Chapter 38

Come to think of it, Enoch had come all the way here to pick her up.  

It was late at night—he must have been tired—but her husband hadn’t interrupted her and had waited silently the whole time.  

Moved by this, Asla spoke impulsively to Enoch sitting across from her.

“Thank you.”

“…Are you trying to make me feel even more sorry?”

Enoch let out a low groan, and Asla slowly shook her head.

“I just meant…thank you for waiting for me and coming to get me. I was really happy.”

Hearing the words spill from her own mouth made Asla feel a bit embarrassed.  

She hadn’t said she liked him or loved him—just thank you.  

Yet, her heart was pounding in her chest like a drum, tormenting her.  

She clenched her fists, trying to calm herself, and sneaked a glance at Enoch.  

He was covering half of his face with one large hand, his facial muscles twitching unnaturally.  

It was too dark for Asla to notice that the skin along Enoch’s neck and ears had turned red.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“No.”

His voice came out low and tight.  

Asla assumed it was fatigue—he had, after all, waited for her this late despite his busy schedule.  

She advised him to make sure to get some proper rest tonight.  

When Enoch nodded obediently at her suggestion, a soft ache rose in her chest.

“Your outfit suits you well.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Asla had chosen another bold-colored dress for the day, and Enoch, after complimenting her, stood up and closed the distance between them.

“And also…”

Startled by how quickly he’d drawn near, Asla’s eyes widened.  

First came the sharp line of his nose, then his well-shaped lips filled her vision.  

Tense, Asla stared up at Enoch as he reached out to her face. After a brief internal struggle, he sighed softly and rubbed her cheek.

“It won’t come off.”

“W-What?”

Asla blinked in confusion as he rubbed her cheek a few more times, then gave up and returned to his seat.  

She placed her own hand over the spot he had touched and realized there was dried oil paint on her skin.

“I’m sure it’ll come off once you wash it properly.”

“Y-Yes. I’ll clean it off.”

Feeling oddly embarrassed, Asla turned her gaze away and looked out the window of the carriage.  

Enoch said nothing more.  

As the carriage rattled along, Asla gazed out at the distant outline of the Ventus Hotel and smiled.  

She quietly wished that days like this could continue forever.

Yes.  

If neither Lisette nor the Pope tried to interfere in her life, then maybe…  

Maybe she could just live like this, without digging up the truth, burying it all beneath her.  

After all, she had always been a doll.  

This time, in a comfortable, beautiful dollhouse, she wanted to live—truly live—and enjoy it.  

Forever.  

Just like this.  

She didn’t even hope for him to love her.  

She had decided that Enoch’s kindness, born from guilt and a sense of responsibility, was more than enough.

‘I don’t need to get divorced.’

At some point, Asla had realized that the gods no longer allowed her to dream of the past.  

Only glimpses of fragmented memories through Enoch’s eyes remained.  

Perhaps even the gods were telling her to forget everything now and simply live happily with this man.  

That thought had just begun to form when a crack spread across the smile on her face.

Enoch was staring sharply out the window, scanning the darkened surroundings of the Ventus Hotel.  

Wherever his gaze landed, guards stood stationed all along the hotel’s outer walls.  

Even at a glance, there were dozens of them—and Asla felt her heart plummet in her chest.

It was clear now: Enoch was expecting someone—perhaps the Pope, or Lisette—to make a move.

‘But you still won’t explain it to me, will you?’

Creak.

The loud sound of the carriage wheels grinding to a halt echoed around them.  

Asla tried her best to ignore the uneasy feeling that came with it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

After returning to the room with Enoch, Asla followed his suggestion—despite the late hour—and had a hearty meal, then soaked in a hot bath.  

When she came out of the bath, a strange woman bowed deeply before her.

The masseuse Enoch had brought was a southern woman with an exotic charm, her dusky skin glowing faintly with a golden hue.  

Though hesitant at first, Asla was eventually persuaded by Enoch and entrusted her bare body to the southern woman, who spoke no common tongue.  

Saying he would rest in the living room, Enoch stepped out, and the masseuse began to apply generous amounts of the finest aromatic oil to Asla’s back, waist, and even her legs.

‘What is this?’

Lying face down, Asla buried her face in the pillow, overwhelmed with embarrassment at the stranger’s hands moving over her bare skin.  

But what began as discomfort soon gave way to something else.

‘It feels… so good.’

Once again impressed by Enoch’s impeccable taste, Asla eventually gave in to the growing drowsiness.  

Unable to resist the soothing sensations, she drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep right in the middle of the massage.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Asla felt a harsh light pressing against her closed eyelids and slowly opened them.  

Thanks to the massage, her body felt light, but something about the air felt awkward and unsettled—enough to make her uneasy.  

Just as she cautiously sat up, May’s voice called out to her.

“You’re awake, Madam?”

May, who had been changing the water in a vase of roses in the living room, came hurrying over with a bright greeting.  

She poured water into a glass and handed it to Asla.

“…What time is it?”

“It’s 11 a.m., Madam.”

“Oh my goodness.”

Startled, Asla spilled the water from the cup, and May let out a small laugh.

“His Grace told us to let you rest as much as you needed. Considering yesterday, you must’ve been quite exhausted. You must be hungry—I’ll bring your meal right away.”

Asla watched May disappear with a bow, then stepped out of bed and headed toward the terrace.

“Ha…”

The sun was already high in the sky.  

Bathed in the strong summer light, Asla let out a weak laugh.  

Things were changing. Some things didn’t change, but others definitely did.  

To think she had forgotten her obsessive habit of waking up every day at five a.m.  

Even when sick with fever, her eyes used to open at dawn out of sheer conditioning.

She looked down at the hotel’s well-kept garden, then caught the unfamiliar scent of fragrant oil rising from her own skin.  

She had never even worn perfume before, so this foreign aroma surprised her—it felt both strange and fascinating.

“Where is His Grace?”

“He left early this morning.”

“I see…”

Asla wanted to ask May where Enoch had slept the night before, but she didn’t want to come off as overly curious about such a trivial matter.

‘Did he… fall asleep beside me like that time? Or did he sleep in another room?’

As she turned over such thoughts, Asla noticed a large pile of art supplies stacked in one corner of the room—items she had bought from the art studio yesterday.

“Did I… really buy that much?”

She let out a dry laugh, and May smiled softly.

“You’ll use them all in no time, Madam.”

“Oh, dear.”

Though she scolded herself for the impulsive spending brought on by excitement, her heart still fluttered.  

She couldn’t wait to unwrap every tool, examine it, and start using them.  

She was curious about oil painting, which she had tried the day before, but also wanted to explore watercolors.

Driven by that impatience, she was making her way toward the stacked supplies when May sternly advised her to eat properly first.  

Asla let out a long sigh.  

It was obvious now that nagging Enoch had warned May before leaving.

Without realizing it, Asla had started calling Enoch Ventus—whom she used to admire to the point of intimidation—a nag.  

Obeying May’s insistence, she sat down for a late breakfast that also served as lunch.

She tied her hair neatly into a single ponytail and, despite May’s repeated offers to help, insisted on unboxing and organizing everything herself.  

After opening boxes for quite some time, she laid the brushes out in order of size and smiled in satisfaction.  

Determined to sketch the central garden of Ventus Hotel, she had May help her move a wooden easel out to the terrace.

As she placed a chair in front of the easel and adjusted the height, she noticed a commotion near the hotel’s main entrance.  

Men in black suits were surrounding someone and trying to speak with them.

‘No way.’

Memories of the guards patrolling the hotel exterior last night flashed through her mind. A sharp sense of intuition struck her.

“May. Could you go check what’s going on over there?”

“At the main gate? Yes, Madam.”

Narrowing her eyes, May quickly gauged the distance, bowed, and rushed off.  

Asla kept her eyes on the front gate, waiting for her return.  

The suited men were still spreading their arms wide, blocking someone from entering as the argument continued.

An unpleasant feeling crawled down her spine. She turned away and stepped back into the room.  

Sitting on the soft sofa, she leaned back and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart.  

Before long, May returned.

“Madam…”

Asla slowly rose from her seat and looked at May.

“The manager and the head of security said they would like to explain the situation to you directly, Madam.”

“Let them in.”

At Asla’s permission, the hotel manager and head of security, who had been waiting outside the door, entered.  

The manager, Turner Lauren, was the husband of Isabel Lauren. Asla had encountered him several times while staying at the hotel and exchanged greetings.  

However, it was her first time meeting the head of hotel security.  

As Asla quietly studied him, the large-framed security chief—noticeably more imposing than others—bowed deeply.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Duchess.”

“You may rise.”

After the greeting, the head of security exchanged a glance with Turner Lauren, who gave a nod before the man spoke to Asla.

“There was a minor disturbance while we were following the president’s orders to block someone from approaching the hotel.”

“…Did the person leave?”

“Not yet, Madam.”

“They are my guest, then.”

The head of security stiffened and couldn’t respond. Turner Lauren quickly stepped in.

“We’ll take care of it shortly.”

“Who is it?”

“…It’s Madam Margo Ventus.”

Margo Ventus.  

Asla’s eyes widened in shock.