Chapter 32. The Dead Memory

Chapter 32. The Dead Memory
Vanya felt confused. Last night, Damian had suddenly become gentle in bed. But the next morning, Damian returned to his old face. Cold, mysterious, and untouchable. If last night Damian had successfully blurred the lines between them, now he was reaffirming that their relationship was only that of a host and a captive.
She sighed as she looked into the house and didn't see Damian there. Damian hadn't even waited for her to have breakfast together. Vanya began to wonder. Was this one of Damian's games, or was there something he was hiding that made his heart change so quickly?
Ultimately, Vanya didn't want to overthink it. She decided to go to the dining room and have breakfast alone.
However, Vanya's steps stopped abruptly when she passed a black painted door at the end of the corridor. The door looked old, its wooden frame blackened by time, and in the middle hung a small engraved plaque with one sentence:
"Do Not Enter."
She stared at it intently, feeling something drawing her closer, as if a faint whisper came from behind the wood. A cold aura radiated from the gap in the door, making her hair stand on end. Instead of backing away, Vanya moved closer. Not just because of its striking and contrasting appearance from the rest of the villa, but also because Vanya had just become aware of its existence there.
Her hand reached out slowly, about to touch the rusty iron doorknob, when a soft voice suddenly stopped her.
"Don't, Miss."
Vanya turned. Agnes stood at the end of the stairs. Her face was pale, her tired eyes hinting at a suppressed fear. She walked closer, her hands wringing the apron tied around her waist.
"That is Mr. Volkov's room. No one is allowed to enter there. Even we servants are never permitted to clean it."
Vanya swallowed, her curiosity growing. "Why? What's inside?"
The maid lowered her head and answered in a whisper. "We call it... the Dead Memory."
"Dead memory?" Vanya repeated softly.
She nodded. "That room holds memories that should have been buried. Not all memories are worth remembering, Miss. Some... are just better left to rot with time."
The atmosphere became tense. The wind from the long window in the corridor brushed against the curtains, creating a soft sound like a groan.
"Is it about Damian's past?" Vanya asked, unable to hide her curiosity.
Agnes looked at Vanya for a moment, then glanced around before whispering, "There is something that made Mr. Volkov... stop being human like the rest of us. That heart was once burned, Miss. Burned by loss."
Vanya was stunned. She wanted to ask more, but Agnes quickly bowed and left, leaving Vanya alone in front of the black door, which now felt like it held a thousand eyes, watching her.
In the evening, Vanya stood at her bedroom window, looking at the gray night sky. A drizzle began to fall, bringing the smell of earth and a melody of hard-to-explain nostalgia.
Her head was full of questions. Who inflicted those wounds on Damian's heart? What made this man, who was so powerful, keep one room that he forbade the entire world from approaching?
Earlier this morning, she had seen the man standing alone in the backyard, staring at the frozen lake. His hand held a small locket, his lips muttering as if reciting a mantra or a prayer. When Vanya approached and asked, his attitude was cold. Those sharp eyes refused to look directly at her as if he had become a stranger again, as if old wounds were dragging him back to a deep and dark past.
This isn't just about power, Vanya thought. Damian is hiding a more personal wound. Deeper than all the threats, blood, and political secrets she had ever heard of.
And is that room... a part of that wound?
Vanya bit her lip. She knew the danger of playing with secrets. But her curiosity grew. She knew she was approaching a dangerous line. But one thing was for sure. Behind his cold demeanor and political influence, Damian was hiding a wound that might explain everything. Including why he always seemed trapped between power and destruction. And the only way to find the answer... was to open a door that even time was reluctant to touch.
But was Vanya ready to bear whatever was waiting behind that "dead memory"?
Suddenly, Vanya's reverie was interrupted by a soft knock on her door, and Agnes entered.
"It's time for dinner," Agnes said.
"Agnes, about that room... is it never opened?" Vanya asked, feigning casual conversation. She wanted to take the opportunity to find information about Damian's secret room.
Agnes only gave a stiff smile. "You are still curious? That room has been locked for years. And it will never be opened, except by the Master himself."
"Why?" Vanya probed.
Agnes returned Vanya's gaze sharply. "Because what is buried in there is not for outsiders."
Vanya fell silent. Why was that room so secret and held such a tantalizing mystery? Agnes didn't dare to state clearly what was behind that door. This morning, Vanya had noticed who passed through that corridor. And it turned out that every servant who passed would bow and quicken their pace. As if they were afraid to even look at the door for too long.
They weren't just afraid to talk about it, but also afraid to touch it. Vanya's inner curiosity grew.
"You'd better bury that curiosity deep. Because Mr. Volkov doesn't much like people who are too inquisitive," Agnes advised.
Vanya winced and tried to act casual, "I was just asking. If I'm not supposed to know, then fine."
"Mr. Volkov wants to have dinner with you," Agnes said next, stating her purpose for being in the room.
Vanya raised her eyebrows. "That's odd," she muttered. After the man had been cold and distant all day yesterday, why was he asking her to dinner again tonight?
But this was a good opportunity for Vanya, as she could ask the questions that had been bothering her mind since yesterday.
"Alright. I'll be there in ten minutes," Vanya said, opening her wardrobe and starting to choose which dress she would wear tonight to look... tempting.