The Tyrant’s Beloved Doll - Chapter 23

Yuriah and Lilien’s faces twisted in anger. They were shocked because this was the first time Raytan had openly defied them, even in front of others. Setz was just as surprised. The passive, compliant Raytan she had always known seemed to have disappeared.

Then, without warning, Bern lunged at Raytan.

SMACK!

Bern’s fist connected with Raytan’s face without a word. Blood, dark and crimson, began to trickle from Raytan’s mouth, staining his lips.

“In this palace, who else could have done something like this if not you?” Bern growled.

“…”

“It must’ve been you. A cursed freak like you could easily pull off such a twisted stunt!”

Raytan let out a small, humorless chuckle, almost as if he found the situation absurd. Sure, the fact that Lilien’s hair had spontaneously caught fire was strange, but to be blamed for something he hadn’t done—it was beyond ridiculous.

That tiny laugh seemed to infuriate Bern even more.

“Kneel and beg for forgiveness! Before I really do something you’ll regret!” Bern shouted in rage, kicking Raytan in the stomach. Setz’s face went pale, remembering that Raytan had already been bruised there before.

Bern continued to beat Raytan mercilessly, while Raytan just stood there, enduring it all without striking back. Even Raytan, for all his stubbornness, knew he couldn’t fight back in front of everyone.

No one stepped in to stop the assault. Yuriah held Lilien close to her, watching passively, and Yerna stood by, doing nothing.

Only Setz trembled with fear.

“P-Please… Brother Bern, it’s all my fault… Let me beg for forgiveness instead…” Setz pleaded, her voice shaky.

But her words fell on deaf ears.

Just then, an unexpected voice broke through the tense silence.

“…That’s enough, I think.”

It was Lize, her face pale and drawn.

The moment Lize appeared, the atmosphere grew even colder. Bern hesitated, and both Lilien and Yuriah, along with Yerna, grimaced. None of them had expected Lize to intervene like this. After all, Lize had always remained silent no matter how much Bern or anyone else tormented Raytan.

“Raytan, get up,” Lize said in a calm, steady voice. She watched as Raytan rose to his feet, then turned her gaze to the others in the room.

“I’ve heard the full story from Osun,” Lize continued, her voice as composed as ever. “There seems to have been a misunderstanding, but regardless, it’s proper for the one of lower rank to apologize first. Raytan, apologize.”

Setz’s heart sank at Lize’s words. Raytan was being asked to apologize, even after all he had endured. The injustice of the situation was unbearable, and yet, this was the reality of their world—a reality where power and rank determined everything.

“Apologies.”

It was quite a skill, really—being able to say sorry with a face that clearly showed he didn’t mean it at all.

“I apologize as well, Lady Yuriah, and to you, Princess Lilien,” Raytan said, maintaining a calm, indifferent expression. “I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

Lize, too, bowed her head gracefully. “I also offer my sincerest apologies, Lady Yuriah and Princess Lilien. I hope you will forgive us.”

Of course, Yuriah wasn’t one to let it slide that easily.

“Lize, do you think this is something that can just be smoothed over with a simple apology?” Yuriah shouted, her voice filled with rage. “Look at Lilien! After seeing what she’s been through, you still think this is enough?”

“I’m going straight to the emperor! You better be prepared!” she threatened.

Yuriah had always found Lize, who was favored by the emperor, to be a thorn in her side. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to finally sway the emperor against her. She could spin a tale about how that wretched Raytan and Princess Setz ganged up on Lilien. If Lilien managed to shed a few tears and put on a convincing act, it might actually work…

“I’ve already spoken to the emperor myself,” Lize interjected calmly.

“…W-what did you say?” Yuriah stammered, her eyes wide in disbelief. Everyone in the room, including Setz, was equally shocked.

“He advised that I apologize to Lady Yuriah and resolve the matter amicably,” Lize continued smoothly.

“That… that’s impossible…”

“And don’t worry,” Lize added with a pointed smile, “I didn’t mention that it was Princess Lilien who first laid hands on Princess Setz.”

Yuriah’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line at Lize’s barbed words, while her face flushed with anger.

“Princess Lilien, I apologize once more,” Lize said, still maintaining her calm demeanor. “I’m truly sorry for the trouble caused. If you’d like, I can send over some medicinal herbs that are excellent for treating burns.”

“…I don’t need them,” Lilien snapped back, her face twisted in disgust. If Lilien’s expression was one of bitter resentment, Bern’s was even worse. He glared at Lize as if she were the most revolting thing he’d ever seen, while Lize continued to smile serenely, unaffected by their anger.

“Bern, Lilien!” Yuriah called out sharply, her voice trembling with frustration. Realizing she couldn’t push the issue any further, she seemed ready to retreat. After all, if the emperor himself had ordered a peaceful resolution, there wasn’t much more she could do.

As Yuriah took a few steps to leave, she suddenly turned back to face Lize.

“Do you think the emperor’s favor will last forever?” she asked, her voice dripping with icy disdain.

“I suggest you understand your place, Lize. Concubines without a proper heir will eventually meet a miserable end once they lose the emperor’s favor.”

It was a direct hit meant to wound. But Lize, ever composed, replied in the same steady tone, “Thank you for your heartfelt advice, Lady Yuriah.”

Yuriah shot one last venomous look at Lize before finally turning on her heel and leaving with her children in tow.

As the door closed behind Yuriah, Lize’s gaze shifted to Yerna, who had remained silent throughout the confrontation.

“Lady Yerna,” Lize said, her voice soft but firm, her eyes locking onto Yerna’s trembling form.

Yerna didn’t say a word. She looked at Lize with the same cold expression she always wore whenever she was about to punish Setz.

“If it’s alright with you, Lady Yerna, would it be possible for Raytan to teach Princess Setz Kazakh for a while?” Lize asked.

“What did you just say? Who is teaching whom?” Yerna’s voice dripped with disbelief.

“It won’t take much of their time,” Lize replied calmly.

“Do you honestly think I would agree to that—”

“I’ve already received the emperor’s approval for this. Is it still difficult to permit?” Lize interrupted.

Once again, invoking the emperor’s name proved to be the most powerful tactic in the palace. Despite her irritation, Yerna couldn’t outright refuse. She frowned deeply, but ultimately couldn’t say no.

“Thank you for your understanding,” Lize said, bowing her head politely. Yerna shot a glare at Lize before turning and heading toward the door without another word.

Setz, meanwhile, stood there looking around nervously. Lize still had her gentle smile in place, while Raytan remained expressionless, as if none of this turmoil had affected him at all.

“Setz! What are you doing just standing there?” Yerna barked from the doorway, her tone sharp and impatient. “Come here at once!”

“Y-yes, Mother…” Setz hurriedly started to move, glancing back at Raytan before she left. Their eyes met briefly.

Brother, are you okay? Setz mouthed silently, her concern clear in her expression.

Raytan responded with a small nod, indicating that he was alright. Relieved, Setz let out a small sigh. Despite all the chaos, she was grateful that Raytan wasn’t badly hurt.

“Setz!” Yerna snapped again.

“I’m coming, Mother,” Setz replied quickly, falling into step behind Yerna as they left the room.

Now, only Raytan and Lize remained in the space that felt suddenly quiet and empty.

Raytan’s face, swollen from the blow, was reflected in Lize’s emerald-green eyes. She reached out her hand slowly, gently brushing her fingers against his bruised cheek.

“Mother, I’m fine,” Raytan started to say.

“I should have arrived a little later,” Lize interrupted softly.

“….”

“If I had, Princess Setz might have felt even more guilty toward you,” she said, her expression showing genuine regret.

Raytan’s lips tightened as he lowered his head, biting back his frustration.

“I’m tired,” Lize said with a sigh. “I think it’s time for me to return.”

Raytan nodded silently, the weariness in his mother’s voice and the quiet resignation on her face weighing heavily on his thoughts.

“I’ll escort you—” Raytan started to say.

“That’s not necessary,” Lize interrupted.

At that moment, Mari, who had been waiting just outside, entered the room as soon as Lize called her name. Supporting Lize with a steady arm, Mari guided her as she staggered slightly. Without a backward glance, Lize allowed herself to be led away, leaving her son alone in the room.

Raytan stood there for a long time, frozen in place. His cheek throbbed, his head pounded, and the metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth. All of this was so familiar to him—too familiar. He was used to it all, this pain and humiliation. And yet, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of despair that washed over him.

As he stood there, lost in thought, a fleeting image of Setz’s pale, anxious face flashed through his mind.

Brother, are you okay?

He remembered how her lips had formed those silent words, how her expression was filled with genuine concern.

Despite everything he had gone through, the memory of Setz’s silent worry seemed to linger, making him feel something he couldn’t quite understand—a deep, aching sadness that no amount of resilience could numb.

***

Setz mentally calculated the number of hits she might have to endure—twenty, thirty? Maybe even more. She was trying to figure out just how many strikes it would take for Yerna’s rage to subside.

This time, at least, Setz resolved to protect her face. Even if she had to take thirty blows or more, she didn’t want to walk around with cotton stuffed in her nostrils again like last time.

But to her astonishment, Setz didn’t get hit. Not even once.

It happened when Yerna, after returning with Setz, was hurling her usual barrage of insults that no longer even hurt—calling her a “worthless girl” or a “useless fool,” among other things. Just as Yerna raised her hand to slap Setz, Luna suddenly entered the room.

Luna held a selection of expensive medicinal herbs and ointments. Although Luna had always treated Setz’s injuries as best as she could, the remedies she brought this time were far more luxurious and high-quality than anything Setz had ever used before. They were diverse in type and clearly of the highest grade.

These supplies had come from none other than Lize.

Along with the herbs, Lize had also sent a letter. SummaLized, the letter said something like this:

[…These may be humble herbs, unworthy of a princess, but they are quite effective in reducing swelling. I heard that your face was greatly affected due to Princess Lilien’s actions, so I hope this helps. I expect that you will visit my palace again tomorrow with Raytan. Though I may not be well enough to meet with you, I’ll be sure to ask Mari about how much your condition has improved. If these herbs don’t work, I’ll make sure to find something else that might be of use…]

Though the letter was polite, Setz immediately understood Lize’s true intention. The herbs were just a pretext; Lize’s real aim was to stop Yerna from laying a hand on Setz.

Lize knew that if Yerna lost her temper and took it out on Setz, she would end up severely injured again. In the past, there were times when Yerna’s beatings had left Setz in such a state that she couldn’t even show her face in public, her body covered in bruises and cuts. Yerna always made sure to keep Setz out of sight when she was in that condition.

But now, things were different. The emperor himself had given Raytan permission to tutor Setz, and Lize had used the excuse of sending her maid to check on Setz’s condition to ensure that Yerna wouldn’t dare to hurt her. Lize’s subtle threat was clear: if Setz ended up injured, she would have to answer to the emperor, and who knows what Lize might say to him then?

Lize, so kind and warm…

Setz felt a deep gratitude, not only towards Raytan but also towards Lize. She owed them so much today. Lize had defused the situation, obtained permission for her lessons with Raytan, and even protected her from her mother’s wrath. It was ironic that the people looking out for her weren’t her own blood relatives but Raytan and Lize, to whom she felt a stronger connection than she ever did with her own mother, Yerna.

Setz made a vow to herself. If the time ever came again, like before her return to this timeline, when Yerna tried to kill Lize, she would do everything in her power to stop it.

Thanks to Lize and Raytan, Setz managed to survive what could have been a terrible day. Exhausted, she finally lay down and drifted off to sleep.

***

 

The Archmage’s face was etched with worry as he sat at his desk, sighing heavily. His weary eyes darted back and forth between the documents scattered before him and the view outside his window, where the light was dimming. The life of an Archmage was always demanding, but this particular burden weighed on him for an entirely different reason.

Just a few days ago, the temple had faced a calamity—a flood of unprecedented scale. It wasn’t a natural disaster but rather a strange disturbance in the underground aqueducts. Repairing the waterways wasn’t a complicated task in itself, but the problem lay in what the aqueduct concealed—something hidden and unknown to all but a few.

When the Archmage heard about the incident, a dreadful suspicion took hold of him. He feared that his greatest nightmare had come to pass.

And indeed, his fears were confirmed.

“Why… why has this happened?” he muttered, his voice shaking.

Beneath the black water lay a secret chamber, a place where he was imprisoned. And there, the Archmage found something he had never wanted to see—the stone sarcophagus, cracked and empty.

The Archmage vividly remembered the first time he saw that sarcophagus, right after he assumed his position. His predecessor had shown it to him, explaining the importance of guarding and watching over him—one of the most crucial duties of any Archmage.

Even as years went by, the Archmage never neglected to check on the sarcophagus. The last time he saw it, only a year ago, it had been intact, though covered in a thick layer of dust. There had been no cracks, no hint of danger.

So why now? Why had it suddenly broken open, and for what reason?

You must kill him, echoed in his mind, that haunting directive from the past.

The Emperor himself saw it, didn’t he? The black hair, the red eyes…

They had all agreed once: Raytan must be eliminated.

But Raytan had not died; he had survived, clinging to life through all attempts to end it. The Archmage was now convinced that the broken seal and Raytan’s continued existence were deeply intertwined.

“I must inform the Emperor…” the Archmage muttered to himself, but then he hesitated.

You know, don’t you? he remembered the Emperor’s words from long ago. We tried drowning him, leaving him alone in the forest, but the boy wouldn’t die. If we make another move, we could provoke something even worse.

He recalled the shadow on the Emperor’s face back then, his blue eyes filled with doubt.

Let’s wait and see how things unfold. And besides… I have you to keep an eye on things.

The Archmage knew that the Emperor was not a man of unwavering resolve. If he told the Emperor about the empty sarcophagus, it would only lead to chaos and fear, not clear solutions. And the Archmage had no desire to burden his Emperor further.

“Yes… nothing has happened yet,” he whispered to himself.

The sarcophagus was empty, yes, but so far, nothing catastrophic had occurred. Raytan, too, had done nothing out of the ordinary.

Not yet, anyway.

Perhaps the one who had been sealed away, he, had already left Denhelder. The sarcophagus had been empty for several days now, and if he truly disappeared, there would be nothing more to worry about.

Of course, the worst-case scenario still loomed in the back of his mind.

“For now, I must keep a close watch on Prince Raytan,” the Archmage decided. It was the wisest course of action available to him at the moment.

“Archmage,” a voice called from outside the room, followed by a soft knock.

The Archmage, who had been lost in thought, turned his head toward the door. “Come in,” he said, his voice steady.

A young acolyte entered, his arms full of scrolls and books. “Here are the documents you requested, sir.”

“Good. Set them down over there,” the Archmage replied, gesturing to the side table.

The acolyte placed the materials carefully on the table. The documents consisted of old records from the temple’s archives, some ancient journals, and even rare texts from distant empires beyond the seas.

The Archmage intended to comb through these texts once again, searching for anything that might give him more insight into him. Information on this figure, an entity who belonged to a past era thousands of years ago, was scarce; the legends were old, passed down mostly through oral tradition, and much of the original knowledge had been lost to time.

“Is there anything else you need, Archmage?” the acolyte asked, standing at attention.

The Archmage looked at the piles of ancient texts and shook his head slowly. “No, that will be all for now,” he said. “You may leave.”

As the acolyte departed, the Archmage turned back to the window, his gaze once again drifting to the horizon. For now, I must watch Raytan closely, he thought, his expression unreadable.

“That’s enough for today. But it sounded noisy outside. Was there something going on?” the Archmage asked, his expression still distant as he focused on the documents before him.

The acolyte stepped closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “Yes, actually, there is something I need to report regarding that.”

He hesitated for a moment, then continued, “Today, there was a conflict involving Princess Lilien, Prince Raytan, and Princess Setz.”

“…Is that so?” The Archmage narrowed his eyes slightly. He was well aware that Raytan and Setz were often bullied by the other members of the royal family, but hearing that they actually fought back was surprising.

“It was quite a scene. However…” the acolyte trailed off.

“However?” the Archmage prompted.

“Well… it seems that Princess Lilien’s hair caught on fire during the confrontation,” the acolyte said, his voice dropping even lower.

“…What?” The Archmage’s tone turned sharper, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Princess Lilien claimed that it was Prince Raytan who set her hair on fire. Because of this, a maid from Lady Yuriah’s palace came here to seek clarification on the matter,” the acolyte explained.

“…”

“But as you are well aware, Archmage, Prince Raytan has no magical abilities,” the acolyte continued, a puzzled expression crossing his face. “And specifically fire magic? Not even our priests can manipulate elemental forces like that these days, much less a prince who has shown no magical talent whatsoever.”

He shook his head, trying to make sense of the situation. “If Prince Raytan had such power, surely it would have been recognized long ago. His name would be on the list of those with potential magical abilities. So, I explained all of this to them and sent them back. Though, I still can’t quite understand how such a thing could have happened….”

The Archmage’s mind wandered back to a time long ago, when true sorcerers existed in Denhelder.

In that era, the concept of a mage was much more focused. Only those who could manifest the forces of nature—fire, wind, water, earth—through pure magic were considered true mages. Among all these elements, fire was the most powerful and difficult to control.

But everything had changed since those days. The mages who once wielded such power were long gone, their abilities lost to time. Even those who remained at the temple were only capable of sensing a faint trace of magic compared to their predecessors. They couldn’t truly harness elemental forces.

In this reality, it was impossible for Raytan to have used magic to set someone on fire.

At least, it should have been.

“…Archmage?” The acolyte’s voice brought him back to the present. He looked up to see the acolyte staring at him with concern, noticing how pale the Archmage’s face had become.

“Are you unwell, sir? Should I call for a healer—”

“No,” the Archmage interrupted, his voice firm.

“What?” the acolyte asked, surprised by the severity of the response.

“Leave me,” the Archmage ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I have matters to consider on my own.”

The acolyte hesitated, then bowed respectfully before exiting the room, leaving the Archmage alone in silence.

As the door closed, the room seemed to grow colder, the stillness almost suffocating. The Archmage sat motionless, staring blankly at the table, his thoughts racing.

After what felt like an eternity, he whispered in a trembling voice, “Could it be…?”

His mind was filled with dread as he considered the impossible. The idea that someone or something could wield the ancient powers of fire magic—a force thought to have vanished from the world—was almost too horrifying to contemplate.

Prince Raytan. Black hair as dark as the night. Eyes red as blood. A perfect reflection of him.

And now, suddenly wielding fire. The same power he once possessed.

“If all of this… was predetermined from the start…”

The thought struck the Archmage like a lightning bolt. What if he, the one who had been sealed away, had discarded his weakened body and created a new vessel? What if Raytan was that vessel, gradually inheriting his power?

Just like the ancient legend foretold, returning to ruin everything.

“No…”

The Archmage’s eyes, lined with age and wisdom, trembled with fear. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face twisted in desperation.