Chapter 10

Even now, face to face with her handsome husband, Asla felt like—for the first time—she wouldn’t falter. She could actually be angry, properly. 

Suppressing the storm rising in her chest, she began, her voice calm but firm. 

“You were busy. Fine. But that’s how we ended up barely seeing each other once or twice a year. You didn’t even know I was being harassed by the Grand Madam at the Ventus estate.” 

“…You should’ve told me about my sister-in-law.” 

His voice came out dry, his eyes laced with regret.   

Asla was suddenly seized by the urge to run far away—anywhere without him.   

The more he looked in pain, the more wretched she felt.   

She felt so small, she wanted to turn to dust and vanish in the wind. 

She slipped her hand from his arm and clenched the fabric of her skirt tightly. 

“Being the Duchess of Ventus… and still not being able to assert myself in one’s estate. It was humiliating.” 

“Asla.” 

“…It was shameful. It hurt. But what made everything worse was that you rarely came to the estate. Who would bother showing respect to a disgraced princess of a fallen kingdom, neglected even by her own husband?” 

“You’re not just from that kingdom. You’re its last royal bloodline.” 

Even now, hearing Enoch staunchly defend her lineage made Asla want to laugh.   

How did someone with that rigid personality become a successful businessman? The more she knew, the more baffling it was. 

She turned her head weakly, avoiding his gaze. 

“You really…don’t understand a thing. You have no idea how much guilt I carried toward you. You don’t know what I went through. How sorry I felt for being forced into a marriage you didn’t want… That’s why I’m giving you a divorce.” 

“…I—!” 

Enoch began to speak, then abruptly stopped, biting down hard on his lower lip. 

Was he regretting things now, at this late hour? 

It didn’t matter. The past couldn’t be undone. 

Exhausted, Asla turned around, deciding to head back to the Ruitel Hotel. 

“I think I’ll leave for the capital first thing tomorrow. The divine oracle may have been strange, but it must’ve been a mistake. I want to correct it quickly.” 

“Asla… you don’t know anything either.” 

His voice followed her from behind, tinged with something that sounded like sorrow.   

Her hands clenched instinctively. 

Why?   

Why was he the one sounding heartbroken? 

“…It’s all my fault, I know that. But still…” 

“…” 

“There’s one thing I need you to understand.” 

Suddenly Enoch was beside her again, striding forward to grasp her hand and firmly tucked it into his arm. 

His gaze was unyielding, his voice resolute. 

“At the very least, I didn’t hate this marriage.” 

“Enoch…” 

“The one who hated it… was you.” 

With that, Enoch marched forward, not even waiting for her reply, dragging her along. 

Dazed, Asla let herself be pulled, her lips parting slightly in shock. 

He truly believed that she was the one who didn’t want this marriage.   

He didn’t know. 

That she had loved him—for five long years before they married. 

‘Ah.’ 

It was like a bell tolling inside her skull. 

Enoch didn’t know she had ever loved him. 

‘No one knew. No one at all…’ 

Raised as a princess of the Holy Kingdom, Asla had been drilled endlessly with the same lesson—neutrality above all. 

She was taught how to control her emotions, how to hide what she liked, how to keep everything in.   

And so, the only person who had ever known Asla loved Enoch… was her now-dead nursemaid. 

Asla looked up at the side of Enoch’s face. Her lips moved faintly—   

Then closed again. 

She couldn’t bring herself to say “I loved you,” not when they were about to divorce. 

No, that wasn’t it. 

She couldn’t say it… because she had loved him for so long in secret, that confessing now felt absurd. Unimaginable. 

Love, she believed, was something to be cherished in one’s heart forever. 

In the romance novels she had secretly read, lovers confessed and embraced their feelings freely—but that world felt so far removed from her own.   

Asla glanced at Enoch again, replaying the words he had said. 

‘…You didn’t hate our marriage that much?’ 

She had to steel herself, or she would burst into tears. 

If it truly hadn’t been that unbearable, then why hadn’t he been kind to her on their wedding day?   

Had he just said a few warm words, perhaps she would’ve found the courage to talk to him.   

But from the very beginning, they had been a pair of fools, barely speaking on the day they were wed—and the only thing waiting at the end of such a marriage was divorce. 

Asla scolded herself for growing weak. 

‘In the end, divorcing me will benefit Enoch. In the long run, it’s the right thing to do.’ 

Resolved, she resumed walking.   

But the sight of Enoch, his figure bathed in the golden hues of twilight, stirred a deep sorrow in her. 

‘Can I really… let go of this man?’ 

The divorce papers, the legal formalities—those weren’t the problem. 

What she truly had to prepare for was letting go of the feelings she had carried for him for so long. 

‘It may be nothing to you… But I don’t know if I can.’

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆      

Without exchanging another word, Asla and Enoch returned to the hotel and went straight into their separate rooms without so much as a goodnight. 

Watching Enoch disappear into his own room—as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to sleep apart—Asla gave a bitter smile.   

May, who had been unpacking while waiting for her mistress, tilted her head at the expression on Asla’s face. 

“Milady, did something happen?” 

“No. I’m just a little tired. Could you draw me a bath?” 

“Yes, Milady. I’ll prepare it right away—please, just rest in the meantime.” 

May quickly nodded and hurried off into the bathroom.   

Asla sank onto the sofa and leaned back, and soon the sound of hot water rushing from the tap filled the air.   

The gushing water was oddly soothing, and Asla closed her eyes.   

It felt as if the sound washed away the tangled mess in her mind, as though it were healing her in some small way. 

‘That’s enough for today.’ 

She was utterly exhausted. 

From fleeing the Ventus estate under the chilling gaze of Margo that morning, to receiving that strange divine dream, and then the bewildering conversation with Enoch…   

Compared to the slow, dull days of her marriage, this one single day had been so much more complex and draining.   

Listening to the water flow, Asla blinked slowly—and then dozed off on the sofa, unable to resist her heavy limbs and foggy mind. 

As she drifted into unconsciousness, she felt something—someone—lifting her. 

‘Who…?’ 

But she was too tired. Her eyelids were too heavy. She couldn’t summon the strength to open them.   

May’s distant voice eased her mind, and Asla relaxed in the arms carrying her. 

‘May’s moving me? She’s so strong. Like a proper nursemaid…’ 

When her body met the soft mattress, it felt so comforting that a little smile slipped onto her lips.   

And then, through the slight crack in her half-open eyes, she caught a glimpse of Enoch. 

And let out a small, dreamy laugh. 

‘Oh, another dream. Figures. I used to dream about Enoch all the time.’ 

That was the hallmark of a childhood crush: endlessly meeting the man she loved in dreams, yearning for him again and again.   

Asla stared at the blurry image of Enoch’s dark eyes looking down at her and murmured faintly, 

“Not such an unwanted marriage, you say…” 

“……” 

“If it wasn’t so unwanted… then why have you never kissed me? We’re not real husband and wife, you idiot, Enoch Ventus.” 

She figured she could whine all she wanted at this dream-version of him. 

Looking up at his sculpture-like jawline, his broad shoulders, and the thick vein running down his neck, she added one more thing: 

“I waited so long for your kiss. Enoch, I really hate you.” 

She wanted to say more—things she had buried in her heart for years—but sleep pulled her under before she could.   

Just before the world turned completely black, she noticed Enoch’s expression twist into something… strange. 

But Asla dismissed it easily with a sleepy thought: 

‘Whatever. It’s just a dream.’ 

And sank deep into slumber.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆      

The following morning. 

“May, is there a walking path at the Ruitel Hotel?” 

When Asla asked this while May was braiding her hair, the maid beamed brightly and replied, “Of course, Milady! I’ll take you there. It’s quite lovely—I think you’ll really like it.” 

May was cheerful, diligent, and had a naturally uplifting presence.   

She seemed to have grown up with warmth and love—untouched by hardship or cruelty. 

‘If only I had grown up like that too.’ 

After waking from sleep, Asla had eaten a late breakfast and found herself growing restless, idling in the room with nothing to do.   

She had felt this way before—while confined to the Ventus mansion, and even further back, when she was trapped in the palace of the fallen Holy Kingdom of Sherita.   

The only thing that ever brought her peace was walking through places brimming with vibrant, living greenery. 

Fortunately, May knew the Ruitel Hotel well—she worked there just the day before.   

When she led Asla through the building to a small garden and path out back, Asla inhaled deeply, the fresh air filling her lungs. 

“It’s lovely.” 

The warmth of the sun on her skin and the scent of grass made her feel like the damp heaviness in her heart was drying out, little by little. 

As she began to walk slowly, she heard May’s hesitant voice from behind. 

“Milady, would you like me to give you some space? Or shall I come along?” 

“Whatever’s comfortable for you. If you prefer to rest, there’s a bench right there.” 

Back at the Ventus estate, her assigned maid had always followed close behind—not out of service, but surveillance. That maid had been Margo’s eyes and ears.   

But May, who actually asked for her opinion, warmed Asla’s heart. She offered her a gentle smile.   

May’s eyes sparkled as she looked at her beautiful mistress, glowing in the morning light. 

“Then…may I come with you, Milady? I’d love to talk with you.” 

“…I’m not a very interesting person.” 

“I don’t get along with interesting people very well, anyway. I like elegant, beautiful ones. I’ll be the fun one for both of us, Milady.” 

Winking playfully, May trotted up to Asla’s side with bold familiarity.   

She seemed even more relaxed today than yesterday, and Asla, smiling, shifted slightly to the side to make space for her.   

The path was narrow, but just wide enough for two women to walk together comfortably. 

“That soft yellow looks so good on you, Milady.” 

“Thank you, May.” 

Asla nodded shyly and glanced down at the hem of her dress—the yellow one May had chosen for her that morning.   

To her own taste, the color felt too bold and vivid, a bit awkward. But wearing it, she found herself slowly growing used to it.   

There was no need to cling to the customs of the Holy Kingdom anymore. It was gone.   

Not destroyed by invaders—simply collapsed under its own weight.   

There was no chance of rebuilding something like that. 

Asla shook away thoughts of the fallen kingdom, only for Margo’s face to surface in her mind. 

‘Come to think of it… what did Margo do with those clothes Enoch said he sent me?’ 

Margo had been much taller than her. Their builds were different too, so it wasn’t likely she wore them herself. 

‘Did she throw them away?’