The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 14.1

Lyle strode down the pristine marble hallway with an air of authority.

Some who passed him sent glances of admiration; others looked on in fear. Yet, he ignored every gaze, moving forward with purpose until he reached his destination.

The place where he halted was the Pope’s private office.
As Lyle stepped inside, he took in the chaotic scene with a leisurely sweep of his eyes. The office door had been torn off its hinges, and the interior was in shambles as though a thief had ransacked it.

His gaze moved from the chandelier to the desk, the low tea table, the unnecessary sculptures and tapestries on the walls, until it landed on Austen, who wore an expression of dismay.
One look at that face, and he knew.

“So, that rat managed to escape.”

Eden Petra had fled.

He’d suspected as much. It would have been stranger if that scheming man hadn’t prepared an escape plan in case things went awry.

There was likely some magical mechanism hidden in the secret passage. Something that would signal if an intruder breached it.
“A person who might know the Pope’s whereabouts is being held in the adjoining room,” someone informed him.

“Bring them in.”

Before the words had fully left his lips, an old priest was dragged forward to stand before him. The aged cleric glared at him with defiance, shouting as though spitting bl00d.

“Your Majesty…! How dare you! Even as the Emperor, you have no right to persecute the Papal State like this!”

But Lyle merely looked the priest up and down with a cold gaze.
The man was Jace Obelier, who had recently been appointed cardinal thanks to the Petra family’s influence. A close aide to the Pope himself.

“Where has Eden Petra gone?” Lyle asked.

“How dare you…! How dare you speak His Holiness’s name so lightly!”

Jace’s mustache, thin like a mouse’s tail, quivered in rage as he watched Lyle disregard his protest, speaking only what he wanted to say. But Lyle simply smirked at him.

“Why shouldn’t I speak Eden Petra’s name? The Papal State, the Pope—they are all servants of the Imperial House and exist to serve the Emperor.”

Jace’s face flushed with fury, and he opened his mouth to shout. To proclaim that the Papal State worshiped only the sacred bl00d of the royal lineage, not some brute like him.

But before any words could leave his mouth, a cold blade silenced him.

“…!”

“I only show patience for one person in this world. And that person isn’t you, Jace Obelier.”

Lyle slowly pressed the blade against Jace’s neck as he spoke. A thin trickle of crimson began to seep from the shallow cut.
“So if you wish to keep that insignificant life of yours, you’d best speak up. If not, there are plenty of others who will.”
Jace swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple moving as he barely managed to gulp.

Lyle’s eyes never wavered as he pressed the blade deeper and asked again.

“I’ll ask just once more. Where has Eden Petra gone?”

“His Holi… His Holiness has gone on a pilgrimage,” Jace stammered.

“Destination?”

“I-I was not told the exact location.”

Lyle let out a disbelieving laugh and withdrew the blade from Jace’s wrinkled throat.

“A pilgrimage? That unbelieving bastard?”

“…!”

Jace’s eyes widened in shock at the insult, staring at Lyle as if he’d heard the most outrageous thing in his life.

Austen, who had been observing the entire situation with caution, spoke up carefully.

“What would you like us to do?”

“A pilgrimage, he says….”

The notion was absurd. Clearly, Eden had fabricated a plausible excuse for his flight. It stood to reason that this foolish priest had no idea where Eden had truly gone.

But still, as someone so close to the Pope, Jace must know something—some clue. And he would make sure the man revealed it.
“Take him to the interrogation chamber.”

“W-What?!” Jace’s eyes shot up at Lyle, incredulous.

“T-This is torture! Your Majesty! Your Majes—!”

But before he could offer further resistance, Jace was hauled away, unable to fight back.

Ignoring the dragged-away priest, Lyle walked across the now bl00d-spattered carpet and dropped himself into Eden’s chair. He swiveled it around, leaning back to gaze out the window.
It was the view Eden had always seen.

Now seated there, unexpected sights unfolded. From the Pope’s office, one could see the entire Imperial Palace, including the prince’s palace where Yernenne had lived as a child, the Empress’s palace where he now resided, and even the lake at the palace’s northern end.

“……”

The feeling was… unbearable.

“Should I issue a warrant for his capture?” Austen’s voice, cautious and aware of his lord’s foul mood, broke the silence.

“A warrant, huh….”

Lyle tapped the armrest as he pondered, then made up his mind.

“Leave it for now.”

He rose from the chair and faced Austen.

“For now, find Eden Petra and bring him to me alive.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s missing a few limbs.”

“…Understood.”

Austen nodded solemnly.

“Tell Steffin to mobilize the troops stationed in the eastern territories and surround the Petra Marquisate.”

With that command, Lyle left the office. Outside, the Imperial steward awaited, having been summoned promptly. Lyle glanced at the steward as he walked past and asked, “Where is Yernenne?”

“Pardon? Y-Yernenne, Your Highness?”

The steward, who had been trailing Lyle and matching his pace, seemed startled by the unexpected question. It made sense—Lyle had never once spoken that name aloud before.

But the seasoned steward quickly composed himself and answered.

“Her Majesty the Empress is attending to state affairs, as far as I know.”

“……”

Lyle, who had been striding forward without pause, suddenly stopped.

“…At this hour?”

“Yes, Your Majesty….”

“I see.”

His intended destination shifted as Lyle set his sights on the Empress’s palace. And as he walked, he thought of Yernenne.

Before his departure, he had avoided any encounter with Yernenne as if it were the plague. If he acted any differently now, Yernenne would notice in an instant. The man was too perceptive, too proud. He would realize that something in Lyle had changed, and he would respond in a way only he could.

And so, Lyle knew he should avoid being seen. He needed to remain distant, to stay composed. But…

But it was impossible.

When he spotted Yernenne’s slim figure moving away from the Empress’s palace, Lyle found himself quickening his pace against his better judgment.

He knew he couldn’t get caught. He knew he should maintain his distance. But it didn’t matter.

Without realizing it, Lyle pulled the slight, fragile figure into his arms.

“I’m back.”

Yernenne.

“…Your Majesty.”

How absurd. Only now did Lyle understand why he’d been so helplessly enamored with the son of the Portnum family. Because he was Yernenne. And Lyle was a man destined to fall for Yernenne Helio, no matter the form he took.

No matter how he appeared.

The warmth of Yernenne’s body, wrapped in soft garments, radiated against him. He could feel the steady beat of a pulse, the light sound of breathing.

He was alive. This was Yernenne.

But as Lyle held him close, a cold realization sank in.
This was Yernenne, but not Yernenne. The soul was his, but the body was not.

The true Yernenne had suffered terribly before ending his own life. Even now, reborn, he couldn’t erase that memory, that pain.

If only Lyle hadn’t left for the Grand Duchy then, if only he had stayed by Yernenne’s side. Maybe none of this tragedy would have started.

Perhaps Yernenne could have grown up without knowing hunger, shame, or pain, with all his arrogant, difficult traits intact.
If only he could turn back time, if only he could erase the scars etched into Yernenne’s soul, Lyle felt he would do anything.

But he knew it was impossible. No magic could reverse the past.
He felt regret, sorrow… and a deep sense of guilt.

Even the fury that roared inside him offered no solace. Yernenne had already exacted vengeance, taking the lives of those who had wronged him. It was infuriating, but even that act was unmistakably Yernenne Helio.

Now, he understood why the Duke of Albert had been sent to the Grand Duchy. It was Yernenne’s way of offering him some form of comfort, should he ever learn the full truth. Of course, had he known everything then, he wouldn’t have spared those necks so easily.

But now, the last remaining rat would pay.

The thought clenched Lyle’s hands into fists.

“Urgh, what’s wrong with you!”

Startled, Yernenne pushed at Lyle’s suffocating embrace, and the emperor loosened his grip, suddenly aware. He leaned over Yernenne as if in jest, causing the other to startle and push him away, only to slump in exhaustion as his attempts failed.

“Lyle Beltimore, shouldn’t you be dealing with the rebels still? Why are you back so suddenly?”

The voice was sharp, filled with irritation—the voice he had longed to hear, unchanged.

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Idiot.”

The muttered curse barely hid a smile from Lyle’s lips.

“Where were you going?”

“None of your business.”

“Is that so?”

Ignoring the snappish response, Lyle held Yernenne tight and started walking again. Yernenne looked up at him, bewildered.
“…Are you crazy? Where are you taking me?”

“Where else? The Empress’s palace.”

“Why on earth would you go there? Your palace is to the left—go there and get lost.”

“Oh, you didn’t know? The Emperor’s quarters are under renovation. Which means the only bedroom available to me is yours. You’ll have to take me in.”

“What kind of nonsense are you talking about?”

Despite Yernenne’s protests, which bordered on disbelief, Lyle found even that rebellion endearing.

The hand that had been gently touching the corners of his eyes soon moved to Yernenne’s shoulder, shaking him softly.

“Yernenne, you need to change out of your clothes before sleeping.”

But no matter how much he shook him, Yernenne showed no signs of waking up.

Although spring was approaching, winter nights were still bone-chilling, and Yernenne was frail. The servants had wrapped him snugly in thick, white fur just to make the short trip from the study to the Empress’s chambers. The clothes he wore underneath were equally heavy.

It was an outfit suitable for being outdoors, but not for the warmth of an indoor room heated by a blazing fireplace. If left as he was, Yernenne would soon be drenched in sweat.
There was no other choice, was there? He would have to change Yernenne’s clothes himself.

Lyle reached out to start changing him but froze mid-motion.

“Damn it.”

The image sphere came to mind.

Before he had left for the East, undressing and dressing Yernenne had been simple tasks. But now, what used to be straightforward felt daunting. He couldn’t shake the thought that even this act might unsettle Yernenne.

Yet, after pondering for a long while, he could only conclude that there was no other option. He couldn’t just leave him like this.

In the end, Lyle carefully began to remove Yernenne’s outer garments. Thankfully, even as he shifted Yernenne’s body, the latter remained soundly asleep.

Once he had stripped Yernenne of his thick layers, Lyle reached for the nightclothes. But something caught his attention.

“Hm.”

Yernenne’s stomach seemed slightly more rounded than usual. His limbs looked as lean as ever, but the lower abdomen appeared soft and plump.

Lyle had helped dress and undress Yernenne many times, not only when Yernenne was a boy of fourteen and unable to manage it himself, but also more recently. He had seen Yernenne’s bare body countless times before, yet this was the first time he noticed anything like this. Even… the color of his n1pples seemed a shade darker.