The Witch Didn't Raise the Tyrant That Way - Chapter 2: How He Grew Up (7)

The strange nights with Kyle continued.

No matter what, Kyle insisted on holding me every night as he tried to sleep. At first, I thought his claim that he couldn’t rest unless he “took care of himself” was just an excuse, but the way he constantly shifted to new positions each night made it clear—he still wasn’t sleeping properly.

Sometimes he would pull me tightly into his arms and fall asleep that way. Other times, he’d drape his upper body over mine, burying his nose in the crook of my neck as he dozed. There were even nights when he simply held my hand, our fingers intertwined.

But inevitably, every night, Kyle would become aroused.

And every time, he’d mutter excuses—saying I’d brushed against him with my hips, or that our clasped hands were too tight—before proceeding to touch me. His hands would wander to my chest or hips, kneading and groping, while he relieved himself.

And me?

To be honest, nothing felt real anymore. It was as if I were watching it all happen from outside my own body, unable to truly process the absurdity of it all.

The very idea of Kyle, now a king, seeking me out in my secluded forest cabin had felt surreal from the start. Being whisked away in a drugged haze and waking up in the royal palace didn’t make it any easier to grasp.

That the beautiful, towering man who held me every night was the same Kyle I had raised—the boy I had fed, clothed, and cared for since he was ten—was nearly impossible to accept.

That this same Kyle, night after night, became aroused because of me, touching himself while imagining God-knows-what, was equally beyond comprehension.

From the moment I had been washed and placed in his bed on that first night, part of me had vaguely sensed that something like this might happen eventually.

But still…

The thought that the small, scrawny boy I had once nurtured had grown into a man who now desired me was a truth I struggled to come to terms with.

“Lin… Haah, Lin…”

Yet, when I watched him with reddened eyes bury his face against my lower stomach while stroking himself, or when he whispered my name so desperately, his breath hot against my ear, and left marks on my neck and chest as if staking his claim—I couldn’t help but wonder.

Could it be that Kyle had grown used to acting like this in front of others during the time we were apart? Had he become like other powerful rulers? After all, it had been four years since he became a member of the royal family, and now, as the king of the realm, there was likely no woman he couldn’t have if he wanted her.

That thought stung more than I expected, as though it meant I had become just another woman in a long line of those he felt entitled to.

And yet…

As these nights repeated, I found myself, to my dismay, beginning to react to him. His arousal, his heat, his intensity—they all seemed to seep into me. There were nights when the way he touched my chest, the way his fevered gaze locked onto mine with his face flushed, and the way he panted my name over and over left me feeling an embarrassing warmth spreading through my body.

There were moments when I realized, with a shock, that my undergarments were damp. Times when I caught myself wishing his hands would linger longer, press harder, touch me more.

And each time, I was left alarmed and confused by the feelings welling up inside me.

Despite everything, I never reciprocated Kyle’s advances, and he never forced anything further. Every night ended the same way—with him shamelessly stroking himself in front of me until he released his thick, milky fluid.

There were moments, though, when it seemed like he wanted more. Sometimes, he would linger too close to my face, his lips parting slightly as if tempted to kiss me. Other times, his gaze would fixate between my thighs with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

But nothing ever escalated beyond that.

Should I have been grateful?

I managed to rationalize the situation to myself. I had cared for Kyle since he was a boy; surely, I could handle witnessing something like this while he went through… well, this. As a king, any issues regarding his health would be treated with the utmost secrecy, leaving very few who could truly help him. And since I was the only person capable of addressing his insomnia, it was my responsibility to endure these unfortunate nights until a solution was found.

Most importantly, a calm sleeping environment was essential for his insomnia. I convinced myself of this over and over again.

“…Haa, Lin… Goodnight,” Kyle murmured after finishing, his voice low and drowsy.

“Go wash your hands and then sleep,” I replied, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

“Feels like I could pass out just like this… Can’t you clean me up instead?” he teased, his words dripping with audacity.

“…Here’s a towel,” I said, thrusting it at him.

And so, we grew accustomed to these nights—nights where Kyle touched and teased me, grew aroused, and relieved himself.

I gradually adapted to life in the palace as well. My days settled into a routine: in the mornings, I strolled through the rear gardens instead of tending to the herb garden I had left behind, observing the unique plants and trees native to this region. Most afternoons, I buried myself in work in the laboratory.

All my materials had been brought here, down to the last detail, and Yvette ensured that any herbs I requested were sent over promptly by the gardener stationed at my old home. Supplies were never an issue.

The royal capital’s abundance amazed me. Rare herbs that had been prohibitively expensive back in the countryside—plants I could barely afford even with ten copper coins per root—were readily available here, seemingly in endless supply. While I didn’t know the exact prices, the sheer quantity at my disposal suggested they were far more affordable.

The royal capital’s trade network really is something else…

A fleeting thought crossed my mind. Perhaps I could start a business here—maybe even open my own shop selling herbs and potions. If Kyle could arrange for me to be officially registered under royal authority, I could bypass middlemen and directly sell my goods without incurring fees.

Of course, this was just idle musing.

Ultimately, everything hinged on Kyle finally getting some proper sleep. Until then, I was stuck here. Once his insomnia was resolved, though… perhaps these strange, intimate nights would end for good.

For now, I focused on my primary goal: creating a remedy for his insomnia. I tested countless combinations of existing herbs and medications, but none seemed to work. It was frustrating, but I remained determined. My knowledge of herbs and alchemy exceeded even that of the Academy, so I was confident that I’d eventually find a solution.

“Lin…”

Tonight, as usual, Kyle returned to the bedroom late in the evening. The moment he entered, he immediately pulled me into his arms, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

By now, I barely reacted. It had become routine. Even if I was sitting on the single-seater sofa, I would instinctively stand and let him sit down, knowing he’d prefer to hold me on his lap.

And so, without protest, I climbed onto his legs, settling myself there as he embraced me tightly.

Kyle rested his chin on my shoulder and buried his nose near my ear. Even as I sat perched on his lap, he had to hunch slightly to accommodate our difference in height. I couldn’t help but recall the days when I would sit him in front of me to dry his hair—back then, I could see the top of his head just below my nose.

Today, his expression was tense, his furrowed brow betraying the weight of whatever troubles had followed him back to the room.

“My head hurts… constantly,” he muttered.

“Why didn’t you ask for peppermint oil? I’m sure the palace physicians have some,” I replied, reaching up to rub his temples.

“It’s not the same as when you use it,” he said simply.

I had to agree. The peppermint oil I prepared myself—brewed and refined from the leaves I grew—was far superior to anything commercially available. Besides, Kyle had always preferred it when I personally massaged his temples, even as a child.

“My stomach feels unsettled too,” he added after a pause.

“Your stomach as well? Let me see,” I said, standing from his lap to fetch the small medicine chest I kept on the console table.

Knowing how often Kyle returned complaining of aches and pains after his duties, I’d prepared a box of remedies similar to the ones I used for him as a child. I retrieved a small jar of peppermint oil and dipped the tips of my index and middle fingers into it.

“Come here,” I said softly, standing in front of him as he slumped back into the chair. I began to gently massage his temples, spreading the oil with light, circular movements.

“Mm…” Kyle groaned faintly, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned his head into my touch. His long black eyelashes quivered slightly, drawing my attention to how strikingly defined his features had become over the years.

Seeing him like this—vulnerable and weary—reminded me of the boy who used to seek comfort from me when he was upset. The memory left me with a strange, bittersweet feeling.

And yet, I couldn’t ignore the reality of our nights, the way Kyle’s touch had changed into something entirely different. What would tonight bring?

As if on cue, Kyle, seemingly more relaxed now, reached for a handful of my hair. He began to play with it absentmindedly, twisting and tugging at the strands. Since no one else in the palace had taken responsibility for my hair, Kyle had become the only person who ever touched it, a task he carried out with surprising skill. Years of braiding my hair as a child had clearly paid off.

“Did you have another meeting today? You left so early this morning,” I asked, breaking the silence.

“Not a meeting,” Kyle replied, his fingers still working on my hair. “It’s just the endless line of people who want to see me. They keep coming.”

“People?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Nosy old fools, sticking their noses where they don’t belong,” he said, scowling as his thoughts seemed to turn to the nobles he’d met earlier.

Though Kyle had purged much of the opposition when he ascended the throne, his actions had been less severe than in the original story. Instead of mass executions, he had only exiled or stripped the titles of those who posed less direct threats. While this had made his reign less fearsome than I’d initially feared, it also meant that plenty of people felt comfortable enough to offer unsolicited advice.

“It’s not so bad,” I said gently, hoping to ease his frustration. “They’re probably just concerned about stabilizing the kingdom as quickly as possible.”

“Lyn.”

My attempt at reassurance was cut short by Kyle’s sharp, almost growling tone.

“Do you still see me as some clueless child?”

“What…?”

Kyle’s eyes snapped open, his piercing crimson gaze locking onto mine. His hand paused in the middle of tying off the braid he’d been working on, and the intensity in his expression made me swallow hard. Those royal red eyes, the symbol of the bloodline he carried, gleamed with an unsettling sharpness.

I bit my lip, realizing I had touched a nerve. Though Kyle had allowed me certain liberties and our relationship had grown closer in some ways, the power dynamic between us was undeniable. He was still a king, and I was here because of my responsibility for how I had raised him. No matter how much time had passed, he likely still harbored resentment toward me.

“I just meant… you’ve been so busy. You’re not even eating meals alone—you’re constantly surrounded by others. You don’t even get a break during meals, and you’re working late into the night. I was only trying to say that maybe they’re worried about your health, that’s all…”

“…”

“I don’t know anything,” I murmured, trying to steady my voice. “I just… I’m worried about you.”

Worried you might hurt someone unnecessarily… That was the truth I didn’t say aloud.

Even as my voice trailed off, Kyle’s sharp gaze didn’t waver. His brow furrowed slightly, and his piercing red eyes were like knives, their intensity cutting into me.

“Lilithea,” he said abruptly, breaking the silence. He didn’t use the affectionate nickname he normally did—he called me by my full name.

“You’re here because you want to pay me back for what you did to me,” he said, his voice slow and deliberate.

“…”

“With your body.”

The words landed like a punch to my chest, and for a moment, it felt like my heart stopped.

“Pay me back with your body.”

The instant I heard those words, Kyle became someone unfamiliar.

This wasn’t the boy I had known and cared for in the forest. This wasn’t the Kyle I had raised. This was the man who touched and kissed me every night, exploring my body with his hands and lips, only to climax in a desperate release.

A grown man. A man who could do anything now, and I couldn’t say it would be out of character.

What does paying him back with my body even mean? I thought, trying to make light of it. I’m basically his human air freshener or body pillow right now anyway, so it’s not entirely untrue, is it?

But no matter how much I tried to reason it away, the tension in my chest refused to ease.

A strange heat stirred low in my belly, and my mouth felt dry.

Kyle’s gaze never left me. His red eyes seemed to be searching for something in my reaction, watching every flicker of my expression. I bit my lip, trying to hide my unease, but my racing heart made it impossible to mask my feelings.

Kyle straightened slowly, unfolding himself from his slightly hunched position. He leaned back into the chair, stretching his shoulders as he settled against the backrest, exuding a kind of lazy authority.

The boy who had once timidly tilted his head to receive my massages was gone. In his place sat a man who radiated the presence of a king—a ruler who could demand and take as he pleased.

“You don’t seem to have any idea how to fix me,” he said, his voice cold.

“…”

“So maybe it’s time we try a different approach.”

“…What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Kyle leaned to one side, resting an elbow on the armrest and lightly propping his chin on his fingers. His loosely tied nightgown fell open just enough to reveal the defined, muscular chest beneath. It wasn’t just a casual sight—it was a deliberate display of his strength, his maturity, and the undeniable fact that he was no longer the child I had once known.

Suddenly, the spacious bedroom—so heavily guarded and secure—felt dangerously small.

It hit me then: I was alone with Kyle in this room, at night. My thin chemise and robe, worn more for comfort than modesty, felt inadequate. When tangled in his hands on the bed, the fragility of the fabric hadn’t mattered as much. But now, standing here in the open, fully lit room, it felt all too exposing.

My hand instinctively moved to cover my chest, gripping my opposite arm to shield myself. This only pushed my breasts together, making the neckline dip further and drawing attention to the curve of my cleavage. But I decided it was better than the alternative—letting him see the faint outline of my nipples through the thin material.