The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 16.1
“Y-Your Majesty! Can you hear me?”
The voice that greeted Lyle as he opened his eyes belonged to a priest.
“…”
Faces etched with worry surrounded him—priests, physicians, and attendants. Yet even after scanning the room, he couldn’t find the one person he sought. Lately, she had always been there whenever he woke.
“…Where is Yernen?”
Silence. No one dared to respond, and a dark premonition coiled in his gut.
With a grim expression he would never have shown Yernen, Lyle repeated his question, his tone sharpened with impatience.
“I asked where Yernen is.”
The collective look of unease deepened across their faces. Finally, the head attendant, unable to withstand Lyle’s fierce glare, opened his mouth to relay the awful truth that had occurred while Lyle had been unconscious.
“T-The Empress, Your Majesty… she has gone missing.”
“…Missing, you say?”
A twisted smile played on Lyle’s lips.
Missing. He knew better than anyone in that room that it was a lie. If Yernen had genuinely disappeared, these faces wouldn’t bear such dread. No, Yernen… had left him. She’d realized he had discovered her true identity.
He ground his teeth together. He knew the reasons behind her departure—all of them. Yet, he had no intention of letting her slip away.
As long as she was alive, he couldn’t exist apart from her.
“Missing, yes… how convenient.”
The guise of a disappearance would serve him well now. He remembered every word exchanged between them, even before he had known her true self. One particular document resurfaced in his memory—a prenuptial agreement, a cursed contract that stated if Yernen’s safety were ever threatened, he would come for her.
This was a disappearance, he assured himself. It had to be. So he could justify pursuing her.
Suppressing the seething rage threatening to spill over, Lyle turned to the head attendant. “She wouldn’t have gone alone, would she?”
If Yernen had run, she wouldn’t have done so without help. It was obvious. She had rarely ventured beyond the palace walls, even in her childhood. The sheltered life of a royal barely allowed for any freedom.
Yernen needed assistance to flee, and that assistance came in the form of the knights who had betrayed him. A flash of cold fury crossed his face.
“Where is Tenes Trizia now?” Lyle demanded.
“Pardon?”
The head attendant flinched as Lyle’s gaze narrowed to slits.
“I asked where that fool, who promised to return to the capital by yesterday, is now.”
His suspicion was correct. Both Justin and Tenes, who had been close to Yernen, had vanished. That could only mean Yernen’s destination, or at least a stop along her path, was likely Trizia’s estate.
He ordered the Marquisate of Trizia and Baron Bellica’s territories sealed off and commanded thorough inspections of every pathway leading into neighboring domains. His decree sparked fierce resistance, but Lyle crushed it underfoot, appearing as ruthless as necessary. Yet even with all efforts, no trace of Yernen surfaced.
The days stretched into a maddening crawl. Ten days felt like an eternity, yet it had only been that long.
Then, on the eleventh day, news came. A message from the very knights who had escaped with her.
“Where is Yernen?” Lyle’s face, gaunt from days of sleeplessness and starvation, loomed over the magical screen, eyes murderous.
The two men flinched, exchanging uneasy glances, unable to answer.
Dread crept into Lyle’s heart, growing unbearable.
“Something has happened to Yernen, hasn’t it?”
Finally, Tenes spoke, his voice strained.
“It appears… the Empress has been captured by a slave trader, Your Majesty.”
“…Prepare my steed. We ride now.”
What he learned from them chilled him to the bone—rumors of nobles from another kingdom desiring royal slaves, traders scouring for such prizes, and that Yernen was likely en route to Mason, a kingdom’s bustling trade city. And worse, the whispered confirmation that she was carrying his child.
From that moment, Lyle’s sanity teetered on a knife’s edge. The journey to Mason was filled with relentless, tormenting thoughts: What if word of the Imperial forces’ movement reached the traders? What if they changed course? If he failed to find her in time, would she be taken beyond their borders? What if someone touched her? Hurt her?
Or worse, what if it was already too late?
“Damn it!”
A litany of curses tore from his lips as memories of Yernen’s haunted eyes, trapped by past trauma, surged in his mind. She who hadn’t found peace since their last harrowing ordeal could face new horrors.
Sleep-deprived and unsparing, Lyle urged his horse forward, covering distance at breakneck speed. Every passing day counted against him. He had to intercept them before they crossed into the kingdom.
Forsaking fallen soldiers and leaving the slow behind, he stormed through villages, swapping horses at prearranged stops.
And then, amidst the rush, a child’s scream pierced the air.
“Help!”
He spotted her—an unknown girl fleeing assassins. Lyle didn’t pause. A single, well-aimed arrow silenced her pursuers. Without halting, he reached out and yanked her up, barely breaking pace.
“…!”
Wide-eyed, the child gasped. “Black hair! Black hair!”
A peculiar reaction. Lyle glanced down with mild irritation, assessing her odd behavior.
“I found you!” she blurted, relief plain on her face as if speaking to an unseen companion. “I really found you. Thank goodness!”
“…?”
The urgency returned as the girl grabbed his collar, eyes serious. “The angel—no, Yernen is in danger!”
Lyle’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
“I’m Rudy!”
The useless reply sparked a scowl. “Do you think I care about your name?”
Rudy flinched at his glower, muttering hesitantly, “N-No, this man isn’t nice at all…”
“Who is ‘He’?” Lyle’s grip tightened on the reins. “You’re not talking about… divine guidance, are you?”
If this strange child wasn’t delusional but truly receiving visions, this was a godsend. Lyle, grasping at any thread, demanded, “Where must I go to find Yernen?”
“Not to Mason!” she cried. “Turn right, head through Kaspa Gorge without resting, and you’ll reach Eden’s carriage before they do!”
Holy heavens. She spoke the truth—details only divine intervention could reveal. This was real.
“Eden Petra…” He seethed at the name, recognizing the orchestrator behind this heinous act.
“Move out!” He ordered, tossing Rudy into a knight’s arms before spurring his horse toward Kaspa Gorge.
They galloped as though possessed, changing steeds without pause. Lyle’s only thought was reaching Yernen in time. The prophecy was his last hope, a fragile lifeline.
At the end of the gorge, five carriages appeared. Central among them, one stood out in its splendor—unmistakably Eden’s.
“Wizard!” Lyle shouted.
“Yes, Your Majesty!” came a breathless reply from behind.
“Cast an explosion on that carriage driver’s seat, now!”
“What? But, sire—”
A sharp glare cut off the wizard’s protest.
“You question my command?”
“B-But, casting while on horseback—”
Lyle clenched his jaw, realizing with irritation that this was not Steffin. He should never have left his most skilled mage in the eastern territory.
“I-I’ll do it, Your Majesty.”
A voice cut through the tense silence. Lyle turned his gaze to find Yernen’s knight stepping forward, determination written on his face. Though Lyle wasn’t fully aware of the knight’s abilities, the mere fact that he offered meant he wasn’t lacking.
With a nod of approval, Lyle spurred his horse, riding at full speed beside the carriage. Just as the knight cast an explosion that rocked the front of the carriage, Lyle leaped, wrenching the door open.
“Hah… hah…”
Through the splintered frame, Lyle’s eyes fell on a scene that seared itself into his mind. Yernen, bruised and battered from head to toe, draped in tattered crimson lace, eyes glistening with tears, was being violated by Eden Petra.
Every shred of Lyle’s restraint snapped in an instant. A surge of raw fury consumed him as he lunged at Eden, fists hammering into the man without pause. The idea of drawing his sword didn’t even occur to him—only the primal rage roaring in his bl00d.
As the room spun in a blur of scarlet rage, a fragile voice cut through.
“L-Lyle…”
Barely more than a whisper, yet it rang through him as if shouted. Reality rushed back, cold and hard. He hurled Eden’s body aside and turned to Yernen, who lay crumpled on the soiled floor, trembling and unresponsive.