What Became of the Tyrant After the Pregnant Empress Left - Chapter 128
“If we touch each other, we might burn,” she thought. If they grasped it fully, they might be consumed in the endless thirst of desire.
Even in her best condition, it was something difficult to endure. The current Ysaris, fragile and drained, couldn’t handle it.
“…It’s too much,” she whispered.
At those words, Kazhan clenched his fists tightly. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before lowering his head with resignation.
“Alright,” he murmured.
Considering how unimaginable this situation would have seemed just yesterday, he was already grateful and had no right to feel disappointed. He had restrained himself all this time, so he resolved not to push her any further.
However, as Kazhan was about to back away, Ysaris grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“It’s too much…”
She repeated her words in a quiet whisper, her expression unreadable. Then she softly added:
“But… maybe just once would be fine.”
“…!”
Kazhan’s initial surprise disappeared quickly, replaced by a rush of emotions that surged through him like pure exhilaration.
It wasn’t merely joy but a sense of elation too vast to describe in words.
For Ysaris to permit such closeness meant her heart wasn’t entirely closed to him. This was different from the events of the night before, where she’d acted to assist him after he’d been drugged.
No, this time was deliberate—proof that she was beginning to accept him, perhaps even completely.
“Alright, Ysaris.”
Kazhan didn’t need long-winded declarations. His feelings, impossible to fully articulate, were conveyed through the radiant smile that lit his face.
“Let’s make it unforgettable.”
With that, Kazhan lowered his head to her, enveloping her entirely. He couldn’t see the distant expression that briefly shadowed her face as she caressed his own black hair.
Before long, nothing but the heat of pleasure consumed them both, leaving any lingering thoughts irrelevant.
* * *
“You said we’d only do it once…”
“We did just once, didn’t we?”
“How can you call that just once?”
“Well, technically, I only stopped once,” Kazhan teased with a playful smirk.
Unable to walk, Ysaris clung to him as he carried her down the hallway. She feebly swatted at his chest in protest, but his strength was so depleted that her hand merely grazed him and slid limply down.
“Never again…” she murmured groggily, her eyes fluttering shut from exhaustion.
Though the gazes that turned toward her from every direction in the hallway were hard to ignore, Ysaris didn’t even have the energy to lift her head. Her body felt utterly languid, and it was all because of Kazhan.
This time, she couldn’t blame the alcohol. She hadn’t been drunk, yet she’d lost count of how many times he’d taken her.
I’ll never let this happen again, she thought to herself, though she suspected she’d inevitably yield once more.
She stewed silently in her frustration, and Kazhan, perhaps mistaking her silence for sleep, didn’t press her for conversation.
Step, step.
With every stride Kazhan took, muted murmurs rose and fell around them. It wasn’t unusual for an emperor and empress to share intimate moments, but to parade into public so openly, with the empress cradled in his arms? That was an entirely different matter.
Ever since her return, Ysaris had given rise to new gossip almost daily. Today was no exception.
Ignoring the chattering servants behind them, Kazhan headed straight to Ysaris’s chambers.
A subtle nod.
At the silent command, the door opened. The maid bowed respectfully and retreated, leaving the emperor and empress alone in the room.
Kazhan remained quiet, at first looking as if he was sulking. But a few moments later, he gently laid Ysaris down on the bed, careful not to wake her.
Rustle.
He pulled the covers up to her shoulders, tucking her in. His gaze lingered on her serene face, peaceful despite her exhaustion, as her soft breaths filled the room.
After a long pause, he reached out to brush her platinum hair and pressed a reverent kiss to the ends.
“Rest well,” he whispered, his voice so faint it could have been mistaken for the wind.
With that, he left the bedroom, letting her sleep undisturbed, and headed toward the imperial office.
Step, step.
The sound of his measured steps echoed down the corridor, the same rhythm as before. But now, the emperor’s expression was icy and severe, enough to make those who crossed his path bow low in fear.
“Summon the chancellor,” he commanded.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Kazhan sat at the desk in his study, his fingers interlaced as he arranged his thoughts behind a frigid expression. It didn’t take long for his summoned guest to arrive.
Standing before him was a sharp-featured man with ashen hair—Duke Zebiken Barilio.
“You called for me, Your Majesty?”
“Barilio,” Kazhan addressed him, his gaze barely shifting as he scrutinized the duke’s familiar, impassive face.
Without preamble, Kazhan dropped an explosive declaration.
“I intend to depose and execute the imperial consort. Any objections?”
