The Witch Didn't Raise the Tyrant That Way - Chapter 5: The Problem Grew Worse (1)

In the royal palace of Roden, within the capital of Rodenaum, a strange rumor began circulating.

The rumor claimed that the current king—who, after ascending the throne a year ago, had purged traitors and sycophants, thoroughly cleansed the remnants of the incompetent former king’s reign, and gained the admiration of many—had gone mad, bewitched by a witch.

The details of the rumor were surprisingly specific. Supposedly, a woman cloaked in a deep hooded robe would occasionally appear near the staircase leading directly to the king’s office on the fourth floor of the palace’s main building. This woman, it was said, was the so-called witch. People whispered that the king had become utterly infatuated with her, neglecting state affairs, and indulging in carnal pleasures with her day and night, in all sorts of places. The rumors went on to claim that she had a certain height or that her footsteps suggested she cast no reflection in mirrors, or that she would float if thrown into water—all baseless conjectures born of imagination.

The king’s personality—known for being cold, sharp, and devoid of mercy—meant that no one dared speak of these rumors directly in his presence. Yet the stories grew increasingly exaggerated and spread widely throughout the palace.

This was, in a sense, inevitable. After the king purged the forces that opposed him and aligned with the deposed queen, those who remained and pledged their loyalty saw him as a fair and impartial ruler. However, treating everyone equally also meant favoLyng no one in particular, leaving him without any exceptional allies who might step forward to quash the rumors.

He was a man who had supposedly died in a childhood “accident” and whose funeral had even been held, only to return alive and well. The vivid royal insignia that shone brightly in his eyes was clearer and purer than those of his half-siblings, leaving no doubt about his bloodline. But royal authority cannot be upheld by lineage alone.

Especially not for a king who had, during a brutal succession war disguised as a civil conflict, slaughtered his half-siblings, uncovered the conspiracy behind his mother’s death and his own disappearance, and executed the former queen by hanging. Blood had marked nearly every step of his rise to power.

His sword had not been aimed solely at the royal family. The purge of traitors who conspired with the deposed queen to loot the treasury, as well as those who attempted rebellion under the pretext of avenging his half-siblings, left rivers of blood in its wake. Though less ruthless than Lilithea had once “known” him to be, far more lives had been lost than she had anticipated.

No matter how devoted he was to virtuous governance and the welfare of the people, no matter how pure and legitimate his bloodline as the rightful heir born of the former king’s lawful wife, many continued to question his qualifications simply because his path to the throne had been so fraught with turmoil.

So much so that his failure to marry and instead keep a lover by his side became fodder for malicious rumors about his mental state.

“Your Majesty, how much longer will you tolerate these ridiculous rumors…? You must strengthen the monarchy! You need to forge a marriage alliance with a trustworthy family!”

“Your Majesty, as I’ve said countless times, you must consider beaLyng an heir from a family like ours, the Dorissons, renowned for fertility! Only then will the succession be stable!”

“It may be presumptuous for me to say this, but my daughter, the daughter of Mathias Allman, is both beautiful and virtuous. She has been praised by many since childhood, making her a most fitting match to stand by Your Majesty’s side…”

Perhaps the one who started the rumors had done so with the sole purpose of provoking the king, who at the age of twenty-three had shut his ears to the idea of a political marriage.

For days now, high-ranking nobles had been ceaselessly requesting audiences with him, each one eager to present their daughters, foster daughters, or women they supported as potential matches. Court officials who met with him under the pretense of business matters feigned concern over the growing rumors, all while urging him to “take a queen as soon as possible, no matter who she may be.”

“Your Majesty!”

“Please, for the sake of the kingdom…”

“…we beg you to consider!”

“Enough.”

On this particular day, a regular council meeting—a once-a-month occurrence—had reached a fever pitch. Sitting crookedly on the throne in the audience chamber, the king suppressed the urge to block his ears and glared at them with a look that could kill.

“I already have a plan.”

But, Your Majesty, what is this plan? Surely, we too have a right to know for the prosperity of Roden…! Despite his rebuke, the clamorous pleas of the vassals in the audience chamber refused to cease.

The king’s crimson eyes flickered toward Duke Edelsbach, who remained silent just below the dais. Few understood the meaning behind the king’s glance.

*

“Enough for today. I’m leaving.”

“Your Majesty, but you have a tea appointment with the Academy’s Headmaster…!”

“Let him eat and drink on his own.”

After the marathon meeting that had dragged on even through the lunch hour, Kyle leaned on the desk in his office, letting out a long, exasperated sigh before storming out of the room. Though his secretaries and attendants knew that several matters still awaited his approval, they could do nothing but stare helplessly at his retreating figure.

Despite the widespread rumors that he was neglecting state affairs in favor of carnal pleasures, those who knew him understood that even in the midst of indulgence, he never neglected his duties.

Having spent most of his youth as an exile due to the deposed queen’s conspiracies, Kyle was well aware that his qualifications as king would be easily questioned. This awareness seemed to drive an obsessive work ethic. Unlike the previous king, who had delegated internal affairs to the faction of the deposed queen and turned a blind eye to governance, Kyle reviewed every decision with his own eyes before making it final. He also made a point to listen to the opinions of each and every one of his secretaries.

Even amidst his grueling workload, he maintained regular meetings with the Academy’s Headmaster to continue learning.

This level of diligence earned him the respect and awe of his staff, who had been selected solely for their competence, regardless of faction.

Given his tireless dedication, the staff felt that having at least one outlet for respite was fortunate. Whether his partner was a witch, a maid, or even a man hardly mattered to them. At least Kyle wasn’t like previous kings who pursued every skirt they saw, nor like the previous king, who fathered numerous heirs only to leave behind chaos and bloodshed.

All they could do was hope that things would work out well for him.

*

Kyle quickened his steps as he crossed the central courtyard.

The garden, cultivated by skilled gardeners under the mild climate, exuded a dizzying array of rich fragrances. It reminded him of the royal palace’s banquets, which he grudgingly attended. On those occasions, the air would be suffused with the overwhelming scents of perfumes and musk worn by nobles eager to outdo each other, to the point of numbing his senses.

But unlike the banquets, the garden occasionally offered him the familiar scents of acacia or osmanthus flowers, or the damp, earthy aroma of soaked bark. These faint, natural fragrances were enough to calm him.

“Damn those old geezers. They mock me for being young and inexperienced, yet they treat me like some kind of breeding stallion…”

The past four years since his return to the royal palace had been exactly like this. He had to puff himself up constantly to avoid being underestimated by power-hungry scoundrels blinded by luxury and ambition. Yet, on countless sleepless nights, even the smallest clue that reminded him of the days he spent in Lilithea’s embrace would leave him longing for the same fortune to return the next day.

In that sense, it wasn’t entirely a lie to say that she was the reason he suffered from insomnia. However, simply having her in his arms didn’t entirely dispel his anxiety. As long as she continued acting like she could leave him at any moment, the fear of her slipping away would wake him up several times a night, driving him to check that she was still there.

It’s been nearly two months since I brought you here. And nearly as long spent marking you every day.

Even so, do you still have no intention of staying by my side?

“Lyn.”

As his anxious thoughts spiraled endlessly, Kyle suddenly found himself crossing the second-floor hallway of the inner palace, where their private quarters were located. Without hesitation, he swung open the door to her laboratory—the place where Lilithea spent most of her time outside of the bedroom.

‘Where is she?’

The laboratory was empty.

Could she still be asleep? It was possible. After all, he had pushed her a little too hard this morning.

Just before falling asleep, she had teased him mercilessly, swallowing him with a lascivious expression that no seductress in the world could rival. And yet, as if she knew nothing of lust, she had pouted in complaint about being tired, which had irritated him to the point of waking her up again.

He didn’t have the luxury of time to indulge her for too long, given the morning council meeting, but when she showed no sign of stirring, he had resorted to using the vibrating beak of a duck-shaped toy to stimulate her—pressing it against her nipples, back, clitoris, and the entrance to her depths. As a result, she had climaxed far more than necessary, and it wouldn’t be surprising if she still hadn’t regained consciousness.

He had considered simply watching her sleeping face for a while longer before leaving to relieve himself. But knowing all too well the sort of things that would be said during the council meeting, he couldn’t stomach the thought of walking into it while still pent up. Instead, he had chosen to empty himself completely into Lilithea, who ultimately welcomed him with her tender warmth. Only then was he able to leave with some semblance of clarity.

…Yet, despite that, his mood had been completely fouled.

Kyle abruptly pushed open the door to the bedroom. It was empty as well—the sheets neatly arranged, as if the maids had already tidied up. She wasn’t in the dressing room, bathroom, or powder room either.

He headed straight for the sitting room, where she sometimes enjoyed tea with the maids. Again, nothing. Maybe she’s dining in the kitchen today? But she wasn’t there either.

Surely not… surely not…

Before he realized it, his walk had turned into a sprint.

‘Where’s Lady Edelsbach…? Wait, come to think of it, where are all the maids?’

Frustration mounting, Kyle ran to the first floor of the inner palace and grabbed hold of a maid sweeping the front yard.

“Lyn. No… I mean, the guest. Where is she?”

“Pardon? Oh! Y-Your Majesty, I beg your pardon!”

“The guest.”

“Ah, um, the lady… she’s…”

The maid, startled by the sudden hand on her shoulder, was so flustered by the rare presence of the king—someone she had never spoken to before—that she failed to notice his unusual lack of formality. Shaking, she managed to point toward the back garden. Without even confirming the exact direction, Kyle dashed toward the rear garden.

If she hasn’t left, that’s all that matters. But after experiencing the despair of not finding her anywhere once before, he had to see Lilithea with his own eyes as soon as possible.

He needed proof that she hadn’t abandoned him—proof that she didn’t mean it when she said she didn’t need someone like him.

For his own peace of mind, and for Lilithea herself, who needed to adapt to life here, the rear garden had been designed with a pastoral atmosphere and charming plants. The space offered little that could obstruct his view, and at the fork near the entrance, he quickly scanned the area. It wasn’t long before he spotted Lilithea.

She was with the maids. One of them was carrying a large basket, suggesting they had ventured to the edge of the forest bordering the rear garden in search of unfamiliar plants from the central regions.

Beyond them stood Lilithea. Her face was bright and clear, a light sheen of sweat glistening on her skin as she wiped it away with hands clad in silk gloves now smeared with dirt.

‘Did you redo this part of the garden recently? I saw so many herbs I’ve never seen before—it’s fascinating.’

Her face held that same earnest, sweet expression—the one that seemed so absurdly diligent and lovable. She always wore it when she earnestly considered his issues, like insomnia or even his supposed impotence, even though she didn’t fully believe in such claims.

* * *