To My Gentle Dictator – Chapter 028

Ulrich, responding with his usual ease, approached and placed a kiss on Sasha’s cheek before sitting beside her.

Whatever it was for Kryuchkov, for Sasha, it was the first time in days that she’d seen Ulrich.

The sight of him filled her with overwhelming joy, but alongside it, a rising sense of nervousness began to swell within her.

On any other day, she might have been stunned by the seemingly relaxed rapport between Ulrich and Kryuchkov.

Especially since Kryuchkov, if one exaggerated slightly, looked as though he had transformed from a cold-blooded head of state into a doting grandfather in an instant.

But right now, all of Sasha’s nerves were focused inward—no, on Ulrich, precisely.

‘Is my outfit okay? How’s my hair? Should I have chosen something besides diamonds for my earrings? I thought they were small enough not to stand out, but was I wrong?’

It was strange.

Despite how much she had missed him, now that he was finally here, she felt even more tense than she had sitting alone with Kryuchkov.

“Now that I’m here, tell me the truth, Shura. Did the Supreme Commander frighten you?”

Ulrich’s hand gently wrapped around hers, and his warm smile made the words feel like honey.

Even if it was just for show in front of Kryuchkov, the way he looked at her—after days without so much as a word—felt so sweet it was almost dreamlike.

“No, not at all. I was just about to thank the Secretary for his kindness.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Above all else, I’m deeply grateful that he’s offered to walk me down the aisle. I can’t describe how honored I am that he made such a gracious offer.”

Sasha, her voice soft, smiled again—gentle, composed. Like a deer caught in a snare.

“The girl who almost became my daughter-in-law is marrying the most valuable man under my command—who else would do it but me?”

Kryuchkov chuckled, clearly pleased, twitching his mustache with satisfaction.

“Isn’t that right, Yury?”

“I agree.”

The two men shifted briefly to topics like the construction of new factories and asbestos mines—matters of national industry—before returning to the subject of the wedding.

“Mila’s agreed to be a bridesmaid, so your bride won’t be alone at the altar.”

“I hope Miss Lyudmila likes the dress.”

“She will. You have excellent taste, after all.”

Sasha quietly sipped her tea, simply listening.

She had already been informed that Lyudmila would be serving as a bridesmaid, but it still didn’t feel real.

For some reason, it seemed even more surreal than the idea of walking down the aisle holding Kryuchkov’s hand.

‘Did Ulrich choose the bridesmaid’s dress himself?’

The pointless question surfaced, and with it came a wave of delayed reality.

What if, at the wedding, the guests thought the bridesmaid matched the groom better than the bride did?

The people’s Saint and the Sovereign of the Skies. Even on the surface, they were far more…

“The government residence—are you fine staying there? The unit you’re in now might be a bit small for newlyweds.”

“There are couples living happily in much smaller places. I think we’ll decide after discussing it a bit more between us.”

“It’s admirable to work hard for the state, but if you make your bride feel neglected in your newlywed days, she won’t forget it for the rest of her life.”

‘What does that mean?’

Sasha absentmindedly nibbled at a snack, her thoughts drifting.

‘Ah… that’s what he means. After the wedding, I’ll be living in Ulrich’s residence… But what does he mean by “making me feel neglected”? Is Ulrich going somewhere? On a trip? Or…’

A chill, like a cold wind brushing against her chest, unsettled her.

As if she already knew the answer—had known for some time—even though no one had told her.

As if she were only now realizing that something had been missing from the start.

‘Or maybe… maybe things will just stay the same as now… like a couple living apart during the week…’

“If you were worried about that, you should’ve stopped me from posing as a businessman ages ago. But don’t worry—you know as well as I do how much I need my bride’s help in many areas.”

Ulrich set his teacup down, took Sasha’s hand, and gently pressed his lips to the back of it.

So natural, it almost seemed unconscious.

Then he looked into her eyes, smiling at her flushed face.

“You know that too, don’t you, Shura?”

“…Of course.”

Sasha answered shyly, suppressing the tremble in her chest.

His lips had left a warmth on her skin, and strangely, alongside that heat came a cold, clear realization.

‘It’s not like we’re a real married couple anyway, so what does it matter? And truthfully, an apartment swarming with military personnel was overwhelming to begin with… others probably think I’m better off this way.’

Exactly. Even if they lived like a weekend couple, nothing would really change.

And yet, she didn’t know why her heart ached so much.

As if a thorn were caught somewhere inside her.

By the time the couple finished their meeting with Kryuchkov and stepped out into the open parking lot, the sky was already painted in a blend of pink and orange hues.
Bathed in the glow of the resplendent sunset, the scenery of Tremlyn looked almost too peaceful, too beautiful to be real.

Just like them—two people who, in the eyes of the world, likely appeared as nothing more than a lovely, blissful couple.

Sasha was wearing sharply pointed high heels today, ones she hadn’t worn in a long time. Her feet were already blistered on the instep and heel, throbbing with heat, but she had no mental space to care.

‘Did I handle everything alright in there?’
Discreetly, she stole glances at Ulrich, walking beside her.

She strained to read the emotion in his eyes, but Ulrich was, in this respect, the most difficult person Sasha had ever known.

Even his profile betrayed nothing—no different from usual—leaving her unable to grasp anything at all.

‘He must still be upset with me…’

“Um…”

Just as Sasha finally gathered her courage to speak, Ulrich suddenly came to a halt.

Startled, Sasha stopped in her tracks as well, holding her breath.

As he slowly turned toward her, her heart began pounding wildly—like a rabbit caught before a predator.

‘What do I do? Did I say something wrong—’

“Shura.”

His soft voice called out as his icy-blue eyes swept over her.

Sasha stiffened, replying in a tiny voice.

“Y-Yes…?”

“Why have you lost so much weight?”

“…What?”

“You’ve been eating properly, right?”

His voice was so gentle it nearly brought tears to her eyes—and then his strong arm wrapped around her waist.

“Hm? It’s only been a few days, but you’re already looking like before—so thin again.”

Sasha forgot every thought she had just been having. Her face flushed crimson, like it had caught fire.

His hand, encircling her waist as if measuring it, made her feel both flustered and shy, but she couldn’t bring herself to push him away.

‘He’s just worried about me. It’s not like he means anything strange by it…’

After days of silence, he was finally showing her care again—she didn’t want to overreact and risk him growing cold once more.

“Well, with the wedding coming up… I guess I’ve been a little conscious of it. I was worried about how the dress would fit…”

She mumbled, half-leaning into his embrace.

She couldn’t exactly tell him the truth—that she’d been too distressed because of him to eat properly.

“The dress fit?”

As Ulrich fluttered his long lashes and repeated her words, Sasha caught a familiar scent wafting from him—the same scent she remembered from his bathroom.

So refined, so familiar, so dearly missed.

“G-Guys don’t really understand these things…”

Sasha muttered awkwardly, ducking her burning face.

And then—

“Director.”

The familiar voice of an aide made Sasha freeze, her shoulders going stiff.

Lef’s eyes quickly flicked over Ulrich’s arm wrapped around her waist, then darted upward in a swift motion.