What Became of the Tyrant After the Pregnant Empress Left - Chapter 132
“You’re so frail and lack stamina. If a few rounds in bed leave you unable to walk, something is definitely wrong—”
“Dear!”
Kazhan stopped mid-sentence as Ysaris’s soft fist hit his chest. The gesture didn’t hurt, but he pretended to yield with an amused grin.
After all, he wanted Ysaris to be content with her life inside this golden cage.
“Do you think that’s something you should say out loud?”
“I thought I phrased it delicately enough. I’ll be more mindful next time.”
His easy admission was another calculated move. To Ysaris, Kazhan was not the Emperor but simply a man—one who deliberately chose to appease her rather than assert pride or dominance.
He allowed her to feel as though she held the upper hand in their relationship. Let her grow complacent and drop her guard.
Kazhan had started the conversation with that intent, but he was about to steer it elsewhere when he heard rapid footsteps approaching. Looking down, he saw Mikael running toward them.
“Mommy, look!”
Ysaris turned her attention to Mikael, who had been proudly leading the way. In his tiny hands, he clutched the delicate wings of a butterfly. He had always chased them enthusiastically whenever they visited the gardens, and today, he had finally managed to catch one.
“A butterfly. Did you catch it because you wanted to keep it?”
“Pretty!”
“Yes, it’s very pretty. Should we ask a maid to look after it for you?”
“No, for Mommy!”
“For me?”
“Mm-hmm. Mommy’s eyes!”
“My eyes? Because they’re the same color as the butterfly’s wings?”
Mikael giggled, his sweet laughter warming Ysaris’s heart. Although she didn’t particularly like insects, she couldn’t help but cherish the thoughtful effort her little boy had made for her.
As she considered how to care for the butterfly, a faint tearing sound froze her in place.
“Mikael!”
“Mm?”
Mikael tilted his head innocently, oblivious to what he had done. The tiny butterfly, now in pieces, twitched feebly in his small hands before going still.
Unaware of the gravity of his actions, Mikael peeled off the body clinging to the end of the wings. He handed the ruined blue wings to Ysaris, as though offering a treasure. What had once been beautiful now lay dull and tattered under his clumsy fingers.
A child so young couldn’t comprehend the irreversible nature of what had happened.
“Mommy?”
Ysaris couldn’t ignore Mikael’s bright, expectant gaze. Whispering to Kazhan, she asked him to set her down, then knelt before Mikael despite the soreness in her body. Gently stroking his hair, she explained.
“Thank you, my sweet boy. But look. The butterfly is gone now, and its wings are no longer beautiful.”
“Gone?”
“Yes. It doesn’t fly anymore, does it? Without its life, even the wings lose their meaning.”
“…Oh.”
Mikael’s large eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he lowered his head, crestfallen. He had wanted his mother to be happy, yet she seemed disappointed instead.
“Don’t cry. Mommy will keep the wings you gave me as a precious gift. Thank you for thinking of me, my darling.”
Ysaris smiled warmly and took the fragile wings from him. She then held his now-empty hand, guiding him to the nearby flowerbed.
“Look, there are many butterflies flying over there. Shall we go watch them together? You’ll see how much more beautiful they are when they’re alive.”
“Okay.”
Hand in hand, mother and son walked closer to the vibrant garden. The sight of fluttering wings glinting under the sunlight created a vivid tableau of life and color.
“Wow…”
Mikael’s eyes sparkled as though he might start chasing after the butterflies again. Ysaris, observing his innocent wonder, pulled him closer and planted a soft kiss on his head. Her gentle tone flowed like a melody.
“See how much lovelier they are when alive? Next time, if you want to catch a butterfly, don’t harm it. We can raise it together instead.”
“Okay!”
“And sometimes, it’s better to admire them from afar. Living creatures are always at their most beautiful when they are free.”
“Mm…”
Mikael nodded, though it was unclear how much he truly understood. Ysaris felt satisfied that she had done her part in teaching him. Someday, she believed, he would come to understand.
“Let’s head back now, Cain.”
“Very well.”
Kazhan lifted Ysaris effortlessly into his arms, cradling her as though it were second nature. Her head came to rest easily against his shoulder, her warmth settling against him like a familiar rhythm.
But as his gaze swept over the butterflies, his crimson eyes turned cold, lingering for just a moment longer.
What beauty is there in admiring something only from a distance? If freedom is all they need to survive, then why not create a garden vast enough for them to believe they’re free?
Kazhan couldn’t share Ysaris’s sentiment. And he never would.
Not unless the butterflies themselves met their end.
