The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 3.3

“You wouldn’t know, of course. It’s something to help with our… interaction. Since it’s your first time, I thought you might need a little assistance,” she said with a wicked grin, signaling the knights to restrain Yernen more firmly.

Ainz grabbed Yernen’s jaw, forcing his mouth open.

“Mmph…!” Yernen trembled with betrayal, looking up at Ainz with wide eyes. This knight had once been his protector, but it was Ainz who had brought him to this wretched island that night.

Now Yernen understood. Ainz had always been Harriet’s pawn, his loyalty a farce.

“Here, Your Highness. Drink,” Lizi said, pouring the liquid into Yernen’s mouth. He resisted, but when they covered both his nose and mouth, he had no choice but to swallow.

“Cough… cough!” Yernen choked violently, his throat burning from the unfamiliar sweetness. To his dismay, the sweetness momentarily alleviated his hunger, making tears sting his eyes at the bitter irony.

Lizi poured another dose into his mouth, but this time Yernen resisted even harder. The milky liquid spilled from his lips, dripping down his chin. It was the start of a long and agonizing ordeal.

Hours passed before Lizi finally left. She had departed with a mocking smile, leaving behind a pile of clothes and a basket filled with food—soft white bread, Yernen’s favorite chocolate, and other supplies. But the items felt like nothing more than mockery.

Yernen sat huddled in a corner of his bed for a long time, lost in shock. When he finally came to his senses, he rushed outside, scrubbing his body with ice-cold water, trying to rid himself of the filth.

“Haa… haa…”

He panted heavily, scrubbing until his skin was raw. When he returned to the cabin, he threw the new clothes into the fireplace, watching them burn. He tossed the torn remnants of his old clothes in after them.

Yernen even considered burning the blanket he had, but as he held it over the fire, his eyes flickered in the glow.

“Ugh…”

He couldn’t. He needed the blanket to survive. If he burned it, he might really freeze to death.
Tears welled up in his eyes, filled with a sense of injustice.

The clothes he had been wearing today were the warmest he owned. Now, all he had left were ones that exposed more of his wrists and ankles than the pair he had just destroyed. Even so, he refused to wear what had been given to him.
He knew this stubborn pride was utterly pointless.

Even if he piled on all his remaining clothes, it wouldn’t be enough to survive the freezing winter. And thanks to the impulsive action he’d just taken, this winter would be harsher than any other. It was an act of defiance, nothing more. Yet, the idea of wearing clothes that had been given in exchange for his violation disgusted him.

Clutching the blanket, he sat down by the fire. Though the spot near the hearth was the warmest in the cabin, his lips remained a sickly blue. As the anger and fury subsided, only confusion remained.

“Why did she even come here?”

He couldn’t understand what was happening outside this forsaken island.

But one thing was certain—after six years of unchanging isolation, something was shifting. He had an ominous feeling that this violent upheaval would soon crash into his life, leaving him defenseless against it.

“My dear prince,” Lizzy said with a voice dripping with amusement.

“I keep telling you… You, of all people, shouldn’t act like you don’t know me.”

With those words, she stepped closer to him.
“Every time you look at me with those eyes, pretending not to notice… it sends chills down my spine.”

“……”

Yernén glared at her with pure hatred in his eyes.

As expected, Lizzy’s torment didn’t stop. She continued to visit him every two months, sometimes more frequently, forcing him to take that strange potion or simply assaulting him with her soldiers.

Ever since he learned she was always watching, the island had become a prison far more terrifying than before. Leaving the cabin became unbearable, and each time her visit neared, he would become increasingly anxious.

And yet, there was nothing Yernén could do. After her first two visits, he had fought back viciously, resisting with everything he had. But his defiance had been pointless. Now, he simply lay still, pretending to be dead, hoping for it to end quickly.

Lizzy had visited five times by now. This was her sixth. But something felt different this time. The boat that brought her also carried other high-ranking nobles, including Duke Albert, and even more soldiers.

Yernén hadn’t yet acknowledged them, choosing to ignore their presence outside the cabin. However, inside, his guard was fully up, wary of what new horror they had planned.

“…How is Harriet?” Yernén asked quietly, unable to hold back his suspicion any longer.

“His Majesty?”

“Yes.”

Yernén was worried—had Harriet died or fallen ill? Was that why they needed an heir and were turning to him?

“His Majesty is in perfect health,” Lizzy replied casually.

“Busy, as always, with the affairs of the empire. After all, it is the duty of the royal family to manage the nobility. And you, Prince… how have you been fulfilling your duty?”

“…What?” Yernén narrowed his eyes, glaring at her as if she were speaking nonsense.

“If you’re born royal, you should contribute, shouldn’t you?”

“Lizzy Merion, what are you talking about?”
His glare could have torn her apart, but Lizzy remained unfazed, merely smiling that unsettling grin Yernén despised.

In that moment, her smile became a signal, and the soldiers moved in. They cornered Yernén against the wall and brutally pinned him down.

“Ugh…!”

“What am I saying? Since you can’t produce an heir, you might as well offer yourself up to the nobility.”

“Lizzy Merion!”

Yernén screamed and struggled, but no matter how hard he fought, the well-trained soldiers didn’t budge.

“Let me go…!”

Footsteps approached, and Yernén could see several pairs of shoes standing before him as he was forced to the floor.

There were too many of them.

His breathing quickened with panic. He knew what was about to happen.

‘Lizzy Merion…!’

Grinding his teeth in frustration, he looked up at her with fury in his eyes.

“The lost prince! We’ve been searching for you, and here you were, hidden away like this,” said Duke Albert with a chuckle.

“Ah, but we all know,” another nobleman said, “He’s not really a prince, is he?”

“Indeed,” Albert replied, laughing.

Yernén glared at them with a murderous look. He wanted to slap them, send them to the northern mines as slaves, but there was nothing he could do.

“Anyone who insults my mother won’t get away with it!”

A laugh came from somewhere in the room.
“And what will you do? You’re trapped here forever.”

“What?!”

Before he could yell further, someone cold touched his waist.

“No, stop!”

Yernén trembled in shock as a pair of sharp scissors began cutting his trousers apart. Within seconds, his lower half was exposed, and a pair of hands grabbed his pale skin.

“Too thin,” someone commented, as if he were nothing more than livestock.

“Take your hands off me!”

He kicked out, managing to strike one of them, but it only earned him a hard kick in return, straight to his backside.

“Ugh…!”

Pain shot through him, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the shame. To be treated like this, humiliated like this… it was unbearable.
“Looks like he’s not ready to give up that royal pride just yet,” one voice sneered. “We’ll have to break him first.”

Yernén was yanked down to the floor, his face pressed harshly into the dirt. His bare skin, cold and exposed, trembled as dread overtook him. He saw strange instruments he’d never seen before and had no idea what they were for.

“What… what are you going to do?!”

Despite his attempt to sound composed, his voice cracked with fear.

“You know what’s coming. A filthy Beta like you isn’t fit to bed properly—so we’ll prepare you the only way we can.”

“A… Beta whore?”

Yernén had never heard such a degrading term in his life. It felt like a slap to the face.
Before he could react further, something sharp pressed between his legs, and cold liquid started flowing into him.

“Ahh! No! Stop! Please!”

Realization hit him like a freight train, and he began thrashing in sheer panic.

Now he understood what they meant by ‘preparing’ him.

This was the cruel process male Omegas underwent to ready their bodies for sexual use, but for a Beta, it was beyond humiliating. For him, it was an act reserved only for the lowest, vilest class.

He couldn’t let this happen. Not here. Not like this.

Yernén summoned every ounce of strength and broke free from the soldiers’ grip. But his freedom didn’t last long—within moments, his hair was grabbed, and his face was slammed back into the floor.

“Ugh…!”

As he was pinned down again, he felt the disgusting liquid seeping from his body. Panic set in, and he tried desperately to hold it back, terrified of what would happen if he lost control.

“Seems we need to restrain him more. Bring the collar.”

Laughter erupted from around him as a thick, leather collar was fastened around his neck, chaining him to the bed frame.

“Just like a dog, huh?”

Yernén’s world became a blur of terror and shame as they tightened their grip, holding him down. Once more, the cold liquid filled his body, but this time there was no escape.

“No… stop…!”

With his legs pressed together, Yernén struggled to hold back the mounting pressure, desperate to avoid the humiliating situation about to unfold. His face, back, and entire body were drenched in cold sweat.

He desperately wanted to release everything in his stomach, to rid himself of the unbearable discomfort. But he knew—no matter how badly he wanted relief, he couldn’t. Though only water had entered, what would come out would be far worse, and he couldn’t let these people witness that.
A single tear mixed with sweat rolled down the bridge of his nose.

“Please… let me go to the restroom,” Yernén pleaded in a trembling voice, his eyes filled with frustration and humiliation. The very fact that he had to beg these monsters was enough to make him choke back more tears.

“We can’t do that,” came the cold reply.
“What?! Then you want me to… to do it right here?!” Yernén’s voice cracked with disbelief.
“And what exactly do you mean by ‘it’?” The voice that responded was mocking, dripping with cruelty.

Yernén gritted his teeth, turning to see who had spoken. It was Marquis Petra—an aristocrat whose family had long ties with the church, and whose brother was currently the pope. How could someone from such a background speak with such callousness?

“Do you really not know what I’m talking about?” Yernén hissed through clenched teeth.

The marquis checked his pocket watch, unfazed.
“It’s been ten minutes already. Even those who’ve been given plugs struggle by now, yet you’ve managed well. It seems you have a natural talent… for holding it in.”

“What… did you just say?!” Yernén’s body trembled in fury, but his words had no effect on them. They didn’t care.

Of course, they didn’t. Yernén Helio, once the beloved youngest prince destined to be the consort of Duke Veltemor of the north, had now been reduced to little more than a plaything—a slave for them to toy with as they pleased.