Chapter 35

She hated herself for lacking the courage to confront Lisette right away and demand answers for the past.

‘Haa…’

Asla shook her head from side to side, trying to clear her thoughts.  

She just wanted to live joyfully today, as she had resolved that morning.  

Pulling herself together at last, she rode a carriage to Rosshill Street with May and a strong male hotel attendant to carry her things.

The white buildings lining the street mostly featured large, expensive glass windows that sparkled in the morning sunlight.  

Asla was dazzled by the radiant street even at a glance, and just as she stepped down from the carriage, a woman appeared and bowed deeply before her.

“It is an honor to welcome you, Duchess Ventus. I am Isabel Lauren. Please, call me Isabel.”

The woman had been waiting near the entrance of Rosshill Street to greet her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Isabel. I’m sorry for the sudden request.”

“Not at all, I’m grateful to be invited.”

Since May was still unfamiliar with the geography and shops of the capital, they had arranged for Isabel Lauren—the wife of the hotel’s manager and a long-time resident of the capital—to accompany them.  

She appeared to be around thirty, a bit shorter than Asla, and the very picture of a fashionable, sophisticated imperial lady.

Elegant in manner, married, and in her thirties—looking at Isabel, Asla couldn’t help but be reminded of Margo, and her body tensed instinctively.

“I’m still wondering where to take you first,” Isabel said, gesturing leisurely toward Rosshill Street. “Word has already spread that the Duchess Ventus would be visiting today, so the shopkeepers are probably all very on edge.”

Unaware of the stiffness in Asla’s expression, Isabel continued with ease.  

Asla closed her eyes slowly, then opened them and relaxed her shoulders before looking down the street Isabel pointed to.

“It’s a lovely place.”

“Even Her Majesty the Empress sometimes comes to Rosshill Street herself to browse and shop. That’s how beautiful and exquisite it is.”

On either side of a broad avenue lined with evenly laid white tiles stood rows of upscale buildings.  

With May and Isabel walking on either side of her, Asla stepped into Rosshill Street at a slow and graceful pace.  

Since the shops mostly sold high-end clothing, shoes, and jewelry, the majority of passersby were women.

“The ladies of the capital are all so beautiful and dignified,” Asla said with a smile as they stepped out of one of the luxury boutiques Isabel had shown her.

“They may look like nobles, but not all of them are,” Isabel replied.

“Gentry, perhaps?” Asla asked gently.

“Yes. I am gentry, Duchess.”

Asla gave a soft smile.  

Though not a noble, Isabel exuded a dignity that could rival any aristocrat.

‘She’s not like Margo.’

Until now, Isabel’s face had kept overlapping with Margo’s in Asla’s mind, but that image faded away in an instant—like morning mist vanishing in the sunlight.

“If any of this doesn’t suit your taste, please let me know. There are many noble ladies who would be delighted to accompany you.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

Asla flinched and waved her hand.  

She recalled the noblewomen who had spoken to her at the previous dress shop.  

They hadn’t been unpleasant, but none of them had struck her as especially compelling either—at least not enough to want to get close at first meeting.

Realizing she may have given Isabel the wrong impression, Asla quickly apologized.

“I’m sorry, Lady Isabel.”

“Pardon? Oh no, Duchess, what I meant was…”  

Isabel looked flustered, and Asla reached up and touched her ear, a little embarrassed.

“Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m just very shy around strangers. As you know, the environment I grew up in was extremely closed off.”

“Madam…”

May interrupted in a worried tone, but Asla gave her a look that said she was fine, then continued speaking.

“There are other reasons too… but I know my personality can be lacking and awkward. Still, I need your help, both of you—Lady Isabel and May. So I’m asking sincerely.”

Isabel quietly took in Asla’s respectful request.

‘Duchess Ventus.’

Duke Enoch Ventus, with wealth vast enough to swallow the entire Empire, had already laid down roots of power in many places.  

The current social circles were in turmoil, caught in the collision between traditional nobility and the rising force of money.  

The only person who embodied both was none other than the Duchess Ventus.  

Yet rumors had it she was keeping a low profile in the remote north due to her background as a noble princess from the Holy Kingdom.

‘Is she trying to take control of the social scene now?’

Isabel couldn’t yet tell what the sudden appearance of Asla Ventus in the capital meant. Still, she bowed deeply.

“I’m humbled. What would you have me assist you with?”

‘Is it an invitation to a social club she wants?’ Isabel worried.  

The club she belonged to wasn’t among the highest-ranking, and the Duchess Ventus surely deserved something more prestigious—like the Royal Club overseen by the Empress herself.

While Isabel was sinking into concern, Asla spoke slowly.

“I need conversation. And connection.”

“…Pardon?”

Isabel looked up at her with a startled expression.  

Asla covered her mouth with one hand and blushed slightly.

“Please talk to me often. That alone would be enough.”

“…Yes, of course, Madam.”

Still dazed, Isabel nodded, and May smiled as if she were watching a beloved daughter.

Asla turned and said they should visit another place, and Isabel followed after her, trying to collect her thoughts.

‘She’s not like the rumors said.’

But then Isabel shook her head and rubbed her cheek firmly.  

This woman was the wife of the Enoch Ventus—the man who possessed the greatest wealth not just in the Empire, but likely on the entire continent.

Isabel resolved that it would be problematic to underestimate a woman destined to stand at the top of the food chain.

With that renewed resolve, Isabel quickened her pace to keep up with Asla, who was walking while quietly surveying the area around her.

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The next day.

“I’d like to order something for my husband as well.”

“Of course, Madam. The men’s tailor is at the far end of Rosshill Street.”

“I’m sure anything would suit the master.”

Asla and Isabel had grown more comfortable with each other.

Isabel was now certain that Asla didn’t belong among those aristocrats who clung to status with arrogance.

‘She’s a good person.’

Though she was undeniably quiet, which made conversation difficult to lead at times, her calm manner of speaking and attentive, thoughtful listening were incredibly charming.  

In fact, those qualities were so often overshadowed by her appearance, noble background, and the Ventus family’s immense wealth—it was almost a shame.

“How about this hat for His Grace, the Duke?”

Now that autumn was approaching, Isabel thought it would be a good time to prepare a new hat and made a recommendation at the high-end tailor they had just entered.

“It’s lovely.”

Asla gently touched a teal silk hat, imagining it on Enoch.  

She felt sure it would look stunning against his silver hair.

‘But really… will he even have time to wear it?’

Enoch had been tormented by Duke Jemia to the point he hadn’t even returned to the hotel the previous night.  

It seemed nothing had yet been resolved.  

Nothing would move forward until the investigative team dispatched to Jemia’s domain returned.  

Asla was beginning to genuinely believe that he truly was busy—not a negligent husband, but a man being pulled every which way by forces beyond his control.  

The title of the Empire’s wealthiest man has clearly not been earned for nothing.

‘I’ll have to choose carefully.’

With the help of Isabel, May, and the tailor’s designer, Asla ordered a hat, shoes, formalwear, and a few sets of casual clothes for Enoch before leaving the shop.

As they exited—amid deep bows from the staff so low it looked as if their backs might break—Asla suddenly looked worried.

“May. I’m starting to think I may have overspent since yesterday.”

“…Madam.”

May sighed at the thought.  

Asla had only bought a single pair of shoes, three blouses, and one skirt for herself the day before.  

And yet she was acting like she’d spent a fortune.

Not to mention, she had gifted both May and Isabel a pair of shoes each.

As May quietly insisted that wasn’t the case, Isabel gently offered some advice.

“Whether something counts as overspending depends on one’s finances, but…”

“Ah.”

“You are the madam of House Ventus, Madam. Keeping that in mind may help ease your concerns when spending money.”

It wasn’t just people that were hard to get used to—Asla hadn’t realized spending money could be this difficult too.

In truth, she had almost no experience purchasing anything herself.  

She only knew that the continent’s currency was called luan.  

As she began to wonder if she’d need to relearn the concept of money entirely from Enoch, a cold sweat broke out on her skin.

When Asla nodded in acknowledgment, Isabel offered a gentle smile.

“Well then, as I mentioned earlier, I’ll be taking my leave for today.”

“Of course, Lady Isabel. Thank you again. Don’t worry about tomorrow. I hope your child recovers soon.”

“He’s a strong one. I’m sure he’ll bounce back quickly.”

Isabel smiled warmly.

That morning, she had expressed concern about her son’s coughing, and Asla had insisted she go home early.  

Though Isabel said the maid could manage for half a day, she had joked she was more worried her energetic son might torment the maid instead.  

Her soft smile as she spoke of her son lingered in Asla’s mind.

‘So that’s the expression of a mother who loves her child…’

It left a deep impression.

As Isabel waved from a distance and walked away, Asla stood still, watching her thoughtfully.

‘…A child.’

When her marriage to Enoch had been arranged, Asla had assumed it was a political move to settle things cleanly—she had never even considered having children.

The idea of bearing an heir for House Ventus had never once crossed her mind.

Come to think of it, Enoch had mentioned children once, back by the railway.  

If they didn’t get divorced, she’d likely be expected to have his child.

‘If I had a child… would I adjust to this world faster? Would I grow stronger?’

But to have a child, she would have to sleep with Enoch.  

The memory of lying beside him in bed—his firm chest, sharp jawline, the curve of his throat—came flooding back.  

That passionate kiss, gentle yet overwhelming, had made her worry she might be completely swallowed up by him.

Her face flushed bright red.

‘But…’

Just then, a familiar storm cloud surged up from the corner of her heart.

‘Me, with a child?’

She had been so conditioned, so broken that she couldn’t even care for herself.  

Raising a child?  

It was absurd.