The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 18.2 Side Story Part 2

Yernen paused at the threshold, turning with a glacial expression. Behind him stood Noah, his flushed face expectant and hopeful, like a small dog waiting for praise.

“When I said no one, that included you,” Yernen said icily.

“W-what?” Noah’s eyes widened in disbelief, but before he could protest, Yernen slammed the door shut without a trace of hesitation.

“…Ha.”

The quiet of the bedroom embraced him as he exhaled a weary sigh, making his way unsteadily to the bed. He wanted to collapse, to let himself fall, but the sharp pain in his abdomen and back reminded him that doing so would only bring searing agony.

The frustration was overwhelming.

After returning to the capital, Yernen had read the book Illiana provided, learning about the changes pregnancy wrought on an Omega’s body. He understood how vital an Alpha’s pheromones could be during this time and the benefits of maintaining physical intimacy.

But understanding was one thing; reality was another. He wasn’t convinced that doing so would ease the current discomfort, nor was the idea of intimacy with Laile simple or straightforward.
Intimacy required mutual desire. And Yernen was certain that Laile felt none.

No. It was worse than that. That infuriating man avoided intimacy, shunning it so obviously that pretending otherwise was impossible. Laile catered to Yernen’s every need, practically worshipping him, but any hint of sexual contact was off the table. Once, Yernen had touched him absentmindedly, only for Laile to flinch so hard he’d nearly fallen into the water.
Laile had apologized profusely after, but that only highlighted how much he shied away from physical connection. Yernen couldn’t fathom why, though he had some theories.

‘Perhaps… those memories turned his stomach.’

It was plausible. They hadn’t been together since those images surfaced.

The thought sent a surge of bitterness through him. But even if Laile wanted it, Yernen himself wasn’t in the right state for intimacy.

“Agh…”

A low groan slipped out as he shifted.

“Damn it…”

A soft curse followed, and a flush of color crept into his eyes. He couldn’t bear to let anyone see him like this. Absolutely not.

Pregnancy had transformed his body in ways that sometimes shocked him, no matter how well-prepared he thought he was. The nausea that made even water seem repulsive, the sudden cravings for the red fruit that sent his emotions into a whirlwind—those had been baffling at first but manageable now. Eating had even become easier since.

But now, a new pain gripped him.

It had started with mild discomfort and warmth in his chest, but it had grown far worse. His chest had become so swollen and tender that even the slightest brush of fabric made him wince with tears. The heat radiating from it was relentless, and now the pain spread throughout his body. His head throbbed, his limbs ached, and a constant, feverish pressure weighed him down.
For days, Yernen had avoided the baths and massages Laile usually assisted with, refusing help from anyone else as well.

He’d taken to wearing layers of clothing, even in the oppressive summer heat, to hide the obvious swelling of his chest.

The combination of pain and stifling heat was enough to drive him mad. But he couldn’t speak of it, not even to Illiana. The book hadn’t mentioned this. He’d considered accepting divine healing without explanation, but even that felt wrong.

Divine healing was powerful but imperfect. Frequent use weakened the body’s natural ability to heal, a lesson Yernen had learned through years of treatments. His body had become so frail that even small wounds healed at a snail’s pace.

He feared the effect divine energy might have on the baby. After enduring years of poor health, Yernen wanted to spare his child the same exposure, no matter the cost.

‘But I have to do something.’

The pain had grown too severe, making sleep a rare luxury. He lay there, unable to touch his aching chest, wondering how long he could endure.

The door creaked open, and someone sat beside him, bringing with them the fresh scent of the outdoors and the faint metallic tang of the world outside.

“I’m back,” Laile said softly. He rested his hand on Yernen’s stomach, his voice as tender as ever. “Daddy’s here.”
The quiet child responded, stirring beneath the touch. Laile chuckled, brushing Yernen’s hair back as his eyes, filled with concern, searched Yernen’s face.

“How are you feeling?”

Yernen’s reply came, cool and detached. “The same as always.”
“Even with this?” Laile’s gaze sharpened, taking in Yernen’s weary features as if testing the truth of his words.

Laile rarely left Yernen’s side, practically making the Empress’s residence his own. But being emperor meant he couldn’t remain indefinitely. Today had been one of those days—a day when duty called him away before dawn.

Yernen was notoriously tight-lipped about his discomforts, so it fell to Laile to inform Illiana about any changes. With the persistent fever, he should have spoken up, but of course, he hadn’t.

“Should I call her back?” Laile’s suggestion was met with a silent shake of Yernen’s head and closed eyes.

“No. It’s more trouble than it’s worth. Just… stay still. You’re making me nervous.”

Laile sighed, sensing it would be fruitless to press further. He studied Yernen, who looked more exhausted than usual, and shrugged.

“Alright… but if this gets worse, I’m calling her, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Do as you please.”

Despite his words, Yernen doubted it would come to that. Perhaps he still believed that, like all the other strange changes, this one would pass or become bearable with time.

Pregnancy had brought waves of discomfort: cramps, frequent trips to the washroom, sudden leg cramps that left him gasping. Each had passed or become familiar.

So, somewhere deep inside, Yernen trusted that this, too, would fade.

And that naive hope was soon proven foolish.

Three days later, the pain reached a level Yernen could no longer endure.

“Yernen, are you sure you’re okay?” Laile’s voice was tight with concern.

“I’m… not okay,” Yernen managed to say, each word dragged from his throat.

He wanted to punch his past self for thinking this would pass on its own. The fever, which he thought would subside, only grew worse. Now, even the lightest touch on his forehead revealed a burning heat, and chills ran down his body, making him shiver uncontrollably.