The Bride Of The Devil

Chapter 26: The Distance Between Us

Chapter 26: The Distance Between UsLydia stood at the palace entrance, eyes fixed on the path ahead as Ivan’s carriage disappeared into the early morning fog. She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. Her heart felt like it was being pulled away with the wheels of that carriage.

She didn’t even know why it hurt so much.

Inside the carriage, Ivan found himself turning around. His eyes

The moment Lydia stepped out, all eyes locked onto her. Fearful. Cold. Resentful.

The village head stepped forward, his wife beside him.

"You should leave," he said before she could open her mouth.

Lydia blinked. "But... you haven’t even heard why I’m here."

"We know," the wife said with clenched teeth. "Everyone knows who you are. And we don’t want anything from you."

The villagers stood frozen, looking at her like she was a monster. A curse.

Katherine touched her arm gently. "We should go."

They returned without a word.

That night, as Katherine helped her bathe, she said gently, "Forget about them, Your Highness. People fear what they don’t understand."

Lydia went quiet.

Maybe that’s it... Maybe Ivan isn’t a monster. Maybe he’s just misunderstood. Everyone fears him because they don’t understand him.

Maybe... if they do, they won’t fear him anymore.

Excited, Lydia jumped out of the water, dried quickly, and dressed herself. As soon as everyone left, she took out her diary and began writing:

"I’ll make sure everyone understands him. I’ll make sure no one calls him a monster or the devil again. I want the world to see the human he really is. All I have to do... is get him to open up. I want to understand him more than anything."

She hugged the book to her chest and fell asleep smiling.

Meanwhile, at the border...

Ivan crouched in the woods. Snow fell lightly over his shoulders. He hadn’t slept in two days.

But all he could think about was her.

He remember the night they walked together. How she talked about the night sky and loving to look at it.

The night was beautiful, like she described. But Ivan felt nothing. Just cold and hollow.

A sound broke through the stillness—a soft crunch of dried grass behind him.

Without turning fully, Ivan ducked and spun, catching a shadowed figure trying to sneak up on him. He struck hard, slamming his elbow into the man’s gut and then uppercutting him under the jaw.

The man dropped, unconscious.

Ivan dragged him back to the camp, his knuckles bloodied.

The next morning

The rebel was tied to a wooden post. The soldiers interrogated him, whipped him, threatened him—but he refused to speak.

By the second morning, Ivan entered alone.

He sat across the man silently, eyes unreadable.

Minutes passed.

Finally, he spoke. "Do you know who I am?"

The rebel shook his head.

Ivan pulled out the silver mask from his coat. He slipped it over his face for only a second.

The man gasped. "You—You’re the Grand Duke... the Devil..."

He began to shake. "I—I’ll talk... I’ll talk please don’t kill me."

"Start."

"They—They’re in the forest! A hideout... by the old stone circle... there’s three of us—I mean, them!"

Ivan studied him for a moment. "We’ll see."

Petrov, Ivan, and the head border soldier followed the man’s lead into the woods. Ivan brought the rebel with him, tied to a rope.

But as they reached the hideout, Ivan’s instinct screamed.

It was a trap.

More than ten rebels poured out from behind the trees, weapons drawn.

Ivan didn’t hesitate.

He moved fast—one blade to the gut, another to the throat. He ducked, spun, slashed, and stabbed. Blood splattered across the snow. His coat was soaked in red. His face painted in crimson streaks.

One after another—they fell. Begging. Screaming. Dying.

When it was done, only the rebel remained, trembling in the corner.

Ivan looked down at him, soaked in blood from head to toe.

The rebel whispered, "P-please..."

But Ivan said nothing.

One clean strike ended him.

He stood there, breathing hard, surrounded by silence and corpses.

Alone again.