MLHRGD 112

#112. Time to Wake from the Dream (4)

Early in the morning, “special editions” of newspapers were delivered everywhere.

“Let’s see…”

Sasha picked the most reputable one from the pile stacked high before her and skimmed through it.

On the front page was a huge caricature of Ruslan, surrounded by multiple women.

Just looking at the exaggerated portrait made her chuckle.

The article underneath was written with all sorts of sensational words, criticizing the incident from last night.

“This goes beyond criticism. If the man himself read this, he’d feel wrongly accused.”

It wasn’t just reporting facts—most of it was twisted and dramatized, more like a novel than real news.

Normally, she would’ve frowned at such reckless exaggerations. But today, Sasha’s lips curved with satisfaction.

After all, the one being mocked and ridiculed by everyone in Kalita was none other than Ruslan.

And wasn’t this scandal all the result of her plan?

The perfection of her revenge thrilled her.

She tapped the newspaper lightly with her finger and thought of him.

“Ruining a spotless image with such scandals is one thing. But with the side effects of the broken magic, he’s probably not even in his right mind now.”

Indeed, Ruslan would now suffer nightmares every time he slept, desperately wanting to wake from them.

Sasha laughed quietly, pleased.

“He won’t even be able to show his face outside for a while. At least until we leave, things should stay peaceful.”

But the moment she flipped to the next page, her smile vanished.

There was an illustration of a man with disheveled black hair and beast-like red eyes, locked in a fiery kiss with a woman.

Because the woman’s body was bent backward so far her rose crown almost fell… or because the size difference between the broad man and the slender woman was exaggerated…

The way he gripped the woman’s long silver hair down to her waist—it looked more like he was about to devour her.

“It wasn’t like this…”

Sasha muttered in a stunned voice.

This was clearly meant to be her and Pavel, drawn during the moment she congratulated him with a kiss after he won the tournament.

But both the article and the illustration made her frown.

“They drew Pavel far too savage and scary. And me—I look completely stupid.”

Compared to the previous page, the difference was insulting.

Ruslan had been drawn a little ridiculous because of the situation, yes, but his face still looked handsome and charming, like the “popular Crown Prince.”

But Pavel—who was just as handsome—was drawn like some beast out of control, like a wild bandit who hunted monsters in the mountains!

“My Pavel doesn’t look like that at all! He’s much more handsome than this!”

Her breath grew uneven as she fumed. Then she analyzed why it had been drawn this way.

“It’s the prejudice. The stereotypes about northerners, and those old rumors…”

• The devilish Pavel Volkov.

• The violent and incompetent Grand Duke’s heir.

• The poor Cinderella, married off like property to such a man.

Among nobles, these tales had long been forgotten. But among commoners, where rumors spread slower, the reputation was still deeply rooted.

So of course, people never saw them as they really were. And if an artist already had such ideas in mind, then the exaggeration in caricature only made it worse.

“It doesn’t even look like us. Just distorted features, like a cartoon.”

The article was even more outrageous. Its title read:

“A Wicked Temptress Who Even Bewitched Her Inhuman Husband”

With a title like that, the rest of the writing was just as vile.

It claimed Sasha shamelessly flaunted affection in public, and even twisted Ruslan’s past interest in her as “proof” of her being a temptress.

And now, with the Crown Prince’s scandal making headlines, his previous attention toward her was interpreted in the worst way possible.

“Calling this journalism is a waste of paper.”

“Indeed. And the artist wasn’t even skilled enough to call themselves professional.”

The sudden voice and the warmth on her shoulder made Sasha glance sideways.

A large, strong hand rested there. She didn’t need to look up to know whose hand it was.

“Pavel.”

Her husband had approached quietly, eyes locked on the newspaper.

“They drew you too ugly. Even if they’d drawn with their feet, it would’ve turned out better. Probably sketched you carelessly without even seeing you.”

His voice was low and displeased.

“The drawings are trash, and the article is worse.”

As Pavel read further, his face darkened. By the time he reached the last line, his expression was murderous.

“Before the temptress leaves Kalita, how many more men will she seduce?”

Even Sasha, who was used to mockery, felt her mood sour. There was no way Pavel would take it calmly.

With a sharp movement, he snatched the newspaper from her hands.

“Why are you reading this filth? It’s not worth your time.”

“I just wanted to check something.”

“Are you planning to read all of those too?”

He gestured at the mountain of papers before her, clearly displeased.

Sasha shrugged.

“Well… they’ll probably say the same nonsense.”

“Don’t read them.”

With a firm voice, Pavel picked up the whole stack and carried it straight to the fireplace.

Without hesitation, he tossed them into the flames.

The weak fire roared as the papers burned.

Sasha quietly watched the blaze, brighter than the morning sun, and her husband’s broad back before it.

Just then, the heavy silence was broken.

“…I’m sorry.”

Sasha blinked.

“What? Why are you suddenly apologizing?”

Still facing the fire, Pavel spoke hesitantly.

“For being useless. For making things harder for you.”

“What? Why would you think that?”

But the moment she asked, Sasha realized—he was blaming himself because of the article.

“Their words aren’t your fault. If anyone gave them a reason, it was me. I kissed you first, after all.”

“That’s not true.”

He turned to face her, eyes steady.

“You’re not at fault, Sasha. Not at all.”

“….”

Then Pavel said quietly but firmly:

“And about the Crown Prince—it was your plan, wasn’t it?”

“….”

So he knew.

Sasha bit her lip, embarrassed as if her secret had been exposed.

He stepped closer, not looking away from her.

“While you were doing that, I was the one carelessly taking that drug and collapsing—almost giving them the excuse to target you.”

Hearing his self-blame, Sasha forgot her embarrassment.

“No! That’s not it!”

She shook her head firmly.

“If anything, I was too reckless. What if my actions bring shame on our house?”

The earlier pride she felt at seeing Ruslan’s humiliation had already melted away, replaced by unease.

Pavel frowned.

“You don’t need to worry about that. I told you before—whatever you do, it’s fine.”

“…What?”

“I mean it. No matter what you do, Sasha, it’s fine. Don’t ever worry about that.”

Then, before she realized it, Pavel knelt on one knee.

“Sasha.”

Her name came with a faint tremor in his voice. She didn’t notice, because her eyes were fixed on the small box he took from his pocket.

“…Is that…”

“I didn’t plan to give it like this, but now feels right.”

He opened it. Inside was a ring, prepared only for her.

“We never had real wedding rings.”

The ones they exchanged at their arranged marriage had no meaning. Worn once at the ceremony, then stored away in a box.

Back then, rings hadn’t mattered to Sasha. Even now, she hadn’t thought them necessary.

But seeing the one Pavel had prepared just for her made her heart pound.

“Sasha.”

“Yes?”

Her reply was calm, though her heart raced wildly.

Encouraged, Pavel spoke honestly.

“Stay with me.”

“…We’re already married, aren’t we?”

“I mean, for life. Don’t ever leave my side.”

Sasha blinked, cheeks flushing.

She took his hand.

“I will. I’ll stay with you, always.”

Pavel’s face lit with a smile brighter than the sun.

“Put it on me.”

Sasha held out her hand.

Pavel slipped the ring gently onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

She laughed softly at his proud expression, then slid the matching ring onto his hand.

The couple sat together, hands entwined, exchanging quiet words.

“Such a special day… should we celebrate?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s keep it small, just us. But let’s also treat the servants to food and wine.”

Pavel nodded at once, making Sasha smile warmly.

But their celebration never happened.

That evening, a knight from the north arrived at their townhouse.

His appearance was haggard, his body covered in dust and dirt. He refused to rest, insisting on delivering his urgent message to Pavel.

Sasha sensed at once the news would be dire.

“What is it?” Pavel asked quietly. His face was grim.

The knight’s face twisted. Even he seemed unwilling to believe the words he carried.

Finally, he spoke.

“Your Grace the Grand Duke… has fallen in battle.”

The thunderous words crashed into Sasha and Pavel like a storm.