The Bride Of The Devil-Chapter 52: The Monster Within
Chapter 52: The Monster Within
Ivan was still seated in his chambers, staring out the window. The sky was heavy with gray clouds, and soft flakes of snow fell like ash from the heavens. The silence in the room was deep, almost suffocating. He didn’t move. He hadn’t moved in hours.
A quiet knock came.
He didn’t answer.
The door creaked open, and Tatiana stepped inside gently. She closed the door behind her and stood for a moment, looking at him. He didn’t turn to her. He sat like a statue, the only movement coming from the slow rise and fall of his chest.
"You’ve been in here all day, Your Highness," she said softly.
"I like the silence," he replied, his voice distant.
Tatiana took slow steps forward. "She’s hurting. And so are you. Why are you doing this to both of you?"
He still didn’t turn. "Because she looks at me like I’m something good. Like I’m a man worth loving. Like I’m a hero."
He finally turned his head slightly, just enough for her to see the pain in his eyes. "But I’m not. I’m not even close. I’m a monster."
Tatiana stepped closer. "You think she’ll hate you if she saw the real you?"
He looked back at the snow. "She will. Any sane person will."
"You don’t know that," she said, her voice tightening.
"I do."
He paused, then added, "I don’t deserve her."
She walked to his side and slowly sat down.
"Why? Because of what happened that day?"
He didn’t respond.
"It wasn’t your fault, Your Highness. You know that," she said.
His voice was hollow. "I murdered innocent people."
Tatiana turned to him sharply. "What about what they did to you?"
He said nothing.
"You were just a child. A boy. They hurt you. Do they get to walk away blameless?"
He closed his eyes. The weight of the past pressed hard against him.
"You’re not a monster. You’re not a devil," she whispered. "You’re a man who survived."
Then came a knock at the door.
"Your Highness," a servant called. "Someone is here to see you. He said it is urgent."
Ivan stood slowly. "Let him wait in my study," he said.
Tatiana watched him put on his cloak, his face a mask again. She watched as he walked out, his footsteps quiet.
---
She found Lydia in one of the quiet drawing rooms, curled into a corner of the couch. Her eyes were red and puffy. It was clear she had been crying.
Tatiana sat beside her. For a moment, she said nothing. She just sat there in silence.
Then, in a soft voice, she said, "He isn’t angry at you."
Lydia didn’t look at her. Her fingers were clenched together tightly.
"He’s angry at himself," Tatiana continued. "He doesn’t believe he deserves you." fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
Lydia slowly turned her head. Her voice was broken, quiet. "Why?"
"Because you see him as a good man. And he can’t see that in himself."
Lydia wiped her eyes slowly with the back of her hand.
"But he’s good to me," she whispered.
Tatiana reached out and touched her hand. "Then go to him. Don’t wait. If he won’t come to you, push your way in. That’s the only way to reach him now."
Lydia stood up slowly, her legs slightly shaky. "Where is he?"
"In his study," Tatiana replied.
---
Lydia walked fast through the halls. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her hands were cold and shaking slightly. The corridor seemed longer than usual. Her breathing became shallow.
She reached the door to his study. She didn’t knock. Her hand pushed the door open.
And then she stopped.
A man was just about to leave the room. He bowed slightly. "I’ll take my leave, Your Highness," he said.
Lydia stood frozen. She didn’t understand what she was seeing.
Ivan’s expression was cold. There was no kindness in his eyes. Only rage.
Without warning, Ivan grabbed a vase from the table beside him and struck the man’s head with it.
The man fell to the ground with a groan.
Before he could even lift his head, Ivan hit him again. And again. The vase shattered in his hand.
Ivan shouted, "Repeat what you just said again! Say it again! Say it!"
He picked up a sharp piece of the broken vase and stabbed it into the man’s neck. Blood spilled instantly. The man choked and went still.
Ivan let out a bitter, painful laugh. "In your next life, maybe you’ll learn to know your place."
Lydia’s body shook. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her legs refused to move.
Ivan’s face was splattered with blood. His hands, his face, his clothes — soaked. And then he looked up.
He saw her.
His eyes widened.
He hadn’t expected her. Not now. Not like this.
"Lydia," he said, his voice low.
She didn’t answer. She took a step back, her entire body trembling.
Ivan took a small step forward. "What are you doing here?"
She shook her head, slowly moving back. "Stay back," she whispered. "Don’t come any closer."
Her eyes were filled with horror. Her lips were trembling. She was seeing someone she didn’t recognize.
Her foot caught on the edge of the doorframe. She stumbled and fell hard to the floor.
Ivan didn’t move.
She tried to get up, managed to stand. Her body was weak, swaying.
She stumbled backward, one hand against the wall.
And then everything went black.
Her eyes rolled back.
She collapsed.
"Lydia!" Ivan shouted, rushing to her.
He caught her just before she hit the ground. Her body was limp in his arms.
He knelt on the floor, holding her tightly, his heart racing. Blood stained his hands. Guilt stabbed deeper than any blade.
He looked at her face, pale and still, and all the strength in him crumbled.
The one person he wanted to protect most now lay unconscious because of him.
He lowered his head.
"I’m sorry," he whispered. "I’m so sorry."
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