The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 6.2

“Fine.”

He would be visiting his father and mother there, and no doubt, Harriet and Lizzie—whom he had despised. And, of course…

‘My own grave will be there too.’

“Enough talk, let’s just sleep.”

Seeing his parents again, long deceased, and coming face to face with his own grave… they were enough to stir up complicated emotions. But the most complicated feeling of all… was Lyle.

Lyle Baltimore—always acting like he knew everything, with a sly arrogance that was almost admirable. And yet, despite the humiliation and resentment he surely harbored, he still couldn’t forget Yernen Helio. He was a fool—a stubborn, hopeless fool.

Feigning sleep, Yernen crept closer, curling up against Lyle’s chest just as he had done when they were young.

Perhaps because he was on the verge of sleep, Lyle’s scent seemed richer tonight, his natural scent faintly hidden beneath the heavier fragrance of pheromones.

The scent wasn’t unpleasant, just… unfamiliar.

‘I’ve never smelled this before.’

Yernen buried himself a little deeper into Lyle’s chest, as if trying to block out the past. It was futile, but the act itself seemed to symbolize that, though they lay side by side as they once had, there was no returning to the past.

He knew that, no matter how much he wanted to go back, there was no return.

‘This will be the last time.’

Soon, he would fulfill his duty, bear his child, and that would be the end.

So, just for tonight… he allowed himself a moment of weakness.
Yernen gradually drifted off to sleep.

“This one.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

At Yernen’s direction, the attendants in the dressing room bustled into action. The white robe was removed, and a dark ceremonial gown embroidered in navy and silver was draped over his slender frame. The outfit, carefully chosen, complemented his ash-blond hair, neatly styled to perfection.

Finally, after fastening sapphire cufflinks and adjusting his appearance, the simple yet formal attire was complete.

Though it wasn’t as elaborate as his usual dress, the elegance of Yernen’s appearance still drew admiring sighs from the attendants.

“It suits you perfectly, Your Majesty.”

Hearing the genuine admiration from the attendants, Yernen gave a pleased nod and gestured at Noah.

“Ye… yes?”

But all he received in response was a baffled look.

“….”

Russell, noticing Yernen’s irritation, quickly gave his own nod of acknowledgment to the attendants, sensing the rising tension on Yernen’s brow.

Yernen cast a sharp look at Noah, who started trembling as if he might faint.

Even after only two days, Noah’s foolishness was already grating on Yernen’s nerves. The thought of keeping him around for a whole year felt like a headache.

He missed Tommy, the loyal servant at the duke’s estate, who’d been attuned to Yernen’s every need, anticipating his desires before he even had to ask.

Though Tommy was a commoner, Yernen now felt it might be worth adopting a noble and bringing him into the palace to serve.
Sighing, Yernen placed a hand to his forehead and made his way out. Just as he reached the door, he ran into someone.

“What is it?” Yernen scowled, looking up.

It was Lyle.

“What are you doing here?”

After a moment of silent surprise, Lyle replied slowly, “The ceremonial attire suits you, Empress. But why am I here? We’re going together, aren’t we?”

Yernen narrowed his eyes, scanning Lyle from head to toe. Though Lyle looked striking in his uniform, Yernen’s thoughts went elsewhere.

‘Does he truly have no palace of his own?’

Yernen’s preparation hadn’t taken long, so Lyle couldn’t possibly have gone back to the imperial palace to dress. This meant he had dressed here, in Yernen’s quarters.

Yernen spoke in a snide tone, “Who said you could set up residence in my palace?”

“We’re married, aren’t we?”

“Married? Who says? Did you forget the contract?”

“But officially, we’re still a couple. And if we stay close, won’t that help us bond? It might even… advance our relationship.”

“What?”

“This.” Lyle curled his fingers, making a circle, then raised his index finger on his other hand, moving it toward the circle.
Yernen slapped his hand away hard enough to make a snapping sound.

Lyle dramatically feigned injury, blowing on his finger while looking at Yernen with amusement, then extended his hand.
With a small scoff, Yernen took his hand, quietly acknowledging that, for all his irritation, he didn’t entirely dislike Lyle’s antics.

People often say that the gods are merciful. But is that really true?

Yernen was skeptical of the saying “God is merciful.” If the gods were truly merciful, they wouldn’t allow their own bloodline to face suffering and die in such misery.

The gods weren’t merciful. If anything, they were indifferent, as cold as the air lingering in the marble corridor he was walking through now.

Eyes downcast, Yernen walked past the grand cathedral.
Every time he came here, he felt a deep discomfort. He didn’t know why, but even as a child, he’d never felt at ease in this place.

Coming here always brought a sense of unease, like the feeling of someone reaching for him, like the way Lady Lizzie Marion would extend her hand. It was subtle, but the feeling was always there.

Following protocol, Yernen walked beside Lyle towards the entrance of the cathedral’s great hall. They stopped, pausing briefly before entering.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall.

“…!”

Yernen scanned his surroundings, tense, like a prey animal sensing danger.

But there was no one around, except for the attendants standing quietly behind them.

“What’s wrong, Empress?”

“…Nothing.”

It’s just my imagination.

Even after escaping that island, Yernen often felt traces of those dark memories lingering. Sometimes he’d feel as though someone’s hand brushed over him, and other times he’d hear voices—just like now.

But Yernen knew it was all in his mind. There was no way Eldin Petra could still be alive—he had personally taken his life.
The familiar sound of footsteps had made him wary for a moment, but it was just a ghostly memory, a lingering echo that would soon fade.

As he steadied himself, the pounding of his heart gradually slowed.

It’s just an illusion.

Calming himself, Yernen turned toward the doors. He had a duty to fulfill. The massive doors of the cathedral slowly opened, and Yernen walked through them, passing between rows of nobles standing in silent reverence alongside Lyle.

The Helio Empire had always honored the divine lineage of its imperial family, so the clergy served both the gods and the imperial bloodline. The emperor traditionally presided over sacred rites and rituals in the empire, including those honoring the royal ancestors. But Lyle, though emperor, was not of Helio’s bloodline. Therefore, Yernen was responsible for leading the ceremony.

He stepped up to the platform, meeting the gaze of the Pope, who was already waiting there.

Perhaps it was because the sound of footsteps had reminded him of Marquis Eldin Petra, but he didn’t particularly welcome the sight of the Pope’s face.

The current Pope of the Helio Empire, Eden Petra, came from a family that had produced Popes for generations. He was also the twin brother of Eldin Petra, who had tormented Yernen in his past life.

Thus, standing before him now was someone who bore an unsettling resemblance to Eldin Petra.

But Eden Petra was different. In Yernen’s previous life, Eden had been the one to deliver the prophecy that Yernen would become emperor.

Eden greeted Yernen with a respectful bow and stepped back from the platform, leaving Yernen and his three attendants to carry out the ceremony.

From his position, Yernen looked out over the assembly. All eyes were on him, solemn and reverent.

The signal from a priest in the corner indicated that he could begin. Yernen glanced to his left.

“…!”

And immediately felt a headache coming on.

Why does it have to be him?

Standing there was Noah Luar.

Noah, evidently unused to being the center of attention, trembled like a deer caught in a snare. The holy water in the crystal cup he held shook along with him. It was a pathetic sight.

Yernen couldn’t help but wonder if Noah would even last until the end of the ritual, but he kept his face impassive. Taking the ceremonial knife, he drew it across his fingertip.

A drop of bl00d trickled down his slender, pale finger and fell into the crystal cup. Noah, startled, nearly jumped out of his skin, as if he were the one who had been cut.

Predicting Noah’s blunder, Yernen had already taken hold of the cup.

Just a moment later, it would have been a disaster if the cup had fallen. Though Noah was supposed to present it, the important thing was that Yernen received it.

Keeping his expression serene, Yernen held the crystal cup and began reciting the prayer he had memorized since childhood.
The prayer was long and monotonous. As a child, he had often complained to his mother about having to learn it, but now, even after being reborn, he saw its use—it was his mother’s foresight.

After a long recitation, Yernen stepped forward and poured the holy water into a large crystal basin filled with clear water. Russell and Marianne placed white flowers in the basin.
Now, the nobles would come forward one by one to take a flower and proceed to the royal cemetery. Though it felt pointless, tradition and protocol demanded it.

Yernen, maintaining a reverent demeanor, took a flower from the basin. Lyle followed, retrieving a flower of his own, and extended his hand to Yernen, who accepted it without hesitation. Together, they exited through the side door toward the royal tombs.

“Don’t you dislike Noah Luar?”

Lyle’s casual question, though the two had never discussed it, suggested he had been observing Yernen closely.

“…Do I?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t particularly like him. Why do you ask?”

“You defended him just now when he made that mistake.”

“Hah.”

Yernen wasn’t sure why Lyle was bringing it up.

“Admittedly, he’s an incompetent fool,” Yernen said bluntly.
“But regardless, he’s mine. It’s the duty of those in power to cover for their subordinates’ faults.”

“…”

“If one of your own made a blunder in front of so many people, would you just stand by and let them humiliate themselves?”

“…No, I wouldn’t.”

Lyle replied slowly, his tone oddly unsatisfying. Yernen looked up, trying to gauge his expression, but the backlight made it hard to see.

“When did you learn the ceremonial customs? You seemed well-practiced.”

“What do you think I was doing during those two years at the Duke’s estate? Rituals are an imperial duty, so of course, I studied the protocols.”

Yernen believed that anyone with imperial or noble bl00d should be able to perform these duties properly. If they were to enjoy wealth and privilege, the least they could do was fulfill their responsibilities.

As they continued their conversation, they reached the cemetery. Yernen followed Lyle, whose steps stopped in front of… Yernen’s grave.

“…”

A flicker of emotion crossed Yernen’s face before quickly fading.

By tradition, the emperor was expected to pay respects at the royal cemetery after ascending to the throne. But Lyle, not of imperial bl00d, hadn’t been able to do so until now, as the ceremony required a royal spouse. This visit was his first.
Typically, a new emperor paid respects to the grave of a past ruler with great achievements. Yernen had never imagined Lyle would stop at his own grave.

Seeing it now, he was taken aback.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Why… did you place a flower at my grave?”

As the nobles gathered around other royal graves, Lyle remained rooted in place, staring at Yernen’s grave. With everyone else out of earshot, Yernen finally asked the question on his mind.
“It’s customary to place a flower at the late emperor’s grave, isn’t it?” Lyle replied playfully.