The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 3.1
Yernen was a complete mess.
In the six months since he last saw Lyle, Lyle had grown noticeably taller. But that wasn’t what unsettled Yernen. What struck him most was Lyle’s appearance—dressed in shabby, commoner-like clothes—and the expression on his face, one that Yernen had never seen directed at him before: pure anger.
Yernen had seen Lyle look that way before, but only when dealing with others—servants, playmates, or people who had disrespected Yernen.
Never once had Lyle aimed such a look at him, not even when Yernen hit him in frustration or lashed out in anger.
And now that fury was directed at Yernen, leaving him breathless.
Normally, Yernen would have sensed that something was terribly wrong, but his mind was far from stable.
“…”
His birthday was just a week away, yet he still hadn’t manifested. Just like the rumors said, as if he wasn’t truly royal.
“Ainz.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Send him away. I don’t want to see him right now.”
“Lord Veltemore, Your Highness?”
“Yes.”
Yernen couldn’t bring himself to face Lyle.
‘He’s probably here to end the engagement.’
Yernen had already resigned himself to this outcome. He knew it had to happen. But the thought of facing Lyle, hearing him officially break it off, made Yernen want to never see him again.
It was foolish pride, he knew that. But at this moment, that fragile pride was all Yernen had left.
He couldn’t bear to see Lyle, not now. He didn’t want to hear him say the engagement was over, nor could he stomach the idea of Lyle finding someone else and treating them the way he used to treat Yernen.
Yernen watched as Ainz escorted Lyle away. Lyle, enraged, tried to resist, shouting and struggling to approach Yernen. But Yernen, feeling the cold drain from his body, tightly gripped his trembling hands, closed the book he had been pretending to read, and walked back inside the palace, putting on a calm facade.
Once inside his room, he collapsed.
‘I wish this were all just a nightmare.’
He wished he had died in the accident when he and Lyle went south to visit Cecil. Back then, everything had been perfect. The Emperor and Empress were alive. Yernen had been the cherished youngest prince, adored by everyone—a little tyrant who ruled the palace with ease. Whatever he did, he was loved.
But after that, everything unraveled. Harriet had heard the rumors swirling around Yernen and assigned Ainz to watch over him. But even the best knight couldn’t silence all the whispers.
Now, even the palace servants looked at him with suspicion, gossiping behind his back. No matter how much he pretended everything was fine, the weight of those stares was too much for a child to handle.
Yernen crawled into bed, hoping all of this was just a terrible dream, wishing sleep would let him escape.
“Yernen.”
“Brother…”
Rubbing his eyes, Yernen turned toward the voice. It was Harriet, though Yernen could barely see his face in the dark room.
“I heard Lyle came to see you.”
“…”
“And you didn’t meet him.”
But… Lyle looked nothing like his usual self.
In the six months since Yernen had last seen him, Lyle had grown significantly taller. However, that wasn’t what unsettled Yernen the most. It was the fact that Lyle was wearing filthy clothes that resembled what a commoner might wear. More disturbingly, his face was contorted with anger—an expression Yernen had never seen directed at him before.
Yernen had seen Lyle wear such a look while dealing with others—playmates, servants, or those who dared disrespect Yernen—but never toward him. Even when Yernen had hit Lyle in frustration or thrown childish tantrums, Lyle had never once looked at him like this.
Now, that fury was aimed squarely at Yernen, and it felt suffocating.
On any other day, Yernen would have sensed that something was seriously wrong. But his mind was far from stable.
“…”
His birthday was now only a week away, and he still hadn’t manifested. Just like the rumors suggested, as if he weren’t truly of royal bl00d.
“Ainz.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Send him away. I don’t want to see him right now.”
“You mean Lord Veltemore, Your Highness?”
“Yes.”
Yernen couldn’t bear to look Lyle in the face.
‘He’s probably here to break off the engagement,’ Yernen thought, half resigned to it. He knew that’s what needed to happen. But if that were the case, he never wanted to see Lyle again.
It was nothing but foolish pride, Yernen knew that. Yet, at that moment, it was all he had left.
He couldn’t stand the idea of Lyle confronting him face-to-face to end things. He couldn’t bear the thought of Lyle moving on and treating someone else the way he had once treated Yernen.
Someday, he would have to face Lyle. But not now. Right now, Yernen couldn’t bring himself to face him at all.
Yernen watched as Ainz escorted Lyle out. Lyle, visibly distraught, shouted in frustration, struggling to get back to Yernen. But Yernen, his hands growing cold, shut the book he had been pretending to read and retreated into the palace, maintaining a facade of calm.
Once he was back in his room, Yernen collapsed.
‘I wish it were all just a bad dream,’ he thought bitterly.
He wished he had died back then when he and Lyle had traveled south to visit Cecil. Everything had been perfect then—back when the Emperor and Empress were still alive.
As the cherished youngest prince, Yernen had been adored by everyone. He ruled the palace like a little tyrant, knowing that no matter what he did, everyone loved him.
But everything fell apart after that. Harriet had assigned Ainz, a skilled knight, to Yernen’s side, citing the vicious rumors circulating about him. But no matter how skilled Ainz was, he couldn’t silence all the gossip.
Now, even the palace servants looked at Yernen with suspicion, whispering about him behind his back. He could pretend all he wanted, but the weight of their judgment was unbearable. It was more than any child could handle.
Yernen crawled into bed, wishing that this was all just a nightmare he could escape through sleep.
“Yernen.”
“Brother…”
Rubbing his eyes, Yernen looked toward the voice. It was Harriet, but in the pitch darkness of the room, he could barely make out his face.
“I heard Lyle came to see you.”
“…”
“And you refused to see him.”
Not wanting to talk about it, Yernen turned his head away.
“What do you want me to do, Yernen?”
Harriet’s voice was gentle, patiently waiting for Yernen to respond.
Yernen remained silent, wishing Harriet would just leave. But unlike usual, Harriet didn’t leave the room. Instead, he quietly sat beside Yernen’s bed, watching over him. Finally, feeling pressured, Yernen blurted out what he didn’t truly mean.
“I don’t want to see him. Tell him to go back north.”
In truth, he desperately wanted to see Lyle.
“Alright. If that’s what our dear little brother wants, I’ll make sure it happens,” Harriet replied softly.
Why wasn’t it happening? Yernen anxiously checked his calendar, over and over again, growing more restless by the day.
Time passed, and the rumors about Yernen’s inability to manifest as an Omega became more widespread, almost like a certainty. Ilian, who was always out and about, tried to offer Yernen some comforting words, telling him to ignore such baseless gossip. Harriet, meanwhile, dealt with the issue more directly, executing those who spread the rumors. But despite their efforts, the whispers only grew louder.
And throughout all of this, Cecil never came.
That winter, when Yernen was thirteen, felt unbearably cold. Then, in March, when Yernen turned fourteen, tragic news arrived at the palace.
Lyle’s parents had died suddenly.
At this point, even Yernen started to wonder if he was cursed. Healthy people didn’t just fall ill and die overnight without reason. And now, the same fate had befallen the Duke and Duchess of Veltymore.
When the emperor and empress passed away, Lyle had been by Yernen’s side. Yernen wanted to return the favor by going with him to Veltymore, to be there for him in his grief, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Yernen was in a particularly fragile state at that time and couldn’t face Lyle.
Lyle struggled with the pain of not being there at his parents’ final moments, but when he finally left for Veltymore, he wore his usual calm, confident smile.
“I’ll be back,” he said.
And with that, Lyle departed for Veltymore.
Yernen’s anxiety only worsened in Lyle’s absence. He thought he’d feel relieved without Lyle around, but it was the opposite.
Yernen withdrew into his quarters, obsessing over the fact that he still hadn’t manifested. Harriet stayed by his side, offering comfort and support while Lyle was away.
Some days, Yernen would take out his frustration on Harriet, lashing out or breaking down in tears. Harriet, always patient, would stay with him, just like Cecil, Loxie, and Lyle used to do, until Yernen finally cried himself to sleep.
There were moments, as Yernen lay in bed and glimpsed Harriet’s expression through bleary eyes, where something seemed… off. But Yernen was too consumed with his own turmoil to think too deeply about it.
With Harriet’s care, Yernen managed to hold himself together, barely balancing on an emotional tightrope. Half a year passed like this, and then, Lyle returned.
“Yernen…!”
“Lyle…?”
But he looked nothing like before.
In the six months since they’d last seen each other, Lyle had grown considerably. That wasn’t what bothered Yernen, though. It was the look on Lyle’s face—one he had never shown Yernen before.
Anger.
Yernen had seen Lyle furious before—toward servants, other children, even those who dared to disrespect Yernen. But never once had Lyle directed that anger at him. Even when Yernen hit him with wooden swords in training, or threw tantrums, Lyle had never looked at him this way.
It felt suffocating.
Any other time, Yernen would have sensed something was wrong. But he wasn’t thinking clearly.
His birthday was just a week away, and he still hadn’t manifested. Just like the rumors said—as if he wasn’t truly royal after all.
“Ainz,” Yernen called out.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“…Send him away. I don’t want to see him right now.”
“The Duke of Veltymore, Your Highness?”
“Yes.”
Yernen couldn’t bear to look at Lyle.
‘He’s probably here to call off the engagement.’
Yernen had already half-accepted that it would happen. It was what needed to be done. But the thought of it still filled him with dread.