Chapter 52

Enoch stared at her in silence. He didn’t reply, but a mess of emotions flickered in his eyes.

Of course there would be no other answer.

Unable to bear waiting for a response, Asla rubbed her face with both hands and spoke weakly.

“…I’ll take care of the scandal myself.”

“I’ll do it. You stay out of it.”

His cold reply came as he closely watched her every movement.

Asla massaged her throbbing temple.

“…Really? Because that’s what satisfies you?”

“Are you trying to make me angry on purpose? If so, congratulations.”

“Do you think your parents and siblings would be happy about that? Don’t project your pain—your obsession with someone who will never return—onto me.”

Asla spoke with a cold, detached expression—so unlike her usual self.

Enoch looked at her with disbelief, lips parted.

“Asla Ventus. What did you just say?”

She had expected him to get angry, but the pain reflected in his eyes was far deeper than she’d imagined.

Startled, Asla looked away.

Truly, he would no longer pity her. He would hate her now.

A heavy, aching silence fell between them.

Enoch stared at her—looking like she might collapse at any moment—and let out a quiet curse, then turned his back.

“Just lie down. I’ll go kill the bastards who spread this damn scandal and come back. Then we’ll talk again.”

Asla didn’t answer.

She fixated on the corner of the living room table.

She could feel Enoch’s gaze on her, but just standing there was draining her.

She didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes.

She didn’t want to hurt him.

Because she loved him.

She didn’t want to be hated by him.

Because she loved him.

But… she couldn’t take it anymore.

After Enoch left the room, Asla collapsed to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut and whispered: “…Let’s stop fighting and love.”

It was harder, more painful than even when she had resolved to die.

Asla gagged, overcome with nausea.

She stumbled as she vomited everything from inside her.

May cried out and tried to support her, but Asla couldn’t hear her through the ringing in her ears.

Come to think of it, the morning air had become sharply cold.

A chill in the air. The sky turned deep blue and high.

Autumn had returned to her—always lonely, always melancholic.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The scandal article in the Tricia Times hadn’t used crude language as she feared.

The journalist had been tactful—elegant, even.

Which only made people more curious.

After the initial publication, the Tricia Times didn’t follow up with more stories, but other papers and vulgar magazines began printing increasingly salacious headlines.

False claims and wild speculations spread like wildfire through a dry field.

As the situation worsened, Asla deliberately didn’t leave her hotel room.

She ate her meals there, never even stepping out onto the terrace.

By the third day after the scandal broke, the story vanished—even from the cheap gossip rags.

Looking over the newspapers and magazines May brought her, Asla murmured: “Enoch must’ve paid them off.”

How much money had he spent to suppress the scandal?

Asla was sure this wasn’t the end of it.

Everyone already knew that “Duchess V” was Duchess Ventus, and that she had allegedly carried on a secret affair with Ian Hertha, a high priest she had feelings for even before marriage.

To make things worse, people also remembered she had once filed for divorce with the temple.

The rumors of marital discord between the Duke and Duchess grew stronger.

Asla pushed the stack of papers aside and let out a dry laugh.

She remembered: when she’d wanted to divorce Enoch, she’d even considered spreading a false rumor of infidelity to force the issue.

Maybe this was for the best?

But this scandal was clearly a scheme by the Pope and Lisette to push her into divorcing Enoch.

‘I can’t let them win.’

Though it was midday, Asla sat silently on the sofa in the darkened living room, curtains drawn, nervously picking at her fingernails.

“Madam.”

May, who had been treating her cautiously since the scandal broke, called softly.

Asla lifted her head to look at May—her face visibly exhausted.

Though May felt sorry for her, she didn’t show it and bowed politely.

“Madam Gloria Sherita has come again today. She’s in the lobby and refusing to leave.”

“…She came again.”

The suite Asla was staying in didn’t permit any outside visitors.

Neither the temple nor even Gloria was an exception.

It had been Enoch’s doing, but Asla had agreed to it.

She rubbed her dry eyes, conflicted.

Now that she had finally come to understand her mother’s true self and intentions, she felt heavy-hearted rejecting Gloria’s visits for three days straight.

She remembered clearly the bright smile Gloria wore when she suggested they live together if Asla divorced Enoch.

They had hoped to spend more time together in the capital, slowly working through the misunderstandings Lisette had created.

Now, her mother—who had suffered for years as Queen Sherita—must be worried sick about this scandal.

But Asla didn’t have the courage to tell Gloria everything.

Even if it was all due to Lisette, Asla and Gloria were still an awkward mother and daughter.

If Gloria found out and acted recklessly out of anger, it could become dangerous.

After a long pause, Asla instructed May: “Tell her I can’t meet her.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Lost in thought, Asla suddenly noticed Robert, the Vice President, had arrived.

She stood to greet him.

“It’s been a while, Vice President.”

“Yes. Are you feeling alright?”

“Of course. You must be busy—what brings you here?”

Asla smiled bitterly. Robert shook his head and approached.

Having not seen Enoch since their huge argument three days ago, Asla assumed Robert was sent on his behalf.

“…Things must be bad. If the Vice President came instead of Talet.”

“Talet is busy. He’s going around threatening and bribing every news outlet as ordered by the President—throwing in a few illegal punches, too.”

“Punches…?”

Asla blinked, confused, as she thought of the kind-eyed Talet.

Robert shrugged.

“Don’t judge my brother by appearances. He may seem gentle, but unlike me, he’s actually quite violent. Frankly, I’m scared of him. Might be why he’s survived as the President’s secretary this long.”

“How surprising.”

Asla felt pathetic for laughing in the middle of this serious mess.

But Robert was relieved to see her loosen up.

Once she had calmed down again, Asla looked at him and asked carefully: “…You weren’t sent by my husband, were you?”

“No. The President is… extremely stubborn, especially about matters concerning you. He won’t listen to reason. So I’ve come to ask you, the rational one, for your opinion.”

“Go ahead.”

Asla offered him a seat and sat down herself.

“This situation is more complicated than it seems. It’s not just a scandal anymore. Did you know that the Tricia Times and many other media outlets are under heavy influence from Duke Jemia?”

“No… Why bring up Duke Jemia all of a sudden?”

“We assumed it was the Pope’s side that leaked the scandal. But upon investigation, we found it was actually Duke Jemia targeting you.”

“Targeting me… why?”

“The reason is…”

Robert opened his mouth but couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“It’s complicated. Since the President won’t bend, they’re threatening you. The real problem is that the Pope’s side has teamed up with Duke Jemia. Which makes things very difficult.”

“What exactly is Enoch doing right now?”

“He’s going around threatening to cut off all business with every noble house and enterprise that donates to the Temple. He’s saying if the damn Temple collapses, they won’t be able to pull stunts like this anymore.”

“My god…”

Has he lost his mind?

Asla was stunned to learn what Enoch had been doing behind the scenes.

So he hadn’t silenced the media with money—but by choking the very lifelines of everyone who supported the Temple.

Enoch Ventus.

Asla went pale, barely managing to collect herself.

She looked at Robert squarely.

“They’re not going to stop donating to the Temple. Naturally, the company will suffer massive losses. I know better than anyone how deeply rooted faith is in the Tulia Empire.”

“You’re right, madam.”

She remembered clearly how fanatical the worshippers were back when she lived at the capital’s central temple.

“What are the losses so far?”

“Three new investors have withdrawn from negotiations. Some companies have agreed to stop donating to the Temple—but they’re a very small minority.”

“…Enoch Ventus.”

Asla muttered his name, pressing her fist to the tight pain in her chest.

Enoch was not thinking clearly.

And it was all because of her.

He was clearly out of control.

Trying to destroy everything he had built with wealth and power—recklessly and impulsively.

She thought of the way he had once looked so gently at the train tracks…

The proud look on his face when showing her the hotel he built…

All of it, built to fill the void left by losing his family, now crumbling in an instant.

Could Emperor Rosenberg even protect someone like Enoch?

Not one emperor in history had openly gone to war with the Temple.

Lost in thought, Asla suddenly noticed the catalog on the edge of the table.

Fixing her gaze on it, she opened her mouth.

“There’s only one way. For now… don’t tell my husband. Delay it as long as possible, Vice President.”

“Madam…”

“Scandals burn hot—but they cool quickly. All I need is enough time for it to cool.”

Asla turned to Robert.

“Tonight—I’ll leave the Empire. Quietly. Please make the arrangements.”