The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 7.2

“So she was with that scoundrel Tenes again today?”

The moment Lyle stepped into the room, he could feel it. The space, usually dominated by his own pheromones, now carried the unmistakable trace of another Alpha’s scent. It was worse than he’d expected—sharp, invasive, irritating.

“Well.” The Empress greeted him with a displeased frown, oblivious to his irritation.

It wasn’t mere indifference; her annoyance was genuine. She clearly disliked his unannounced visit so early in the day when he usually came by in the evenings. Tenes Trisia. That man would never see this cold look of hers—the look that was enough to snap Lyle’s last thread of restraint.

That day, he made a decision. Lyle moved his office to the Empress’s quarters, ensuring he would be close by, ready to guard what was his.

“Where are you going?”

The Empress, who had just woken up and was about to wash and change, looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“I was wondering… Aren’t you going?”

“Why would I go? This is my office now.”

“Why is this your office?”

Lyle shrugged and replied casually, “It seemed like an unused space.”

It wasn’t a lie. The Empress’s quarters were enormous, and the area she occupied took up an entire floor. With two bedrooms, bathrooms, a dressing room, a living room, a reception room, a study, and a glass conservatory, there were plenty of unused rooms. That morning, he’d instructed his servants to move his things to her quarters and had been working there since.
“Whether it’s used or not, this is my space. Why are you here?”
With an intense territorial instinct, she looked at him with an expression that clearly wished him gone.

“I expected this reaction.”

This wasn’t like sharing a bedroom; it wasn’t as simple as kicking him out. This was an outright invasion of her space. He knew she’d hate it. But, blinded by jealousy, he didn’t care. He was ready to do whatever it took to rid her of that pest.
Before she could fire off another sharp retort, Lyle placed a hand on her forehead.

“You’re burning up.”

As he’d expected, her forehead was warm.

“It’s not the first time.”

Despite her prickly personality, the Empress had a frail body. Well, anyone who’d spent eighteen years bedridden would hardly be in good health. With her weak physique, she was sensitive to changes around her, and even the slightest stress would raise her temperature.

From the early morning hours, the Empress’s quarters were alive with commotion as desks, bookshelves, and various furnishings were moved in. Lyle lay beside the Empress, watching as she repeatedly stirred awake from the noise, drifting back to sleep only to be disturbed again. It was no surprise that a fever eventually set in, and it provided him with a convenient excuse.
“Why don’t you rest in bed today?” he suggested with a smiling face, gently guiding her back to the room.

The Empress, though looking at him with suspicion as if he were up to something peculiar, obediently returned to bed. She must have felt truly unwell.

At least now, Lyle thought, she wouldn’t attempt to leave. It was exactly what he wanted.

“You’re really… not going out today? Aren’t you going to work?” she questioned.

“I am working—right here.”

Despite his answer, Lyle’s gaze shifted to her—a figure seated on the sofa, looking at him with exasperation as she read her book.

Some time passed, with the Empress leisurely soaking up the midday sunlight. But suddenly, she rose from her seat, prompting Lyle to ask reflexively, “Where are you going?”

The Empress gave him an exasperated look. “Why does it matter where I’m going? Soon enough, you’ll have me reporting every trip to the bathroom!”

“That’d be convenient,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Are you insane?”

A barely audible mutter escaped her lips.

Just then, Lyle glanced at the clock—it was lunchtime.

“Off to lunch, are we?”

“…”

Her silence confirmed his guess.

“Orston.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Prepare lunch here.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“What?” The Empress looked at him, bewildered.

“Sometimes, it’s nice to eat in your room, isn’t it?”

Lyle maintained a shameless expression.

Employing every possible excuse, he managed to prevent her from going outside. Yet despite his efforts, it proved fruitless in the end—the day of the royal banquet arrived, and Tenes had confirmed his attendance.

“So, you’re exercising your veto on all royal events except the conjugal meetings?” Lyle asked, standing beside Yernan, who had just emerged from the bath, wrapped in a robe and visibly irritated.

“Who’s the one that broke the clause requiring formal permission before any unscheduled visits outside of conjugal meetings?” she retorted coldly.

“Hah.” Lyle cast an annoyed look at her.

“Just get ready—unless you’re planning to go out dressed in that robe.”

As expected, she didn’t budge. Concealing his frustration, Lyle left the room. Just then, he caught a hint of an unfamiliar scent lingering in the air.

“Am I imagining it?”

It was similar to the scent she usually gave off while sleeping beside him, yet subtly different—slightly more… alluring.

“It must be a mistake.”

The idea of her being in heat crossed his mind fleetingly, but he brushed it aside.

Unlike females, male Omegas experience their heat cycle only once every six months. And according to the head steward of the Empress’s quarters, who had cared for her since she’d been in the Fortnum household, the next cycle wasn’t due for quite some time. Likely, it was just the scent left behind by a seamstress who’d been assisting with her gown.

Setting aside the remote possibility, Lyle found himself, once again, consumed by an unpleasant sense of unease.

“Damn it. Nothing is going my way.”

Already, he envisioned her meeting Tenes in friendly conversation—a scenario that replayed in his mind, stirring his frustration. This wasn’t merely idle fantasy; it was bound to happen if things continued as they were.

His chest tightened, a palpable weight pressing down.

Lyle glanced down at the Empress beside him, noting the faint flush coloring her cheeks. Was her fever returning? He knew she’d been exhausted from preparing for the banquet since early morning, especially given how restricted her outings had become lately. Confined within the palace, her days were quiet and stifling.

He was keenly aware that his gaze often drifted toward her small, pale face. Every subtle shift in her expression or demeanor seemed to catch his attention almost instinctively. What was this feeling? She was someone he’d known for only a few months—a potential danger, even. Yet, no matter how much he reminded himself of this, his gaze clung to her.

Why? He asked himself this over and over, yet he found no answers. This wasn’t like him. His subordinates, who now watched him with puzzled looks, wondered if he had lost his mind. Even Lyle himself found his actions bewildering, yet he couldn’t help it.

Together, they ascended the stairs, pausing on the landing where countless nobles observed their every move. Lyle handed her a goblet of amber wine, expecting her usual impatience or a scowl. Instead, she accepted it with an expression of quiet dignity, perhaps aiming to maintain an image of grace.

But this response barely registered; his mind was elsewhere. As he spoke of the Empire’s prosperity, his thoughts continued to spiral, centered on the woman beside him. Her presence drew his attention with an intensity that unnerved him.

“…To the prosperity of Helio,” he concluded, raising his glass to hers. As their goblets clinked, a familiar yet elusive scent drifted toward him—a faint, sweet fragrance he remembered from her quarters. It was comforting, grounding.

He had barely taken a sip before she slipped away, descending the stairs without a backward glance. Of course. She must have someone she’s meeting, he thought, trying to stifle the strange flare of irritation kindling in his chest.

Yet, what truly lingered was that scent. It was faint but unmistakable.

Lyle looked down at the hand that had offered her the glass, absently rubbing his fingers, as if he could still feel the delicate trace of her presence there, her elusive fragrance wrapped around him like a mystery he couldn’t shake.

“There’s no one else around.”

Even the knights had been dismissed; the landing was entirely empty.

The idea that the scent could still be lingering from the seamstress who’d visited earlier was absurd—the staff had left the palace over two hours ago.

‘Which means… there’s only one possibility.’

It had to be a heat cycle.

Once more, his gaze found the Empress, easily locating her in the crowd. Ironically, despite the many people present, only one person held his attention.

As he’d anticipated, she was meeting Tenes Trisia. The sight twisted his insides. An irrational theory crept into his mind.

“She knew she was in heat, didn’t she?”

Did she know she was entering her cycle?

It was unlikely—she was rarely aware of such things. Even so, it was hard to keep a clear head.