What Became of the Tyrant After the Pregnant Empress Left - Chapter 93

“‘A period to understand and accept parting…’”
Kazhan echoed Ysaris’ words. He never expected the word parting to feel so foreign. Unlike what Ysaris might think, he was someone all too familiar with sudden and shocking goodbyes.
It started when he lost his mother, the only person on his side in the imperial family. Then, during their escape from the emperor’s pursuit, his infant sibling—barely a year old—died.
The loyal retainer who managed to smuggle him to safety went the opposite direction to act as a decoy, ultimately losing their life. The last servant who had helped him settle in Pyrein passed away shortly after from illness.
From the age of six, when he fled Uzephia, to seventeen, when he met Ysaris, Kazhan’s life had been a series of farewells. Without forming deep bonds, his life consisted of fleeting encounters and inevitable separations.

If Ysaris hadn’t reached out her hand to him back then, Kazhan would have gone on living indifferently to partings.

That handkerchief she offered him was the beginning of it all. If only he had accepted it quietly. But instead, he refused, they argued, and their fateful connection became entangled.
They kept running into each other—quarreling, reconciling, helping, talking… Then one day, by chance, he protected her from an assassin’s attack. Before he realized it, they were eating meals together and studying side by side, despite being in different years.

In every good memory Kazhan had, Ysaris’ radiant smile was always present. At some point, it became inevitable—his world started to revolve around her.
Ysaris became his life. His everything. His destiny. His entire world.
The thought of parting from her…
“I could neither understand nor accept it. Even if I spent my entire life trying, it’s an impossible feat.”
Kazhan spoke the truth, without a trace of falsehood. Letting go of Ysaris wasn’t something he could ever do. It wasn’t a matter of willpower; it was beyond his ability.
“To part from you forever—I’d rather die.”
“The emperor of an empire speaks of death so casually,” Ysaris retorted, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
“It wasn’t said lightly. Does my sincerity appear so trivial?”
Ysaris couldn’t answer. She wanted to dismiss his words, but the intensity in his crimson eyes choked her response.
In the end, she averted her gaze and shifted the topic slightly to keep the conversation afloat.
“You’ll live well, even if you return to Uzephia without me. Don’t you already have an empress?”
Runellia Tennilath. Ysaris wasn’t the only woman who shared Kazhan’s surname. What’s more, he had shown great care for the empress. Surely, he could lead a happy life with her.
‘…Then why is he saying this to me?’
Ysaris didn’t need to ask. The moment Runellia was mentioned, Kazhan frowned and explained.
“She’s a sham. I only married her because the nobles wouldn’t stop pestering me to take an empress.”
“You’ve declared your love for her publicly and acted the part. Surely you won’t deny that.”
“I simply played along. In exchange for making her a figurehead, we agreed to feign affection publicly. I swear, I’ve never shared a bed with her, nor have I placed her above you.”
Ysaris’ lips parted slightly in disbelief. She had always wondered why Runellia bore no marks from Kazhan’s possessiveness, unlike herself. Now she understood—it wasn’t consideration but the absence of intimacy altogether.
“So, the claim that you have no intention of producing an heir…?”
“I don’t know where you heard that, but if I ever said it, it was in reference to her. Not you.”
Ysaris stared at him, her expression uncertain. She didn’t know what to believe, nor could she comprehend why he was going this far.
Why not return to Uzephia as the glorious emperor, find a young and beautiful new wife, and live peacefully? Why was he instead lowering himself, pleading, justifying, and struggling to win her back?
“…Why?”