The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 3.4

“We’re running out of time. Let’s move on to the next step,” someone commanded coldly.

“W-what…?” Yernén’s voice was cut off by a sharp cry as one of the soldiers grabbed his ankle and hoisted it up. The rough movement exposed his most intimate area to the room, leaving him utterly vulnerable.

“No! I don’t want this! Stop!” Yernén screamed in panic, trying to fight back, but his efforts were in vain.

In that moment, his body betrayed him. The dirty water he had desperately tried to hold back spilled out.

Drip. Drip.

The sound of water splattering onto the floor echoed through the room.

Sobbing quietly, Yernén could feel his soul breaking. But deep down, he knew—this was only the beginning.

“Spread him open, here and now,” a voice commanded, ice-cold and emotionless.

“No! Don’t!” Yernén’s desperate resistance was met with more brutal force as the soldiers flipped him over. Hands dug into his wet thighs and backside, violating every boundary he had left.

He wanted to cover his ears, block out the disgusting sounds, but he was too tightly bound.
“Please… stop…” he whimpered, tears streaming down his face as he looked at Duke Albert with sheer hatred. His vision blurred from the tears, but his burning anger was clear.

The others mocked him openly.

“Disgusting… It reeks of filth.”

“The stench is overwhelming.”

Their taunts echoed around him, laughter filling the space as they all reveled in his degradation.
Yernén could only tremble in fury, glaring at them through his tears.

It was a nightmare—a scene of absolute disgrace. Even though the filth was everywhere, their lustful gazes remained fixed on him, their twisted desire feeding on his humiliation.

Duke Albert felt a stirring in his loins and said with a sinister grin, “Continue.”

The soldiers dragged Yernén up like a misbehaving child. His body, now soiled and broken, was cleaned hastily as if the earlier act hadn’t just happened. But Yernén knew this wasn’t the end—it never was.

“Let’s resume the cleanup,” came the chilling command once more.

“Stop… please…” Yernén begged, but his voice was barely audible. His entire body was flushed red with humiliation as they forced him into position again, his legs spread wide, his body trembling with fear.

The cold water flowed back into him. Yernén shuddered violently, unable to hold back his sobs. His attempts to resist were useless—his body was too weak, and his spirit was too shattered.

Sobbing uncontrollably, Yernén could no longer keep his emotions in check. Tears streamed down his face as the last remnants of his pride crumbled away. What he didn’t realize was that his tear-streaked face only served to inflame their vile desires further.

The shameful sounds of water dripping from his body filled the room once again, and his face flushed an even deeper shade of red.

“Let me go…” he whispered weakly, defeated.
The soldiers paid no attention to his pleas. By the fifth time they forced him through the degrading process, Yernén had no strength left. He was limp, his body hanging like a ragdoll as he expelled the water into the large basin below.
His eyes, now hollow and unfocused, stared at the clear water collected in the basin. It was a cruel reminder that his body had been completely emptied, and he knew what would come next—the dreaded inscription of the magic seal inside him.

“I heard… it’s painful…” he thought weakly to himself.

But there was no sign that they would offer him any form of relief. No sedative, no painkiller. Nothing to dull the agony that awaited him.
Tears welled up again as the crushing weight of helplessness consumed him.

Yernén, who once prided himself on never showing weakness to others, had now been reduced to nothing.

And then, as if to confirm his worst fears, the soldiers forced his head down again, pressing his face into the cold floor. But this time, something different touched his trembling body—something strange and unfamiliar.

“What… what is this…?” Yernén stammered, trying to look back.

But Ainz, the man who had once been his trusted guard, shoved his head down forcefully, preventing him from seeing anything.

The nightmare was far from over.

Yernen’s eyes widened in utter shock. Something thin, soft, yet sharp had entered him.

“Ugh… Ugh…!”

His body, having expelled water multiple times, reluctantly accepted the intrusion, but Yernen was horrified. The sheer fact that this part of him—used only for excretion—was now being invaded, especially in front of others, left him reeling. And worse, the object kept pushing deeper inside.

“Agh…!”

The slender instrument seemed endless, burrowing further and further.

“Hah… Hah…”

It felt as if it had reached his abdomen, making him nauseous. But just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, a more disturbing sensation hit him.

“Ugh… What is this…? Ah!”

The device, now deep inside him, started scraping against his inner walls.

“Aaah!”

Yernen arched his neck and back in agony as the unbearable sensation coursed through him.

Laughter filled the air around him, mocking his pain.

Panting heavily, Yernen’s world was filled with his own ragged breathing and the sound of laughter echoing in his ears.

“Ugh… Hah…!”

After what felt like an eternity, the long device finally slid out of him, like a serpent withdrawing from its prey.

“What… What did you do…?”

Yernen’s voice shook as he tried to steady himself, glaring at the men, attempting to sound defiant despite his vulnerability.

At that moment, a boot pressed against his swollen, reddened backside.

“Do you think merely emptying yourself is enough to prepare that filthy hole to receive us, Your Highness?”

“You…!”

Yernen trembled with fury, glaring at Count Petra, his body shaking with rage.

“How dare you…! How dare you…!”

Yernen was so overcome with fury that his words stumbled, struggling to come out clearly.
“How dare you, the head of a family that has produced Popes and sworn to protect the royal family for generations…!”

His voice quivered with a faint sob at the end. Petra Marquis, hearing this, removed his foot from Yernen’s pale backside and moved in front of him, lifting his tear-streaked face.

“Hic…!”

“Oh dear… But if what we’re doing is wrong, wouldn’t the gods have punished us already? Shouldn’t lightning have struck by now?”

His voice held an edge of resentment as he ground his teeth.

“But nothing’s happened, has it? Surely, Your Highness knows this deep down—that the gods only see you royal family members as tools, with no real care for you.”

With a wicked smile, the young marquis gripped Yernen’s cheeks painfully.

“Ugh…!”

Petra then slipped a pill into Yernen’s slightly parted lips. Yernen, fearing it might be the same strange drug that Lizi had given him before, tried desperately not to swallow it, shaking his head in refusal.

“Better swallow it. The pain you’re about to feel will be so unbearable that you’ll wish you could die.”

“…!”

Yernen’s wide eyes filled with fear.

“Consider it a token of appreciation in advance. You’ll be satisfying my desires later, so I’m paying you ahead of time. Quite gentlemanly, wouldn’t you say?”

Seemingly satisfied, Petra Marquis let go of Yernen’s face. But the moment his hand left, Yernen spat the pill out. The small, white pill tumbled to the floor.

“I don’t need your filthy payment. Just kill me instead.”

Yernen’s voice was bitter, his tear-filled eyes blazing with defiance.

“Hah. Still clinging to pride, even now.”
Petra Marquis chuckled, amused by Yernen’s futile bravado, then crushed the pill beneath his boot.

“Still think you’re some beloved royal just because people call you ‘Your Highness’?”
“What…?”

He bent down, whispering venomously in Yernen’s ear.

“You’re nothing but a filthy whore.”

“…!”

Petra Marquis stood tall again and moved behind Yernen.

“You bastard!”

The curse exploded from Yernen, but no one in the room feared him anymore.

“Such a refined face, yet such vulgar language. Well… no matter. I had thought about being a bit more generous, but since you’re refusing… I look forward to seeing you beg for that pill, clutching at my leg.”

Petra smirked coldly, his eyes locked with Yernen’s fierce glare.

“If the pain becomes too much, just let me know. You’re welcome to lick my boots if you need relief.”

“That will never happen!”

Yernen gritted his teeth, spitting the words back at him with all the venom he could muster.
“Well then, if that’s how you feel. We’re done here. You may proceed, Duke.”

“Indeed. Sir Ainz.”

Behind him, Yernen could hear the hustle and bustle of activity. Yernen flinched at the clash of iron tools, and before long, iron stakes were driven into the floor of his hut, and his arms and legs were cuffed and shackled to the stakes. Resistance was completely futile.

And then, as Yernen shuddered and closed his eyes tightly against the pain to come, the cold, slippery, slimy, slimy metal touched his back.

“…!”

Yernen’s mouth made a pained sound as he felt the heavy pressure of the large iron club, which was neither thin nor slender like before.

The first pain he’d ever experienced made him feel so weak that his pride and the vow he’d made a few seconds earlier to never make a weak sound were forgotten.

“Ughhhhh…!”

Yernen’s face slowly began to color with horror as the rod pushed in from who knows where. Worse still, it bent and dug in, causing a terrible stomach ache.

Unable to even struggle, Yernen could no longer make a sound and could only bend his head and crawl away. But that was not the end of it.

For a long, long time, the contraption began to open up, far beyond human reach.

“Argh!”

A horrific scream burst from Yernen’s mouth. He could feel something deep inside him opening up. The cold winter wind reached her hot insides, burning her delicate mucous membranes.

“Arghhh…! Arghhh!”
“Snap, snap, snap!”

The restraints rattled in unison with Yernen’s seizure, making a clear sound. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt before. Yernen felt the horrible sensation of his body being split in two.

A series of cries escaped Yernen’s mouth, even though he knew that the people surrounding him would never understand him.

“Aaah… it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts…!”

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he cried out in agony, unable to think straight.

“Oh, no, you can’t be in pain from this, Your Majesty. I haven’t even started yet.”