Chapter 1

Asla Sherita first met the foreign duke in a rose garden on a scorching summer day when the sun was blazing hot.

It had rained heavily the night before, making the red roses bloom even more vividly. The Duke, Enoch Ventus, stood gazing at them. He was only eighteen—and had just come of age that year.

When she had first heard of him through rumors, she was worried he might be too young to bear the weight of a dukedom. But the moment she saw him in person, she realized her fears were unfounded.

Everything about him was strikingly different from others. As the Duke of Ventus — renowned as one of the wealthiest families  in the Tulia Empire, which ruled the continent with its vast power—he exuded both luxury and elegance.

He was wrapped in an aura of untouchable nobility, and his features, still faintly tinged with the youth of a boy, were captivating. He was so handsome it took her breath away, with a tall frame and a solid-looking build.

‘Perfect.’

Asla thought.

Having spent most of her fifteen years trapped within the royal palace, she fell for the Duke at first sight. Her heart raced, her breath quickened. Like the sweet flesh of a fruit ripened under the harsh summer sun, Asla tasted the sweetness of her first love.

Sensing her presence, the Duke turned his head and met her gaze.

Looking into his handsome eyes made her heart throb even more, but the Duke seemed indifferent.

He bowed politely to Asla, the Princess of the fallen kingdom, and then, without another word, turned away coldly. The princess’s nanny, who had been standing behind her, angrily protested that he was being disrespectful, but Asla didn’t mind.

She thought his behavior was justified.

She stood there blankly, watching his back as he walked away.

Asla, who had fallen in love at first sight, quietly tucked him into her heart.

The dazzling time spent dreaming of that love became her only comfort and salvation in an otherwise barren life.

Everything changed on the day of their wedding—when she married the man she had loved for five years.

“This way.”

Enoch Ventus—the man who would become her husband—extended his hand to his twenty-year-old bride, but he was cold as ice.

His frigid gaze and stiff demeanor filled Asla with fear.

What she had read in books was true: first love does not come true.

Even though she had loved him for so long, and so deeply.

So Asla bit her lip and vowed to become a wife who would never burden him.

“Yes.”

She took his hand—one that held not a shred of affection—and they were wed.

Asla Sherita, the Princess of a fallen holy kingdom, became the wife of the wealthiest Duke in the empire.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆      

Asla was lost in thought, recalling the wedding held two years ago.

“You shouldn’t touch that, My Lady.”

“…Right.”

Startled by the maid’s sharp scolding, she quickly pulled her hand back.

She hadn’t even realized she was reaching out—proof of how hopelessly in love she still was with this man.

She stood in the corridor of the Ventus estate—a hall lined with the portraits of the Dukes of House Ventus.

The servants diligently cleaned it every day, but a faint trace of dust, aged with time, still lingered in the air.

Each of the portraits staring out in silence depicted men with silver hair and dark eyes.

The one Asla had nearly touched was of her husband, Duke Enoch Ventus, the current head of the family.

Clasping her hands below her waist, she looked up at his portrait and thought, no matter how many times she compared them, Enoch was the most handsome and striking of all the dukes.

Asla curled her lips into a bitter smile.

‘Did I really only love this man for his looks and aura?’

Even after two years of marriage, her heart still fluttered at the sight of his face.

That was why she enjoyed coming here to look at his portrait.

It was a masterpiece in its own right, and at least the painted Enoch didn’t meet her with the cold gaze she faced in real life.

The portrait merely looked down the corridor with a noble, indifferent arrogance.

Asla stayed longer than usual today, letting herself take in more of the man she loved.

She wanted to hold onto him with her eyes just a little longer.

She didn’t know how much time had passed.

“My legs hurt, my lady.”

The maid’s grumbling voice snapped her back to reality.

Glancing at the girl, Asla gave a small nod.

“Very well, let’s go.”

“Ugh.”

A loud, irritated sigh rang out behind her, piercing a corner of Asla’s heart.

She tried not to show it as she began walking slowly.

Her delicate face twisted slightly, but the maid didn’t even try to conceal her disrespect.

No matter how kind Asla had been, the maid’s attitude had never changed.

Not even after two years of gentle persuasion or stern rebuke.

There was only one reason for that—

This maid was a pawn of the former Duchess, Margo Ventus.

There was no escaping Margo’s grip over this vast Ventus estate.

‘As long as I’m here.’

Asla curled her fingers slightly to steady herself against the suffocating sorrow.

She had endured, again and again,out of love for Enoch.

But every step through the beautiful, antique halls of the Ventus mansion grew heavier.

This place—revered as the most ancient and grand in the empire—was nothing more than a prison to her.

At that moment, a man spotted her from the far end of the long corridor and hurried toward her.

‘Enoch’s secretary, Talet.’

Asla noticed the slight stiffness in Talet’s usually calm expression and felt strangely at ease.

She already knew why he was rushing to find her.

Now that it was over, she almost felt relieved.

When Asla offered him a polite glance, Talet quickly bowed and said,

“My Lady, the master is asking for you.”

“Let’s go at once.”

“Yes, I’ll escort you to the study.”

Asla began walking after him, then cast a quick glance back at the maid.

The girl looked flustered, her eyes darting between Asla and Talet in confusion.

It was understandable— Asla thought, as she turned her head forward again.

It was rare for Enoch to summon her to his study.

In fact, he rarely ever came up to the grand Ventus estate in the northern territory at all.

He was always busy.

The Ventus family, wealthy enough to hold sway over the empire, didn’t become rich by chance.

Enoch was constantly burdened with business matters and lived a relentlessly hectic life.

That was why he spent most of his time in the capital, rather than here at the Ventus estate.

‘He spent even fewer days with me… not that he ever felt the need to.’

A hollow smile touched Asla’s lips.

This was the end of it all.

She was done enduring life in this mansion for a man who didn’t offer her even a scrap of affection.

When they arrived at Enoch’s study, she saw him standing there in a neat suit.

He looked like he had just returned to the estate, massaging the corners of his tired eyes.

His silver hair shimmered in the sunlight as he brushed it back, and Asla couldn’t help but think how handsome he looked.

She felt foolish for loving him still.

The thought left her so disarmed she forgot to greet him.

As Asla and Enoch faced each other in silence, the air between them tense and brittle like a sheet of ice, Talet quickly closed the study door and exited.

Now alone with Enoch in the room, Asla drew in a short breath.

He looked different than usual—slightly angry.

‘Ah.’

Asla’s eyes dropped to the envelope he was holding.

Noticing her gaze, Enoch raised a brow.

“…You sent a divorce petition to the temple, Asla.”

Asla’s throat went dry; his low voice felt particularly threatening today. She was honestly puzzled as to why he was so angry.

She had definitely sent the divorce petition of her own volition, but she was sure that her husband, Enoch, would be the one to welcome the divorce most.

‘Did I wound this noble man’s pride?’

After arriving at that conclusion, she replied to him flatly.

“Because I didn’t have time to write a separation agreement with you. You rarely come to the estate.”

“You could’ve come to the capital. What good are legs if you don’t use them? Even if you were once a noble Princess, shouldn’t you have made a little effort at least?”

Enoch twisted his lips into a scornful sneer as he rebuked her.

Asla was caught somewhere between disbelief and fascination.

Was Enoch Ventus really someone who showed his emotions so openly?

She felt wronged.

How was she supposed to go to the capital?

It was proof that Enoch had no idea what kind of life she’d been enduring in this mansion.

‘Truly, he’s just too cruel, even to the very end.’

Since she’d already decided to give up on him, Asla chose not to argue.

She ignored his sarcasm and calmly explained.

“My title as a Princess of a fallen Holy Kingdom doesn’t offer many privileges anymore, but in this case, it helped. You’re busy, so it was simpler to handle alone.”

“…I really don’t understand you.”

Enoch gripped the envelope so tightly it looked like it might crumple, then strode toward her.

The distance between them vanished in an instant.

It had been so long since she’d seen his dark eyes this close—it stole her breath away.

His gaze was blazing with fire.

‘Why?’

Was he even capable of such intense emotions?

Asla’s eyes widened in shock.

He looked at her, opened his mouth as if to say something—then bit his lip harshly and shut it again.

Finally, he handed the divorce papers back to her with a sardonic smile.

“They sent it back from the temple. Apparently, the God Teres delivered a judgment personally.”

‘A divine oracle from Teres?’

Asla blinked in surprise at the unexpected development.

Filing a divorce with the temple was usually just a ceremonial formality—a way for the two parties to seek divine forgiveness and blessing as they parted.

The priest would simply collect the papers after a night on the altar and stamp them.

Why would a god intervene in something as trivial as a human couple’s divorce?

With trembling hands, Asla opened the white envelope.

She pulled out the divorce petition she had written and gasped.

‘A Blue Wave!’

There it was—the divine sigil of a Blue Wave, proof that a god had issued an oracle.

‘Why would the God Teres involve himself in the divorce of a mere human couple?’

Asla’s breath caught in her throat as she read the divine verdict at the end of the form.

<This divorce… I forbid it.>