Chapter 8

The delicate glass, beaded with condensation, trembled in Enoch’s large hand as if it might shatter at any moment—it was a precarious sight.   

Asla was deeply puzzled. She had only asked a simple question, yet he looked truly angry.   

Their journey’s goal was to go to the High Temple to finalize their divorce.   

Why then, did this man get so enraged every time divorce was mentioned? 

Enoch set the glass down and twisted his lips. 

“You can’t become a citizen of the Holy Kingdom. That nation no longer exists.” 

It was a sharp truth that pierced Asla’s heart.   

A truth even a child on the street knew—but hearing it from Enoch’s own mouth struck her differently.   

It felt like he was hammering in the fact that there was nowhere left for her to return to.   

A strange feeling washed over her.   

She recalled the dream the gods had shown her.   

The Holy Kingdom, once filled with blooming summer roses, was gone now.   

Gone too was Asla Sherita—the radiant princess who had first met Enoch there, blushing in the sunlight. 

‘I know that. I do.’ 

Suddenly overwhelmed with injustice, Asla drank the entire glass of water in one go.   

The cold water with a single ice cube chilled her throat and brought slight relief. 

“Are you angry?” 

Noticing her rubbing her temple—perhaps from brain freeze—Enoch carefully spoke, gauging her mood.   

His cautiousness amused her, and Asla let out a small, dry laugh. 

“What makes you think that? As if the fall of the Holy Kingdom was somehow your fault.” 

“People usually chug ice water like that when they’re upset.” 

“…You’re right. I am angry. Not at you—just… bitter. Because the Holy Kingdom is gone. If it hadn’t fallen, at least I wouldn’t be living like this.” 

“‘Living like this,’ huh.” 

Enoch echoed her words, tapped the table lightly, then slouched against the armrest with a crooked posture.  

The aristocratic Duke now looked like some street thug, and Asla was startled by the contrast. 

“Is being married to me truly that miserable?” 

“You’re only realizing I’m unhappy now? Took you long enough.” 

Asla’s response was cold.   

Because she had felt so guilty toward him, she had kept quiet about all the unfair treatment she endured.   

For two years, she had held her tongue and lived obediently. 

‘All for this man.’ 

The Duke of Ventus, who had taken in the last Princess of the fallen Holy Kingdom as his wife.   

The most noble and wealthy man in the Empire had been barred from participating in politics because of a wife with a defunct title.   

The Emperor had claimed he arranged the marriage to preserve the dignity of a fallen princess, but anyone with insight knew the truth: 

The Emperor had tied Enoch Ventus to the last princess of the Holy Kingdom in order to rein him in.   

Though the founding law of the Empire declared a separation of crown and clergy, that law still held force.   

And as the lines between titled nobility and the gentry blurred, the clergy became a major threat to the imperial court.   

The gods existed without doubt, and there were priests who could wield divine power—so of course the imperial family was on edge. 

It was already a turbulent era, with commoners rising in influence under the guise of the gentry, and now a princess of the fallen kingdom had entered the Empire like a ticking time bomb.   

Asla, like many others, believed the Emperor had masked his scheming intentions and forced the marriage between her and Enoch. 

‘He was afraid of how Enoch’s booming enterprises were generating immense wealth. That petty little Emperor…’ 

Thinking of Enoch’s current predicament, Asla felt even more wretched.   

She hadn’t realized the Emperor’s ploy until after the wedding—foolishly late.   

So even when she was mistreated at the Ventus estate, she kept silent.   

She thought that if she lived quietly in the northern Ventus territory, far from the political sphere, the world would eventually forget about the last royal of the Holy Kingdom. 

And then, Enoch would be free to reclaim his rights and spread his wings.   

But now, she could no longer endure it.   

Calling herself pathetic, Asla recalled something Enoch had once said. 

‘It would be better to divorce over infidelity.’ 

Asla began forming a plan slowly and carefully.   

If rumors spread that she had committed adultery and filed for divorce out of remorse, then at least Duke Enoch Ventus’s reputation could be preserved.   

She was willing to take the blame for an affair she never committed—if it meant she could say everything she wanted to him before ending it all.   

When Asla shot Enoch a sharp glare, his eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he rubbed his chin. 

“…I’m sorry.” 

His straightforward apology drained the strength from her. 

Did he even know what he was apologizing for?   

Asla found the situation almost laughable.   

What exactly had he done wrong? Not loving her? Or turning a blind eye to someone like Margo? 

Yes. It was all his fault. 

Even as she reached that conclusion, her heart grew heavier, more conflicted.   

She turned her gaze back toward the lake, trying to settle her restless thoughts. 

“Excuse me.” 

Breaking the silence between them, a waiter appeared to place down the appetizer dish.   

Asla looked at Enoch and spoke. 

“Enoch. When we reach the capital, will I be able to meet Vice President Robert Hesse?” 

“…How do you know Robert?” 

He paused before asking with a sharp look. Asla fell silent, unsure how to answer. 

Robert Hesse—the man who, in her dream, had spoken unbelievable words to the version of herself who had become Enoch.   

She knew it made sense that Enoch would find her interest suspicious, considering there was no plausible connection between her and Robert. She answered as calmly as she could. 

“There’s something I want to ask him.” 

“You won’t ask me, but you’ll go to Robert?” 

“If I asked you… would you give me an answer?” 

“Have I ever refused to answer a question from you? For that matter, have you ever even asked?” 

Enoch let out a laugh, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.   

Asla blinked slowly. 

‘That’s true. Had I ever even asked him anything?’ 

The wedding.   

And maybe once or twice a year when he visited the estate. She hadn’t really spoken to him.   

At first, it felt like a dream—marrying the man she had loved for so long.   

But over time, she began to feel more and more ashamed, guilty for clinging to a man she loved so much. 

“Ah…” 

She raised a hand to her mouth and let out a short sigh. 

‘I’m the one who dug myself into this hole.’ 

With a trembling voice, Asla asked, “Don’t think I’m crazy, just answer honestly.” 

“If anyone dares call you that, bring them to me,” Enoch said with a dangerous glint in his eye, casually picking up his appetizer fork. 

“I’ll skewer them.” 

“…With the fork?” 

“No.” 

What then?   

Asla tried not to imagine alternative weapons—it was too gruesome. She decided to ignore his odd sense of humor and asked directly: 

“Did you ever fall for me?” 

“Kff.” 

Enoch choked, coughing violently just as he put a forkful of food into his mouth. 

“Are you alright?!” 

A waiter nearby rushed over with a napkin and poured him a glass of water.   

As Enoch’s face turned bright red—like a tomato—Asla grew anxious. 

‘That sauce must’ve gone straight down the wrong pipe…’ 

She glanced at the salmon salad appetizer.   

Smooth, pale cream sauce.   

She made a mental note to chew and swallow carefully.   

Seeing Enoch still looking unwell, she leaned toward him and said, “Your face is still red. Enoch, maybe you should see a doctor.” 

“…I’m fine.” 

“But you could get pneumonia if you’re not careful. You were frail as a child, remember?” 

Her concern was genuine.   

She wanted a divorce—but that didn’t mean she wanted him ill or worse.   

Enoch looked at her with an incredulous expression, then narrowed his eyes. 

“Wait. Are you still seeing me as a sickly ten-year-old?” 

“You never know. Maybe it didn’t fully heal.” 

Enoch, now fully recovered in appearance, burst into laughter.   

Asla grew a little self-conscious. 

‘Does he think I’m being ridiculous?’ 

Objectively, Enoch looked healthy and strong—there wasn’t even a trace of frailty.   

Feeling awkward, Asla stopped talking and fidgeted with her fork. 

“You knew I was sick as a kid. You were interested in me, huh, Asla?” 

“…Of course I was.” 

“You’re diligent, after all.” 

‘Diligent, huh.’ 

Enoch’s serious tone and gaze made Asla feel a strange mix of emotions.   

But it hadn’t been out of duty as his wife.   

Her interest had gone far beyond that—she had been completely, utterly infatuated. 

‘I was completely in love.’ 

She recalled her teenage self.   

It started when she first met him at fifteen.   

She wanted to know everything about Duke Enoch Ventus.   

She eagerly listened to every bit of gossip and news, piecing together fragments of his life and creating romantic fantasies in her head.   

She had even worried when she read an article saying he’d been a frail child.   

Enoch had suffered frequent bouts of pneumonia until he was ten.   

Fortunately, he had grown stronger the following year. 

‘But… that was when his older brother, Arlen Ventus, started getting sick. And that’s why Enoch felt guilty toward Arlen.’ 

It was an irrational guilt, but Asla understood that it wasn’t her place to judge—it was a family matter.   

Perhaps that was why Enoch turned a blind eye to his sister-in-law Margo, letting her run the household like a tyrant. 

And that was something Asla… had endured as well. 

‘Ahem.’ 

“Ah—” 

Enoch cleared his throat to pull Asla out of her thoughts. 

“Can I ask why you brought that up all of a sudden?” 

She looked at him, blinking out of her trance, and cautiously replied, “What, you mean about you being sick as a child?” 

“…No. I meant—when you asked if I’d ever fallen for you.”   

“Ah.” 

Enoch’s ears were still tinged red.   

Asla stared at him for a long moment and then finally opened her mouth to speak.