The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 14.2
But he wasn’t entirely sure. It had been two months since he last saw Yernenne unclothed.
It must be my imagination, Lyle thought, dismissing the idea. He finished dressing Yernenne in the nightclothes and lay down beside him. Just as he was about to pull up the blanket, Yernenne, who had been sleeping deeply, moved and wrapped his arms around Lyle, pressing his face into his neck.
“Mm…”
The soft sound of his breathing tickled Lyle’s ear.
And with that, his heart started pounding foolishly.
“Hah. What an idiot,” he muttered self-deprecatingly, pulling Yernenne into a tighter embrace. He felt ridiculous worrying that his thundering heartbeat might wake Yernenne.
Holding Yernenne like this felt like stepping back into childhood, before everything changed. Back then, they would often fall asleep in each other’s arms.
Now, twenty years later, he was holding Yernenne again. Everything was different now, yet here they were.
Lyle hugged Yernenne tightly and fell into a deep sleep.
Golden lashes, dusted with a hint of gray, slowly lifted. The dark eyes beneath were still clouded with drowsiness. For the first time in what felt like ages, Yernenne hadn’t dreamt of nightmares but had slept peacefully.
His thoughts were sluggish, and Yernenne blinked slowly as he began to piece together his surroundings. And then, he realized whose arms he was nestled in.
“What the…!”
Startled, Yernenne quickly pushed Lyle away. But Lyle didn’t release him; instead, he pulled him closer.
“Ugh…!”
With his face pressed to Lyle’s chest, Yernenne recoiled at the solid presence beneath him and shifted his lower body away.
A low chuckle rumbled from above him.
“Awake?”
The voice was shamelessly nonchalant.
“Lyle Beltimore, take your hands off me.”
“No.”
Yernenne’s voice was sharp, biting, but Lyle seemed content to pretend he hadn’t heard, tightening his embrace and speaking in a relaxed tone.
“I’m hungry.”
“What?” Yernenne’s brow furrowed as he glared at Lyle, as if he’d just said something absurd.
“I rode for three days and nights without eating or drinking properly, only to find my Empress asleep, so I joined you.”
Before Yernenne could retort, Lyle reached out and pulled the cord beside the bed to summon the servants.
“You—”
Yernenne glared at him, annoyance etched deep into his features.
He still hadn’t solved the problem of his unexplained nausea that flared up whenever he was around food. If he were alone, he would shoo away the servants and climb into bed to avoid the worst of it. But things were different with Lyle. The man would follow him into the bathroom if need be, and he’d inevitably learn Yernenne’s condition.
But he couldn’t tell someone who hadn’t eaten or drunk in three days to starve, either.
Caught between his options, the servants arrived and set out a simple meal on a bed tray, explaining that the full breakfast would take a little longer to prepare.
Yernenne sat up, his expression still sour. He resigned himself to the idea of spending the morning hunched over a toilet.
But oddly, the sight of the food didn’t make him feel sick.
Why? he wondered. But before he could dwell on the thought, a sharp hunger consumed him—a hunger he hadn’t felt in weeks.
Without a second thought, Yernenne picked up one of the sandwiches on the tray and began to eat ravenously.
The aroma of the ciabatta, baked with rosemary and olives, was delightful. The lettuce, cheese, and even the bacon inside didn’t stir any revulsion.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to eat properly. All he knew was that he had to take advantage of this moment.
In no time, he devoured the sandwich prepared for him. Lyle, who had been holding Yernenne from behind, handed him his untouched sandwich while absently stroking his now softer belly.
Yernenne took the sandwich without protest, but as he took a bite, he glared up at Lyle, irritation simmering in his eyes.
“Why do you keep touching my stomach?”
“Just because… it’s cute. You’re eating well.”
Despite Yernenne’s sharp tone, Lyle only looked at him with a playful smile. And Yernenne regarded Lyle with an unreadable expression.
Since that day, Lyle seemed to act as if the past weeks of distance had never happened. He behaved as he used to, as if he was a smitten boy again, insisting on sharing meals and even sleeping at the Empress’s side whenever he could.
A week passed like that.
No matter how many times Yernenne pushed him away, Lyle clung to him, unfazed, refusing to let go.
Eventually, Yernenne found himself too exhausted to keep up the resistance and began to accept it, letting everything rest for now.
Ironically, he found that he liked it.
In the quiet of his chamber, with Lyle away for a brief moment, Yernenne opened the window.
A breeze flowed gently into the room.
Between seasons, everything changes in an instant. The biting wind that stung a week ago now felt soft.
And with that breeze, someone slipped into the room—Justin.
Yernenne glanced at him, bypassing any formalities.
“What did you find?”
“Well, uh….” Justin hesitated, looking at Yernenne with an awkward expression.
Lyle had undoubtedly uncovered his secret. That much was clear from his sudden, inexplicable distance weeks ago.
Yernenne had tried to avoid confronting it, even going as far as to ask Lyle outright, hoping against hope that Lyle hadn’t pieced everything together yet. As long as Lyle didn’t know the whole truth, Yernenne could stay by his side until he bore Lyle’s child.
But deep down, he knew it was only a foolish hope. He already suspected that Lyle had found out.
Yet, Lyle’s recent behavior confused him. He treated Yernenne just as he always had, as if nothing had changed. But there were differences. Lyle no longer reached for him at night, the way he once did, like a beast.
There were only two explanations for this change: Lyle either felt betrayed enough to lull Yernenne into complacency before striking or… he’d discovered the whole truth.
So Yernenne had sent Justin to question Yurice, who’d been with Lyle in the East.
If Lyle had learned the truth, Yurice would be the one who told him.
Justin looked at Yernenne’s tense expression and sighed, pulling out an envelope and handing it to him.
“This is the reply from Yurice.”
Yernenne took the letter, examining it with his eyes lowered.
The seal was intact, and the envelope showed no signs of tampering.
Satisfied, he carefully opened it with a paper knife and unfolded the white sheet inside.
To Your Majesty,
Today, the first spring rain has fallen here in the East. I wonder if it is raining in the capital where Your Majesty resides.
I hope not, for I know how much Your Majesty dislikes the rain.
I debated whether or not to write this letter after Justin’s message. But ultimately, it is up to Your Majesty to decide, so I will tell you everything.
Yurice’s letter began with polite, tender words, before detailing the events from her arrival at the Festi territory to Lyle’s departure from the Eastern Domain.
It was a long letter, filled with meticulous detail. Enough for Yernenne to understand what had happened.
“……”
As he read, the dark shadows beneath his golden lashes deepened.
When he finished, Yernenne handed the letter back to Justin.
“Burn it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Justin glanced at Yernenne’s bleak expression before silently burning the letter.
As the acrid scent of burning paper filled the air, Yernenne turned to gaze out the window with clouded eyes.
The breeze that entered was warm and fresh, yet it no longer felt welcome. It was an irritation.
Some of the letter’s contents had been anticipated; some were unexpected.
He’d thought Yurice, in a moment of weakness, had confessed, or that one of the mad rebels had blurted out the truth. But he hadn’t expected Lyle to have seen the image sphere himself.
I thought I’d destroyed them all.
He hadn’t expected any to remain.
“……”
Unless Yernenne brought it up, Lyle would likely pretend to know nothing forever. He would act as if he hadn’t seen Yernenne’s torment, as if he didn’t know that Yernenne was the real Yernenne Helio.
He would treat Yernenne as he always had.
As he did when they were young, loving him so fiercely it felt like he’d rip out his heart and offer it up.
And if they continued like this, pretending not to know, perhaps that was happiness. The ending he had always dreamed of, hoped for. Even now, he hoped….
“Your Majesty, what will you do?” Justin asked, brushing away the ash that drifted in the air.
“For now… wait.”
Yernenne watched the ash scatter from Justin’s fingers, soon to disappear without a trace.
The first thing Lyle saw upon entering the Empress’s chambers was Russell standing by the staircase, looking as though he were being punished, while the head maid Melissa stared at him with pleading eyes. It was clear that Yernenne had sent the servants away again.
Crossing the hall, Lyle approached Russell and asked,
“Where is the Empress?”
“Upstairs, Your Majesty.”
With that, he was certain.
“I see.”
Russell was meant to stay by Yernenne’s side when Lyle wasn’t around, but Yernenne seemed to dislike him and often kept him at a distance.
Looks like I’ll need to find a new attendant.
Russell was skilled, capable, and, above all, a rare beta among the nobility, which was why Lyle had chosen him. But if Yernenne couldn’t even stand to have him nearby, there was little choice.
Pondering over who should take Russell’s place, Lyle walked into the bedchamber. There, he found Yernenne hiding beneath the covers, wrapped up like he was trying to disappear.
“……”
Yernenne would often cover himself with the blanket when he was stressed.
After quickly changing out of his clothes, Lyle climbed onto the bed and playfully tugged at the blanket covering Yernenne. His fingers brushed damp strands of hair.
Smack.
“Don’t touch me.”
A pale, slender hand smacked his away irritably before Yernenne pulled the blanket over himself again. But Lyle, undeterred, hugged Yernenne tightly, blanket and all.
“Ugh…! Lyle Beltimore…! Are you insane?”
“If I said my hand stung so much that I’d believe I was stung by a bee, would you buy that? It’s only natural for bees to be drawn to flowers, after all, even if it hurts.”
Yernenne, flushed and out of breath from being trapped under the blanket, glared at Lyle as if he had lost his mind.
“Flowers? What nonsense. And what bee stings a flower? A bear, maybe.”
“Then I must be that bear.”
With a sly smile, Lyle swiftly stripped the blanket from Yernenne and pulled the slender figure into his arms.
“Ugh…!”
The sudden pull left Yernenne pressed against Lyle’s broad chest. Clenching his fists, Yernenne tried to hit him, but Lyle’s embrace held him tightly.
“Let go!”
“Give it up. A bear never lets go of its honey jar.”
Lyle kept smiling as if everything he said made perfect sense, holding Yernenne close until the latter, exhausted from resisting, fell asleep in his arms.
A low, pained groan roused Lyle from sleep.
The moment he heard it, he woke up as though splashed with cold water and immediately looked down at the figure in his embrace.
Yernenne’s face was pale, drenched in cold sweat.
Half-sitting, Lyle gently patted Yernenne’s cheek, trying to wake him.
“Yernenne!”
“Gasp…!”
Yernenne, who had been panting as if being strangled, jolted awake, drawing in short, sharp breaths and flailing in panic.
“Let me go…!”
His eyes, filled with terror, looked like he was on the verge of tears. He hadn’t fully escaped the nightmare.
“Yernenne…!”
Lyle wrapped him tightly in his arms, releasing a soothing pheromone as he did so, willing Yernenne to come back to himself.
Gradually, Yernenne’s ragged breathing steadied, the panic replaced with warmth.
“Haa, haa.”
The struggle subsided and stopped, but Yernenne’s body was soaked in sweat, his nightclothes clinging to his skin.
Lyle wiped the sweat from Yernenne’s brow and asked, “Are you okay?”
His voice trembled with worry he couldn’t hide.
“I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”
With that, Yernenne tensed and stared at the empty space ahead, his jaw quivering slightly.
“…I’m going to wash up. Go to sleep.”