To My Gentle Dictator – Chapter 038

* * *

By government directive, both the reception and the honeymoon were omitted, but no one disputed that it was the most extravagant wedding since the revolution.

Especially the bride’s dress—it was a type rarely seen even abroad, and one could already predict that the photos of the bride and groom, who looked like movie stars, would be a huge hit once picked up by foreign media.

From the most despised woman in Velus, Sasha had suddenly become the most envied. But she didn’t have the mental space to care about any of that.

“Congratulations. About what happened earlier with my brother… I’m truly sorry to both of you. When will he ever grow up? Let me apologize on his behalf.”

After the ceremony, Lyudmila approached to offer her congratulations and an apology.

Sasha flinched and glanced at Ulrich beside her. Ulrich only gave Lyudmila a light smile.

Lyudmila returned his smile with one that seemed full of gratitude, then gently brushed Sasha’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“Next time you see him, just tell him to go die. Congratulations on your wedding.”

Sasha could barely remember how she had responded.

Even as she left the cathedral arm-in-arm with Ulrich, smiling like a happy bride, her head was filled with a single thought.

It felt like her body and mind had split completely, each absorbed in playing its role.

“Go ahead without me.”

When they reached the car that would take her to the official residence, Ulrich spoke.

He opened the door himself and helped Sasha into the car as he continued speaking.

“Natasha will guide you once you arrive at the apartment. Take your time looking around.”

Sasha hesitated and looked up at him.

This Ulrich, who was gently seeing her off, looked almost exactly like the dreamlike image he had shown her at the ceremony.

But unlike then, now he didn’t smile. He didn’t meet her eyes.

He didn’t look at her the way he had during their vows—with the gaze every woman dreams of.

It was as if the enchantment had vanished in an instant.

Like a prince who had just glimpsed Cinderella’s true form after midnight.

The distance between them felt immense.

If he had shown open anger or clear irritation, maybe it wouldn’t have felt so far away.

“Then… Ulrich, when will you—”

“I’ll come in before it gets too late. Let’s talk later.”

Cutting off her barely-formed question, he stepped back and closed the door.

Sasha watched his retreating figure as he walked toward the others, her gaze lingering.

Then she lowered her head and looked down at her hand, where his touch had left.

She was used to situations where others scolded her.

Used to people clamming up in anger or lashing out, smashing things around them.

Vasily, Kiril, even her brother when he was sick—all of them had been like that.

At least with them, she could tell what they were feeling.

She could figure out what she was supposed to do, whether she understood it or not.

But Ulrich was different. He was an entirely different kind of man.

He was the kindest, most generous person she knew—he had never once raised his voice or acted harshly toward her.

And yet, whenever he withdrew his warmth, whenever it felt like he misunderstood her, Sasha felt as though cold hands were tightening around her throat.

‘There really must be something wrong with me.’

Sasha became convinced that she was a strange, petty person.

Of course Ulrich would be upset.

Misunderstanding or not, what happened at the ceremony entrance had been no different from insulting her groom right before the wedding.

She had betrayed and disappointed the man who had given her a fairytale wedding, from the dress to everything else.

And yet, Ulrich had protected her to the end.

He had preserved her dignity by acting as though she truly mattered to him in front of everyone.

Even though he had nothing to gain from doing so.

‘If I hadn’t reacted so stupidly, none of this would’ve happened. I can’t even behave properly, and yet I worry about being misunderstood. Back when Vasily was tormenting me for every little thing, I couldn’t even think of these kinds of worries… and yet with Ulrich, who treats me so well…’

To be stupid was bad enough. But to be a bad person on top of that—that was the worst.

Sasha felt like she was exactly that: the worst kind of person.

* * *

Even on the day of the Director’s wedding, the NSS did not rest.

Still dressed in his ceremonial uniform, the Director strode quickly down the stairs to the building’s basement level.

Lef, who had arrived ahead of him, came running out from inside the interrogation room to greet him.

“Congratulations, Director.”

“Thank you. How’s it going?”

“It’s touch-and-go. Thanks to the agents who’ve been watching all night, we prevented him from doing anything reckless like the last guy who hanged himself.”

At that, Ulrich stopped walking and tilted his head.

“The last guy?”

“You know, the one who used to play errand boy for the previous Director.”

“Ah, I thought it was something serious.”

Ulrich resumed walking, responding as though he’d just heard a silly joke.

“But wasn’t that errand boy you, Captain Lef?”

His tone matched the humor, responding to the joke with another joke.

Lef, who had stopped in place, stiffened.

Ulrich looked back at him over his shoulder and let out a short laugh.

“I’m sorry, Director.”

Lef bowed his head.

His usual flippant tone was gone, replaced with a voice so formal it was nearly strangled.

“It’s just that, back then… I thought that woman—no, that person—was trying to seduce you with impure intentions—”

“Come on now, Lef.”

Ulrich approached with an indulgent tone and patted Lef on the shoulder.

“We’ve known each other for years. You think I don’t understand how you feel?”

“Director…”

“Still, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show such obvious distrust in the work I do.”

Lef, who had been staring at Ulrich with dazed eyes, quickly nodded.

“O-of course! How could I possibly harbor even the slightest doubt toward what you do? I lost my head for a moment and acted rashly. The previous Director gave me such a hard time while you were gone that I think it scrambled my brain…”

“Alright.”

Cutting him off lightly, Ulrich turned and opened the door to the interrogation room.

“Director.”

As the Director stepped inside, all the agents snapped to a sharp salute.

Dr. Anton from the public health clinic, who had been sitting at a desk, flinched and jerked upward.

“D-Director…”

Ulrich cast a glance at Dr. Anton, then looked around at the other agents.

“Everyone, good work.”

“Not at all. Congratulations on your wedding, Director.”

Ulrich stepped across to the other side of the desk and lit a cigarette.

With a crisp ting, the lighter clicked open.

Drained and ragged from being interrogated all night, Dr. Anton’s dry lips moved soundlessly.

“Director…”

“How are you feeling right now, Doctor?”

Ulrich asked as he lit his cigarette.

His tone was as casual as if he were asking whether the man had eaten lunch.

Anton struggled to move his dry, gritty eyes.

Though he wore glasses, his vision felt blurry.

In a regime ruled by purges, no one ever knew who would be next.

The official charges against Dr. Anton this time were medical record tampering and embezzlement.

It was customary that Party-affiliated medical personnel could get away with whatever misconduct they wanted—as long as it didn’t cause trouble for the organization.