The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 10.7

“Your Majesty.”

“…”

At the entrance stood Eden, his face marked by deep distress.

“Hah.”

Yernen knew why Eden was there. He had been sending plea after plea for clemency for Marquis Petra, all of which Yernen had ignored.

“What touching brotherly love.”

Yernen’s voice dripped with mockery as he looked at Eden.

“I hear the marquess is pregnant?”

Eden flinched.

Despite sharing the same features, his reaction carried a gentle quality, unlike the defiance of Marquis Petra.

“I will exterminate the three generations of every family involved in the rebellion and strip their status down to commoners. However, considering your family’s contributions to the empire, I will grant a more lenient judgment.”

“…”

“If the marquess gives birth and the child is healthy, you will personally bring Eldin Petra before me.”

Having said what needed to be said, Yernen prepared to walk away, as if no further discussion was necessary.

“Your Majesty…”

Eden’s voice, drenched in despair, halted Yernen in his tracks.
“Do you have more to say?”

Yernen turned back, his brows furrowed.

“…I understand how severe the crimes committed by the head of my family are.”

After a long silence, Eden closed his eyes tightly, his voice trembling as he spoke.

“Therefore, when the heir is born, in return for the life spared, the Petra family will relinquish all rights to raise the child and surrender them to the imperial household.”

Handing over the heir as leverage…

It was not a bad proposition. In fact, it was so reasonable that Yernen almost couldn’t believe it came from Eden, who had tirelessly begged for Petra’s life. Then again, as the Pope, Eden had to consider the future of the empire.

The Petra family had produced popes for generations and would continue to do so.

It couldn’t be eradicated on a whim. But what if the heir, raised amidst anger and resentment, grew to be a threat? It would be a ticking time bomb for the future.

“So be it.”

With that, Yernen walked past Eden.

He spoke to the knights following him.

“To the tower.”

There was still one rebel left to punish.

Lizzie Merion was confined in the tower.

After Harriet’s death and Yernen’s ascent to the throne, his first desire had been to take her life. But circumstances had prevented him. The Duke of Merion, head of the Eastern nobles, had cleverly anticipated the shift in power and whisked Lizzie away to their estate before Yernen could act.

However, the rebellion was now over, and the Duke and his sons were dead. Nothing stood in Yernen’s way.

“…What is the meaning of this?”

Yernen’s brows furrowed slightly as he stepped into the prison. The knights exchanged glances, equally bewildered by the sight before them.

When he’d entered the tower earlier and seen several maids leaving, he’d dismissed it as trivial. But now, seeing it firsthand, he was taken a back.

Yernen’s gaze swept across the room.

The old, moss-covered stone walls of the prison were draped with red fabric, as if set for a wedding night chamber.

And in the center stood Lizzie Merion, clad in a white dress adorned with opulent jewelry. With a dreamy expression, as if caught in a fantasy, she spoke.

“I have lived for this day, Your Majesty.”

Yernen’s face twisted in a deep scowl. He had always thought Lizzie was unhinged, but he hadn’t imagined she was this far gone.

“Do you know how much it hurt when Father refused to let me go and come to you, no matter how many times I begged him? I always wanted to come to you…”

“What nonsense are you spouting?” Yernen’s voice cut through the air, sharp and menacing, as if demanding she stop. But Lizzie, unperturbed, continued to speak as if in a trance, ignoring his words.

“When I close my eyes, I can still see the day I first met Your Highness. I thought there could never be a child as adorable as you. And then, Your Highness slapped me. It’s strange, isn’t it? It should have upset me, but instead…”

Lizzie’s cheeks flushed pink.

“I still haven’t forgotten that day. I even wrote about it in my journal. Imperial Year 1005, July 8th. The day the garden was in full bloom. That day, I stayed up all night alone, thinking only of Your Highness until dawn broke. Your Highness… Ah…!”

Denver, unable to bear Lizzie’s encroaching steps toward Yernen, restrained her, twisting her arm. But Lizzie, unfazed by the pain, blinked and spoke with an almost ecstatic tone.

“And when Your Highness, who was crushed and shattered, rose to the throne—oh, how much I longed to see it! I pleaded with Father over and over… to let me witness Your Highness’s coronation… to let me see it…!”

Lizzie spoke on, her voice trembling with heightened emotions and breathlessness.

“But now, Your Highness stands before me. And soon, Your Highness will pierce my heart with a blade, won’t you? That would make our story… perfect.”

“…You’re insane.”

Yernen, his face dark with fury, spoke firmly and turned his gaze to Denver.

“Kill her.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Your Highness…?”

Just before the door closed, Lizzie’s dazed voice slipped through the gap.

Your Highness…! Don’t leave me! Your Highness…!

Her cries soon morphed into wild, defiant screams.

Yernen descended the tower, listening as her voice faded until it was no more.

Lizzie Merion’s face, moments ago, flickered in his memory. He had known she wasn’t sane, but not to this extent. A person who should have stayed locked away forever had come to stand as his fiancée, seeking the title of empress.

It was absurd, utterly so.

What struck him as even more absurd was that after ridding himself of the detestable Lizzie Merion, he didn’t feel any sense of relief. Instead, a strange heaviness settled over him.
There was no sense of closure.

The truth was, it wasn’t only Lizzie who made him feel this way. Each time he took a life, he felt the same bitter taste, a sense of lingering dissatisfaction.

At last, Yernen reached the end of the stairs and emerged from the tower.

He inhaled deeply, letting the musty scent of the old stone fade away as the crisp winter air filled his lungs.

He looked up at the sky. The snow, which had been falling steadily, now poured down so heavily that it was difficult to keep his eyes open. The streets were already covered, making each step a challenge.

Cough, cough.

After standing in the falling snow for a while, Yernen began to cough.

“Your Majesty.”

Concerned eyes met his, but the coughing fit would not cease. It felt as though his throat was being torn apart.

“Haah, haah.”

Yernen gasped for breath, weakened and staggering, until Tenes reached out to steady him. Through blurry eyes, Yernen looked up at Tenes, who wore an expression of deep worry as he glanced down at Yernen’s hands.

Following Tenes’s gaze, Yernen looked at his own hand.

“…Ha.”

It was already stained black, an unnatural color that seemed impossible to come from a human body.

Yernen wiped the bl00d with the handkerchief Tenes offered. The metallic tang of decay filled his nostrils, making him grimace. As he silently wiped away the bl00d, he bit down on his lip.

“…….”

It was cold. Unbearably so.

In the heart of this cruel season, Yernen lived each day without a moment’s reprieve from pain.

Burning agony coursed through his organs, driving him to cut down countless enemies, pretending all was well as he clawed for survival. Day after day…

He wanted to give up. But he knew he couldn’t. He mustn’t. He had to keep walking this path, enduring the excruciating torment as he slowly withered away.

He couldn’t die. Not until that person returned.

Lyle.

Yernen knew. Knew that Lyle was no longer the person he once knew. That now, Lyle only harbored hatred for him, living each day with thoughts of revenge.

He understood that this longing, this yearning, was one-sided.
But what choice do I have?

Just as Lyle survived each day, consumed by hatred and the thought of revenge, Yernen clung to that memory, holding on to endure.

Lyle, I…

But if he were honest, Yernen only wanted one thing.

I want to die.

“…You may go now.”

Yernen’s voice was bitter. Dwelling on the past was never pleasant, and Tenes seemed to share that sentiment. Unlike before, Tenes’s eyes were downcast and heavy.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

After seeing Tenes out, Yernen left the glasshouse.
Luckily, it seemed Lyle had not yet returned. Yernen slipped back into bed as if nothing had happened.

“Ugh…”

As soon as Yernen lay down, a sharp pain flared from his lower back, making him groan involuntarily. It felt as though something had slipped out of place, and the pain rushed through him mercilessly.

He hadn’t even been out for an hour, yet the price was this relentless ache. Even when he shared nights with another, it was always Yernen who bore the pain. The injustice of it all gnawed at him.

But the thought didn’t linger. The warmth of the bed enveloped him, and soon the exhaustion began to seep through his body.
Looks like today won’t be a normal day either, he mused faintly.

The complaint echoed in his mind, but it, too, began to fade. Yernen let himself surrender to the drowsiness that wrapped around him, slipping into the quiet embrace of sleep.