The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 17.3 Sided Story Part 1

“I didn’t know which fruit it was, so I brought all the small, red ones I could find.”

With that, Laile placed three baskets on the bed. Yernen’s eyes lit up at the sight, though he quickly masked it with indifference as he surveyed the room.

“Leave us,” he said, his voice casual. He waited, detached, until the room was empty.

Once everyone was gone, Yernen’s gaze found Laile, a silent question hanging between them.

“Why aren’t you leaving?”

The question was cold, enough to unsettle, but Laile knew what lay beneath that chill. Without hesitation, he settled beside Yernen.

“Because I promised to take care of everything for you. Let me feed you.”

“Don’t bother.”

Despite his dismissive words, Yernen didn’t push Laile away. His eyes lingered on the baskets before him.

Laile noticed a fleeting hint of longing in Yernen’s eyes, but chose not to acknowledge it.

Yernen reached for the basket containing the brightest, redest fruit with a faint line down the center.

“This is the one. The rest are too sour or cause stomach pain. Throw them out.”

“Understood.”

The fact that Yernen knew which ones could make him sick implied he had learned it the hard way. That realization twisted something in Laile’s chest.

Suppressing his frustration, he pushed aside the other two baskets, struggling to keep his composure.

Thankfully, Yernen seemed too focused on the fruit to notice Laile’s turmoil. He bit into the fruit eagerly, the sweetness erasing any trace of the sourness he once recalled.

He ate with an abandon that surprised even him, as if days of emptiness had only intensified his craving.

Cheeks full and round, he looked like a chipmunk hoarding for the winter. Before long, the small basket lay empty.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Yernen’s face as he stared at the basket, an expression he rarely wore.

Laile, sensing it, slid another identical basket forward. The fruit inside gleamed, dew-kissed and bright red.

Yernen’s eyes widened, color touching his cheeks.

“I picked extra, just in case you wanted more in the morning.”
Yernen tried to suppress the warmth in his voice as he replied, “Good job.”

As he reached for the basket, he suddenly flinched, hand pausing mid-air.

“…”

Laile noticed the change immediately. He took the basket from Yernen’s hands, eyes dark with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s… my stomach feels… strange,” Yernen muttered, placing a tentative hand over his belly. Laile responded instantly, his hand joining Yernen’s.

Then he felt it—a faint, tiny thump. The sensation was foreign, yet profoundly moving.

“It’s… quickening,” Laile said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Quickening? Is that what this is?”

“It’s what it felt like when Valen’s wife first felt the baby move.”

They both knew Yernen was expecting, but this was the first tangible proof of the child’s life within him. A swell of joy overwhelmed Laile, filling him to the brim.

“…”

There, beneath his hand, was the life they had created.
“Can I… listen?”

“…Do as you wish,” Yernen replied, his voice roughened by shyness.

With a small smile, Laile pressed his ear against Yernen’s stomach. A soft, rhythmic tapping met his ear. A powerful kick, vibrant and strong.

A subtle scent filled the room, a hint of pheromones spilling from Yernen. The unrestrained joy was unmistakable.
“The baby must like this fruit.”

“Of course. I’ve been craving it for days.”

Yernen placed his pale hand over Laile’s, unsure but curious. He waited for another kick, a sign of the little life inside him.
Laile turned Yernen’s hand in his, placing a tender kiss on the smooth skin. His lips traced the back of Yernen’s hand, pausing at the wrist, where a subtle warmth pulsed beneath his touch.
The room filled with the gentle scent of sweetness, a signal of emotions too deep to hide.

Laile thought, at this moment, he wouldn’t mind drowning in that scent forever.

“Yernen.”

“…Yes?”

“Yernen, Yernen…”

Yernen said nothing, but his fingers brushed against Laile’s hair, the touch tender despite his brusque voice.

“I think I’ve lived my entire life just for this moment,” Laile whispered, pressing another kiss to Yernen’s small, beloved hand.

The taste of the fruit still lingered on his tongue, sweet and profound.

The bitter remnants of the past seemed to fade. In the light of this present, sweeter than any dream, even the darkest days could be forgotten.