The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 2.2

“You, Lizzie Merrion. What did you just say?”

“No, Your Highness! How can there be a barbarian in your service? How could you— Agh!”

Yernen slapped Lizzie’s cheek. Though still young, the sound echoed loudly, and Lizzie’s cheek turned red.

Any other noble girl might have run off crying, as would most noble boys. In Yernen’s presence, everyone was treated equally. Yet, Lizzie’s reaction was different. She simply stood there, stunned, with a strange look on her face.

“What do you mean, ‘how dare you’? How dare you say such a thing about one of my people!” Yernen shouted in his high, clear voice, scolding Lizzie.

The young royal, fiercely protective of those he considered his own, took any attack on his people as a direct challenge to himself, which enraged him.

As Yernen’s furious voice echoed through the room, the servants who had been watching the tea party from a distance scrambled over, startled. They hurriedly escorted Lizzie out, nearly dragging her away.

“If you ever say something like that to Dave again, I won’t let it slide!”

Yernen, still furious, climbed onto the chair and shouted after the retreating Lizzie, unable to control his anger, even going so far as to throw his teacup in her direction.

Crash!

“Yernen!” Cecile exclaimed in shock, quickly pulling him into her arms.

“You can’t just throw a teacup at someone!”
“She insulted me!” Yernen was so angry that his body felt much warmer than usual as he buried himself in Cecile’s arms.

Cecile gently patted his back to calm him down.
“No matter what happened, throwing things is not okay. Promise me you won’t do that again.”
“If a noble dares to disrespect a royal, they need to be taught a lesson!”

“Oh, Yernen… my dear little brother,” Cecile said, still cradling him in her arms.

“There are many ways to teach someone. You can talk to them, or sometimes punish them, but throwing a teacup isn’t the way to do it. If the glass had broken, someone could have gotten seriously hurt.”

As Cecile spoke in her gentle voice, Yernen’s heavy breathing began to slow. Though he’d acted on impulse, without thinking, he now realized throwing the teacup had been a bit excessive.

“Alright,” Yernen grumbled, his expression still a little pouty.

“There’s my good boy,” Cecile said softly.

But Yernen’s cheeks were still puffed in frustration, clearly unhappy that Lizzie hadn’t yet apologized to Dave.

“Lizzie Merrion has to apologize to Dave,” Yernen insisted.

“Okay, I promise I’ll scold her and make sure she apologizes to Dave.”

“And it has to be in front of me. And I don’t want her touching me anymore.”

“Oh dear, does that mean you don’t like it when your sister hugs you like this?” Cecile asked, loosening her embrace and smiling down at him.
“No, I like it when you do it. But when Lizzie does it… I just don’t like it.”

“Yernen, try not to hate Lizzie too much. We’ll all be family soon, remember?”

“Ugh, it’s so annoying. Tell brother to call off the engagement!”

Rustle.

Just as Yernen’s voice rose again, there was a rustling sound from nearby bushes, and both siblings turned their attention toward the noise.

“Uh….”

‘Who’s that fool?’

A young boy stood there, looking dazed. He had jet-black hair and striking blue eyes, and appeared to be around Yernen’s age. Judging by his attire, he was clearly of noble birth.
“Who are you, and how dare you come wandering out of my palace garden?” Yernen demanded, still standing on the chair with his arms crossed, looking down at the boy.

“Uh….”

But instead of answering, the boy just stammered awkwardly, unable to form a proper response.
Yernen’s eyebrows were starting to rise again in irritation when Cecile, after a moment of thought, turned to the boy and asked, “Are you Lyle, by any chance?”

“…Yes.”

“Lyle?” Yernen repeated.

It wasn’t a common name, but it sounded familiar. He was certain he had heard it in conversations between his mother and a noble family she was acquainted with.

“Come to think of it, isn’t the Duke of Baltimore’s son named Lyle?”

“That’s right, Lyle Baltimore. I recall hearing Father mention he was planning to have him visit the palace to be considered as your betrothed, and I suppose today is the day.”

“So, you’re the candidate to become my subordinate.”

Lyle’s once distant eyes gradually regained focus, and as clarity returned to his gaze, Yernen noticed the boy’s rather impressive appearance. With pale skin typical of Northern nobility, Lyle had a noble, delicate aura. Even as a child, his languid air suggested he might one day break a few hearts.

‘Hmm, I’m not too fond of him,’ Yernen thought.
Unfortunately, Lyle’s initial impression had already taken a dive in Yernen’s mind due to his earlier awkwardness.

“I don’t accept idiots as subordinates.”
“Yernen… he’s not a subordinate, he’s your fiancé!” Cecile whispered urgently, looking flustered, but Yernen remained indifferent.

“Same thing. After all, Ethan is your subordinate, isn’t he?”

“Well… yes, but…?”

Cecile, now sweating slightly, struggled to explain the difference as Yernen’s expression seemed to ask what the problem was. Technically, he wasn’t wrong, but something about the situation just didn’t feel right. As Cecile wrestled with how to explain the distinction, Lyle, having assessed the situation, composed himself and addressed Yernen.

“Are you Prince Yernen?”

“That’s right,” Yernen replied confidently.
Lyle smiled warmly and extended his hand in a graceful gesture, following the formal etiquette of the central region. Impressed, Yernen took his hand and hopped down from the chair.

Once Yernen was safely on the ground, Lyle knelt on one knee and kissed the back of Yernen’s hand.
“Lyle Baltimore, heir of the Duke of Baltimore, greets Your Highness,” Lyle said smoothly, his voice sounding far more polished than one would expect from a child his age.

“Hm?”

Yernen, who held royal etiquette in high regard, had his own strict standards for such formalities.

‘Not bad for a child.’

Lyle’s execution of the royal protocol was enough to leave a positive impression on Yernen, even reversing the negative first impression he had made.

Because of this, Yernen decided to be generous and overlook Lyle’s earlier fumbling. After all, most people reacted similarly when they first met a member of the royal family.

‘He seems to know how to serve royalty.’

Additionally, Lyle appeared eager to serve, which pleased Yernen even more. Upon further inspection, Yernen realized Lyle had quite a handsome face, which wouldn’t be a bad look for a subordinate.

It wasn’t enough to dismiss him immediately; perhaps Lyle was worth keeping around for a while, to see if he could prove himself.
“So, you wish to become my subordinate, do you?” Yernen asked.

“Without a doubt.”

Even the slightly slick tone of Lyle’s voice didn’t bother Yernen.

“Well… in that case, I suppose I could discuss the matter of you staying in the palace with Father.”

“That would be an honor,” Lyle replied, his tone as smooth as ever, which only made Yernen puff up with pride.

“In the palace?”

Cecile, puzzled by Yernen’s comment, asked, “But why would he need to stay in the palace?”
“To test if he’s suitable to be my subordinate, of course,” Yernen responded confidently.
“But Yernen, neither Lizzie nor Ethan live in the palace,” Cecile pointed out.

“If Ethan wants to, he can stay. But Lizzie is not allowed.”

“Haha, I see. I’m sure Ethan will appreciate that,” Cecile said with a laugh, though she knew Yernen had missed the point. Still, she nodded, going along with him for now.

“Alright… let’s go!” Yernen exclaimed, taking Lyle’s hand. Lyle flinched slightly in surprise at the sudden gesture.

“…?”

Though Lyle wasn’t sure why Yernen had suddenly grabbed his hand, he went along with it. Yernen, being Yernen, didn’t concern himself with others’ feelings and held Lyle’s hand tightly, as he often did with Cecile or others. At first, Lyle seemed awkward, but soon enough, he returned the grip firmly.

“Sister, let’s have tea together tomorrow as well!” Yernen waved his small, chubby hand at Cecile as they walked away. Cecile, smiling warmly, waved back at her younger brother.
“Of course, if Lyle stays, the three of us can have tea together tomorrow,” Cecile said.
“Great!” Yernen shouted, enthusiastically waving until Cecile disappeared from view. Only then did he turn his attention back to Lyle.

“Well, as you can see, that’s my sister. You know who she is, right?” Yernen asked with a touch of pride.

“Yes, she’s Princess Cecile,” Lyle replied.
“That’s right. How old are you?” Yernen asked, inspecting him closely.

“I’m five years old,” Lyle answered.
Perfect, Yernen thought. He had no intention of making someone older than him his subordinate.
“I’m five too! Since we’re the same age, I’ll grant you the honor of calling me by my name. You can speak casually with me,” Yernen declared, clearly pleased with himself.

“Alright, then. Can I call you Yernen?” Lyle replied smoothly, catching on quickly.

“Good,” Yernen said with satisfaction.
As the two chatted, they made their way toward the Emperor’s palace. Once there, Yernen cheerfully received permission from both the Emperor and Duke Baltimore for Lyle to stay at the palace. Just like that, Lyle became a resident of Yernen’s quarters.

It all happened so quickly, as if it were destined.

From that point on, they lived in the same palace, ate meals together, spent their days side by side, and even occasionally slept in the same room. In less than six months, their engagement ceremony took place, and Lyle officially became Yernen’s betrothed.

However, despite the fact that both were still pre-Alpha and pre-Omega, it was unusual for an Alpha and Omega betrothed pair to live in the same palace. Yet, because Yernen behaved more maturely with Lyle around, the Emperor allowed it, using Yernen’s behavior as an excuse to overlook the issue. Thanks to this, Lyle was able to spend more than half the year living in the royal palace with Yernen.

As time passed, the small world of these two children gradually expanded. New attendants and playmates from noble families joined Yernen’s circle, and young noblemen from the North, destined to serve the Duke of Baltimore, also began to visit.

Yernen sometimes welcomed new friends like Tenes Trizia into his inner circle, but even as more people gathered around him, Lyle remained the one Yernen favored the most.

Years passed, and Yernen turned seven.

“Your Highness… it’s time to eat.”

“I don’t want to. Go away, I’m irritated,” Yernen grumbled from beneath his blanket, completely shutting himself off from the world.

“But you didn’t eat dinner last night either… His Majesty is worried. He told me to make sure you have breakfast today,” Dave pleaded.

“I said no!” Yernen covered his ears and buried himself deeper under the blanket. After a while, Dave’s footsteps faded away, his quiet sobs growing distant.

Finally alone, Yernen relaxed a little.
Time passed, and soon the delicious smell of food wafted into the room, causing Yernen’s small body to twitch involuntarily.

Tap, tap.

Someone gently knocked on the blanket.
Annoyed, Yernen slapped at the area where the knocking came from, but the person didn’t give up. They tugged the blanket down slightly and looked playfully down at the sulking Yernen.