard, as if they had done it countless times before.

“Oh, my poor homeland, Helio. Where is your future headed?”

“Hmm.”

Lyle knew exactly what kind of song the bard was singing. It was the same one that had echoed even as they passed through the border.
It was a song about the mad emperor, a man infamous for his indulgence in both men and women, who had coveted his sister-in-law, murdered his two older brothers, and ascended to the throne. After that, he slaughtered all the royals and high-ranking officials, ruling with tyranny.

Lyle let out a bitter smile.

“I wonder what our Emperor has been up to all this time.”

“Haha… yes, indeed,” Stephan responded cautiously, watching Lyle’s expression. He had every reason to be careful.

Yernen Helio, the current emperor of the empire and the sole holder of power—a tyrant.

Privately, Yernen was Stephan’s cousin. Publicly, he was the one who annihilated Lyle’s family, the Grand Duchy of Beltimore, and cast Lyle into war as a slave. He was also Lyle’s former fiancé—the very one Lyle now harbored deep hatred for.

Stephan, knowing how much Lyle despised Yernen Helio, couldn’t find the right words to say.

‘It’s not like I can just say, “I’m sorry,”’ Stephan thought, sighing softly.

Just then, someone came running toward them from the distance.

“Your Highness…!”

“William…?”

Lyle’s voice held disbelief, as if he were dreaming, when he recognized the man approaching him.

“Your Highness, I am overjoyed to see you alive once more,” William said.

“What’s this? William, you’ve become an old man now. Why come all this way in the cold instead of staying inside?” Lyle responded in his usual gruff manner, much like he had during his childhood.

A gentle smile spread across William’s wrinkled face.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Your Highness.”

“You haven’t either… I suppose you’re the head steward now?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

William had been the loyal servant who held Beltimore together during Lyle’s absence. His family had served Lyle’s household for generations, with the position of steward passed down hereditarily.

William’s father had died protecting Lyle’s father, the former Grand Duke, during the calamities that befell the family. Afterward, William took on the role of steward.
It was a painful story for both Lyle and William, but they put it behind them for now, grateful simply to reunite.

The man who had once been a strong middle-aged figure with black hair was now an old man, his hair turned white. Seeing him like this made Lyle feel the weight of the hardships William must have endured, bringing a bitter taste to his mouth.

“But what urgent matter brought you out here?”

“Well… the Duke of Albert has come.”

“The Duke of Albert…?” Lyle frowned in confusion.
“Why would the noble from the southern lands, known for being deathly allergic to cold, visit our humble northern territory?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but it’s likely related to His Majesty.”

William spoke carefully, his eyes scanning Lyle for a reaction.

Lyle said nothing and looked up at the sky.

“Yes, that seems likely.”

The sky was overcast, heavy with the promise of snow.

“It looks like snow is coming.”

“Oh! Grand Duke Beltimore, it’s been so long!” Duke Albert’s voice greeted Lyle the moment he stepped into the drawing room, a thick layer of false friendliness draped over his words.

“What’s the matter, Duke Albert?” Lyle responded coolly.

Duke Albert had been the one sneering when Lyle was sent off to war.

And before that, hadn’t he been the one to openly insult Lyle, complaining about a northern barbarian roaming the imperial palace? The proud Duke of the South was now bowing his head in front of him, and Lyle couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in the empire during his absence.

Lyle leaned back lazily on the sofa, sizing him up, trying to gauge his intentions.

“You look like you’ve fled in the middle of the night,” Lyle mocked.

Duke Albert trembled with barely suppressed anger.

‘That brat…!’

Had the situation not been so dire, Duke Albert would never have come crawling to this arrogant northerner. But he had no choice. He needed Lyle’s strength to take down the emperor.
Maintaining his facade, Duke Albert forced a smile and continued.

“It is wonderful that you have returned after all these years…”

“Get to the point.”

“…?”

“Just tell me why you’re here.”

“….”

‘To think I’d be treated this way by a northern barbarian…’ Albert struggled to hide his fury. This was not an opponent he wanted to deal with.
“The emperor has lost his mind. You may have already heard this, but we’re planning to remove the mad tyrant from the throne.”

“You mean Yernen.”

“Yes… Yernen Helio, indeed.”

“And what then?”

“What?”

“I’m asking, what happens after that? There are no other royals left to inherit the throne, are there?”

Duke Albert’s eyes widened in surprise, as if astonished that Lyle knew this fact.

“Duke, just because I’ve been away from the empire for a while doesn’t mean I’m a fool. There’s no one left among the royal family who can claim the throne. Aside from Yernen, the only other royal is Duchess Fortnum, and she swore a blood oath to never claim the throne.”

“…There’s still one more royal left, isn’t there?”

“Oh, are you talking about that child who hasn’t opened his eyes in 18 years? You want to put a near-corpse on the throne? Have you gone senile, Duke?”

Yernen’s tyrannical reputation had spread far and wide, but no one could depose him. The reason was simple: the imperial throne could only be inherited by those with divine blood, and Yernen had purged every member of the royal family after taking the throne.

Only his sister, who had renounced her claim, and his comatose nephew remained.

“No.”
Despite Lyle’s sarcasm, Duke Albert shook his head, signaling that there was more.

Realizing something, Lyle’s expression darkened.

“Duke… don’t tell me….”

“Yes, you should become emperor. You are, after all, engaged to Prince Fortnum!”

“You’re suggesting I… have a child with a kid who hasn’t even opened his eyes?

Are you insane?”

Duke Albert’s eyes flickered. He knew it was a desperate plan.

“…It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to become emperor! You’ve unified the entire northern territory under the empire—an achievement no other emperor has accomplished! You have every right to be emperor!”

Lyle grinned, his smile as serene and beautiful as the portrait of a god in a temple.

“I think I understand one thing now.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re plotting treason.”

With a swift motion, Lyle drew his sword.

“W-Wait!”

“Treason is punishable by death.”

In one fluid movement, the blade sliced through the air.

Thud.

Duke Albert’s head fell to the ground, severed from his body.

“Your Highness…!”

Stephan, who had been standing guard nearby, shouted in horror.

“What have you done?! You just killed a duke!”
“Stephan.”

“Wh-what?”

Stephan, still flustered and at a loss, yelled back in frustration.

Lyle calmly addressed him, despite the chaos.
“Do you think if I’d sided with Duke Albert, I could have killed Yernen and become emperor?”
“That… that’s….”

Stephan stammered, unable to find the words to answer.

“No. They would’ve broken off my engagement with Prince Fortnum, killed me, and then taken over the empire.”

“…What?”

Stephan was dumbfounded, unable to process the betrayal.

Lyle sighed, speaking to himself more than to anyone.

“Yernen Helio, I’m coming to see you.”

Stephan stood there, still trying to make sense of Lyle’s words. The shock of seeing a duke executed so swiftly had left him speechless, but Lyle continued, his tone calm and resolute.

“Once they killed me, they would have taken the empire for themselves,” Lyle said, still gripping his bloodied sword. “They never had any intention of making me emperor. The moment Yernen was out of the picture, they would have come for me next.”

“But… now what?” Stephan asked, still visibly shaken. “You’ve killed a duke… What will we do next?”

Lyle sheathed his sword and ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “Now, we go to the capital. It’s time to see our beloved emperor, Yernen.”

Stephan’s eyes widened. “The capital? But Your Highness, what if Yernen—”

“I know what he’s capable of,” Lyle cut him off. “He might try to eliminate me like he has done with so many others. But that doesn’t matter anymore. I need answers. I need to know why he did what he did.”

Stephan looked troubled. “Do you really think he’ll answer? After all this time?”

Lyle glanced out the window at the darkening sky.
“I don’t know. But I have to try. We leave before the snow falls.”

By the time Lyle and his men reached the capital, the city was in chaos. The walls of the capital were lined with the heads of nobles who had dared to oppose Yernen. It was clear that the rumors of the emperor’s madness were not exaggerated.
As Lyle and his army approached the gate, a soldier shouted, “Open the gates! The Grand Duke of Beltimore has returned after conquering the north!”

To Lyle’s surprise, the massive gate creaked open immediately.

Stephan glanced at Lyle. “They opened the gate so easily… It’s as if they’ve been expecting you.”
Lyle didn’t reply. He rode silently into the capital, taking in the desolation around him. The streets were quiet, and the people looked fearful, avoiding eye contact with the soldiers.
When they reached the palace, Lyle dismounted and walked toward the grand doors of the banquet hall, where Yernen was waiting.

As Lyle approached, he saw an old friend standing guard at the entrance. “Tenes?”

The man nodded. “It’s been a while, Your Grace.”
“Why are you guarding this door? Step aside,” Lyle demanded.

Tenes didn’t move. “I can’t let you in.”
Lyle sighed and drew his sword. “Do I need to kill you to get through?”

Tenes hesitated for a moment before stepping aside and opening the doors to the hall.
What greeted Lyle inside was a scene of carnage. Bodies of nobles and courtiers lay strewn across the room, the floor slick with blood. At the center of it all stood Yernen, covered in blood, a cold smile on his face.

Lyle’s heart clenched. “Yernen… what have you done?”

Yernen glanced over at him, his expression detached. “You’re finally here.”

“You’re insane,” Lyle muttered, his voice thick with disbelief. “You’ve slaughtered everyone… Why?”

Yernen ignored the question, casually wiping the blood from his hands, though it was pointless. His black clothes were already drenched in red. “What did you do with Albert?”

“I killed him,” Lyle replied, his voice flat.
Yernen smiled, as if pleased. “Good.”

Without warning, Yernen turned and plunged a knife into the chest of a noble who was still barely clinging to life. The man let out a final scream before collapsing.

Lyle’s face twisted with fury as he strode across the blood-soaked floor toward Yernen. “You’ve lost your mind. Yernen Helio, have you truly gone mad?”

Yernen’s lips curled into a bitter smile as he gazed at Lyle, his once sharp eyes now dull.

“Maybe I have.”

Lyle stopped just in front of him, the scent of blood and something faintly floral—oddly comforting—filling the air. It wasn’t pheromones; Yernen was a beta. But the smell stirred something in Lyle, a mixture of anger and something deeper, more conflicted.

“Tell me why,” Lyle demanded, his voice low. “Why did you kill them all? Why did you ruin everything? Why did you betray me?”

Yernen looked up at Lyle, his gaze distant. “Why, indeed?”

Suddenly, Yernen pulled out a blade and drove it into his own chest.

“Yernen!” Lyle rushed forward, catching Yernen as he collapsed, blood pouring from the wound.

“Damn it… No… Don’t die on me now,” Lyle muttered, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

Yernen smiled weakly, his voice barely a whisper. “I… missed you.”

“Yernen!”

With a final, rattling breath, Yernen closed his eyes, and Lyle could feel the life leaving his body. Around them, the nobles who had entered the hall stood in shocked silence.

“Yernen Helio is dead!” someone whispered.
“Did the Grand Duke kill the tyrant?” another voice called out.

Lyle didn’t answer. He simply held Yernen’s lifeless body in his arms, his face a mixture of anger, sorrow, and something close to regret.

The news spread quickly. The tyrant Yernen Helio was dead, killed by the Grand Duke of Beltimore. People rejoiced in the streets, celebrating the fall of the mad emperor.

Rumors began to swirl that Lyle would take the throne, as he was engaged to Prince Fortnum, the last surviving heir of the Helio bloodline. But there was hesitation among the people. The Helio family was said to carry the divine blood of the gods, and no one outside of that lineage had ever ruled the empire.

However, all doubts were silenced when, on the day of Lyle’s coronation, something miraculous happened. The young Prince Fortnum, who had never once opened his eyes in his 18 years of life, finally awoke.

“Yernen!”

Somewhere, far away, in a world beyond death, Yernen heard Lyle’s voice calling out to him, filled with grief and anguish.

He had heard that the last sense to fade upon death was hearing. Apparently, it was true.
‘Ironic,’ Yernen thought. ‘To die hearing the voice of the one I loved most.’

Tears welled up in his eyes, though he wasn’t sure if they were real. He hadn’t cried in years, no matter how much pain he’d endured. But now, at the end of everything, it seemed like he no longer needed to hold back.

But… wait. How could he cry if he was already dead?

Slowly, Yernen opened his eyes.

‘What…?’

He blinked, but his vision was blurry, and strange voices reached his ears.

“Young Master, you’re awake!”

“Young Master!”

“Someone, fetch the doctor!”

Yernen scowled at the annoying voices. He tried to push himself up but found his body weak and uncooperative, as though he were a newborn.
‘What’s wrong with my body?’

It took a moment, but as Yernen struggled to move, he finally caught sight of himself in a nearby mirror.

The reflection staring back at him was his own face—his, but younger, perhaps sixteen years old.
‘Did I… go back in time?’

But no, that didn’t make sense. When he had been this age, he had been imprisoned in a decrepit hut, not lying in a luxurious bed.

Where was he?

Then, realization hit him like a cold slap.
“Yernen!” someone screamed.

But it wasn’t his name they were calling. It was the name of someone else—his nephew.

Yernen Helio, the very boy who had never opened his eyes in 18 years.

‘What kind of madness is this?’ Yernen thought, before his vision went dark and he lost consciousness once again.