The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 1.7

Yernen was just about to lose his temper when Lyle, noticing the brewing storm, quickly handed him something.

“Here, put this on.”

“…What is this?” Yernen asked, frowning deeply as he looked at the worn-out clothes Lyle had given him. They looked like something a commoner would wear, faded and threadbare.

“We’re going on a little undercover adventure before the wedding.”

Finally, Yernen took a good look at Lyle’s appearance. He seemed a bit more disheveled than usual—clearly, this outing had been planned ahead.

‘He’s really serious about this,’ Yernen thought.
For a moment, Yernen debated whether or not to accept the proposal, but ultimately, curiosity got the better of him.

‘Well, it’s been a while… I’m curious about how things have changed.’

It had been five years since he had last seen the miserable state of the people with his own eyes. Since then, he had been too preoccupied to check again.

Maybe… just once, it wouldn’t hurt to see for himself.

“Fine. If you insist, I’ll humor you this time. But remember, this is the last. Don’t come looking for me again,” Yernen said, his voice as cold as ice as he snatched the clothes from Lyle.
Lyle, struggling to find the right words, finally snapped his fingers as though struck by inspiration.

“You look like a kid.”

“What?!” Yernen shot him a furious glare, his eyes narrowing.

“Aye, don’t hit me, Your Grace,” Lyle whined, feigning pain even though Yernen hadn’t laid a hand on him.

‘This madman…’ Yernen thought to himself, resisting the urge to lash out.

Lyle, however, just grinned annoyingly and continued, “But seriously, you’re so short, it feels like I’m hanging out with a little kid.”
“Maybe the problem is that everyone around you is unnaturally tall,” Yernen retorted, his tone sharp.

The absurdity of it made Yernen shake his head.
‘How many people are actually taller than him anyway?’

Despite the fact that Yernen’s body hadn’t received proper nourishment during its development, and as an omega, his stature was naturally on the smaller side, he still carried the bloodline of the imperial family, known for their tall and graceful physiques. Even so, Yernen’s current height was modest, to say the least.

The fact that Lyle had always been exceptionally tall didn’t help matters. In their final days together, there hadn’t been such a stark difference in height, but now, Yernen had to crane his neck just to look him in the eye, which only fueled his frustration.

“I’ll grow taller… eventually.”

“Hmmm, but you’re an adult now, aren’t you?”

‘Why is he being so annoying today?’

“People can still grow after reaching adulthood!” Yernen snapped back.

“But you’re an omega, right? Male omegas usually stop growing around 18,” Lyle said casually, resting his hand on Yernen’s hood, which Yernen promptly knocked away in irritation.

“Alright, alright, let’s settle this. Today, we’ll pretend to be brothers.”

Yernen gave him a skeptical look.

“We don’t even look alike.”

“Well, not all siblings look the same, do they? You don’t look anything like Leon, for instance.”

“What nonsense are you talking about?” Yernen huffed.

Of course he didn’t look like Leon—Leon was from a distant branch of the family, taken in when Cecile could no longer bear children. They weren’t blood-related, so it was only natural they wouldn’t resemble each other.

“Obviously, we don’t look alike because we have different parents,” Yernen said bluntly.

“Exactly! That’s the point. So, today, just call me ‘brother,’” Lyle teased.

“Your Majesty,” Yernen said, his tone shifting unexpectedly formal.

Lyle, caught off guard by the sudden use of a title Yernen had never used before, raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

“Have you lost your mind?” Yernen finished, covering his face with his hand to hide a grin that threatened to break through.

“You’re just my hired bodyguard today,” Yernen declared.

Lyle couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. It was the response he had half-expected but still found amusing.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go then, Your Grace,” Lyle said with a grin, falling into step behind Yernen, who strutted out of the room like a proud cat with his chin held high. As Lyle followed, he couldn’t help but think how much Yernen resembled someone else he used to know.

“Master, come this way! We’ve got the freshest seafood from the Northern Sea!”

“Try our delicacies here, straight from the coast!”

The bustling market was alive with vendors calling out, each one vying for Yernen’s attention. Even in the plain, worn clothes meant to disguise him, it was obvious to any seasoned merchant that Yernen wasn’t an ordinary customer. His aura of nobility couldn’t be hidden by mere rags, and the vendors eagerly tried to attract the attention of what they believed to be a noble out on a whim.

And behind him was his “bodyguard,” Lyle, whose appearance only reinforced their assumptions. Most of the shrewder merchants were already guessing that Yernen was likely a noble omega—an even rarer sight than an alpha.

Yernen’s upbringing as a cherished child of the empire and now, as the only omega with the bloodline to carry on the imperial legacy, radiated a certain air that was impossible to ignore.

Lyle, following close behind, couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene. Though he, too, had been raised as the only heir to the North and was now the emperor, it seemed that Yernen was still the one drawing all the attention.

‘I should’ve made him wear a mask,’ Lyle thought to himself, realizing that this outing wasn’t going according to plan.

“This isn’t quite how I imagined it,” he muttered under his breath, annoyed by how closely this mirrored another memory.

Grabbing Yernen by the wrist, Lyle steered him away from the crowd. A flicker of frustration passed over him.

‘He’s not the same person,’ Lyle reminded himself.

Still, it was unsettling just how similar the reactions were.

Unable to pinpoint whether it was anger or something else coursing through him, Lyle clenched his fists, trying to shake off the feeling.

“What is this place?” Yernen asked, his upper lip slightly curling in displeasure.

They could have easily followed one of the eager vendors earlier, leading them to a restaurant with a proper meal. But instead, Lyle had pulled Yernen through winding alleys into this shabby, rundown establishment, seating him at a neglected corner table.

The food before them was meager at best.
On the table sat a plate of mashed boiled potatoes with a sprinkle of salt, coarse black bread, and a watery vegetable soup with a few overcooked carrots and bits of wilted greens.
“What do you think it is? It’s food. You wanted to see how the people live, right?

Well, this is what the poorest of them eat,” Lyle replied, his tone casual as he observed Yernen’s reaction, hiding his calculating gaze behind a mask of ease.

“This is what the poorest eat?” Yernen asked, still looking somewhat skeptical. Lyle watched him closely, curious about what his response would be.

“Yes, exactly,” Lyle confirmed.

To Lyle’s surprise, Yernen’s reply was something he didn’t expect.

“…I see,” Yernen muttered, as if reflecting on something.

For Yernen, this was a profound realization.
‘Even the poorest can eat this much?’
Relieved, Yernen took a spoonful of the thin vegetable soup. Despite its bland appearance, it was surprisingly seasoned with salt and had a decent texture.

Next, Yernen picked up the rough bread. Though it was hard, soaking it in the soup would soften it enough to eat. It was comforting to know that even the poorest still had access to bread.
At least this meal would get someone through the day.

“Do they eat just once a day like this?” Yernen asked.

“…They usually manage two meals,” Lyle replied.
‘Two meals a day,’ Yernen thought, his eyes growing redder despite being in Lyle’s presence. He lowered his head and quickly stuffed a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth to distract himself.

‘I guess my choices weren’t wrong after all,’ Yernen thought, feeling an unexpected sense of validation for his efforts over the years.
Caught up in his emotions, Yernen failed to notice the cold, watchful gaze following his every move.

“How did it go today?”

“He wasn’t too happy,” Lyle chuckled softly.
“I thought you’d be kicked out for sure, but it seems you managed to stay,” his cousin and knight, Balen, commented with a grin as Lyle handed him his coat, his voice thoughtful.
“I still don’t quite understand,” Lyle murmured, reflecting on his encounters with Yernen.

“What do you think, Steffin?”

“About the prince?” Steffin responded thoughtfully.

“Yeah, what’s your take?”

“Well…” Steffin paused for a moment before giving his thoughts. “At first, I thought he might be nobility, maybe even royalty. But after today, I wonder if he could be a fallen noble.”

“That’s a good guess. I’m thinking along the same lines,” Lyle nodded.

Lyle had made a habit of visiting Yernen under various pretexts—breakfast, tea, or simply observing. Each visit allowed him to study Yernen’s behavior more closely, and each time, Yernen presented himself with impeccable grace.
‘His etiquette was so flawless, it almost seemed obsessive,’ Lyle thought. Yernen’s manners were so refined that he appeared to be the very embodiment of nobility, even surpassing his mother, Cecile, in certain aspects.

Everything about Yernen’s behavior suggested he was from the central regions, possibly the capital, given the perfect adherence to the customs of the nobility there.

It seemed obvious to Lyle and his men that Yernen must have been from a noble family or perhaps even royalty.