Chapter 49

The main road leading to the Tulia High Temple was wide enough for six carriages to pass side by side with ease.

A great white arched roof enclosed the entrance to the temple.

If one looked up at the domed ceiling, the five deities were intricately carved in relief, but to Asla, it felt more eerie than sacred.

“It’s even more lavish than when I last came,”

Asla muttered coldly, and Ian nodded in agreement.

Pope Brittas.

The current pope was revered for his divine power and leadership, to the point where he was called “God’s Staff” by the Sherita royal family.

Moreover, since he spared no expense in aiding the poor, he was deeply respected by the common people.

Pope Brittas’s influence soaring ever higher, unchecked.

No one paid attention to the hypocrisy hidden beneath it.

The Holy Kingdom that should have kept the Pope in check is gone, the Emperor’s power is weakened—it’s no wonder Emperor Rosenberg feared him.

To the extent he bribed Enoch to marry her.

The face of Enoch that morning flashed across her mind, and a strange guilt swept over her.

Worried about his vulnerability, she had come alone.

It was only a matter of time before her bodyguards, who had followed her, reported to him and he found out.

It’s too late. What she must do—only she could.

Two carriages stopped on the pristine white road before the temple.

As Gloria led the way and Asla stepped down, the priests and worshippers of Tulia High Temple stared wide-eyed.

It was the first time members of the Sherita royal family, long unseen since the kingdom’s fall, had appeared together.

All eyes were on them.

But Asla hid her emotions behind a calm, elegant expression as she ascended the steps with Gloria.

Ian leaned toward his assistant priest and whispered, “Inform His Holiness. Duchess Asla Ventus has come and seeks an audience.”

As the surprised priest hurried toward the papal office, Asla calmly fixed her gaze on the temple ahead.

The wretched two years she had spent here came flooding back, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

What must it have felt like to flee a doomed homeland, seeking protection in a foreign land as the heir to a fallen kingdom?

The Pope’s schedule, crafted for her under the guise of restoring the Holy Kingdom, had been brutal.

But even so, Asla never considered sleeping peacefully.

She resented the gods, yet she still prayed desperately, sacrificing her rest.

Please, don’t abandon the Holy Kingdom.

If the kingdom is corrupted because of me, then take Asla Sherita in my stead. Just save this land of God.

Asla had an older brother.

But she had never even seen his face.

Her elder sibling, the First Prince, had died suddenly before turning three, and his name was no longer even mentioned.

Asla was born the year after his death.

While growing up, her nanny had told her countless stories about him.

How lovely he had been, how terribly and sorrowfully it had rained the day he died.

That ever since the Princess was born, ominous signs began to appear, eventually leading to the downfall of the Holy Kingdom.

And so, Asla naturally believed it was all her fault.

Was it truly because of me?

Only now did she begin to question it.

If the gods were displeased with her birth and decided to destroy the kingdom, then why did they show her the truth of the past—and oppose her divorce from Enoch?

Perhaps…

Perhaps it wasn’t punishment, but a message that the gods wished to leave this land completely.

Lost in thought, Asla snapped back to reality as she reached the grandest prayer chamber.

She told Gloria to wait there. Gloria asked, “Why are you leaving me behind? If that woman Grosset deceived me, I have things to say too.”

“I want to ask her something first. Please, just trust me, Mother.”

Asla’s firm refusal made Gloria stare into her daughter’s face before sighing.

“Very well. I’d rather not see the Pope again myself. If you need me, call for me anytime.”

As Gloria placed a hand on her shoulder in encouragement, some of Asla’s tension eased.

She hoped she’d never have to call for her mother.

With a priest leading the way, Asla walked the silent temple halls toward the papal office. She asked Ian in a low voice, “I heard my mother left the temple on her own two years ago. What happened?”

“I don’t know all the details. I was transferred to Dainus soon after. But I heard the temple treated her very rudely.”

“I see. They probably had no use for her in their plans.”

Asla frowned.

The promise to honor the last queen of the Holy Kingdom had been lighter than a dandelion seed.

If Enoch hadn’t stepped in, Gloria might have lived more miserably than she had before.

Maybe she would have taught at some noble house’s chapel just to scrape by.

The same goes for me, doesn’t it?

If her divine power disappeared, not only herself but all the priests and clergy would be cast aside in this turbulent age.

Though that shouldn’t be possible…

A strange foreboding chilled Asla’s fingertips.

Before the papal office, a priest standing in wait bowed deeply to her.

“Greetings to the White Staff of God, Princess Sherita.”

Asla coolly corrected him.

“I’m no longer Princess Sherita.”

“Oh, pardon me. I was simply overjoyed to see you after so long—I misspoke.”

The man smiled slyly.

She recognized him—he had been one of the Pope’s closest attendants during her time here.

Asla narrowed her eyes.

He had called her “Princess” on purpose.

So she deliberately replied even more coldly: “Please inform His Holiness that Duchess Ventus requests an audience.”

The priest shot her a discontented look, but clicked his tongue and gave orders to the attendants at the door.

The heavy doors of the papal office slowly began to open.

Hah.

The space inside remained vast and grand.

Most of the wall opposite the doors was made of stained glass depicting the five gods protecting the Pope’s high throne.

The colors were so dazzling they almost hurt her eyes.

As two figures appeared before the stained glass dais, Asla’s heart pounded.

She took a deep breath and stepped into the room with Ian.

The first thing she saw was the Pope sitting on a grand chair.

Then, a tall woman standing beside him caught her eye—and all thought vanished.

Her nanny.

It was the same as before.

Nothing about her had changed.

The longing, the grief, the buried sorrow she’d suppressed for so long surged up all at once.

Her heart pounded violently.

Horrifying.

If the gods hadn’t shown her the truth, she would’ve run to her—trusting, hoping, never knowing the truth of Enoch or her mother’s love.

She had loved her.

More than her own parents. Her nanny, Lisette Grosset.

But now, she had to hate the woman who had ruined and manipulated her entire life.

Unable to bear the storm of emotion, Asla stayed silent.

Lisette looked at her with sorrowful eyes and spoke first.

“My dear Princess.”

She reached out a hand.

“I’ve missed you.”

With a wistful gaze and a soft, affectionate voice, she called out.

Asla almost replied, “I missed you too.”

But seeing the Pope smiling beside her brought Asla back to her senses.

“You were alive, Nanny.”

“You’re upset, aren’t you? Let me explain everything.”

Before she knew it, Lisette had come close and was holding both of Asla’s hands tightly.

Tears welled up instantly in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

Asla forced herself to suppress the tenderness rising inside her and pulled her hands free.

Lisette looked startled and tried to grab her again, but Asla brushed past her and bowed before the Pope.

“Asla Ventus greets Your Holiness. I trust you’ve been well.”

“Of course, Princess.”

Pope Brittas rose from his seat, the gold-embroidered hem of his white robes sweeping the floor.

The sound of fabric scraping against marble sent shivers down her spine.

Asla looked between the Pope and Lisette.

She realized that the longer she delayed, the worse it would be for her.

Taking a breath, she got straight to the point.

“I will not be divorcing, Your Holiness. Therefore, I cannot support your plan.”

The Pope’s smile cracked instantly. Lisette gasped in horror.

“Princess!”

“Nanny. Please, stop.”

Lisette tried to cut her off in a panic, but Asla answered coldly.

Both the Pope and Lisette must have already realized Asla knew of their plan.

She had come to the capital, yet hadn’t visited the temple to resubmit her divorce petition.

Since Margo had been expelled from the Ventus house for falsely accusing Asla, they surely knew.

“I’m deeply, profoundly disappointed in you. I’ll never forgive you.”

Lisette, trembling under Asla’s glare, cried and pleaded.

“Princess, how could you say such cruel things to me?”

Asla was shaken—just a little.

She had always been weak to Lisette’s tears.

Back when she had to hide her emotions as a princess, Lisette had often cried for her.

Every time she was sad or had to endure something painful, Lisette had been her one outlet for emotion.

“…Do I really have to say aloud what you’ve done to me, Nanny?”