Chapter 24

“When exactly did Duke Ventus start telling you all of this?”

Ian asked cautiously, his voice gentle.  

Asla gave a small, bitter smile.

“Do you think he would?”

“Then… who…?”

Ian couldn’t make sense of it.  

He had never openly expressed—or been caught expressing—his feelings for Princess Asla to anyone other than Enoch.  

So how?  

How did she know about his love… or Lisette Grosset’s shadowy schemes?

But Asla was smiling as if not a single lie touched her lips.  

Ian’s confusion only deepened.

She took a sip of her tea, then spoke in a quiet, tired voice.

“My husband treats me like a paper doll—like I might tear just from the morning dew.”

“……”

“That’s why I’m asking you now. You, at least, would recognize me for who I am—as someone of the Sherita Kingdom.”

“Lady Asla…”

“You know it too, don’t you? I’m not that fragile. Even if my insides have rotted away, I had to stay pristine on the outside—because I was royalty. The heir.”

Asla blinked slowly, her lashes falling like silent shutters.

Ian was speechless.

The Asla he once loved had been composed, noble, strong.  

Dignified and graceful.  

Unshakable.  

A princess of Sherita who, had the kingdom endured, would have become its next sovereign.

‘And yet inside… she was suffering so deeply, it was eating her alive?’

A crushing guilt overtook him.  

He averted his eyes, biting down on his lip.

“Lady Asla… Priestess Lisette Grosset surely knows about your plans to divorce Duke Ventus.”

“I see. So?”

She responded, but looked at him with a puzzled gaze.

“You must not meet her.”

“Stop speaking in riddles and explain clearly.”

When Asla furrowed her brow with frustration, Ian leaned closer and whispered: “She has been waiting—more than anyone—for you to get divorced. Don’t you see?”

“…Why would she want that…?”

At that moment, a memory surfaced.  

When Asla had left for the Ventus estate to be married, Lisette had tucked a divorce petition into her belongings.

“If married life becomes too difficult, leave at any time, Princess.”

At the time, she thought it was just a casual comment, born of love and concern.  

She believed it because it came from someone who had always cherished her.  

But now?

Was even this divorce part of Lisette’s plan?

‘Why? For what reason?’

Asla was stunned, her mouth silently opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

And then suddenly—  

A long, dark shadow fell beside her.

“Hah.”

Asla looked up sharply.

Enoch was standing right there, silently staring between her and Ian.

She had thought he was still holed up in the hotel working.  

His sudden appearance shocked her.

She blinked, looking into those dark eyes.

He was impeccably dressed, not a trace of fatigue in sight.  

But something had changed.

There was a different aura around him than when he’d discovered her with Ian the day before.  

He seemed… heavier.  

In pain.

‘Why?’

In the silence between them, Ian spoke first.

“Duke Ventus. We meet again.”

Enoch glanced briefly at Ian. A flicker of something unhinged—madness, almost—flashed in his eyes.

Then he leaned in toward Asla, planting one hand on the table and whispering icily:

“Need a lover? You could do better than him.”

“Don’t speak like that, Enoch.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll regret it.”

He was about to retort, but Asla’s cold, clear voice cut like a blade.

Enoch shut his mouth.

He slowly straightened.

“Come with me.”

“Where to?”

“…I need to see something. Right now.”

Enoch was definitely acting strangely today.  

Asla could tell he wasn’t the cold husband who once kept his distance—nor was he the gentle man who had shown her kindness these past few days.  

Without realizing it, she stood up from her seat.

She was the one standing in the eye of the storm.  

So why…why did he look so desperate?

She had intended to divorce him.  

Her husband, Enoch Ventus.

But now, divorce no longer felt like the issue that mattered most.  

Because the decision hadn’t been made entirely by her own will.

‘Was that why the divine voice had opposed my divorce?’

“Asla.”

He grasped her hand tightly and pulled her forward.  

She instinctively turned to Ian.

“Ian Hertha. I’m sorry. But there’s much I still need to ask you. I’ll reach out soon.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Don’t.”

Enoch bared his teeth as he stood up, snapping at Ian who was bowing politely to Asla.  

Asla wanted to scold him for his rudeness, but she had no time—Enoch had already steered her toward the café door, which had been opened in advance.

From behind, Ian clicked his tongue almost inaudibly and said quickly to Enoch’s back: “Then I hope, truly, that it won’t come to that. I hope you will be the one to help Lady Asla.”

“Nonsense.”

Enoch scoffed.  

Ian’s face flushed with anger.

“Keeping secrets is not always protection. Have you still not realized that, even after all this?”

“I’ll protect my wife my way. Ian Hertha—tend to the god you serve. But if you cross the line again, I won’t allow it.”

After the firm warning, Enoch turned his back.  

He walked toward the carriage where Asla was already waiting.

His tongue was dry, and his throat ached with a dull sting.

‘He keeps appearing.’

He thought she was going to see her mother…but instead, she’d met Ian Hertha.

He could guess—reasonably—that it had been a coincidence after visiting Gloria.  

That Ian had been waiting there unannounced.

But despite logic, an overwhelming unease and fury boiled within him.

Seeing Asla, still impossibly beautiful, in a simple dress… drinking tea with another man in a café—not with him—he’d felt the ground drop out from under him.

It had been completely different from seeing her near the temple yesterday, speaking to Ian in priestly robes.  

Now, in the glamorous imperial capital… Asla had blended in perfectly.

A woman who didn’t need him.  

A woman who looked just fine without him.

And he hated it.

He hated it so much it made him feel pathetic.  

He hated it enough to want to lock her away.  

‘When had it begun—this obsession with her?’

“Why are you like this?”  Asla asked as she climbed into the carriage, her expression neutral but with a faint, polite smile.

“Let’s just go.”

Enoch gave the order for the carriage to depart.  

Then clenched his fist, staring at Asla.

’What are you thinking? Please, stop. Asla, please. Just say it. Tell me what you’re feeling. Say it hurts. Say you’re angry. Say you hate me so much you could kill me—anything would be better than this silence.’

Enoch shut his eyes in pain, lips tightly pressed together.

He didn’t say a word the entire way back.  

Asla noticed his silence, found it strange—but didn’t disturb him.  

His arms were crossed, his whole posture a wall.

She, too, was shaken.

She’d spent so many years with Lisette, it was difficult to stop herself from thinking she couldn’t have done anything wrong.

‘Was I brainwashed…?’

The carriage gave a soft jolt and stopped in front of the hotel.  

The moment it halted, Asla came to a conclusion.

Her skin crawled.

‘What now…?’

That must have been why Ian had warned her not to meet Lisette.

But Asla—being at the center of it all—realized it even more clearly than Ian could: If she met Lisette now, she would almost certainly be swept away.

For Asla, the only comfort she had ever known in her entire life was her nanny, Lisette. Even now, some part of her—instinct, perhaps—longed to forget the pain and collapse into those arms once more.

Her mind began to blur and waver—until Enoch’s low, steady voice pulled her back.

“Let’s go up.”

She blinked, finding herself already outside the carriage.  

Enoch stood before her, offering his hand.

She stared at his face for a long moment.

The fog clouding her mind slowly began to clear.

A hollow laugh slipped from her lips.  

Along with the devastating realization that Lisette had brainwashed her for a lifetime, another truth surfaced.

Whether it was a blessing or a curse—Asla had come to love Enoch.

Somewhere along the way, she’d given him a piece of her heart.  

She hadn’t needed to lean entirely on Lisette after all.

Enoch Ventus, her first love—He had become her other escape route.

If she hadn’t fallen for him, she probably would’ve run straight to Lisette upon hearing she was alive, sobbing with joy.

But she didn’t.  

Instead, she gripped Enoch’s hand—the one that had kept her grounded in this moment—and stepped down from the carriage.

‘What am I supposed to do now…?’

Her mind was clear, yet she felt completely lost.

She had tried to endure life in the oppressive Ventus estate because she loved Enoch.  

But when it became too painful, she chose divorce.

Now she knew—  

‘That, too, had been part of Lisette’s plan.’

But how?

‘Was Margo… Lisette’s person?’

The world flickered to black, then white, then back again. 

No. No, that can’t be.

But her thoughts kept circling back to that answer.  

She was at the center of it all.

From the day of the wedding—no, from even before then—  everything had been twisted from the start by Lisette Grosset’s cold, cunning hand.

‘Why is she alive? Why live at all, if life is nothing but this kind of manipulation?’

There was no meaning in a life tossed about like this.  

No reason to keep going.

Asla didn’t even notice that Enoch had never let go of her hand.

She was drifting through everything—until the quiet sound of a door closing made her raise her head.

A room she didn’t recognize.  

Not the suite she’d been assigned, not the one where May was waiting for her.

This was Enoch’s suite.

Beyond the sitting area, the study door stood open, revealing a massive desk piled high with documents.

‘How does he have this much work?’

Asla wrinkled her nose slightly in surprise.

A moment ago, she had been so consumed with betrayal and despair that she’d considered death.  

But now—faced with something as mundane as Enoch’s work—she found herself slipping back into normalcy.  

That realization frightened her.

She looked down at the hand still holding hers, then up at him.

Their eyes met.

She jumped in alarm.

“Enoch Ventus…?”

His eyes blazed with fire—and frankly, he looked a little unhinged.

“Take off your clothes.”