Chapter 40

Margo truly seemed to believe what she was saying. Asla was no longer merely dumbfounded—rage began to boil within her.

“Madam Margo. I am the Duchess of Ventus. No matter your former title, you had no right to interfere in my relationship with my husband based on your personal feelings.”

“Personal feelings?”

Margo was irritated by the way Asla now spoke back to her without hesitation.  

It had barely been ten days, and yet Asla had changed entirely.  

She still appeared gentle, but her confidence—and even the pressure she exerted—was formidable.  

The pallor that once defined her was gone; her natural beauty shone brighter than ever.

Facing this poised woman, Margo found herself shrinking for some reason.  

But she forced herself to stay composed, recalling the advice of a certain woman she had met before seeking out Asla.

“Are you trying to insult me, Asla?”

“…Then allow me to be direct.”

With an even tone, Asla looked Margo straight in the eye.

“You tormented me and drove a wedge between my husband and me. If I divorced him—what were you promised in return?”

“What did you say?”

“I’m asking what you were promised… by Lisette Grosset.”

Though her voice cracked toward the end, Asla managed to get the words out.  

Noticing that faint tremble, Margo smiled inwardly.

Lisette Grosset.  

So the priest had been right.  

There was a mountain in Asla’s heart she would never be able to cross.

‘Now.’

Margo leaned back in her chair and let out a slow, leisurely chuckle, trying to steer the atmosphere back in her favor.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Madam Margo.”

“My dear Duchess…”

Now that Margo had regained her composure and returned to her sweet tone, Asla tensed again.  

Margo glanced around the elegant café, its refined lighting fixtures hanging from the high ceiling.

“Do you know how hard Duke Enoch Ventus worked to build this hotel?”

“…”

“He didn’t even get a proper house. He slept and ate in a tiny bed attached to his office. He worked without a single day of rest to create all this.”

“I know.”

“You do? What exactly do you know? Have you ever seen how he lived? Then tell me about his illness.”

Asla bit her lip.  

Margo was cornering her again.  

But the way Margo spoke as though she knew more about Enoch than Asla did sharpened all of Asla’s nerves.

“I know. He was sick.”

“Really? Where, how, why was he sick?”

Margo gave a twisted smile.  

Asla felt like she couldn’t breathe—like she needed to escape this place right away.  

When she glared at Margo in silence, the woman’s smile vanished.

With a voice colder than ice, Margo said, “Do you know how Enoch’s parents died? Or know how the late Duke and Duchess before them passed?”

“…I do. A carriage accident.”

Desperate to say something, Asla repeated what she had once read in a newspaper article.

Margo let out a mocking snort.

“A simple carriage accident? If that’s your answer, then you’ll never understand Enoch.”

“I can understand him.”

Asla calmed her frustration just enough to reply, but Margo shook her head.

“No. It wasn’t a simple accident. So you’ll never understand.”

“…What do you mean?”

Margo scoffed coldly.

“It’s a truth known only to the most trusted members of the Ventus family. I certainly won’t be telling you.  If you want to know, you’ll have to ask Enoch yourself. But tell me—do you think he’ll ever tell you?”

Asla hated the way Margo smirked.  

But what made it worse was that she couldn’t deny the truth behind the words.  

Enoch loathed revealing his flaws. He fiercely avoided telling her anything about herself or her past.

And so, Asla could only sit in silence as Margo dragged out the one fatal flaw of her perfect husband—the thing he would never share.

“The year Enoch first met Asla Sherita was also the year the former Duke—my husband—died,” Margo said. “It was the moment Enoch, in his grief, began to spiral in the wrong direction.”

“…”

“It would be troubling if you were under the delusion that Enoch actually loves you, Asla Sherita.”

Margo leaned toward the table and whispered coldly. Despite the rudeness of her words and tone, Asla couldn’t move her lips to respond.

“When Aren and Enoch’s parents died… and when Aren himself died… I was the one beside Enoch for all of it. You know nothing. I was the one who silently watched over him and waited, as he stumbled through that long, dark tunnel—not you.”

Margo inhaled sharply.

“You’re an outsider. A pretty marionette doll Enoch picked up the year Aren died. He thought if he protected and ‘saved’ the sad-looking Princess Sherita, he might find some substitute satisfaction. His overwork and his excessive protection of you—they’re the same. Just defense mechanisms. Obsession, really.”

“…And I’m supposed to believe that?”

Asla’s voice came out faint and strained after she’d silently listened to the storm of Margo’s words.  

She had no confidence.  

Because Enoch had never… told her anything.

“You didn’t want to know, did you, Duchess?”  

Margo reclined in her chair with a sly smile.  

“So afraid of everything, living complacently as your husband’s little doll while he hides the truth and you pretend not to see.”

Seeing Asla’s pale face with satisfaction, Margo reached into her clutch and placed a small slip of paper on the table.

“That’s the address of Doctor Gabriel. He was the Ventus estate’s attending physician—Enoch brought him to the capital when he started his business there. Just in case you think I’m lying about Enoch’s childhood trauma.”

“Why…?”

“I hope you’ll act wisely this time.”

“Margo.”

“Asla, you are Enoch’s only flaw. And you will destroy him.”

“That’s not true.”

“No, it is. Enoch is obsessed with giving you a happy, beautiful, comfortable life. You won’t be able to bear it. Because you’re a Sherita Princess who grew up killing your own emotions. You won’t be able to save Enoch.”

‘You won’t be able to save Enoch.’

Asla glared at Margo, but the woman didn’t flinch even a little.

“I’ll be meeting with a lawyer now to start legal proceedings. I’ll be suing the Ventus family for compensation. We’ll see each other in passing, I suppose.”

Rising from her chair and smoothing out her dress, Margo spoke once more.

“You have no idea how much pain Enoch was in, watching Aren’s final moments. Aren will never forgive him. Don’t make him carry more guilt. I’ve known what those people meant to Enoch since we were children. You—an outsider princess like you—will never understand that depth of feeling.”

Asla had no response.  

A heavy, bitter sorrow radiated from Margo, curling around her like a poisonous mist.

Seeing Asla still frozen in her seat, Margo delivered the final blow: “The fall of the Holy Kingdom because of you is enough. Don’t bring down Enoch Ventus too, Princess Asla Sherita.”

It felt like a lightning bolt had split Asla’s mind.  

Her vision turned white—dizzy and spinning.

The words she had tried to forget, the ones Lisette had said, swirled together with Margo’s voice.

‘It’s all my fault… Everything fell apart because of me.’

Margo left the café, smirking at the sight of Asla sitting there with blank, hollow eyes.

For a long while, Asla couldn’t collect herself.  

‘I’m useless. The last cursed royal of a destroyed kingdom, dragging everything into ruin.’

Asla buried her face in her hands, consumed by guilt.

Nothing had truly changed.  

All she had done was prove her own foolishness for keeping it buried.

She stared at the slip of paper Margo had left behind, her eyes clouded with turmoil.  

She had once vowed to wait until Enoch chose to tell her the truth—but her patience had finally run dry.  

“May.”

“Yes, Madam.”

May, who had been watching from the corner of the café with concern at the unsettling shift in Asla’s mood, rushed over immediately.

“Contact Ventus Company. Tell them I’m on my way to see president Enoch Ventus.”

“…Understood, Madam.”

Asla had decided—she would give her husband one final chance.  

She didn’t need Enoch to pour out his sorrow or speak of his grief.  

All she wanted… was the truth about the Pope and Lisette—what had happened around her.

If he kept hiding even that…  

Then, just as Margo said, she was nothing more than a “pretty doll” meant to satisfy his misplaced need for salvation.

She had loved Enoch. She had admired him.  

But realizing there was no trust between them left her feeling empty.

Swept away by Margo’s words, Asla now resembled the Holy Kingdom— a barren desert, hollow and desolate.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Ventus Corporation.  

Standing before the doors of the executive reception room, directly connected to President Enoch Ventus’s office, Talet let out a long sigh.  

The stubborn Duke Jemia, who had refused to leave that reception room for days, was wearing on his last nerve.  

‘Master is impressive too, honestly.’ 

When Talet lightly knocked and stepped inside, the first thing he saw was Duke Jemia with bloodshot eyes.  

“You brought it.”  

Compared to the visibly worn-out duke, Enoch looked composed and energetic as he reached out to take the telegram from Talet.  

It was from the investigation team dispatched to the western Jemia territory.  

Enoch skimmed the brief message, frowned, and looked toward the Duke, who was already staring at him.  

“There’s been no progress in identifying the cause.”  

“Damn it! I told you, again and again—there’s no need to investigate any further, Duke Ventus!”  

Duke Jemia, whose voice had grown hoarse from days of yelling, finished his words with a hacking cough.  

Enoch was exhausted but didn’t show it. He was well used to enduring even more grueling negotiations than this one.  

As he set the telegram down on the large table, the old Duke, catching his breath, spoke again.  

“Duke Ventus.”  

“…Yes, Duke Jemia.”  

The old Duke, who had been reclining on the sofa, straightened up and slammed his cane hard against the floor with a thud.  

“I’ve held my tongue, waiting patiently while you insist on investigating the cause of that damned fire.”  

“Yes, sir.” 

Even as the powerful noble radiated a sharp, frosty air, Enoch didn’t bat an eye.  

Duke Jemia bared his teeth.  

“The fires that swept through the grain fields of the holy-blessed plains—they happened because God is angry! That’s the only explanation!”