AWLC 16

Chapter – 16

Asha wore the most splendid dress she had ever worn in her life.

With light makeup brushed across her face and her hair styled into soft, natural curls, she found herself in unexpectedly good spirits. Once she finished getting ready, she accepted Jerold’s escort and climbed into the carriage.

Since I’m going anyway, I’ll quietly look around, eat something delicious, and come back slowly.

Meanwhile, Jerold found that he simply could not bring himself to like Miss Asha of the Herman family, the woman who was to become his sister-in-law.

His older brother was the most perfect man in the world.

And standing beside him, Miss Asha seemed… lacking.

It wasn’t as though her family background was particularly distinguished. Nor was she exceptional in intellect or beauty. There was nothing about her that truly stood out.

If he had to name one thing, it would be her rarity—being a Saintess.

The only one in the world.

A Saintess who could see the future.

At first glance, one might think that if a woman possessed the ability to see the future, people would fight desperately to claim her.

But reality was different.

A Saintess could see the future—yet she could share it with no one.

The moment she attempted to reveal heavenly secrets, she would become a fool.

It didn’t matter whether it was spoken or written.

As though it were divine law that the future must remain hidden, it was simply so.

Of course, if she were strong enough on her own, perhaps she could change the future. But the world was not so accommodating.

If there were a woman who knew the course of the future yet shared neither her plans nor her outcomes with anyone—would people worship her?

No.

They would fear her.

They would ensure she could do nothing.

Even the husbands who married Saintesses did the same.

In ancient times, Saintesses had presided over rituals and wielded great influence in the temple—but that was all long past.

Now, people merely nodded and said, Ah, so her powers still exist, and left it at that. Beyond her rarity, no one believed she held practical value.

Miss Asha was no different.

She had entered the marriage market with an exorbitant bride price, but soon the oracle would be revealed. In just one month, her rare value would plummet, and she would not fetch even a quarter of what was once offered.

Yes—if only his brother’s eyes had not suddenly been overtaken by possessiveness.

To make matters worse, the woman who had been in marriage talks with his brother just days ago was Lady Cecilia Eart.

Cecilia Eart.

A woman renowned throughout the Empire as the number one bride—praised for her refinement, intellect, beauty, and character.

And that wasn’t all.

Highly educated, innately elegant, and even possessing charisma—she would have been perfectly suited to become Empress.

“……”

Jerold swallowed a quiet sigh as he looked at the petite woman sitting across from him—Asha.

She looked fragile, almost as though her body were weak. Her round features and gentle eyes made her heart seem just as soft.

If she married his brother, she would have to live in the Imperial Palace for the rest of her life. Could she even adapt?

Historically speaking, empresses with mild temperaments had rarely met good ends.

Better to be ruthless.

Though he found fault with her in many ways… still.

She was the woman his perfect brother had chosen. He would have to accept her as his sister-in-law.

Jerold decided to test just how gentle Miss Asha truly was.

There were degrees to gentleness, after all.

If she truly was as overly soft and easily wounded as she appeared, then he would assign Diona to guard her like an iron wall.

Having organized his thoughts, Jerold finally spoke.

“If it is not improper, I would like to ask you something.”

Asha, surprised that the stern man was initiating conversation at all, nodded.

“Yes, please go ahead.”

Then he said:

“Do you believe you suit my brother?”

Asha was momentarily at a loss for words.

She had never considered whether they suited each other. But if she had to choose one answer, it would likely be we don’t.

Jerold continued calmly, as though her flustered reaction meant nothing.

“There was, in fact, another family under discussion for marriage. A young lady from a distinguished marquis household that has never once lost its reputation throughout its long history. Naturally, her depth of education is unmatched. I do not say this to offend you, but the woman who marries my brother will one day become Empress. She must command countless palace attendants and sometimes deal with noblewomen who conceal their true intentions. Do you have the confidence to shoulder such a position?”

Though he spoke politely and indirectly, the essence of his words was simple.

There was once a brilliant, well-born woman under consideration—and you interfered. Are you capable?

How could someone be so effortlessly rude?

No—more importantly.

I’m marrying your brother?

She didn’t even know where to begin correcting him.

Then suddenly, Asha realized what was happening.

This was the classic development whenever a high-born man met a woman of humble origins.

[Break up with my son.]

Well—in this case, perhaps it was more of a “Break up with my brother.”

But why was this cliché unfolding so suddenly?

“…Ah?”

Was it because when she first met Alesto, she had confessed her fantasy of being seized and loved by a handsome man?

Because Alesto had said he saw her as a romantic partner?

They had agreed to date.

Though it now seemed like it might have fallen apart.

No—wait. It hadn’t fallen apart.

She was still occupying the Almond Palace, and neither she nor Alesto had said anything about breaking up.

So… were they still dating?

Oh.

Come to think of it, yes.

Wasn’t the fact that he confined her somewhat an expression of jealousy?

And hadn’t he ultimately softened at her tears and even expanded the boundaries of her confinement?

This feels like…

The tyrant-in-the-making might actually like her.

Of course, his younger brother clearly didn’t believe it—but still.

Now then, what should she do?

The standard move would be to apologize sweetly, then insist she couldn’t break up because she loved him. And later, she could casually mention this to Alesto as though it were an innocent slip of the tongue.

Inside, Asha ground her teeth at Jerold—you picked the wrong person to mess with—but outwardly, she lowered her gaze and looked pitiful.

“I’m sorry.”

And just as she was about to begin her “But love…” speech—

“You must not make that kind of expression simply because you’ve been hurt. In the Imperial Palace, the weak are not helped—they are bitten and killed. In situations like this, you should say that my brother pursued you relentlessly and that you merely accepted. Tell them to speak to him instead. Push the responsibility onto him. Say he will handle everything.”

Asha’s eyes widened.

Huh? What?

Was he telling her to break up—or not?

While she blinked in confusion, Jerold’s insides were burning.

His brother had kept it secret that a marriage contract had already been drafted—but Miss Asha was officially the Crown Prince’s lover.

With marriage in mind!

And yet.

No matter how gentle she was—after being compared to another woman and having herself belittled, the only thing she could say was, I’m sorry?

For a moment, Jerold felt his resolve weaken at the Saintess’s foolishly innocent answer—but he quickly steeled himself.

“In the Imperial Palace, there will be very little you can do on your own. Your natal family is unremarkable, and you have not distinguished yourself in the arts or society. Ah, of course, I do acknowledge beauty as a remarkable talent. A peerless beauty capable of shaking the world is a weapon in itself. But you… are not quite of that level, are you? The only person you can rely on is my brother—so you would do well to make good use of him.”

Jerold hadn’t expected her to slap him.

But still.

Even if she were gentle—

After this level of insult, he expected at least a glare. Or perhaps for her to demand the carriage be stopped in outrage.

Instead, she simply blinked her wide, cow-like eyes, her lips parting and closing as if unsure whether to speak.

Fine.

Say something.

“If you have something to say, then say it.”

Go on.