The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 10.5

“Display the heads of the dead at the city gates,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the tension. “Let these idiots, blinking like sheep, see that sight and brand into their slow minds who deserves their loyalty.”

Sooner or later, Yernen would make them all understand. He would show them that existence could be worse than the depths of hell.

Yernen pressed himself into a tight ball, chest heaving with the erratic rhythm of a heart on the verge of bursting.

“Is he not here?”

A voice reached his ears.

“No, sir. We haven’t found him.”

“Damn it. Where could that rat have scurried off to?” The speaker’s voice was sharp with frustration.

They were close—close enough that even the smallest sound would give him away. Yernen clung to the hope that they would leave without discovering his hiding spot.

Until now, he had never had a day where he wasn’t found. The odds of avoiding capture today were slim. Yet, he wished desperately, more than ever, that today would be different.

“Looks like he’s not here. Let’s move on.”

“Should we?”

Yernen let out a silent sigh of relief.

The men hadn’t spotted him, and their murmured conversation turned toward searching elsewhere. Was it luck? If they left now, they wouldn’t come back here for a while. A glimmer of relief softened the tension that had gripped his face.

“You thought it’d be that easy, didn’t you?”

“…?!”

The voice cut through the air as a hand lunged through the thicket, fingers clawing into his hair and yanking him out of his hiding spot.

“Agh…!”

The scalp-tearing pain seared through him, yet his assailant showed no sign of releasing their iron grip.

“Let go!”

It was as good as over. Resistance flared in him as he struggled, only to be met with the cold, disdainful eyes of Marquis Lecruzet, whose sneer dripped with scorn as he gazed down at his prey.

With a forceful tug, the marquis pulled him up, his other hand brushing near Yernen’s right ear.

“Hngh…!”

The touch left a burning trace, as though his skin blistered from fire, and pain lashed through his senses.

“You thought you’d escape again, didn’t you? After so many times. I had to make sure, and sure enough, here you are.”
The marquis’s grip didn’t falter as he hauled Yernen along, dragging him out of the forest, branches scratching cruelly against his skin.

“Ugh…! Can’t you let go?!”

Yernen’s head hung low as he was pulled from the underbrush, sharp leaves slicing his face and leaving stinging trails.
The muffled voices that had echoed from afar grew louder until they enveloped him. Just as they came into focus, Marquis Lecruzet hurled him into their midst.

“Ugh!”

Pain jolted through his left shoulder as he collided with the ground. Before he could even groan, a hand gripped his chin, wrenching his face up.

“It truly is tiresome, Your Highness, to see you flee day after day.”

It was Marquis Petra, holding an orb that shimmered with a recording glow. He was about to film again. The realization clawed at Yernen’s insides, a bitter dread.

Who knew how far that recording had spread, or if it had reached those who might recognize him?

The thought alone made his bl00d drain away, leaving cold emptiness in its wake. Yernen gritted his teeth, trying to knock away Petra’s hand, but his wrists were quickly pinned. Black eyes, brimming with rage, seared through Petra with murderous intent.

“So I’ve wondered what it would take to make Your Highness stop running.”

Petra’s mocking smile didn’t waver. Instead, he expertly tied Yernen’s hands, securing them tightly.

“No matter how many times we treat you worse than an animal, bind you, and punish you, nothing seems to get through. I wonder what sort of discipline will make you understand.”

Laughter bubbled up around them, eyes glinting with cruel anticipation for what would come next.

“…”

His jaw quivered. Laughter was always the prelude to horrors yet to unfold. Forcing down the tremor in his voice, Yernen dared to ask:
“What are you planning?”

The voice betrayed a fear that could not be hidden.

“Well, we’ll see.”

Marquis Petra’s lips curled into a dark smile as he grabbed a fistful of Yernen’s hair. Without a hint of hesitation, he unsheathed a dagger and sliced through the golden waves as if playing with a doll.

“If your sight’s going to be obstructed, let’s take care of this useless hair.”

“…!”

Thick, ashen-blonde locks fell in a disheveled heap on the ground. Yernen’s eyes widened with shock, disbelief etched into their depths.

“Ugh…”

Tears threatened to spill from eyes that soon crumpled and turned red.

Why did it hurt so much? He’d always thought of that hair as a nuisance, even joked he would cut it himself if only he had the chance. But now, stripped of it forcibly, it felt like a part of him had been wrenched away.

Petra had no regard for Yernen’s turmoil. He grabbed the slender, pale arm and dragged him along.

“Nngh…! What are you doing?!”

Panic flared as Yernen realized they were moving in an unfamiliar direction, one that led not to the cabin but away from it. It was the path to the lake.

“…!”

The shoreline came into view, and fear widened Yernen’s eyes. He knew what was coming. He knew Petra’s intentions. The marquis meant to throw him into the lake.

As a child, Yernen had nearly drowned in a wide river, leaving him terrified of deep, murky waters ever since. Unless he was out of his mind, he couldn’t even approach a lake without shuddering.

“Don’t…!”

But no matter how he struggled, Petra’s iron grip held fast. Yernen’s body was thrust forward, and he crashed into the freezing depths.

Splash.

The cold bit through him as he sank, eyes wide with shock, bubbles of air escaping in erratic bursts as he failed to hold his breath.

“Haa—!”

Even as he thrashed to free his bound hands, something slimy brushed against his ankle.

“…!”

And then it coiled, tightening its hold, dragging him deeper into the dark.

“Ah!”

Yernen jolted awake, hands clawing at his ankle with a face drained of all color.

Nothing. There was nothing there.

Haah, haah.

His pulse drummed loud and fast in his ears, breath labored, sweat beading across his brow.

“Damn it.”

He muttered under his breath.

Nightmares of the days spent in that cabin were not uncommon, but this one had been particularly vivid. Of course, it had to be the memory of that day—the one that haunted him the most.
It was no mystery why that night’s dreams had returned. He’d heard news just hours before that recordings from those terrible days had surfaced again, captured by those infernal memory orbs.

“Damn…”

The knights had pledged to find and destroy every last one, seeing their prince unable to move, paralyzed by a mix of fury and fear. Yet even with such reassurances, peace was fleeting.
How many people had seen it? He couldn’t tell.

But he had little time to dwell on it. The numbing pain that had dulled during sleep came roaring back, clawing at his insides, and Yernen’s body curled in on itself, trembling on the soft bed.

Eventually, a familiar presence entered. Tenes appeared, carrying a small paper packet and a cup. With practiced care, he lifted Yernen and slipped a pill between his lips.

“Yuris brought this medicine just now.”

Without hesitation, Tenes took a sip from the cup to show it was safe before offering it to Yernen. He parted his lips, swallowing the liquid that trailed with bitter warmth, the alcohol scraping harshly down his throat.

“Ugh…!”

His body convulsed as the sharp drink met an empty stomach. It had become a necessary evil; without the harsh liquor, the medicine’s effect would be too weak.

Tenes set Yernen back on the bed and withdrew.

Haah, haah.

Breathing hard, Yernen pressed his trembling hand to his brow, feeling the familiar numbness spread.

“Damn.”

It wasn’t the poison but the alcohol that made his organs feel as if they were decaying from the inside out.

It hadn’t always been this way. When he’d first returned from the island of captivity, he had been weak but stable. Proper nourishment and medical attention had done some good, and Yuris’s specially crafted medicine had brought hope.

She had been relentless in her pursuit of an antidote, achieving a partial success that showed promise. But repeated assassination attempts had poisoned him further, the toxins reacting with the monstrous bl00d in unexpected ways, degrading his health to its current fragile state.