The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 12.4

Rumors spread of the new emperor executing nobles daily and ruling the common people through fear.

Lyle felt a strange detachment as he heard this news. It was as if the Yernen he knew had been an illusion all along.

A messenger who arrived in the north recounted tales that Yernen had appointed the Marchioness of Marriage as the new head of the northern lands and might name Stephan as the commander of the conquest campaigns.

Stephan was left stunned by the news, unable to lift his head, while Lyle felt an intense revulsion. This was not just an insult to him but to all those who had suffered and clung to the hope of returning home.

In the end, however, it was Lyle who was named the supreme commander of the northern conquest. The reason, they said, was due to the petitions of nobles opposing Yernen’s growing influence.

News from the capital was slow to reach the distant north, filtered through countless mouths along the way. Lyle didn’t believe everything he heard, but he suspected there was truth in some of it.

Such as Yernen’s dislike for him.

The orders sent from the capital to him were as unreasonable as those given by the previous emperor, Harriett. Orders like subjugating all the heretical tribes who had insulted the Empire to unify the north.

It was absurd. Even after nearly a decade of war, such a feat had not been achieved.

But there was one difference: Yernen, unlike Harriett, ensured proper supplies and dispatched clerics without reservation. He sent reinforcements, including the margrave’s troops, bolstering Lyle’s forces.

Timely supplies, reinforcements, and direct communication with the central command shifted the tide of the war considerably.
Whether Yernen needed victories to cleanse his reputation of fratricide or to restore public trust eroded by his tyranny, Lyle couldn’t tell. But for Lyle, it was a beneficial arrangement.

For reasons unknown, Yernen’s erratic mercy allowed Lyle and his men to heal, to eat well, to wield quality weapons.
Thanks to this, Lyle managed to unify the northern continent in less than three years after Yernen’s ascension. Finally, after more than a decade in a hellish war, Lyle and his troops were ordered to return home.

And so, Lyle returned to the Empire he had longed for. But what awaited him was the news of Yernen’s death.

There was nothing about that death he could comprehend.

‘Why…?’

Lyle felt an overwhelming surge of disbelief and anger. It was as though he were reliving all the moments of betrayal he had faced before, only magnified a thousandfold. The realization that Portnum’s heir—the person he had unwittingly let into his heart—was, in fact, Yernen in disguise sent his mind into chaos.

The elegant manners, the confident speech, the poised demeanor that he had admired and fallen for… they were all Yernen’s. The revelation unraveled him, turning every moment he had spent in the last few years into something he questioned, something tainted by deceit.

How many times must I be deceived? How many times must I be played? he thought, his mind racing with accusations and doubts.
He felt a sickening sense of irony; even now, after everything, Yernen—alive and well—was manipulating him. The Emperor’s death had been a lie. The mourning, the guilt, the emptiness Lyle had endured—all of it seemed like a cruel jest played at his expense.

Yernen had never hidden who he was, Lyle realized bitterly. He had never disguised himself as someone else, never cloaked his true nature. Portnum’s heir had been Yernen all along. Lyle’s confusion and longing had been mocked by the one person who knew how deeply he could be cut.

His fingers dug into the arms of his chair, nails scraping wood as he struggled to breathe through the sudden rush of anger and betrayal.

But beneath the fury, there was something else, something that clenched at his heart with an iron grip: longing. A longing he had never managed to extinguish, not even when hatred and betrayal had fanned the flames of his pain.

The words Yernen had spoken, so flippantly delivered—about staying together, about moving in—played over in his mind. It sounded so absurd now, a taunt veiled in sincerity. And yet, even in the absurdity, Lyle could not deny the part of him that wanted to hold on, that wanted to believe this was real, that they could be together, even after everything.

I’m a fool, he thought, eyes darkening with a mix of sorrow and anger. A fool who could never truly let go.

The very person he should detest, the one who had robbed him of everything—he was still tethered to him by a bond he could not sever. And now, faced with Yernen’s true nature, Lyle was torn between confronting him and succumbing to the weakness that had defined him for far too long.

“Why?” he whispered, eyes stinging as he clenched his jaw. “Why now, after all this?”

The memories of laughter, shared glances, whispered confidences that felt so sincere now felt hollow. He wanted answers, explanations, something to make sense of the years spent in agony and hope.

What do you want from me, Yernen?

And beneath all the anger, beneath the betrayal, a silent truth gnawed at Lyle’s heart:
Why do I still want you?

The familiar sensation of betrayal felt after so long… it still hurt. It felt as though his heart was being shredded by a well-honed blade.

Portnum’s heir was definitely Yernen.

No one was better at crushing his heart than Yernen Helio. Thus, Lyle found himself overcome with an unbearable urge to kill as he looked down at Yernen, who slept as though nothing in the world could disturb him.

If he could snap that delicate neck, strangle him and cut off his breath so thoroughly that he wouldn’t come back, then maybe… maybe he could be free of this agonizing pain.

If that could happen, he would kill Yernen right this moment, and die with him if he had to. But damn it, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Yernen’s frail new body was so weak that even a slight application of pressure from Lyle could end his life. Knowing that, knowing he could end it so easily, he still couldn’t raise his hand to that slender neck.

So, all he could do was stand there, gazing down at Yernen. Finally, when Yernen’s long lashes trembled and lifted, revealing those sleep-laden dark eyes, Lyle found he couldn’t move a finger against him.

Like a well-trained dog unable to bare its fangs at its master.
He kept his distance from Yernen. He couldn’t kill him, but he also couldn’t just let things be.

Yernen, who had driven his life into the mud, deceived him, promised his future to another—almost as if he existed solely to wound him.

But just because he couldn’t touch Yernen didn’t mean he wouldn’t take action against others.

He immediately convened a military meeting and had Tenes Trizia demoted, sending him on a mission that would prevent him from even setting foot in the capital for years.

Every night, the image of Yernen and Tenes together played vividly in his mind, and dark thoughts surged like a flood. How many times had they been together, both in this life and the previous one, laughing at him behind his back?

When that vision haunted him, as if it were alive before his eyes, an unbearable rage, jealousy, and hatred boiled within Lyle.

And Yernen, as if to mock Lyle’s anger, fanned the flames.
It was the seventh day since Lyle had begun sneaking into Yernen’s room while he slept. For once, Yernen was awake, waiting for him instead of being asleep as usual.

And when Lyle saw Yernen looking up at him with open eyes, he felt—foolishly—a flicker of joy.

“Why aren’t you asleep? You’re always asleep at this hour.”
“Why did you send Marquis Trizia to the north?”

Of course, that brief joy was quickly buried in the mud.

“…Tenes Trizia?”

He had said he’d be relieved not to have someone pestering him every night when Trizia left, but now, he was saying it couldn’t happen?

His bl00d boiled. The searing rage and ugliness welled up inside him, making it hard to suppress the urge to kill. He felt like he could end Yernen at any moment.

So, Lyle fled from Yernen’s chambers and didn’t return to the Empress’s palace afterward. He knew that if he faced Yernen again, he might actually kill him.

It was only after he left the capital under the pretense of quelling a rebellion that he managed to regain his composure.
And as more time passed, when the dark mix of jealousy, rage, and resentment began to settle like muddy water, he realized… something was off. It was a feeling similar to the unease he had felt at fourteen, a deep-seated sense of wrongness.

It was also strange that Yurice’s return to the capital, after two years of roaming the empire, coincided precisely with Tenes’s reappearance by Yernen’s side.

Lyle couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew more than she let on, that she might hold the secrets surrounding Yernen’s death and the events that had directly impacted him.

Determined, Lyle made his way to Yurice Camellion’s tent. The space was meticulously organized, with stacks of documents and various magical tools neatly arranged. Yurice stood calmly, as if expecting his visit.

“Your Majesty.” She bowed her head in deference.

“Yurice, we need to talk.” Lyle’s voice was firm, but there was an unmistakable tremor underneath. “You were close to Yernen. You must know something about his death, and why he acted the way he did… Can you tell me?”

Yurice looked up at him, her eyes deep and unreadable, as though she could see through him and weigh his true intent. There was a mix of understanding and caution in her gaze.

“Your Majesty, if I share what I know… with what heart will you listen?” Her voice was quiet, yet each word struck like the edge of a blade.

Lyle didn’t answer. He only drew a shaky breath and waited, hoping she would continue.

It was even more suspicious that Yurice’s return to the capital, after years of wandering across the empire, coincided so neatly with Tenes beginning to orbit around Yernen again.

If that had been all, Lyle might not have gone so far as to summon Yurice to the East. But a piece of evidence lay before him that was too glaring to ignore.

A report sent by Russell, who had been assigned to keep watch over Yernen, revealed that Yurice had taken on a role assisting Yernen in managing state affairs. When had they become so close that she would choose to act as his aide?

As far as Lyle knew, the two hadn’t even crossed paths until Yurice’s return to the capital. Even if they had established some rapport after that, their newfound closeness made no sense at all.

A crooked smile played at Lyle’s lips.

It was certain now. Yurice was not who she appeared to be—she shared an intimate relationship with Yernen. And she undoubtedly knew the truth about Yernen that Lyle was still in the dark about.

Lyle pushed open the door to the tent.

The robed woman seated across from him rose upon seeing him, slowly pulling back her hood. Dark brown hair fell in soft waves, framing a youthful face with striking green eyes. And…
Ha.

The smile on Lyle’s face deepened.

“Yurice Camellion, I greet Your Majesty,” she said, voice steady.

“It must have been tiring to come all the way to the East,” Lyle said, extending a hand. Yurice, without a moment’s hesitation and with a gentle smile, took his hand.

“No, Your Majesty. If it is by your command, then it is only the duty of a loyal servant to go wherever you require,” she replied.

It seemed his decision had been the right one.

Despite the mask of a dutiful and kind subordinate, there was an undeniable hostility in Yurice’s eyes—something she could not hide. It was the look of someone who regarded him as an enemy for oppressing her liege.

The sight of it stirred a competitive fire within Lyle.

I will find out, he thought. Whatever had happened to Yernen, the tightly guarded secret everyone was so intent on keeping—he would uncover it all.