While Alia was thinking deeply about the art on the screen, Victor suddenly seized the moment. He tilted her chin towards him and kissed her—a deep, intense kiss that carried no words, only a sense of primal ownership.
But as their lips met, Victor's pupils suddenly dilated and fixed. The scent of the blood on Alia's neck acted like a trigger, and the wheels of time began to spin backward. He was pulled away from the present, back to a terrifying afternoon from his childhood...
Flashback:
The sky was overcast and grey. A young Victor, barely 10 or 12 years old, sat in the vast, royal gardens behind the Petrov palace. Before him on the ground lay the lifeless body of a traitorous bodyguard, whom Victor himself had finished off with a small dagger.
Victor's white shirt was splattered with blood. Fresh, crimson stains marred his milk-white hair and cheeks. But strangely, there was no fear in his eyes, no tears on his face. Instead, a haunting, diabolical smile played at the corners of his lips. It was as if he had just met the demon inside him for the very first time.
Just then, the sound of heavy boots echoed as his elder brother appeared—Nikolai Alexeyevich Petrov.
Nikolai froze. Seeing his little brother covered in blood with that ice-cold smile sent a shiver even through Nikolai's stone-cold heart. Nikolai called out in a low, trembling voice:
"Victor... what have you done?"
Young Victor looked up at his brother. Even at that age, his eyes held a fire capable of shaking the entire Petrov empire. He laughed softly and said:
"Brother, look... doesn't the red look beautiful against the white cloth?"
In that moment, Nikolai realized his younger brother was no ordinary human. He was born to be a destructive star.Nikolai Alexeyevich Petrov grabbed young Victor by the collar and dragged him across the garden to their father, Lord Petrov. Seeing Victor covered in blood with that haunting smile, Nikolai threw him at their father's feet.
"Father, look what he has done! He's turning into a monster!" Nikolai shouted.
Lord Petrov's eyes burned with rage. He couldn't tolerate this early sign of uncontrollable violence. He stepped forward and delivered a brutal, ringing slap to Victor's face. The impact was so hard it echoed through the hall, but Victor didn't stop smiling.
Lord Petrov hissed to Nikolai:
"Take him away! Lock him in the dark cell. Until his wild blood cools down, he shall not see the light of day!"
Nikolai and the guards dragged Victor down to a damp, lightless room in the dungeon and locked him inside. As the heavy iron door slammed shut, Victor's laughter echoed in the darkness. He knew this imprisonment would only make him more powerful and more dangerous.When the young Victor was being dragged toward the dungeon, a third figure appeared in the grand hallway. It was Dimitri Alexeyevich Petrov. At that time, Dimitri was also just a young boy, his eyes wide with terror as he saw his brother covered in blood and his father trembling with rage.
Dimitri rushed forward, his voice cracking with emotion. He grabbed his father's hand and pleaded:
"Father, please! He's just a child... he didn't know what he was doing. Please, let him go! Don't lock him away!"
Dimitri looked at Victor, hoping to see fear or a plea for help, but Victor just stared back with those haunting blue eyes, that same chilling smile still plastered on his face. Dimitri's heart sank; he wanted to save his brother, but he realized that the brother he knew was already slipping away into the darkness.
Lord Petrov looked down at his younger son, his expression hardening. He pushed Dimitri aside coldly.
"He is not a child, Dimitri. He is a predator. If I don't cage him now, he will devour us all."
Nikolai didn't listen to Dimitri's cries. He signaled the guards to continue. As they dragged Victor down the stairs into the cold, lightless cell, Dimitri stood at the top of the stairs, weeping. That was the day the bond between the brothers shattered forever—Dimitri became the one who begged for mercy, Nikolai became the enforcer, and Victor became the "Psycho" they all feared.The scene from the past grew even more heartbreaking. When young Dimitri saw that the guards wouldn't let go, he broke free and ran to his brother, hugging him tightly despite the blood staining Victor's clothes. Dimitri sobbed uncontrollably, screaming, "Brother, don't go! I won't let them take you!"
But Victor remained as still as a statue. Dimitri's desperate affection didn't seem to touch him at all; his gaze remained fixed on the void.
At that exact moment, Victor's two sisters Anna and Kate arrived on the scene. As the princesses of the Petrov empire, they knew better than to defy their father's absolute will. Seeing the situation spiral out of control, they acted quickly.
Anna and Kate rushed forward and forcibly pulled Dimitri away from Victor. Dimitri struggled, kicking and screaming, but his sisters held him firm. Anna whispered into his ear, "Don't be foolish, Dimitri! You know Father's temper. Victor has to pay for what he's done."
Kate glanced at Victor her eyes filled with a mixture of disgust and genuine fear. Together, they dragged the wailing Dimitri away. From the top of the stairs, Dimitri watched through blurred vision as the heavy iron door of the dungeon slammed shut on Victor, plunging him into total darkness.
The only sound left in the palace was the fading echo of Dimitri's cries.After Dimitri was taken away and the palace had finally grown quiet, a young Alia arrived at the Petrov estate with her father. She was just a little girl then, dressed in a beautiful frilled frock, clutching her favorite doll tightly. Her father was occupied in a high-stakes business meeting with Lord Petrov.
Unable to endure the stifling, serious atmosphere of the adults, Alia began to wander through the corridors, playing with her doll. Her curiosity led her deep into the forbidden wings of the palace, where guests were never meant to go. She stopped in front of a heavy door left slightly ajar. Peering inside, her heart skipped a beat.
In the shadows, she saw a teenage boy sitting on the cold floor. Even in the gloom, his white shirt and stark, milk-white hair seemed to shimmer. But then, Alia's eyes dropped lower his feet were bound by heavy, rusted iron chains.
Instead of being frightened, Alia stepped closer. Standing by the door, she asked in a soft, innocent voice:
"Why are you sitting here all alone? And what are those things on your feet?"
The captive Victor slowly lifted his head. For the first time, he saw a little girl whose eyes held no hatred or fear, only infinite curiosity. Victor didn't say a word.
Alia took another step forward and held out her doll toward him. She said:
"Are you lonely? Here, take my doll and talk to her. She's very good at telling stories."
Victor stared at the girl in total disbelief. The entire world had branded him a 'monster' and bound him in chains, yet this strange child was offering him her most precious toy. In that moment, for the first time in his life, a strange sense of peace settled into Victor's demonic eyes.When little Alia sat down in front of Victor with her doll, an unexpected wave of emotion hit Victor's stone-cold heart. He gestured for her to sit beside him, and without a hint of fear, Alia sat down on the cold floor next to the chained boy.
Victor reached out and placed his hand, still bound by heavy iron, gently over Alia's small, soft hand. It was the first time in Victor's life that he had touched someone without violence; there was only a strange, lingering warmth. A tiny, genuine smile flickered in the corners of his dark eyes. Looking at little Alia, he said in a calm, steady voice:
"You are so cute, little girl. One day, you will be my 'Priyo' (Beloved)."
Alia didn't understand what he meant. In her young mind, the word 'Priyo' didn't have a complex meaning yet. She only saw that this chained boy wasn't rough like others she had met. She asked with pure innocence:
"What does 'Priyo' mean? Is it like my doll?"
Victor chuckled softly. In that dark cell, during his miserable imprisonment, hearing such an innocent question felt like seeing a ray of sunlight. He didn't explain; he just gently touched the doll in her hand. He felt as though this doll and this girl were the only flickering hopes in his blackened world.
Alia stayed there for a while, sitting by his side, telling him stories about her doll. Victor listened in silence, that same strange peace reflecting in his eyes. Outside, the winds of conspiracy were blowing through the Petrov palace, but inside that dark cell, two strangers two children had found a world of their own.In that dim, shadowy room, young Victor's voice was raspy yet surprisingly steady. Hearing Alia's innocent question, he paused for a long moment. Then, reaching out his chained hand toward her, he spoke with a haunting calmness:
"Beloved... it means someone that the whole world might try to take away, but I will never let go. Someone who becomes the only light in my dark, broken world."
Little Alia stared at Victor with wide, curious eyes. She couldn't grasp the full weight of his words yet, but there was a magnetic pull in his voice that fascinated her. Victor continued, his gaze intense:
"Everyone is afraid of me, Alia. But you... you gave me your doll. So from this day on, you are special to me. You are my 'Beloved'."
Alia giggled, as if she had just heard the most wonderful secret. She reached out her tiny finger and touched the cold iron of the chain on Victor's wrist. "Okay!" she chirped. "Then when you grow up, will you play dolls with me?"
Victor gave a faint, rare smile. He didn't know what his destiny held, but in his heart, he made a vow that very day: this girl would one day be his queen.Time flew by. Victor and Alia were no longer those little children. Victor had grown taller, his shoulders broader, and the coldness in his eyes had transformed into a formidable persona. Meanwhile, Alia had blossomed into a stunning young woman, her every step radiating elegance.
It happened one afternoon. Alia was walking through a secluded corridor of the Petrov palace. That wing of the palace was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock. Alia was lost in her own thoughts.
Suddenly, a powerful arm blocked her path. Before she could react, Alia felt someone pull her into a firm back hug. The familiar scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body told her immediately it was Victor.
Alia gasped, her breath catching in her throat. Victor's strong arms were locked around her waist. He leaned in close to her neck, his hot breath sending shivers down her skin.
Victor whispered in a low, gravelly voice:
"Where are you going, my Beloved? Did I not tell you that it's impossible to escape my gaze in this palace?"
Alia murmured, "Victor... someone might see. Dimitri could be around."
Victor didn't listen. He spun her around until her back was against the wall, trapping her with his massive frame. The familiar intoxication and possessiveness in his eyes paralyzed her.
Without a word, Victor tilted her chin up and captured her lips in a fierce, deep kiss. That kiss carried the thirst of years and the claim of a vow made in childhood.
Alia tried to resist at first, but she soon surrendered to Victor's overwhelming intensity. In that silent corridor, they became the masters of a new world where there was no Dimitri, no family rivalry; only Victor's dark love and Alia's surrender.Present Day:
As Alia snapped back to the present, she saw Victor looking at her with that exact same gaze—the same depth, the same undeniable sense of ownership.
Victor tilted her chin up, his breath warm against her skin as he whispered:
"Do you understand now, Alia? Why I will never let you go? Because even at ten years old, I had already chosen you as my 'Beloved'. The chains were on my feet back then, but my soul was already a prisoner to you."