Chapter 51

Asla decided to rely on the one choice that had been truly hers.  

She believed that even Enoch’s warped obsession could be corrected through conversation.

‘I won’t expect something grand like love from him. I’ll be fine.’

Still, he was the one who had kept the marriage declaration that had bound them together.  

Surely, as partners, they could lean on one another.  

He was, objectively, far too good for someone like her.  

Clinging to her last hope, Asla returned to bed and tried to force herself to sleep.  

It was a long, restless night filled with hope and anxiety tangled together.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Having slept poorly, Asla woke early at dawn with a pale complexion. She dressed and waited for Enoch.  

She was worried—he hadn’t returned the night before.  

Was he overwhelmed with work?  

Perhaps the deal with Duke Jemia, which he had supposedly wrapped up, hadn’t gone well.  

Or maybe—

‘He must’ve been informed I went to the Temple yesterday. He’ll probably be furious the moment he arrives.’

As the sun rose, Asla sipped lightly steeped tea in the morning light, lost in thought—until she turned at the sound of May’s hurried footsteps.

“Madam!”

As May rushed in, Asla shot up from her seat.  

May was cheerful and sociable, but also a seasoned professional who rarely panicked.  

So seeing her with a face as pale as death, Asla assumed something serious had happened—perhaps Lisette or the Pope had shown up.

“What is it?”

“Madam! P-Please read this!”

May quickly handed her a newspaper, which Asla narrowed her eyes and took.  

It was the Tricia Times—not some gossip rag, but a powerful paper with influence across the entire continent.

‘What is this…?’

The front page featured a large headline—along with a blurry black-and-white photo.  

Photography could still only capture vague images, so unless the event was significant, they rarely published photos.  

After briefly scanning the photo of a man and woman, Asla read the headline—and her eyes shook violently.

Exclusive! The Duchess’s Secret Affair: The Man in the Noble Duchess V’s Life Is None Other Than a High-Ranking Priest

BANG!

Before she could read further, the door burst open with a loud crash, and Asla looked up in shock.  

There was only one person who would dare throw open the door to Duchess Ventus’s room like this.

Duke Enoch Ventus.

Their eyes locked—his black gaze crashing violently into hers.  

The air around Enoch was so vicious, no one would dare approach him.  

Behind him, Talet stood wearing an uncomfortable expression.  

Asla’s gaze dropped to the crumpled paper in Enoch’s left hand.  

Realizing it was the same issue of the Tricia Times she held, she let out a dry laugh.

“Heh. Is this funny to you?”

Enoch let out a bitter chuckle, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and glared at her.  

Asla decided to first remove everyone from the room so she could speak to him calmly.

“I’d like to speak with you alone.”

“Madam!”

Seeing how serious the situation was, May rushed toward Asla in concern.

“I’m alright. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t worry.”

Asla gently reassured the terrified May.  

May, overwhelmed by the hostility radiating from Enoch, shrank back and exited the room.  

Enoch didn’t care whether she left or not—he only had eyes for Asla.

When she met Talet’s anxious gaze outside the door, she tilted her chin, signaling him to leave as well.  

When Talet closed the door behind him, Asla was finally alone with Enoch—surrounded by heavy, uncomfortable silence.

Staring into Enoch’s burning eyes reminded her of the time they had faced each other in the Ventus mansion’s study.  

It felt similar.

That time, he had held divorce papers.  

This time, it was a newspaper reporting her alleged affair.

Back then, she had been the one asking for divorce.  

Now… she wondered if he might ask for it.  

The thought stung.

Did Enoch really believe she had an affair with Ian?

As he approached, Asla furrowed her brow and tried to collect her thoughts.

‘To think they’d drag Ian into a scandal like this. I should’ve known the Pope’s side would play dirty!’

Before she could say anything, Enoch had come dangerously close.  

His eyes shimmered with complex emotions, but before she could identify them, he growled: “…You’d better explain everything. Now.”

His voice was so rough it sent chills down her spine, like his teeth were grinding stone.

“Why did you do it?”

The question came without context. Asla blinked once before responding.

“…The head of the security team should’ve told you. I went to the Temple yesterday.”

“Yeah. At first, they said it was to pray. So why the hell did you take Ian Hertha with you?!”

He angrily raised the crumpled newspaper in front of her face.

“Even though the photo’s blurry, you recognized us just fine.”

“Asla Ventus.”

“Go ahead. Say it.”

Asla tried to stay calm and consider why Enoch was so enraged.  

A huge scandal printed in bold across the capital’s newspapers.  

The upper class would instantly recognize who “Duchess V” was.

Was he angry because she had stained the Ventus name?  

Or because she had acted on her own, outside of the possessive fence he’d created?  

Maybe she had wounded his pride.

Feeling sorry for him—and simultaneously hurt—Asla began to get upset.

“Enoch Ventus. You don’t… actually believe this article, do you?”

“Is that the important part right now?”

Enoch curled one lip in a savage grin.  

He tossed the paper to the floor and loomed over her.

Looking up at his tall frame, seeing the fury in his eyes, Asla let out a bitter laugh.  

‘Why…why was he so angry?’

“You should’ve talked to me first. I told you about their twisted plans so you wouldn’t  run off and throw yourself into danger!”

“Enoch.”

“You think I believe this scandal? Am I crazy? Of course I don’t! Ian Hertha doesn’t suit you in the slightest. What I’m saying is—why didn’t you talk to me? Why did you go somewhere dangerous without me and give them a chance to publish this garbage?!”

Hearing that he didn’t believe the scandal, Asla’s anger subsided slightly.  

She wanted to calm him and explain what had happened.

What she had said to the Pope and Lisette.  

That she had acted on her own to avoid making him suffer.  

That she had been terrified of facing Lisette, who had controlled and brainwashed her for so long.  

And that she couldn’t bring herself to show him that pathetic, broken side of her.

Because she didn’t want to look so weak in front of her first love.

Asla was about to open up—but then Enoch spoke first.

“You make me feel small.”

The words pierced her chest like a dagger.  

Stunned, Asla blinked and repeated: “…What did you say, Enoch?”

“I know you’re strong. I’ve admired you for it—how you could remain so calm and detached, even as your kingdom crumbled.”

“…Enoch.”

“Then why won’t you lean on me? Don’t you trust me? You always talk about trust in marriage—so why are you like this?”

His words tangled up her insides and pressed on her chest.

Asla barely managed to force out a reply.

“Tell me—how am I the one making you feel small? You, of all people? You’re Duke Ventus.”

“…”

“Just because I don’t lean on you doesn’t mean the things you have will ose their value. Whereas I… I have nothing. If I weren’t your wife, I would’ve lived a miserable life.”

“…So I was right. You don’t trust me.”

He scoffed, and Asla felt as though he’d laid her heart bare.  

No—that wasn’t a mistake.

Asla did love him.  

But she didn’t trust him.

His jet-black eyes churned with emotion.  

Disdain was the strongest… but she could glimpse resentment too.

“You only agreed to this marriage because the Emperor arranged it—to help the Holy Kingdom’s people settle in the Empire. You didn’t want to marry a Duke, but you had no choice. So, of course, you never intended to trust me. Right?”

Though phrased as a question, his tone and gaze were more of a demand.  

It was as if he had already decided what her answer should be.

Asla, staring at him, felt anger—and pity.

Even as his eyes grew more intense, she wasn’t afraid.  

She knew Enoch could never hurt her.

She pitied him. And she was angry.

He couldn’t sense even a fraction of her feelings—and was lashing out like this.

She couldn’t bring herself to say I loved you to someone who made her feel this small.

She hated him.  

Resented him.

Maybe… maybe divorce was the right choice.  

Maybe they had been doomed from the start.

The thread of hope she had clung to last night—Enoch—was unraveling, pulling her into a dark abyss.

Truly, sincerely—

“Margo said something to me. She said Enoch Ventus only keeps me around to ease his guilt.”

“What are you…?”

“Did you expect to feel joy if my miserable life was redeemed by your power and wealth?”

“Watch your mouth, Asla Ventus!”

Enoch shouted with a sharp glare—but Asla didn’t flinch.

“Admiration? What nonsense. You pitied me. I lived such a foolish, miserable life that I deserved that pity.”

“Stop.”

“Am I wrong? If not, then why are you so obsessed with me? Do you have another answer?”