To My Gentle Dictator – Chapter 030

“Shall I take you straight to Nebroski?”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

‘Ulrich has business to finish in Nebroski? Then does that mean… he’ll be dropped off first, and I’ll return to the townhouse with Lef driving?
I’d rather ride back with Natasha, but maybe she’s already off duty…’

As Ulrich guided her toward the car with his arm still around her, Sasha bit down hard on her lower lip.

‘If only I could go back with Natasha. She’s uncomfortable too, but if I had to choose between Lef and Natasha, it would be her, hands down.’

Still, she couldn’t very well show her dislike for Ulrich’s aide, not openly.

And if he were to ask her why she felt that way about Lef, how would she even answer?

Because Lef had obeyed Vasily’s orders back when Vasily was Director?
Because, like everyone else, he probably mocked her behind her back?

“Are you alright?”

Ulrich, now seated beside her in the car, looked at her kindly as he asked.

Sasha quickly forced her frozen expression into a smile.

Her facial muscles, already worn thin from strain, felt like they could go numb at any moment.

“Yes, of course.”

Ulrich studied her eyes for a long moment, then gave a faint chuckle and turned his gaze toward the window.

Sasha, staring at his profile, couldn’t bring herself to look away for some time before finally dropping her eyes.

‘I really am shameless…’

She didn’t even have the courage to bring up what happened that day, and yet here she was, still expecting something from him.

As the convertible slowly rolled out of the parking lot, Sasha quietly crossed her middle and index fingers close to the car window—like a young girl desperately wishing on a star.

Behind them, in the lot they’d just left, the sharp sound of honking echoed several times, followed by the noise of someone slamming a steering wheel in a fit of rage.

* * *

The historic buildings stood with timeless elegance, their reflections shimmering across the canals connected by hundreds of bridges.
Even in this era where so much was forbidden, Nebroski—once Velus’s most bustling district—still carried the restless air of its past as a street of desire.

The car stopped in a special zone nestled within Nebroski’s main boulevard, where upscale restaurants and bars clustered together.

‘Who is Ulrich meeting here?’

Sasha, staring blankly as Ulrich stepped out of the car, was suddenly met with his outstretched arm.

“Come on, let’s go.”

She looked at his hand with a puzzled expression.

“Me?”

“Who else would it be, if not you, Shura?”

Ulrich replied with feigned exasperation, a playful smile on his lips—the warm, kind expression she knew so well.
Sasha quickly came to her senses and took his hand.

“Watch your step.”

He steadied her deftly, preventing her from stumbling.

It seemed he had noticed how much trouble she was having in heels after so long. His gesture was subtle, but filled with considerate care.

Sasha steeled herself, determined not to fall into foolish delusions.

‘We’re in public—it’s just part of acting like a couple. That’s all. Still…’

She recalled nearly twisting her ankle earlier that day when she got out of the car at Tremlyn Grand Palace.

She needed to get used to heels quickly if she didn’t want to look like a bumpkin in front of others.
Even in heels, she barely reached Ulrich’s chest—but that was partly because he stood over 190cm tall.

‘I wish I were taller… Maybe not model-tall like Lyudmila or Natasha, but just enough to match him better.’

Still, his imposing height brought a strange comfort—as if it shielded her from the stares of others.

“Enjoy your evening,” Lef’s smooth voice called from behind.

The street was packed with people.

Sasha, trailing one step behind Ulrich, unconsciously clutched his sleeve with both hands.
She knew it made her look childish, but she couldn’t help herself.

Just being in a crowded place like this made her so tense her underarms were damp with sweat—and this wasn’t an anonymous black market, but the heart of a bustling city.

“Um, Ulrich, where are we going—”

“In public, you’re supposed to use my nickname.”

He chided playfully, then asked a completely unexpected question.

“Do you think you can pull it off in front of your brother too?”

“…What?”

Sasha blinked, confused—and then froze.

Just a few meters ahead, standing in front of a red-brick building with the sign ‘Specializing in Italus Cuisine’, was someone she instantly recognized.

“Kiril…?”

It was Kiril.

No longer in ragged clothes from the black market, he now wore a crisp white shirt and polished enamel shoes. His hair was freshly cut. Yet Sasha knew her brother at a glance.

Hearing her voice, Kiril turned his head with a blank look, then scowled.

“You’re late.”

“Kiril!”

Forgetting the pain in her feet, Sasha rushed to him and threw her arms around her taller brother.

She knew Kiril hated this kind of thing, but she couldn’t hold back her joy.

“Ah, come on—people are watching.”

As expected, Kiril quickly voiced his irritation.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Are you doing alright?”

“Can’t you tell?”

Unlike Sasha, who was nearly in tears from joy, Kiril remained as blunt as ever.

But to Sasha, this was a huge improvement.

At least he wasn’t shoving her away or storming off in a rage.

With teary eyes, she examined him. He looked healthier, maybe even taller.

Not long ago, he’d been the spitting image of a scrawny delinquent from the slums, and now—though not quite princely—he looked neat, clean, and respectable.
And it was all thanks to Ulrich. That much went without saying. And now he had even arranged for them to meet like this…

‘Has he forgiven me?’

Hope bloomed in her chest like a delicate bubble.

With a bright, full smile, Sasha turned to Ulrich.

“Thank you for bringing Kiril, Yury. Kiril, did you thank him properly?”

“I was going to, but someone interrupted me.”

Kiril replied gruffly, glancing awkwardly at Ulrich.

Ulrich looked at Sasha with an unreadable expression, then turned to Kiril and spoke in a mild tone.

“It’s been a while, Kiril. How’s the hotel treating you?”

“It’s… fine, I guess. Not bad.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea to stay with your sister before check-in.”

“No thanks. Don’t wanna disturb at night.”

“K-Kiril!”

Sasha’s face flushed red at Kiril’s careless remark.

He smirked, clearly amused.

“What? Everyone knows you two are getting married.”

Sasha was at a loss for words. Despite the pretense of playing lovers, her face burned.

Whether Kiril was suspicious of the rushed wedding or just being a defiant teenager, she couldn’t tell.

Still, acting like this in front of Ulrich was undeniably rude.

“Alright, why don’t we head inside? I’ve reserved a table at this restaurant.”

Thankfully, Ulrich didn’t show any sign of offense.

As he smoothly shifted the mood, Sasha forced a smile and gave Kiril a little shove.

“Enough with the nonsense. Let’s go in.”