The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 4.2

“Yernen.”

“Brother…”

Rubbing his eyes, Yernen turned toward the voice. It was so dark that he couldn’t see Herriot’s face.

“I heard Lyle came to see you.”

“…”

“And you didn’t meet him.”

It was a subject Yernen didn’t want to talk about, so he turned his head away.

“What do you want to do?”

Herriot’s voice was gentle, waiting for Yernen to respond.
Yernen wished Herriot would leave, but unlike usual, Herriot stayed. He sat beside the bed, quietly watching. Finally, Yernen muttered something he didn’t really 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 my little brother wants, then I’ll make it happen.”

For some reason, the smile Herriot gave him felt chilling.
‘It must be my imagination,’ Yernen thought.

Herriot was always kind. But deep down, Yernen couldn’t shake the sense that something was off.

A week had passed, and Yernen still hadn’t manifested. That night, on his birthday, Herriot, who had always been so kind to Yernen, entered his room at midnight. He wore the same cold smile Yernen had dismissed as a misunderstanding and uttered the chilling words:

“Take him away.”

“What…?! Let go of me!”

Yernen, dressed only in his nightclothes and without shoes, was dragged roughly by the guards.

“Your Highness! What is happening? Please, Your Highness!”

“Dav…!”

Yernen was shocked by the violence, something he had never experienced before. Seeing his servant, Dave, slammed into the wall as he tried to intervene only made Yernen struggle harder.

“Let me go!”

“Your Highness! Your Highness…!”

But no matter how fiercely Yernen, just fourteen years old, fought, he couldn’t break free from the grips of the trained guards. Eventually, blindfolded, Yernen was dragged out of the palace in the dead of night.

Sensing that something terrible awaited him, Yernen’s resistance became more desperate. The guards, underestimating the ferocity of a small, young royal, were taken aback by his defiance and resorted to striking him on the back of the neck, knocking him unconscious.

Yernen, now limp, was carried to a massive lake hidden in a remote part of the palace grounds and loaded onto a boat like cargo.

“Ugh…!”

Yernen awoke clutching his aching neck, surveying his surroundings. His once delicate, handsome face twisted in frustration as he took in the situation.

“Where…?”

The rusty iron bed frame creaked under his movement, and dust rose from the old mattress.

Coughing softly, Yernen stood up, looking around the room. His face slowly drained of color.

“….”

Yernen knew exactly where he was. He had only been here once before, but the memory was vivid.

Grinding his teeth, he placed his bare feet on the grimy floor and dashed outside, pushing the creaky wooden door open. After running for some time, he collapsed, confirming his suspicions.

“Ha… ha…”

His eyes turned red with frustration and fear as he looked out over the large, ominous lake. The sight before him was terrifying—a vast expanse of black water, like the river that haunted his nightmares.

After the injury he sustained during the trip south, Yernen had developed a deep fear of deep, dark water. Now, that very fear stood before him in the form of this massive, shadowy lake.
There was a huge lake outside the palace—so deep and wide that no one could cross it without a boat. Even in the coldest winters, the lake never froze due to its depth, and in the center of it sat a small, isolated island.

On that island stood a dilapidated hut, far from fitting for royalty. Built by an emperor several generations ago as a personal retreat, the hut had since become a plaything for the royal children. Yernen had been here once before, a long time ago, with his siblings Cecile, Herriot, and Ilian.

The hut had been old and dirty, even after being cleaned up for their visit. Yernen, who preferred cleanliness, had hated it and never returned. But now, here he was.

“Damn it.”

Yernen wasn’t stupid—he knew exactly what this meant.
Despite the rumors, Yernen was still royalty. The ignorant common folk who spread those rumors had never seen him, and if they had, they would’ve known from his face alone, so much like his late parents, that he was indeed of royal blood.

But even though proving his lineage wasn’t in question, it didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t manifested as an Omega or Alpha. Yernen remained the only Beta in the royal family’s long history, unable to even sense his fiancé’s scent.

It was a glaring flaw in the royal bloodline. Letting Yernen out in public would have been too great a risk, but at the same time, he was still a royal, a descendant of the gods. And so Herriot, the emperor, had decreed it.

Yernen was to live out the rest of his days alone on this isolated island, cut off from the palace, in quiet disgrace.

Grrrrr…

“…I’m hungry.”

Yernen spoke softly, his voice tinged with weakness. There was no one to answer, no one to bring him food.

He stood up hesitantly, knowing that hunger wasn’t his only problem.

For the past two days, he had done nothing but sit in shock on the dusty mattress, so he also felt filthy and wanted to bathe. He was thirsty, needed to use the bathroom, and his body shivered from the cold. What he wouldn’t give for a warm, sweet cup of tea with milk and sugar.

But Yernen, who had been cared for all his life, didn’t know how to do anything on his own. He had never cooked for himself, never drawn his own bath, never even dressed himself properly. Servants had always been there, or Lyle had taken care of him.
But now, there were no servants. No Lyle. Yernen had to fend for himself.

The thought of doing everything on his own was mortifying. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as the reality of his situation hit him. But crying, complaining—it wouldn’t help. There was no one to hear him, no one to care.

Right now, survival was more important than pride.

He hadn’t eaten in two days. Having never missed more than a meal before, Yernen felt as if he might die from hunger.

Struggling to gather his strength, he began to look around.

“Surely, they won’t just let me starve to death.”

Even though he hadn’t manifested, the blood of the gods still ran through Yernen’s veins. They wouldn’t be so irreverent as to let a member of the royal family starve.

Yernen carefully stepped onto the dirty floor, where dust and sand rolled about, and made his way to what seemed to be the kitchen.

“Well… at least there’s something,” he muttered to himself.
In the middle of the kitchen, full of wooden debris, there was a large basket. Thankfully, inside the basket were a few worn, coarse clothes that looked like something commoners would wear, and alongside them, a pair of shoes—also not something Yernen had ever worn before.

“…”

The clothes had a faint, unpleasant odor, making Yernen reluctant to put them on. However, walking barefoot on the filthy floor wasn’t an option, so he used the cloth covering the basket to wipe his feet clean before slipping into the shoes.

“…This feels strange.”

The shoes were stiff, neither soft nor comfortable. But what choice did he have? There was nothing else to wear. As much as he disliked them, he couldn’t continue walking around on that dusty floor barefoot.

‘Come to think of it… I’ve seen servants wipe floors with a wet cloth,’ Yernen thought, recalling the palace servants cleaning as he passed by. Could wiping the floor with water make it clean? He had no idea since he had never done it himself. But he quickly pushed that thought aside as a sharp hunger pang hit him, demanding his attention.

Clutching his stomach, Yernen finally turned his focus to what looked like food stored beneath the basket.

“What… is this?”

He pulled out something round, covered in dirt, that resembled a fruit. It was unlike anything he had seen before.

After a moment of deep thought, Yernen finally deduced what it might be.

“Is this… a potato?”

He faintly recalled seeing a picture in a childhood storybook. Though the potatoes he usually ate were always pristine and white, he figured they must look like this before they were cooked. But there was another item in the basket that he recognized instantly, unlike the potatoes.