The Witch Didn't Raise the Tyrant That Way - Chapter 2: How He Grew Up (1)

“W-wait, no, hold on, this is…”

Conspired with the deposed queen? That was absolute nonsense. Kyle—should I even call him Kyle anymore?—how could you do this to me? Flustered and desperate, I tried to stammer out some kind of defense, but—

“Excuse me? H-hold on…!”

Two of the knights flanking him stepped forward and cast long, imposing shadows over me. Before I knew it, they had bound my wrists with a rope that felt soft as silk and were holding me firmly by the arms.

For a fleeting moment, I noticed how gentle their grips were, as if they were being deliberately respectful. But the thought passed quickly.

“I-I’m innocent!”

I couldn’t just let them take me away. Reflexively, I cried out my plea.

“I-I mean, yes, I was ordered to do something, but I didn’t actually do anything!”

“‘Didn’t actually do anything,’ huh?”

Kyle raised one eyebrow as he looked down at me. The laugh that slipped from his lips felt as cold as ice. His crimson eyes, half-lidded as he gazed at me, seemed utterly unfamiliar.

They weren’t the eyes I remembered.

Was it the six years of time that had turned him into such a stranger? Or was it because he now stood as this kingdom’s king, an untouchable figure?

Or perhaps the bond I had once felt for him had always been one-sided, its expiration date long past.

A fleeting sense of joy upon seeing him again dissolved into a crushing wave of guilt and despair.

Sure, I had been a bit cold to him sometimes. I had made him work a lot, dressed him in shabby clothes I’d sewn myself. Occasionally, I’d pretended to scold him, startling his small self, and sometimes, when I was upset, I’d even raised my voice and yell at him.

But still…

I never experimented on him with poison. I never used him as a slave.

The moment I finished that thought, I realized how naïve I had been. My intentions were mine alone; Kyle wouldn’t have understood them. What likely lingered in his memory were the actions of an adult who constantly assigned impossible tasks to a frail, sickly child, scolded him for failing, and lashed out unpredictably.

Sure, during those early years with Kyle, I had technically been a minor myself, but inside, I was fully an adult. And more importantly, I had been the only person Kyle could rely on.

As Kyle’s piercing gaze lingered on me, my guilt deepened.

But… surely that wasn’t a crime worthy of being burned at the stake.

Or maybe… Maybe Kyle really had suffered that much.

Even if he had seemed friendly and sweet toward me back then, it might have all been an act—a survival tactic to keep himself safe.

As this possibility crept into my mind, my eyes began to sting with heat.

But still…

Flashes of memory surfaced: Kyle’s small hand gripping my skirt tightly when I was hit with rotten eggs for being a witch; the slight, almost imperceptible relaxation of his lips when I rubbed essential oils into his temples to ease his headaches; the round curve of his back as he burrowed into my blankets during thunderstorms.

Did all those moments mean nothing?

Sure, I had hoped not to grow attached to him, but even so…!

Had my gaze lingered too long, desperate to appeal? Kyle’s crimson eyes, which had been fixed on me as if weighing my sins, shifted away, rolling to the side as though dismissing me.

“Take her away,” he said softly, a single nod of his sharply sculpted jaw punctuating the order.

At his command, the knights holding my arms began to move. Their massive gauntleted hands encircled my upper arms so completely that it felt like they might snap my bones if they weren’t careful.

The knights’ grip was firm, and I had no choice but to walk where they led. The dried lavender I had been holding slipped from my hand, falling to the ground behind me.

“T-Teacher…”

Nora, who had been watching everything from her donkey, gripped its reins tightly, stamping her feet in frustration. There was nothing she could do. She must have recognized the situation the moment she saw Kyle’s crimson eyes—the unmistakable mark of royalty.

Even if Nora had been entrusted with looking after me when Kyle left, she clearly hadn’t connected the boy she knew with the man standing here. How could she, when his eyes—the royal symbol of pigeon blood red—were so different? To her, the young boy who had entrusted her with this task and this imposing royal figure were two entirely separate people.

Not that it would’ve mattered if she had recognized him…

Nora didn’t know how Kyle and I had really lived together. The only witnesses to those years were Kyle and me.

And Kyle had chosen to deny them.

Even as I was dragged away, I tried to catch Kyle’s gaze again, hoping to plead for leniency. But he wouldn’t look at me. He stood with his back to me, tall and imposing, his white ears peeking through his jet-black hair as he directed his knights toward my house.

“There, in the storage room. There are suspicious potions in the lab. Search the area thoroughly; who knows what she’s been up to. Start with the list I’ve written and confiscate everything immediately.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

“And after that…”

Kyle’s voice suddenly dropped as he leaned toward one of the knights, whispering instructions that I couldn’t hear.

What now? Is he going to burn the house down, like in the original story?

But this house… it held so many of our memories!

Well… maybe they weren’t happy memories for him, I admitted bitterly.

Fighting tears, I kept glancing back at the house as the knights dragged me away. I felt crushed by guilt over the thought that Kyle might have truly been hurt during his time with me. The prospect of losing my home and the sheer humiliation of being dragged off like this added to my despair.

My feet kept catching on themselves, but the knights’ firm grip ensured that I didn’t fall. It became clear that if I stopped walking, they would simply lift me off the ground and carry me like luggage.

And honestly, they probably would. I was a prisoner being escorted to who-knew-where.

As we passed the rows of knights, a carriage came into view.

And…

What the…?

The carriage was extraordinarily luxurious. Its glossy lacquered finish, the intricate embellishments along its edges and window frames, and even the wheels engraved with delicate patterns—everything about it screamed opulence. It was leagues beyond the shared public carriages I had seen in the marketplace.

Is this what they use to transport prisoners?

Still reeling from the shock, I found myself staring at the ornate crest decorating the carriage door. A knight pulled the door open, revealing an interior that was even more lavish than the exterior suggested.

The interior of the carriage was so lavish it felt like a miniature version of a noble’s parlor. The walls were padded and upholstered with beautifully embroidered silk, and the seats were made of soft, luxurious leather that practically screamed comfort. Subtle, warm lighting came not from an oil lamp but from a magical device resembling an electric bulb—a rare magitech lamp.

And the floor? A plush fur carpet.

This… is this real?

Was I really supposed to get inside this thing?

It didn’t make sense. Dressed in a work-worn, grass-stained dress I’d been using for years and battered shoes on my feet, I looked more suited for a hovel than this opulent space. Overwhelmed by a sense of visceral wrongness, I hesitated, unable to take a step forward.

“Excuse me.”

Before I could react, a knight’s polite voice echoed near my ear, and in an instant, something soft and damp was pressed firmly over my nose and mouth.

Immediately, an all-too-familiar scent wafted up.

Ah… this is…

“This is my ‘Drowsy-Drowsy Potion.’ If you mix half a spoonful into a glass of water, it helps ease anxiety. A full spoonful makes you fall asleep quickly.”

“Wow.”

“But here’s a secret you can’t tell the herbalist auntie… If there’s ever someone you need to knock out, soak a handkerchief in the potion and press it over their nose and mouth. They’ll breathe in the scent and fall into a deep sleep for hours—it’s almost impossible to wake them up.”

“…Why would I ever need that?”

That memory hit me like a lightning bolt—an old moment from when Kyle was a boy. I had been explaining the uses of a new potion I’d made before sending him to sell it to the herbalist.

That potion… I had made it for his enemies. I had taught him how to use it against them.

It wasn’t supposed to be used on me…

* * *

“Haa… Lyn.”

When I regained consciousness, the gentle sway of movement was the first thing I noticed.

So…

The last thing I remembered was inhaling too much of the Drowsy-Drowsy Potion, my mind hazy as I was laid onto the plush seat of the carriage. Even then, I had been oddly fixated on trivial thoughts—why they hadn’t tossed me onto the floor, and whether it was because the carpet was too expensive to stain.

I cracked my eyes open slightly, and the warm glow of the magitech lamp seeped into my vision. As my gaze wandered, I confirmed that the luxurious interior of the carriage was still the same.

I’m still being transported… Am I still lying on the seat? I haven’t fallen off yet? Those thoughts circled my mind sluggishly as I pieced together what was happening.

“Hmm…”

A soft groan above me caught my attention. Wait. A man’s voice?

It was then I realized that the back of my head felt firm—like I was resting on something solid. My dazed mind struggled to focus, and I forced my eyes to sharpen on the scene before me.

Eventually, the figure above me came into view.

It was Kyle.

The fully grown version of the tyrant I had raised, whose towering figure I barely recognized.

The man who had coldly avoided my gaze and ordered me to be loaded into the carriage.

So… was I resting my head on Kyle’s lap?

As I tried to make sense of the situation, I noticed something strange. Kyle’s expression was unfamiliar—his eyes were tightly shut, his brows furrowed, and his breath came in quick, shallow pants. His throat moved roughly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as though he was suppressing something.

“Ah… Lyn… Damn it.”

A warm breath brushed against my fingertips, and I became aware of the fact that my hands were still bound and slightly raised. A large, firm hand held mine tightly.

Then I felt it. The sharp edge of a nose brushed against my palm, followed by the soft, pliant texture of lips pressing against my skin. His breath was warm and damp, his face buried between my fingers, inhaling deeply. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though he were savoring something.

He kissed the spaces between my fingers, his lips moving lightly over each knuckle, his breathing uneven as his nose pressed against my palm again.

And then I realized—the subtle swaying I’d felt earlier wasn’t from the carriage moving. It was from Kyle. His movements were deliberate and steady, enough to shift my body where I lay.

“…Kyle?”

The name escaped my lips before I could stop myself.

Kyle froze. His movements halted abruptly as though caught in the act.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, his crimson irises gliding down to meet mine.

For a moment, it was as if all the emotion I thought I had seen in his face had vanished. His gaze, now cold and unyielding, pierced through me.

“Go back to sleep,” he said, his voice curt and commanding.

Without hesitation, he released my hand and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a long piece of fabric—silken and embroidered with gold thread. Was it part of his cravat?

What’s he planning to do with that?

Before I could process it, Kyle wrapped the fabric around my head, covering my eyes. The silky material pressed gently against my skin as he tied it securely in place.

“Why are you doing this…?”

I barely managed to speak, suddenly reminded of the fact that I was being transported as a prisoner. Just as the reality of my situation hit me again, something soft and familiar was pressed firmly over my nose and mouth.

The scent was unmistakable.

“Mmph! Why—?!”

“It’s still a long way to go.”

It was the Drowsy-Drowsy Potion again, its distinctive aroma flooding my senses.

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” Kyle murmured. His voice held an odd, cryptic tone, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw the corners of his lips curl into a faint smile.

Unable to avoid breathing, I inhaled the potent aroma, and my mind began to slip into drowsiness once more.

The rumbling of the carriage wheels grew louder, overlapping in my ears as the potion took effect. My body felt like it was floating, swaying gently as though adrift on soft waves.

“Hnn…”

Somewhere in the haze, I heard Kyle suppressing another groan, his breath heavy and uneven.

And as my consciousness faded completely, I noticed the warmth of his breath lingering against my palm.

* * *