What Became of the Tyrant After the Pregnant Empress Left - Chapter 272

What words could have made him hesitate so much? When she read on, it opened with the most trivial question imaginable.

[Are you doing well?]

Just one sentence.

Ysaris instinctively knew Kazhan had stared at this sentence for a long time after writing it. At the very least, she could tell he hadn’t been able to continue writing immediately afterward.

Perhaps he had left it open for days before returning to it later.

Otherwise, this page wouldn’t be the only one without faint signs of aging or a shift to a finer quill.

[Didn’t you say time would solve everything? This time, which feels like a lifetime to me, must still not be enough for you. That’s why there’s still not a single word from you.

I understand. Time hasn’t softened my feelings either, so how could I demand change from you?

All I can do is wait. For the day your resentment fades and you come to see me again.

When that time comes, I’ll also get to see how Mikael has grown. Alongside you, who remain as beautiful as ever.]

The strangely familiar phrasing made Ysaris recall her last conversation with Kazhan. It was clear he had quoted her own words.

It was a remark she had practically dismissed after their heated argument. Truthfully, she hadn’t even remembered it until reading Kazhan’s letter.

Her plans to see him again had been purely to extract blood.

[I desperately hope that day comes before my last breath.

That it won’t be too late. That you’ll accept my feelings as they are. That someday, you’ll realize what I hold for you isn’t mere obsession—but love.]

“……”

Reading Kazhan’s words left Ysaris unsettled. No matter how she tried to reinterpret them, all she saw was the lonely confession of a man who couldn’t forget her. It made her feel like the villain.

Even though he was the one who drove her away.

“What was your intention in showing me this?”

Finally finishing the letter, she turned to Temisian with questions. There were too many oddities, and the words spilled out one after another.

“Was I even supposed to see this? It’s addressed to me, but it doesn’t seem like he ever intended to show it. What will Kazhan say when he wakes up?”

The letter’s closing made it clear.

[To you, who will never receive this.]

It ended abruptly, without even a signature. So irregular that a stranger wouldn’t know who had written it.

Never mind why Kazhan had kept an unsent letter—this wasn’t something Temisian should have delivered to her. Especially not if it was meant to reproach her.

What had he done while she suffered in Uzephia? Or when she returned only to be toyed with by Kazhan’s wordplay? He had stood by as a bystander, and now he dared criticize her attitude toward Kazhan?

Just as Ysaris began to visibly show her displeasure, an unexpected answer came.

“He won’t wake up. That’s why I delivered it in his stead.”

“…What?”

For a moment, Ysaris didn’t understand.

Won’t wake up? Kazhan, from sleep?

No—if it were just sleep, there’d be no reason he couldn’t wake.

The completely unforeseen possibility froze her thoughts. Temisian spoke in her stead.

“Do you know how Her Highness the Princess awakened?”

“Well…”

She didn’t. Ysaris knew too little about Tennilath to answer.

Instead, she studied the middle-aged man’s icy expression, and a chill ran down her spine at the growing sense of dissonance.

‘Deep sleep. The phrasing I used. The Duke’s reproach. Kazhan not waking—’

“Don’t tell me—”

As her face paled, Temisian drove the final nail in.

“She awakened by consuming the Emperor’s heart. On his orders, I carved it out myself and fed it to her.”

The Sword Master’s lips finally twisted downward. Restraining his sharp aura to avoid harming the Empress was the most he could offer.

“Her Highness the Princess lives. And the Emperor, who must have been a thorn in your side, has fallen into eternal slumber. Are you satisfied now, Your Majesty?”