The Tyrant Is A Little Bit Kind-Chapter 82: The Real Past 1

(Third Person POV)

"Welcome, brother. Do you need help with something?"

Orlax looked at the sixth prince, Vincent Tirshtain, who was the youngest of the princes after him.

"Hahaha, it seems you’ve become obedient lately. That’s good. Looks like you’ve realized your place."

Vincent leaned his elbow on Orlax’s head and rested on him while eyeing the bookshelf filled with books.

"Hmm, which book should I pick? What do you think?"

At that moment, Orlax felt like his skull was being drilled into because of how hard Vincent was pressing down.

"I think this book might be useful for you."

Orlax clenched his teeth tightly and calmed himself before doing anything reckless, then suggested one of the books in front of him.

"That’s boring. You used to be more fun when you tried to resist with all your strength."

Seeing that Orlax didn’t respond or react, Vincent’s face turned bored, and he walked away.

Orlax remained standing there alone, clenching his fists so tightly that his hands began to bleed.

’Endure, just endure. One day I’ll have my revenge... but for now, I have to be patient.’

He placed the book back in its rightful place and left the library, heading toward the training yard to practice his swordsmanship.

However, the place wasn’t empty. Three figures were already training there.

’I think I’ll just go back to my hut.’

He turned around and tried to leave quickly, but unfortunately, the others had already noticed him.

"Hey hey, where do you think you’re going? Aren’t you here to train? Come on, let this kind brother teach you a bit of swordplay."

Orlax froze when he heard the man calling out to him. He turned his head back, accepting his fate.

"Hahaha, you must be joking, brother. I wouldn’t want to trouble you to train someone like me. I don’t want to be a bother, so I’ll be on my way."

He started walking toward the door to leave the training hall, but he felt a pressure that stopped him in his tracks.

"I said come here. Are you ignoring your older brother now, you brat?"

Orlax clutched his chest as he struggled to breathe under the overwhelming pressure.

He slowly turned his head and forced a smile on his face.

"As you wish, brother. Please, help me with my training."

"Hahaha, that’s more like it. Come over here."

The other two people stepped aside, leaving Orlax and the man standing alone in the center of the yard.

The man appeared to be in his twenties, with golden hair and eyes that reflected his noble status.

He was the third prince—Sylas Tirshtain.

He had already reached the level of near-master in swordsmanship, making him far too strong for Orlax to face.

Orlax picked up a sword from the side of the yard and assumed a defensive stance, watching Sylas cautiously.

"Oh ho, seems that whore from the Western Empire taught you well. You look different than before."

A mocking smile appeared on his face, full of confidence in his victory.

On the other side, Orlax’s eyes were blazing with fury.

"Hey, Sylas, you can insult me all you want, but don’t you ever speak the Lady Diana’s name. She’s someone you could never even dream of becoming."

Everyone’s eyes widened upon hearing that, and amused grins began forming on their faces.

"Looks like you couldn’t keep up the good boy act for long. Just as expected, you’re nothing but a little bastard. Hahahahaha!"

Sylas suddenly vanished and reappeared behind Orlax, swinging his sword with such force that it sliced through the air.

Swoosh!

Before Orlax could react, Sylas was already behind him. Unable to block in time, he twisted his body and placed his sword across his chest to soften the blow.

BOOM!

Orlax’s small body was sent flying, crashing violently into the wall and kicking up dust.

"Bleurgh!"

Orlax appeared on the other side, kneeling on one knee and coughing up blood from the internal injuries he had just received.

"What’s wrong? Weren’t you just threatening me a moment ago? Where did your bravery go?"

Sylas walked slowly toward him, gripping his sword tightly with a wide grin on his face.

"Know your place, insect."

He raised his sword high and brought it down with full force toward the kneeling Orlax.

BOOM!

"Whew, that was close."

Just before the sword could strike him, Orlax managed to dodge at the last second, narrowly escaping the blow.

"Yes, very close."

BOOM!

Orlax was sent flying again, this time caught off guard by Sylas’s follow-up strike.

This time, he couldn’t get up. He lay motionless on the ground.

"Hahahahaha, that was fun. Let’s train again another time. Come on."

Sylas left the training yard with the two others, who had been watching with mocking smiles, leaving Orlax alone and injured. freewebnσvel.cѳm

"Cough! Cough! This hurts so much... urgh!"

Orlax tried to stand up despite his wounds, leaning against the wall and struggling to catch his breath.

"Endure... endure... things will change one day. I just need to get strong enough."

He took shaky, unsteady steps, muttering to himself in an attempt to keep going.

He kept walking until he finally reached his small hut in the courtyard.

The moment he stepped inside, his body couldn’t take it anymore, and he collapsed to the ground.

Thud!

"Ack! Cough! This is going to take a while to heal... cough!"

He dragged his injured body to the bathroom and began washing the blood off his wounded frame.

There, he saw his miserable reflection in the mirror—his black hair matted with dirt and blood, his face swollen from injuries, and his body bleeding from fresh sword cuts.

"Why? Why do you do this to me? Was my birth truly a mistake? Was I never meant to be born in this world?"

He touched his face, tracing the lines of pain caused by the injuries.

"Aren’t I human too? Just because I was born with different-colored hair and eyes, I lost my right to be treated as a person?"

Orlax clenched his fist so hard that his knuckles turned white, then punched the mirror with all his strength.

Crash!

"No... I’m not the one who’s wrong for existing. It’s this world that’s wrong. It’s those fools who share my blood that are the real mistake."

His hands were bleeding from the glass shards, but he ignored the pain and looked at his reflection through the shattered pieces.

"You’re proud of your bloodline and status, right? Then I promise you, I’ll take everything from you, you bastards. I won’t leave even your cheap lives—I’ll destroy you all!"

Orlax placed his hand on his face, noticing through the broken mirror pieces that a twisted, mad smile had formed.

"Hahahaha, don’t blame me later... you’re the ones who made me like this. Since you always call me the devil, then I’ll become the devil who destroys you."

That day was when everything began.

From that day forward, Orlax walked with caution and calculated every step to ensure the success of his plan.

And about a year later, the first part of that plan was complete.

April 18, 2029 – According to the Global Calendar

Everyone in the palace was shaken awake by the news of Prince Vincent’s death—with a dagger stabbed directly into his heart.

To know exactly what happened, let’s go back four days—April 14.

The sun was high in the sky when Orlax finished his daily training and headed to the library to continue his magic studies.

As he sat quietly alone in a corner, someone suddenly approached him.

"You’re here again? Don’t you get bored of reading?"

The blond-haired man took the book Orlax was holding and tossed it aside.

Orlax raised his head and looked at the person who interrupted him.

Unlike a year ago, when his eyes burned with anger, now they resembled a calm sea—unaffected by anything.

This was exactly what irritated everyone in the palace.

No matter how harshly they treated him, he always wore that lifeless look and never reacted to any insult or beating.

He slowly stood up and went to retrieve the book he had been studying.

But a hand extended in front of him, stopping him from proceeding, and he looked up at the owner of the hand.

"Wait, wait. I want you to do something for me."

"What is it?"

Orlax looked at Vincent, slightly confused, since he seemed a bit off.

"Uhm, my fiancée is coming over. I want you to cook dinner for us."

Orlax’s eyes sparkled upon hearing that, and a faint smile appeared on his face.

"Alright."

"Perfect! I thought you’d resist, but you’ve become such a good dog lately. Hahaha."

After messing up his hair, Vincent walked away, his laughter echoing through the quiet library.

’Laugh all you want. These are your final days.’

Orlax’s expression returned to its usual calm, and he picked up his book from the floor and resumed reading.

The reason Vincent asked Orlax to cook was simple.

A few months ago, Orlax had captured a dangerous criminal, which pleased the emperor greatly and earned him a reward.

The reward Orlax requested was to be in charge of the palace kitchen.

Though it was a strange request, the emperor agreed, and Orlax became the head cook.

That night, Orlax finished preparing the meal and asked the servants to serve it.

Then he went to sleep. The next day came.

After finishing his usual training, he returned to the library to continue his studies.

"Hey you, I want you to cook again today. My fiancée really liked your food."

Hearing the voice he had been expecting, a wide smile formed on Orlax’s face behind the book.

’He’s fallen into the trap.’

"Of course."

Visit freewe𝑏n(o)v𝒆l.𝑐𝘰𝑚 for the best novel reading experience