Chapter 44

“I didn’t know the Pope’s side had even bought off my sister-in-law and infiltrated this deeply. Just the thought of it wounds my pride so much, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.”

He seemed like a child begging for forgiveness, and Asla felt her heart soften.

“That’s why I acted the way I did. Because I’m a pathetic husband who’s hurt you—both your body and your heart.”

“Enoch. Try to look at this objectively. This isn’t all your fault. They’ve probably been preparing this for a very long time, slowly and meticulously. In ways we couldn’t have foreseen.”

“…Why do you say that? Do you know something? Something you haven’t told me?”

“I…”

Asla trailed off and closed her mouth.

She didn’t know if she could tell him—that Lisette, the nursemaid who’d been with her since childhood, had deliberately brainwashed her. Enoch had always regarded her with pity, seeing her as someone who endured a painful life with grace. If she told him this too, she feared he’d only see her as weaker—someone to be pitied even more.

When she didn’t answer, Enoch narrowed his eyes.

“Strange. There’ve been a number of things I’ve found suspicious.”

He slowly continued speaking, as if closing a net around her.

“So let me ask you now, Asla—where did you hear about those things that happened in the past? I suspected Robert at first, like you said, but he wouldn’t have shared those things. They were strictly confidential. It doesn’t make sense for you to suddenly know them unless… you have someone helping you. Someone I don’t know about.”

Asla instinctively tried to lean away as Enoch leaned toward her, but she had nowhere to escape. Her back hit the sofa, and his arms on either side of her trapped her in place.

The sudden reversal startled her.

A secret helper? He was clearly drawing the wrong conclusions.

It wasn’t anything like what he imagined. She only knew these things through the dreams the divine had shown her—but how could she possibly explain that to Enoch?

Unable to run, trapped beneath the intensity of his suspicious gaze, Asla began to sweat coldly.  

She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Is it frustrating when I keep secrets from you?”

“Very.”

His voice was low, tinged with unmistakable anger.  

Yet, despite that, Asla wasn’t afraid of Enoch.

She had come to believe something now—he might confine her or try to protect her overzealously, but he would never hurt her.  

She loved him, yes, but she hadn’t truly trusted him before. Now… a small part of her had begun to.

That alone made her feel a little happier.

With a faint smile, she gently pushed against his chest.

“No. I don’t want to tell you. You haven’t told me your secrets either.”

“…And what do you call everything I’ve told you until now, then?”

He bared his teeth in frustration. But Asla coolly replied with a bitter edge:

“That’s funny, Enoch. All you did was tell me about my circumstances. Isn’t that so?”

Enoch fell silent, glaring at her with clear displeasure.

Asla twisted her wrist out of his grasp.

“You’re hurting me.”

“…Sorry.”

He flinched and quickly examined her wrist with care.

Watching him—so aristocratic, yet rough, cold and yet kind—Asla stared for a long moment, then shifted her gaze toward the marriage vow displayed atop his desk.

She looked back at him and spoke again.

“Enoch. Tell me why you were in so much pain. What symptoms you’ve struggled with all this time. Then I’ll tell you… my secret too.”

“Asla…”

Enoch lifted his head and called her name urgently. But he remained frozen, unable to speak further.

“A married couple… should be able to lean on each other, and protect each other. I know that’s difficult for you. But still.”

She was the one to break the silence, but Enoch still said nothing.  

Asla had completely forgotten the shocking revelation—that Lisette had tried to marry her off to the Pope to build a new Holy Kingdom.  

All she could think about was how hurt and disappointed she felt that this man wouldn’t open up to her about his painful past.  

If he opens his heart to her first, she will tell him everything: how Lisette had brainwashed her, and even about the dreams shown to her by God.  

Asla knew she was being selfish, but when she realized he had no intention of letting her in, the frustration became overwhelming.  

“Enoch Ventus… ah—”

She called his name sharply, only to shudder as a familiar yet foreign sensation washed over her.  

It was the call of God—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

‘It’s a divine dream.’

A wave-like sound, the herald of a divine dream, echoed in her ears, and an intense fatigue swept over her.  

She lifted her head and blinked slowly, dazed, while Enoch, shaking off his panic, finally came to his senses and called out.

“What’s wrong, Asla?”

“I’m just tired. Maybe it’s because I’ve heard too much that was hard to process… I’m feeling sleepy. May I use the bed in your office for a bit?”

“Of course. Are you sure you’re not sick?”

Enoch quickly reached out, cupping her round forehead with his large hand to check for a fever.  

Feeling the slight warmth, he slid his hands under her back and legs and lifted her in one swift motion.

“I can walk!”

Asla cried out, startled, but Enoch ignored her and strode forward with long steps.

“I’ll summon a doctor.”

“I’m not… sick…”

Her words trailed off, slow and slurred, as the sudden drowsiness consumed her.  

The divine tide roared in her ears, and her eyelids grew unbearably heavy.  

Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep in his solid arms.

Enoch gently rested his forehead against hers as he held her.

“Asla?”

But Asla was already deep in slumber. Her soft, rhythmic breathing sounded like a lullaby.

Enoch frowned slightly at the warmth he felt on her forehead.

“I told you not to overdo it.”

He gazed at her in concern, then carried her into the bedroom connected to his office.  

Laying her carefully on the bed, he silently regretted not having brought in better bedding—something softer, warmer, more fitting for her.

“Was the shock too much?”

He pulled a blanket over her, then opened a drawer in the nightstand and took out a bottle of medicine.  

He quietly tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket, hiding it, and let out a deep sigh.

‘Can I really tell her?’

He didn’t know.  

But her final words lingered in his mind: that a married couple should lean on each other and protect each other—that it shouldn’t be one-sided.

Enoch hesitated a moment, looking at the sleeping Asla, then finally left the room to summon the doctor and her maid, just in case.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Asla blinked rapidly, disoriented upon waking.

‘Wasn’t that a divine dream?’

Same bed. Same ceiling.  

She was still in the small room adjoining Enoch’s office—exactly as it had been.  

Had she only imagined hearing the divine tide?  

As she sat up, her gaze dropped instinctively—and she froze.  

Her face flushed bright red the moment she registered her state.

She was Enoch.  

From the waist up, she was shirtless—half-naked.

“T-this is…”

Asla quickly covered her eyes with both hands to avoid seeing more of his body.  

But she soon realized how ridiculous she looked and gave up.  

Swallowing nervously, she dropped her hands and—wide-eyed—stared ahead.  

The well-defined chest, the broad shoulders, the lean waist devoid of any excess fat—all of it sculpted like a marble statue.

She found herself momentarily mesmerized by Enoch’s stunning physique before snapping out of it.  

Shaking her head, she looked around quickly.

‘It’s another divine dream. I’ve been summoned again.’

Realizing she was once again inhabiting Enoch’s body, she scanned the surroundings to figure out the exact point in time.  

But what caught her eye first was the nightstand.

There, beside the bed, sat a collection of pill bottles.

Four brown bottles.  

Over ten glass containers filled with sleeping pills.  

And at least five more bottles containing other kinds of medication.

It was a lethal dosage—enough to kill instantly.

‘When did he take all of this…?’

She walked over to the dresser, pulled out a shirt, and began putting it on—but paused.

His—her—skin was sticky, clammy with cold sweat.  

Enoch had been so tense while sleeping that he’d soaked his hair and body in sweat.  

Was it from a nightmare?

Asla’s heart ached.  

He had been living in such pain—and she hadn’t known.

Biting her lip, she gently wiped the sweat off with a towel and buttoned up the shirt.

“…Why does my chest hurt so much?”

She pressed a palm against her chest.  

It wasn’t a typical stomach ache—this pain was sharp, overwhelming.  

Her breathing grew labored, and she instinctively reached for one of the bottles on the nightstand.

But she had no idea which to take.  

Unsure, she put it back down, hands trembling.

This was her fourth time dreaming as Enoch, but it was the first time she had felt this kind of pain.

“Master.”

Asla, who had been leaning weakly against the wall, perked up at the sound of Talet’s voice.

“I’m here.”

“You’re awake, Master? Lady Ventus and Dr. Gabriel have been waiting for over thirty minutes.”

‘Margo’s here?’

A wave of irritation twisted her brow.

How long had Margo been visiting Enoch in the capital behind her back?

Asla suppressed the urge to storm in and throw Margo out.  

Steadying her breath, she left the bedroom and approached Talet, trying to act natural.

“What year is it?”

Talet blinked at the odd question coming from his master but answered dutifully.

“It’s the year 980, sir.”

‘980…’

Asla turned her gaze toward Enoch’s office desk.  

Sure enough, the marriage certificate was still sitting there.  

Through the crack in the window, golden sunlight streamed in.  

The sky was clear blue, and far-off trees were tinged with autumn colors.

They had married in 979—this was one year later, early autumn.

It was around this time that Margot’s harassment had peaked.  

By then, Asla had completely given up trying to adapt to life in the Ventus estate.  

She had been drowning in loneliness and despair, and Enoch—always in the capital—never came home.  

It was also the time when her resentment toward him had reached its peak.

‘The time when I first began seriously considering divorce.’

Lost in thought, Asla suddenly doubled over as a stabbing pain pierced her solar plexus—like being stabbed with a knife.