The Tyrant's Happy Ending - Chapter 9.3

“…Ha.”

With a soft, derisive sigh, he clenched his trembling hands into fists.

“Who told you that?”

He finally looked directly at Cecil. Her face, lined with wrinkles that seemed far beyond her age, was barely holding back tears.

“The knights… and Duke Albert. He told me…”

“No. I didn’t.”

“…!”

“But if I tell you that… will you believe me?”

A mocking tone slipped from Yernene’s lips.

A soft sob escaped Cecil. It was clear she didn’t believe him.
Watching her, Yernene felt something hot roiling inside him, as if he wanted to vomit up all the bitterness he’d kept within.
Did she know he’d been on that island? Did she know what those damnable snakes had done to him all those years? What had she been doing all this time? Why hadn’t she come for him? Had she ever even tried to find him?

But Yernene swallowed all of it.

“Sister.”

“Y-yes?”

At his call, Cecil wiped her tear-streaked cheeks and looked up. Her face, unaccustomed to hardship, appeared worn and weary as she rubbed her red, swollen eyes.

But Yernene decided he would ask her nothing. From now on, Cecil was merely a hindrance in the path he was determined to walk.
“Do you want to be emperor?”

“E-emperor…?”

“There’s no one left for the throne, and Harriet had no heirs.”
Cecil looked at Yernene in disbelief.

“Yernen…!”

Her tone was heavy with reproach.

“Father had four children. Harriet, Illian, you… and me. But now, only you and I remain. Just the two of us.”

Cecil’s face went pale, her expression as though she might faint at any moment. Yernene’s voice took on a menacing tone as he continued.

“Give me the throne.”

“Yernen!”

Cecil’s cry echoed through the hall like a scream.

“…”

The pain in his stomach twisted tighter. This time, it was a different kind of ache—a deep, wrenching pain that had haunted him for days.

He felt like he might collapse at any moment. But here, in this place, he couldn’t afford to show weakness.

“You can’t become emperor, Cecil Portnum Helio. What could you do with such a fragile spirit?”

“Yernene…! Yernene… My child… oh, why are you acting like this…?”

Clutching her chest, Cecil sobbed, her face twisted in agony.

“Tenes.”

Yernene called out to Tenes, who was waiting nearby.

“Bring it.”

“Yes.”

Tenes placed a sheet of paper, a pen, a glass bowl of ink, and a small dagger before Yernen. The observers in the hall began murmuring in anticipation, knowing what was about to happen.

Without hesitation, Yernen picked up the dagger and slashed his palm.

Pain shot through his hand as bright red bl00d dripped into the glass bowl. Tenes immediately wrapped a white cloth around Yernen’s hand to stop the bleeding.

Yernen gripped the cloth tightly, and it quickly turned crimson.

“Write it down.”

The moment Yernen finished speaking, Tenes dipped the pen into the ink, the tip darkening with bl00d-red ink.

“What would sound best?”

Leaning back in his chair, Yernen pretended to ponder, though he knew the result wouldn’t change. He stalled for effect.

“Yes, let’s put it like this: ‘Cecil Portnum Helio permanently renounces her claim to the Helio Empire’s throne.’”

“…!”
Everyone in the hall looked at him in shock.

“And… she commits herself to supporting Yernen Helio as the 29th Emperor of the Helio Empire. That should suffice for you to abdicate, shouldn’t it?”

Yet no one noticed that Yernen’s face had grown paler since entering the banquet hall.

Yernen scanned the document Tenes had written, a statement of Cecil’s abdication, then signed it and nodded toward Cecil.

“Take it to her.”

It was an unthinkably disrespectful act.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Nevertheless, Tenes silently took the paper and pen that Yernen had placed in front of him and approached Cecil. Every eye in the room followed him, shifting anxiously between the document in Tenes’s hand and Cecil’s face.

“…”

Cecil, looking utterly defeated, stared at the paper before her, her eyes scanning the words.

A statement of abdication.

Her head throbbed from crying for so long, making it difficult to process the words. She looked as though she was struggling to comprehend if what was happening was even real.

“Ye…”

She tried to speak, her voice trembling, but Yernene cut her off.

“Cecil.”

“Y-yes.”

“Why didn’t you come on my tenth birthday? Mother told you, didn’t she? That I was waiting.”

Cecil hesitated, as if searching for words, then lowered her head.

“What about the following year? And the one after that?”

Still, Cecil remained silent, her head bowed.

“And on my fifteenth birthday?”

Yernen’s voice shook with restrained anger.

“Harriet told you then too, didn’t he? That I wanted to see you that year. You were the only one who would visit me on my birthday, the only day I waited for…! Do you remember that I asked you to come that day?”

Finally, Cecil replied in a barely audible voice.

“Yernene, I was… overwhelmed for a long time. You know… your nephew was very, very ill. So I was… for a long time…”

“No, Cecil. Just answer the question. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I… I remember. I remember it all. You… on your fifteenth birthday… you wanted to see me, as Harriet said.”

“Lies.”

“What…?”

“Don’t try to deceive me, Cecil.”

“…”

“You never bothered to check on me, not once.”

A look of shock slowly spread across Cecil’s face.

“Yernene, I… I…”

Her gaze faltered, and fresh tears gathered in her eyes. But Yernene didn’t give her a moment to gather herself, pressing forward.

“Sign the paper, and go back to clinging to that child of yours as you always have. Honestly, does it even matter to you? Whether Harriet was emperor or I am. It doesn’t change anything; you’ll go on as you always have, doing absolutely nothing.”

Despair clouded Cecil’s face, and she lowered her eyes in resignation. Nothing Yernene had said was wrong. It was all painfully true.

She was exhausted—worn out from the sudden loss of two siblings and the simmering resentment in her youngest brother’s gaze. For someone who had secluded herself in her estate for years, the weight of it was crushing.

With trembling hands, she grasped the pen.

The ink was tinged with Yernene’s bl00d.

As a royal, she knew better than anyone what it meant to sign with such ink. Yet Cecil completed the signature, filling in the line as if resigning herself to let go of it all.

As Yernen left the banquet hall, he could feel the shift in the gazes upon him. What had once been mingled with curiosity and disdain was now tinted with fear, respect, and reluctant submission.

It was only natural.

In the Empire, the throne was strictly passed down to the direct royal line. The law only allowed the throne to pass to a branch family if all direct heirs died without leaving any offspring. With Cecil’s abdication, only Yernene remained eligible for succession.

Rumors might still circulate about Yernene’s possible involvement in his brothers’ deaths, but he didn’t bother denying them. He knew they couldn’t unseat him regardless.
However, he also knew that if he didn’t secure the throne quickly, his life would remain at constant risk.

The young and healthy emperor had died unexpectedly, just two days earlier, and his state funeral was still underway.

The foxes that once thrived under Harriet’s reign were likely scrambling, caught off guard by this thunderbolt of an event.

They’d never anticipated the emperor’s sudden death.

The real problem wasn’t Harriet’s death, but that Illian, the former emperor’s second son, was also gone. Now they were calculating the losses they’d face if Cecil, with her power base in the southern noble faction, took the throne.

Though they’d begun weighing pros and cons, their calculations would soon mean nothing. With Cecil’s abdication, Yernene was now the only contender.

And now they faced him—a prince they had once debased, treated as nothing more than a pawn, a man they’d never imagined would rise to power.

Moreover, Yernene was backed by the powerful Trigia Marquisate from the west, and his maternal family was the Marijouge House, which they had mercilessly crushed.

Everyone could foresee the bloodshed to come. Once the situation stabilized, they would only have one move left.

They’d have to try to eliminate Yernene and install a branch royal as a puppet.

They couldn’t leave the throne vacant for long, but they’d delay his coronation as much as possible, trying every means to bring him down.

Which meant Yernene needed to survive until he claimed the throne. And he knew exactly what he needed first to ensure that survival.

The military.

“Tenes.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“What’s the disposition of the Divine Bl00d Knights?”

Tenes understood immediately. Yernene was asking if they had a true allegiance to Harriet, a loyalty that might spell trouble. Yet Yernene doubted they were loyal to him.