Chapter 25

The words that came out of his mouth were short, intense, and unbelievable.  

Asla couldn’t understand how Enoch, who had been completely silent and defensive in the carriage, was now suddenly telling her to undress.  

Startled, she took a step back and glared at him.

“Are you insane?”

Coarse words burst from Asla—words she normally wouldn’t use.  

But she was so tense, she didn’t even realize her tone.  

The atmosphere was so forceful, it felt like Enoch might actually undress her himself if she didn’t comply.  

There was no one else in the large living room of the suite. If what Enoch was demanding was intimacy, it was absurd.

“Are you angry because I met with Priest Ian Herta? Is that why you’re demanding such a disrespectful action?”  

Her voice rose, tinged with anger.  

Her cheeks and neck turned red as she shouted, and Enoch stared blankly at her.  

The wife who always seemed so lofty and graceful, now raising her voice with a flushed face, gave him a strange feeling.  

Clenching his forehead and hair with one hand, he barely managed to gather his senses and said: “It’s nothing like that, Asla. Don’t misunderstand.”

Enoch let out a short sigh and looked at her with pleading eyes.  

Asla turned beet red in an instant.  

A misunderstanding, he said.  

She was flustered and touched her hair to compose herself.

“You told me to take off my clothes, so I thought…”

“Of course you misunderstood. When a married couple’s about to sleep together, clothes come off first.”

Despite the heat in his head from the tangled mess of the situation, Enoch found her flustered reaction incredibly cute and let out a laugh.  

The image he had carried of her—a sorrowful, graceful princess—was shattered.  

She was a woman capable of showing such charming vulnerability.

Something snapped inside Enoch, and a strange warmth spread through the left side of his chest.  

He reflexively touched the area in confusion.

‘What is this…?’

“Just get to the point. Don’t say weird things,”  

Asla said coolly, having regained her composure, and looked at him with a prim expression.  

Suppressing the odd feeling stirring inside him, Enoch slowly spoke.

“We’re still married. So I’ve decided to toss out that sacred rulebook of the Holy Kingdom you hold so dear. Which means… I should at least be allowed to see your back.”

“My back? What are you talking about?”

“I just want to confirm something.”

Asla realized Enoch was barely holding back his rising anger.  

But it wasn’t anger directed at her.  

Understanding dawned on her, and it felt like the heat in her head cooled all at once.  

She smiled faintly.

“You want to see my back? Enoch Ventus, don’t tell me… you found out about coal tar?”

“Asla…”

“Hm, or is it the glass shards incident?”

Murmuring and tilting her head, she looked so indifferent that it drove Enoch mad.

“What glass shards?”

“Just one of the many things I’ve endured.”

“Asla!”

“But your investigation must have made progress. I thought you’d never get past your sister-in-law.”

She seemed genuinely surprised.  

She couldn’t imagine how Enoch had managed to uncover anything about the coal tar incident with Margo in the way.  

Wasn’t he the kind of man who pitied his sister-in-law?

Looking at Enoch, who stood there in shock with his mouth open, Asla suddenly had the urge to torment him more.

‘Suffer a little more, Enoch Ventus.’

Without a sound, Asla swiftly approached him.  

As she closed the distance and saw the flicker in Enoch’s eyes, she smiled and spun lightly on her heel.

“I’ll show you what you want. You undo it and see for yourself— That protection you spoke of.”

A sharp, stinging silence settled between them.  

This was the moment she revealed the traces of pain she had endured in the Ventus estate.  

Asla had agreed to show him because she wanted to torment him—but now, it was she who felt as though she might collapse from the tension.  

She bit her lip and endured it.

Her heart pounded wildly, beating out of control.  

When Enoch’s warm hand silently touched her back, Asla flinched.  

She didn’t think she could bear it. She wanted to run away.  

Maybe it would’ve been better, even if it was difficult, to just keep it hidden from him forever. She was already regretting it.

Click. Click. Click.  

As Enoch leaned toward her back and slowly undid her buttons one by one, Asla squeezed her eyes shut.

Just from the brushing of his hand against her exposed skin as he unfastened each button, it felt like her back was burning.  

It stung—more than when she had suffered chemical burns from the coal tar, inflicted by Margo’s malice.  

As her pale back gradually came into view, Enoch’s throat went dry.

Her skin was so fair it looked as if it had been dusted with pearl powder, and her bones were beautifully shaped.  

But there was no time to admire it. Enoch’s face only hardened further.  

Her back—meant to be untouched—was covered in agonizing scars.

A scar ran along her spine, others stretched beneath her shoulder blades as if they had been torn open.  

Some were old and shimmered silvery, others were still fresh, reddish, and inflamed like blooming wounds.

‘Asla…’

What on earth had she endured with that delicate body?  

Enoch could barely breathe. No—he felt he didn’t even deserve to.  

When reading the supplemental testimony from a maid, part of him had hoped it was all false.  

That there would be no scars, no wounds on her body. That this woman he pitied had never suffered because of him.

But that had been pure arrogance and selfishness.  

The price of ignoring reality and neglecting her was too high.  

Enoch was speechless.

Asla, waiting in silence with her back exposed, felt she couldn’t hold on any longer and exhaled a short breath.  

His gaze pierced into her back, sharp enough to make her skin prickle.

Then, she felt afraid.  

What if he responded like it meant nothing?  

What if he said these kinds of wounds were natural for a Princess of the Holy Kingdom to bear?

‘If… you said that…’

Her mind went blank, teetering on the edge of blacking out—when—

“Enoch.”

Enoch pulled her into a tight embrace from behind.  

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and waist, resting his head on the nape of her neck.  

The back that had been left cold and exposed for so long now pressed against his chest, growing warm—and Asla forced herself to speak.

“Now do you understand completely? Why I want a divorce?”

She tried to sound calm, but her voice trembled badly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Asla…”

Enoch’s voice was hoarse and barely audible.  

Hearing his apology from behind, Asla began to regret showing him her scars.  

She hadn’t wanted to reveal this weakness to him.

She tried to smile as she normally would.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t smile, Asla. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving you alone. For hurting you. For abandoning you. For acting on my own, without explaining anything. For being selfish. For spouting nonsense about protection. I’m sorry.”

His voice sank into the nape of her neck, making her dizzy.  

‘Was this the apology I wanted to hear?’  

Asla’s heart ached.

She had shown him her scars just to torment him—but in the end, she was the one left in pain, feeling pitiful and exposed.

Her life—though far from ideal—was something she had believed she had chosen, lived with resolve.  

But in that moment, showing those wounds, in the house of the man she loved, it all felt unbearably sorrowful.

‘Ah…’

Asla could no longer force a smile.  

Tears had already begun to fall silently down her cheeks.

Tears slid down her chin.  

Asla Sherita, the princess who had never once cried in front of others.  

That was how she’d been raised.  

Even when she heard the news of Lisette’s death, she had only wept in secret.

But now, with Enoch’s repeated apologies echoing in her ears and the warmth of his embrace, the chains and locks that had bound her all her life unraveled all at once.  

Her tears flowed like a summer downpour—relentless, unending.

“Asla.”

Asla, who had been crying, suddenly realized she was now facing Enoch.  

He was bent over, holding her shoulders, his gaze meeting hers.  

But still, Asla couldn’t stop her tears from falling.  

Enoch was at a loss.  

He had never even imagined seeing Asla cry—she, who rarely showed emotion.

No, even if he had imagined it, he could never have expected this.  

She looked so pitiful, so heartbroken—it was unbearable.  

Why did it hurt so much, like his heart was being torn apart?  

How much pain must she have endured to cry like this?

It felt as if someone had driven a knife into his chest and was twisting it.

“Asla.”

“……”

“Please…”

He almost wished she would hit him.  

He’d never been struck before in his life, but if it were Asla, he would have accepted it without hesitation.  

Yet she didn’t move.  

She only stood there, blank-faced, tears pouring down endlessly.

Enoch placed his hands on her cheeks, gently wiping away her tears.  

As he looked into her reddened eyes, he couldn’t stop himself—he leaned in and kissed her.

His lips met hers, soft as flower petals.  

When he pulled away, Asla spoke, her voice damp and trembling.

“I won’t forgive you.”

“Don’t.”

“I can’t… not any of it. None of it.”

“Don’t forgive me, Asla.”

Asla closed her eyes, and the tears still pooled there began to fall again.  

Their faces were close enough for their breaths to mingle—  

and without knowing who started it, their lips met once more.

This time, it wasn’t a kiss.  

It was a real kiss.

Hotter than lips was the tongue that soon slipped into her parted mouth,  

searching, swirling.  

Soft yet unyielding, he kissed her deeply, refusing to let go of her tongue or lips.  

From her nape to her exposed back, all the way down to her toes—  her whole body tingled so much she could hardly stand it.

Truly, the Holy Kingdom’s royal code of conduct was garbage.