What Became of the Tyrant After the Pregnant Empress Left - Chapter 242

From the beginning, nothing was easy. It was only after countless twists and turns that he managed to secure Jebiken’s cooperation.

But once awakened with the Duke’s help, Kazhan held nothing back. If he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Ysaris, he couldn’t afford to hesitate.

Through Jebiken, he struck a deal with Pyrein’s king.
He explained his circumstances to Ysaris and left for Uzephia.
He seized the throne, drenched in blood oaths.
He slaughtered every last relative who bore him hatred.

All of this happened in just one year.

Kazhan lived fiercely. By day, he waged war. By night, he buried himself in study.

Running an empire required knowledge far beyond what the academy had taught him—not just facts, but the bearing of an emperor. He had to dismantle and rebuild every part of himself, the remnants of his past as a fallen noble. It would take years.

Most nights, he read until dawn, clinging to the thought that if he slept, he’d only dream nightmares. When exhaustion finally overtook him, he’d collapse and dream of Ysaris playing with another man.

He didn’t care if the side effects of his ability ravaged him. He didn’t care if he had to spend the rest of his life laboring for the country that abandoned him.

As long as he could picture Ysaris’ radiant smile welcoming him when he finally returned to Pyrein as Emperor, he could endure anything.

He’d have to renovate the palace gardens. Fill them with blue flowers of every variety. Banquets would feature violin-centric music. The imperial menu would need a complete overhaul—he knew Ysaa’s tastes, but maybe he’d sample each dish himself.

It had been so long since he smiled. He’d have to practice before returning to Pyrein. How many children would they have? He’d need to prioritize her health over her cravings.

The ring was already made, so preparations wouldn’t take long. Still, he’d hold the grandest wedding imaginable—months of planning. Maybe he’d let Ysaa, as Empress, design it herself. How happy would she be, exchanging vows in a wedding hall crafted to her desires?

……As the war neared its end, Kazhan swelled with hopeful delusions. Ysaris had once defined love as “acting for another in the mundane.” The thought of tailoring every inch of her world to her whims revitalized him, even when exhaustion had him crawling.

All while oblivious to what awaited him at the end of that desperate life.

* * *

The death he felt then—

“I regret ever loving you.”

—was the same as this.

He saw, but couldn’t see. Heard, but couldn’t hear. Standing, yet floating, as if already collapsed. The boundary between reality and delusion warped his senses. His entire body screamed, denying the past few seconds, as if insisting what he’d heard was an illusion.

A desperate struggle to survive.

“You regret… the love we shared?”

It wasn’t a question. Just a murmur of disbelief—yet an answer came anyway.

“Yes, Cain. I regret it. Enough that if I could erase it, I would.”

Kazhan’s lips parted slightly. He must’ve meant to speak, but no sound emerged. It looked more like his throat had been squeezed open.

While he stood frozen, Ysaris continued.

“So, let’s—”

Ysaris Chernian, to Cain Jenut.

“—end this here.”

And with that, it was over.