What Became of the Tyrant After the Pregnant Empress Left - Chapter 78
The thorn of betrayal lodged deep in his heart, preventing Kazhan from fully expressing himself. Yet, in every moment he tried to ignore, he had always loved Ysaris.
…But his sincerity did not reach her.
“What Your Majesty has shown isn’t love, but obsession.”
Ysaris clasped her trembling hands behind her back and glared at Kazhan. The fear of openly defying the emperor and the uncontrollable rage toward him mixed together, bursting out.
‘How dare he speak of love. How dare he.’
“From the first moment we met, you killed my fiancé. Afterward, you forcibly took me. You mocked me, insulted me, and allowed the nobles to gossip about me freely, didn’t you?”
Ysaris recalled that first night when she wished for death. Being embraced by her enemy was an indescribable nightmare. Her defiance had no effect, and when she tried to bite her tongue to die, he threatened her with Pyrein, leaving her no choice but to submit to him.
All the countless nights she spent with Kazhan after that were nothing but nightmares. The way he relentlessly stimulated the places she responded to, driving her to climax, only deepened her self-loathing.
Each morning she woke alone, her tears of guilt and humiliation had dried up.
It took months until she could no longer cry. Even though she wanted to die, she couldn’t, and though she lived, it didn’t feel like living. She endured the time as a hostage, trapped in a miserable cycle.
How many times had she heard the degrading gossip that reduced her to nothing more than a woman selling her body? Watching her country’s dignity fall to the ground, her honor stripped away, as she was made a laughingstock.
She had finally escaped that place, where she couldn’t even bring her own handmaiden, without a single ally by her side. And yet, the emperor says he loved her. That he still loves her.
The very words made her sick to her stomach, filled with disgust and rage.
“No one treats someone they love this way. Even beasts wouldn’t act as Your Majesty has, and yet you dare call it love? Be honest. Say that you miss my body. That would at least be easier to believe.”
A brief silence followed. Kazhan’s mouth opened as if to say something, but the only sound that came out was her name, rough and grated.
“Ysaa.”
“Do not call me that. I never allowed Your Majesty to use a pet name for me.”
“…Empress.”
“If you truly love me as you claim, then leave. That’s the only thing Your Majesty can do for me.”
Kazhan shut his eyes in bitter defeat. He wanted to escape the sensation of being shredded by her piercing gaze, if only for a moment.
The woman he had longed for so desperately, the one he had searched for endlessly, stood right before him. And yet, he couldn’t even face her properly. If there ever was a pathetic sight, this was it. Gathering his resolve, Kazhan forced his eyes open.
It wasn’t an unexpected outcome. He just hadn’t known it would hurt this much.
“…”
“…
In the silence that filled the space, the soft, sporadic sound of rain became more noticeable. Despite the now considerably weaker rain, Kazhan did not lower his umbrella. He still shielded Ysaris from the cold, natural elements as he slowly spoke.
“You’ve had a child.”
“…!”
Kazhan’s blatant shift in topic was meant to lighten the mood. He wanted to remind her that they shared a child.
The way she looked at Mikael, filled with affection, gave him a shred of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance. After all, if she truly hated him, she wouldn’t have raised their child with such love—at least, that was what Kazhan clung to.
So he hadn’t anticipated how quickly Ysaris would pale, or how she would lose her composure, stammering her words.
“The child… Mikael is… my child…”
‘My child, not yours.’
Ysaris couldn’t bring herself to speak the lie aloud. In order to protect Mikael, she needed to deny it somehow, but as a mother, she simply couldn’t.
The fact that she didn’t know how much Kazhan knew made things even worse. If he had already seen Mikael and knew his appearance, it would be impossible to lie about the child’s parentage. Mikael’s looks and age clearly marked him as their child.
‘I should have just run away. The moment I realized who he was, I should have grabbed Mikael and fled.’
Half consumed by regret, Ysaris’s mind was dominated by one terrible sentence, repeating over and over.
<It might be better to kill the child than let that woman bear my heir.>
The trauma that had taken root—the greatest reason she had fled Uzephia.
