The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 1.9

Only a handful of people in the empire were allowed to address him so casually.

It was Cecil.

“I just arrived. The tour was delayed,” she said, entering the room with the Duke of Portnum and Leon beside her.

‘Delayed tour, right,’ Yernen thought cynically. Everyone present knew the true reason for their late arrival. The Duke had intentionally taken his time returning to spare his wife from the pain of seeing Yernen, who harbored nothing but disdain for her.

Cecil’s only son—Yernen—hated her.

The atmosphere in the room grew tense as Yernen remained silent, refusing to acknowledge them.
Leon, who was usually quiet, stepped forward to ease the tension. He offered Yernen a gift, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Brother, congratulations on your marriage,” Leon said.

“…Thanks,” Yernen replied, accepting the gift with a flat tone.

Yernen placed the gift on the table without opening it.

“…Aren’t you going to open it?”

“I’ll do it after everything’s done.”

“…Alright then,” the Duke of Portnum replied awkwardly. Meanwhile, Cecil stood by with an expression that was hard to read—somewhere between a smile and tears—her gaze fixed on Yernen.

Just then, an uneasy voice broke the silence.
“Um, excuse me…”
It was the chamberlain from the imperial palace, the one Yernen had been expecting.
“Your Grace, it’s time to proceed to the hall.”
“Understood.”

At that, Yernen finally rose to his feet.
“I suppose it’s time for me to go.”

“Yes… it seems so,” said the Duke, awkwardly patting Yernen’s shoulder. Yernen glanced briefly at his family before turning away.

They were people he wouldn’t see again. Not after today, not after the marriage, and certainly not during the “period of adjustment” that would follow. He still couldn’t forget the things Cecil had done to him before he died. The more she cared for him now, the more the bitterness festered.

It only hurt more to know that the person he once regarded as a mother—the one he loved most—had abandoned him for his son.
“Let’s go.”

With that, Yernen followed the chamberlain toward Lyle, who was waiting for him.

“What’s this? You’re that upset about marrying me?” Lyle teased, a playful gleam in his eye. The chamberlain looked shocked, as if he had just witnessed something inappropriate.

‘What’s with that look?’ Yernen thought, completely baffled.

“Not particularly,” Yernen replied curtly.
“Then why do you look so annoyed? Did someone upset you? Want me to kill them?” Lyle whispered close to Yernen’s ear as he leaned in, pretending to fix a loose thread on his clothing.

“Kill them?” Yernen replied dryly. “Do you fancy yourself a tyrant?”

“If that’s what you want, consider it a wedding gift,” Lyle said with a smirk, his lightheartedness as infuriating as ever.

“How many people have you teased like this?”

Yernen shot back, glaring at him with annoyance. But something about Lyle’s reaction seemed off.

“Teased, you say?”

The playful look on Lyle’s face faded.
“Who knows?”

“Your Majesty, it’s time to proceed,” the chamberlain interjected.

Yernen broke his gaze from Lyle and focused on the path ahead.

‘What was that about?’

He couldn’t quite place it, but it seemed like even the guards and attendants were giving Lyle strange looks, as if they had witnessed something unusual. Yernen found it puzzling. Lyle was acting no differently than usual—so why the odd reactions? Perhaps they were all imagining things.

But that wasn’t important. The wedding was.
With a composed yet slightly anxious step, Yernen entered the grand hall.

Cheers erupted around him.

The massive hall, with its towering ceilings and walls of white marble, gleamed brightly. Today, it was adorned with soft silks and pink and white flowers, reserved only for the emperor’s wedding—the most sacred and prestigious venue in the Helio Empire, a place fit for the ruler of the largest and most powerful nation on the continent.

‘My father always said he wanted me to marry Lyle here,’ Yernen thought as he walked along the pristine carpet.

He remembered his family—his kind mother and the father who once promised him the world. It was his parents who had arranged for him to be with Lyle from a young age. His father had always envisioned Yernen’s wedding taking place in this grand temple, with his mother quietly supporting the idea.

What would they think if they could see this day?
‘Pointless thoughts,’ Yernen reminded himself.
He had mourned them enough. Missing the dead would not bring them back.

“Lyle,” Yernen called out quietly.

“Yes?” Lyle responded, turning toward him.
Yernen lay back on the bed, exhausted, letting the chaos of the day sink in. His body felt like it had been through a war, and he could barely lift a finger.

The expression on his nanny’s face was one of deep concern, as if her forehead could write out, “Poor, fragile young master, too weak to even complete his wedding ceremony properly.” She gave him a sympathetic look, clearly worried.
But there was nothing Yernen could do. He was utterly drained.

“I’ll bring you some tea, my dear. Just wait a moment.”

“Make it sweet,” Yernen replied.

“Of course!” she said, with a comforting smile.
As soon as she left, Yernen collapsed onto the bed, not caring about the fine linens or the ceremonial robes that were now crumpled beneath him. The bed had been meticulously prepared for the wedding night, but Yernen couldn’t muster the strength to care. The last thing on his mind was maintaining appearances.

His body was sore, his mind a blur of thoughts, and the day had finally taken its toll.

Just moments earlier, Yernen had stood before the altar, knowing full well that the man he was marrying had no idea who he really was. And yet, the truth was locked within Yernen’s heart.

“…I’m sorry,” he whispered, but his words were swallowed by the noise of the crowd.
“Hm? What was that?” Lyle asked, turning toward him, but Yernen quickly brushed it off.

“…Nothing.”

In truth, Yernen felt a deep sense of guilt toward Lyle, guilt that would surprise anyone who truly knew him. Selfish as Yernen had always been, it would have shocked people to know he carried such a heavy burden of remorse for Lyle.

He felt guilty for not manifesting properly as an Omega and causing their engagement to break. Guilty for his ignorance about what had happened to Lyle’s family and lands. Guilty for not being able to protect him. Guilty for forcing him into this engagement with the Duke of Portnum.

Even more, Yernen felt guilty for trapping Lyle with a selfish marriage contract, preventing him from being with someone else, and for his own possessive love.

Yet, Yernen would never apologize out loud. He hadn’t done so before and had no intention of ever doing so again. This silent apology was the first and last of its kind.

“I feel like I missed something important,” Lyle remarked in his usual lazy tone.

‘Annoying idiot,’ Yernen thought, irritated. Lyle probably heard him just fine but was toying with him, trying to make him say it again.

“Look ahead. The ceremony is about to start,” Yernen said, trying to avoid further conversation.

Lyle turned back toward the front, and Yernen followed his gaze. He could see the familiar face of the young pope standing on the raised
platform. The wedding ceremony was beginning.

Cheers erupted as the ceremony ended. The grandeur of it all, the towering halls, the ornate decorations—everything had gone perfectly. But Yernen, now back in the Empress’s quarters, was utterly spent.

“Those people have endless energy,” Yernen muttered, referring to the cheering crowd and the tireless officials. He felt utterly drained as he finally arrived in the Empress’s chambers.
His body ached, his mind felt sluggish, and all he wanted to do was rest.

Even though Yernen’s mind retained the memories of over twenty years, sharp and intact, his body wasn’t as fortunate. After all, it was a body that had spent eighteen years in a coma. Despite the best efforts to maintain it with holy power, it was still frail compared to others his age. His muscles, stubbornly resistant to growth, complained with fatigue after even minimal exertion.

Though he could manage light movements indoors, anything beyond that exhausted him. Just a few days ago, after succumbing to Lyle’s persuasion to go on a secret outing, Yernen had been bedridden the next day, struck by a severe bout of illness.