The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 4.1
“Sniff, sniff.”
Yernen sobbed uncontrollably, his once beautiful face now a mess of tears.
“Yernen…”
Yernen had almost never cried in front of Lyle, so Lyle didn’t know how to comfort him. Unsure of what to do, he awkwardly sat beside Yernen, simply holding his hand.
Just then, the door opened, and someone entered.
“Still crying, I see.”
“…!”
It was Herriot.
“Your Majesty,” Lyle said, bowing on one knee. Herriot motioned for him to rise and gestured towards Yernen. Lyle shook his head, indicating he hadn’t managed to calm Yernen.
Herriot gently comforted Yernen.
“Herriot…!”
Though Yernen often appeared tall and slender like a deer, he wasn’t exactly small. However, in Herriot’s arms—a towering alpha known for his strong build—Yernen looked like nothing more than a child.
Herriot soothed his youngest sibling, fed him a light soup with Lyle’s assistance, and eventually helped him to bed. Even after Yernen had fallen asleep, Herriot remained by his side, stroking his hair gently, as if protecting his little brother.
Despite the emperor’s clear affection for Yernen, rumors about him had started to spread quietly within the palace.
“What did you just say?”
“S-Sire…!”
Yernen glared down at the trembling servant kneeling before him.
“I asked you, what did you say?”
“I… I made a mistake! Please, forgive me!”
“Yernen!”
Just as Yernen was about to shout, he froze and looked in the direction of the voice. Lyle was approaching.
“What’s going on?”
Lyle’s icy gaze fixed on the servant kneeling before Yernen, his expression sharp enough to strike fear into anyone.
“…It’s nothing,” Yernen replied, not wanting Lyle to find out what had been said.
“Take him to His Majesty.”
“Understood.”
“N-No! Sire! Please, show mercy!” the servant pleaded as he was dragged away, begging for forgiveness.
“…What really happened?” Lyle asked, his carefree demeanor gone, replaced by a serious expression.
“Nothing to worry about. When a servant speaks out of line, it’s only right to correct them,” Yernen replied evasively.
After Roxie’s death, a rumor began to circulate through the palace.
People whispered that everything—from the royal child with the same name as Yernen being bedridden, to the emperor’s sudden death and the young empress’s early passing—was due to an imposter living among the royal family. They said the gods were angry because someone who wasn’t truly royal was pretending to be one.
And the subject of that rumor was Yernen. It was said that the incident where Yernen had been gravely injured was the gods’ attempt to strike him down. They claimed the royal family had defied divine will by saving him, leading to disaster.
They insisted that the deaths in the royal family were the gods’ punishment for allowing an imposter to live as royalty.
Yernen’s failure to manifest as an omega only fueled the rumors.
Among nobles and royals, alpha and omega traits were seen as symbols of prestige, marks of noble blood. While such traits occasionally appeared among commoners, they were exceedingly rare.
In the royal family, even the most distant relatives all had distinctive traits, and these traits typically manifested at a very young age. However, despite being fourteen, Yernen had yet to experience his own manifestation.
Many eyes were on him, and the rumors circulating began to weigh heavily on Yernen, who had never before cared about the opinions of others. Though he acted as if it didn’t bother him, he secretly counted the days on the calendar each night.
There was no reason for him not to be a royal. He had the distinctive ash-blond hair that only appeared in the royal bloodline and bore a perfect mix of features from both Beynon and Roxie. Yet, despite this, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Yernen to meet Lyle’s gaze without feeling anxious.
‘If I don’t manifest… I can’t marry Lyle.’
Even though Yernen was certainly of royal blood, if he didn’t manifest as an omega but remained a regular beta, he wouldn’t be able to bear an alpha’s child.
Lyle was the only heir to the Grand Duchy of Veltemore, and without an heir, the consequences would be disastrous.
‘It would be a serious problem.’
In that case, Yernen would have to break off the engagement for Lyle’s sake. It was the law. But the thought of it felt worse than death.
Lyle Veltemore belonged to him. The thought of Lyle giving to someone else the love and care he had given Yernen made him feel like destroying everything.
‘That’s why I have to manifest as an omega….’
But why hadn’t it happened yet? Yernen checked the calendar anxiously every day.
Time passed, and the rumors only grew, with more and more people accepting as fact that Yernen would never manifest as an omega. Even Ilian, who had previously spent his days wandering aimlessly, came to Yernen, offering occasional words of comfort, telling him to ignore such rumors. Herriot, too, executed several people who had spread the rumors. Yet, no matter what they did, the gossip only gained more traction.
Meanwhile, Cecile never came.
That winter, when Yernen was thirteen, was bitterly cold for him. And then, in March, when Yernen turned fourteen, the palace received tragic news: Lyle’s parents had died suddenly.
By that point, even Yernen began to wonder if he was somehow cursed. Not only had his healthy parents passed away overnight due to a mysterious illness, but now the Grand Duke and Duchess of Veltemore had met the same fate.
When the former emperor and empress passed away, Lyle had stayed by Yernen’s side. Yernen wanted to do the same for him, to go to the Grand Duchy and be there for him, but… he couldn’t. At that time, Yernen was so emotionally fragile that he didn’t want to face Lyle at all.
Lyle struggled with the fact that he hadn’t been able to say goodbye to his parents, but when he left, he wore his usual carefree smile and said,
“I’ll be back.”
Just like that, Lyle departed for the Grand Duchy, and Yernen’s anxiety only worsened. He had thought he would feel more at ease without Lyle around, but that wasn’t the case.
Yernen shut himself away in the palace, consumed with anxiety over his lack of manifestation, and Herriot stayed by his side, comforting and supporting him while Lyle was gone.
Yernen often lashed out at Herriot, who wasn’t at fault, and cried bitterly. In those moments, Herriot would cradle his younger brother, waiting until Yernen had cried himself to sleep, just as Cecile, Roxie, and Lyle had done before.
Occasionally, as Yernen drifted off, he would catch a glimpse of Herriot’s face through his blurry vision and sense that something was off. But his thoughts were too consumed by his anxiety over manifesting to dwell on it.
Under Herriot’s care, Yernen teetered on the edge of a precarious emotional tightrope. Six months passed, and then Lyle returned.
“Yernen…!”
But Lyle’s appearance was far from normal.
In just six months, Lyle had grown taller. But it wasn’t his height that caught Yernen off guard. He was dressed in filthy clothes, the kind worn by commoners, and for the first time, Yernen saw an expression on Lyle’s face that he had never shown before.
Lyle looked furious.
Yernen had seen Lyle wear that expression before—when dealing with other playmates or servants who had disrespected him—but never toward Yernen. Even when Yernen had hit him with a wooden sword, lashed out, or thrown tantrums, Lyle had never looked at him that way. Now, seeing it directed at him made Yernen feel like he couldn’t breathe.
Normally, Yernen would have sensed that something was seriously wrong, but his mind wasn’t in a good place.
His birthday was less than a week away, and Yernen still hadn’t manifested. It felt as if, just like the rumors claimed, he wasn’t truly a part of the royal family.
“Ainz.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Send him away. I… don’t want to see him.”
“You mean Duke Veltemore?”
“Yes.”
Yernen couldn’t bring himself to face Lyle.
‘He’s probably here to end the engagement.’
Half resigned to it, Yernen knew that it was the right thing to do. But the thought of never seeing Lyle again was unbearable.
It was foolish pride, a reckless stubbornness that Yernen knew wouldn’t change anything. Yet, in that moment, it was all he had left.
He couldn’t face Lyle, couldn’t stand the thought of hearing the words of rejection. Worse still was the idea of Lyle with someone else, treating them the way he had once treated Yernen.
One day, Yernen would have to confront him, but not now. Not today.
Yernen watched as Ainz escorted Lyle away. Lyle struggled and shouted, clearly upset, trying to reach him. But Yernen only clenched his cold, trembling hands, closed the book he had been pretending to read, and forced himself to appear composed as he retreated into his quarters.
As soon as he entered his room, he collapsed.
‘I wish it were all a lie.’
Yernen wished he had died back then, during the trip south with Lyle to visit Cecile. Back then, everything had been perfect. The emperor and empress had still been alive, and Yernen had been the adored youngest prince, ruling over the palace like a little tyrant, knowing that everyone loved him no matter what he did.
But after that, everything fell apart. Herriot, concerned about the growing rumors, assigned Ainz to guard Yernen personally. But no matter how skilled Ainz was, he couldn’t stop the whispers from spreading.
Now, even the palace servants looked at Yernen with suspicion, murmuring behind his back. Though he tried to act as if it didn’t bother him, inside, Yernen was crumbling. Those judgmental stares were too heavy for a child to bear.
Yernen crawled into bed, hoping that it was all a bad dream, and sought escape in sleep.