Chapter 2

“The god Teres opposes the divorce?”

Asla narrowed her eyes and read the verdict again and again, but the words remained unchanged.

She felt a headache pounding between her temples from sheer disbelief.

She was so stunned that she didn’t even notice Enoch staring at her with a piercing gaze.

Why would a god interfere in their divorce? What possible reason could there be?

When she finally looked toward Enoch, their eyes met—and he smirked coldly.

“I’ve never been fond of gods,” he said, “but just this once, I feel compelled to obey. The divorce request was denied. Same goes for me—I won’t agree to it either.”

“……”

The moment Enoch Ventus declared he had no intention of divorcing, Asla’s vision went dark.

‘Why? Why now?’

She rubbed her temples, which throbbed with a sharp, pulsing ache, and began to go over the facts.

This was a world where gods undeniably existed.

The Holy Kingdom of Sherita, where Asla had been born and raised, was sacred ground—the land where five gods had once descended at the beginning of the world.

Harmel, Ukna, Prusian, Pellode, and Teres.

But the gods had since departed from the mortal realm.

The kingdom of Sherita, which had once served them most faithfully, was tasked with maintaining the holy sites they left behind.

Though small in territory, Sherita was revered and respected by all who believed in the gods.

Asla had been born the daughter of its King—the last Princess of the Holy Kingdom.

Not long after her birth, the land of Sherita began to rot without explanation.

Desertification rapidly spread, until it became an uninhabitable wasteland.

It could no longer even support a single building.

It was no longer holy ground.

The people were forced to flee to other nations, and before Asla even reached her twentieth birthday, the kingdom officially declared its dissolution.

The King had stubbornly remained behind and perished, but Asla had been evacuated in advance to the Imperial capital.

As the last remaining royal, she was required to negotiate her future with the Emperor of the Tulia Empire.

Calling it a negotiation felt like a joke.

There were countless times Asla had felt she had less value than a wildflower by the roadside.

She lacked even the divine power of an ordinary priest—how could she claim to be a Princess of a holy nation?

All she had to prove her lineage were her rose-pink hair and gemlike mint-colored eyes; the hereditary symbols of Sherita’s royal blood.

Still, for the sake of appearances, the Emperor had taken pity on her and personally arranged a marriage—to the Ventus family, the wealthiest and most prestigious in the Empire.

There had been many problems, but the people of the fallen Holy Kingdom still looked to Asla as their spiritual pillar, so she accepted the marriage. 

Two years passed.

‘By now, the people of Sherita must be settled across the Empire.’

There was no more need to worry about them.

No more reason to delay thinking about her own future. She had already made up her mind.

She’d never expected anything from the temple priests who hadn’t visited her once since the wedding.

‘I just wanted to live alone after the divorce. Why does even that have to be this complicated?’

Frustration surged up within her.

Her stomach churned with irritation, but she forced it down.

Quietly, she folded the divorce petition and slipped it back into the envelope.

“…I’ll need to go to the Grand Temple in the capital, Enoch.”

His thick brows twitched sharply.

Bathed in the sunlight pouring in like threads of gold through the glass window, Enoch said nothing.

Meeting his silent, unwavering stare with her own, Asla repeated herself.

“Help me get there.”

“…What a strange thing to say. Why would you need my help to go to the Grand Temple?”

Enoch stroked his jaw, his earlier fury fading into confusion.

Asla let out a deep, tired sigh.

Enoch, completely unaware of how powerless she was in this place, had no idea what kind of position she was truly in.

That only made Asla’s heart ache even more with loneliness.

She was walking on thin ice—never knowing when her heart might finally shatter.

She couldn’t live here anymore, not in a place where there wasn’t a single person she could trust.

Asla had never been afraid of death. But at the very least, she didn’t want to die here.

She kept her lips tightly shut, deliberately avoiding Enoch’s persistent, unrelenting gaze.

“Do you really want this divorce so badly? Enough to go against a divine oracle, to personally appeal and reject it?”

His cold voice sliced through the air, sharp and biting.

His accusatory tone both angered and saddened her.

Did he even understand why she wanted the divorce?

No—divorced or not, it wouldn’t make any difference to him.

Enoch would continue living his life as always, unaffected, busy as ever.

Asla truly believed the Ventus estate would be far better off with a new Duchess.

If someone like Margo Ventus—the former Duchess—got the sister-in-law she’d always wanted, the family would finally feel warmer, more peaceful.

‘A peaceful, close-knit, and affectionate Ventus family.’

Enoch had everything—wealth, title, power.

But he carried the single stain of a tragic family history.

Because she had once loved him deeply for so long, this was the only gift she could offer him.

She had to leave.

Asla quietly reassured herself that the choice she made was the right one.

She felt foolish, but her feelings for Enoch Ventus were still more affectionate than resentful.

And though she stayed silent, he continued to glare at her in cold frustration.

Then, passing her without a glance, Enoch said curtly:

“We’ll depart for the Grand Temple tomorrow morning. Be ready. We’ll go together and get this confirmed properly.”

Asla, who had been frozen like a statue, finally snapped out of her daze when she heard the door to the study close.

Staring at the now firmly shut door, she clenched the white fabric of her dress tightly in her fists.

‘Go to the capital… with me?’

Her mouth refused to close from the shock.

Did she ever gone anywhere with Enoch before?

Since they got married, she could count on one hand how many times they’d even eaten together.

He was a husband so distant, it was hard to meet him at all.

‘Now that I’ve decided on divorce, I get to spend time alone with him?’

Her heart thudded loudly.

A strange, stinging sensation pricked the back of her neck.

Now that she was alone in the study, Asla let the flush spread across her cheeks, not bothering to hide it.

She hated herself for reacting this way, especially when she was the one asking for a divorce.

But still.

She turned around and stared blankly at Enoch’s empty chair.

Enoch Ventus was back after a long absence.

How many times had she quietly come here, praying he’d be sitting in that very spot?

“Pull yourself together, Asla.”

She gathered her heart, forcing it back into place, and began planning her next steps.

As ridiculous as it sounded, the god Teres opposing her divorce had to be a mistake.

She would go to the temple and speak to them directly—get it corrected.

Then the divorce could proceed.

Once they separated—

‘I’ll return to my homeland, the ruined kingdom of Sherita buried beneath rotten earth… and pray there until I die.’

In the end, death. Asla’s ultimate goal, devoid of any dreams or hopes, was to die.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆      

The next morning.

Asla woke at dawn and busied herself with packing.

Since entering the Ventus estate, she had not gone outside even once, so this situation felt strangely unfamiliar.

Her assigned maid had been surprised by her sudden outing, but still folded Asla’s finest travel dress and placed it into the suitcase.

Asla, catching the maid occasionally glancing at her with curiosity, watched silently—

Until the door suddenly burst open.

‘Ah.’

There were few people who would dare open the Duchess’s door—The Mistress of the Ventus estate—without even knocking.

It was an appallingly rude act.

But Asla was used to it.

She stood from her seat and gave a small bow to the elegant woman who stepped gracefully into the room without a sound.

“Did you sleep well, Asla?”

A delicate, refined voice.

A noblewoman who spoke perfect, polished Central Empire dialect.

Asla responded briefly.

“Yes, Grand Duchess.”

Then she turned to face the woman with splendidly braided golden hair, pinned high with precision.

Margo Ventus.

The daughter of the prestigious Count Leslie in the Empire and the wife of the late Duke Aren Ventus, Margo was ten years older than Asla.

Which made the woman who tormented her—Margo Ventus—Enoch’s sister-in-law.

Though Aren Ventus had died young and left Margo a widow early in life, she had never left the Ventus estate.

Margo now looked between Asla and the suitcase with a faint, practiced smile.

Asla felt a flicker of fear as she watched the woman idly wave her fan.

‘What is she planning to say this time?’

She already felt a phantom ache in her stomach just thinking about it.

‘Is she going to stop me?’

Every time Asla had expressed the desire to go outside, Margo would lock her in with some excuse like,

“How could a noble Princess from the divine kingdom expose herself to such danger by going out?”

‘But I’m doing exactly what you wanted—leaving this house.’

There were so many things she wanted to say.

But after enduring Margo’s relentless gaslighting and abuse for so long, her mind went blank. She couldn’t speak.

“Where are you off to, Asla? You should have breakfast with me first.”

“…Grand Duchess, today—”

“What are you doing? Bring the food at once.”

Ignoring Asla completely, Margo gave a command to the maid at her side, who obediently stepped out without hesitation.

Asla bit her lip hard.

It was happening again.

Breakfast with Margo.

She would have the exact same meal served for both of them.

But Margo always made sure Asla’s portion was sprinkled with repulsive, inedible filth.

It was one of her favorite twisted games.

And if Asla refused to eat it, Margo would cry, accusing her of disrespecting her elder sister-in-law.

The nausea was already rising. Her stomach churned with a familiar, sickening ache.

Asla’s body trembled slightly.

What would it be today?

Cockroaches? Centipedes? Maggots?

Or—like last time—rat droppings?

Margo took her seat at the table and gave a radiant smile, gesturing for Asla to sit across from her.

Asla, trembling, forced herself to take a single step— when a soft knock sounded at the door, and it opened again.

‘Enoch…?’