Enoch Letraki’s day is predetermined.
He wakes up before dawn, has a simple meal, and receives the reports that have accumulated overnight.
His brother and the Emperor of Nasant, Kinas, called this habit the “shortcut to an early death,” but it is still better than procrastinating on his duties.
Among the events that unfolded while he slept, there were surely some extraordinary ones, but even those pale in comparison to a full-blown rebellion. Enoch remembers how, four years ago, Kinas slit their father’s throat and took the throne.
Compared to that grueling and bloody path, the affairs in his domain are nothing more than child’s play. At least that’s what the man who became the Grand Duke of Letraki, the fifth prince of Nasant, thought.
At least there is no war now. It was hard to say they were completely distant from iron and blood, but at least his domain was at peace.
As he addressed the issues that surfaced during the night, his aides arrived. He organized his two chief aides and the vassals beneath them in a system that prioritized efficiency over decorum.
If the elderly nobles had seen it, they would have been horrified, but Enoch knew he was far from elegant or formal. He doesn’t understand the purpose of most of the etiquette.
Since the domain is under his jurisdiction and the office is his, the system would not change.
The two aides greeted their superior briefly before getting straight to work, and Enoch rose from his seat after confirming that everything was proceeding normally. By then, the sun was usually visible.
After dawn, there was someone he had to meet. The child, one of his wife, Juliet’s maids, was responsible for telling him what happened the previous night.
The sensitive Juliet often falls ill, and it is Enoch’s responsibility to summon the doctor or procure medicines other than her personal physician. So, he received updates on his wife’s health every morning.
Of course, Juliet didn’t know that.
If she had, she would have refused to see a doctor, even if it meant dying. Juliet was a proud woman, and Enoch had learned that well over the course of their two years of marriage. Mostly through her irritation, tears, and resentment.
Issuing instructions based on Juliet’s health each day and adjusting trivial matters, such as the weather or the temperature inside the mansion, didn’t take much time. The maid had to return to her post before Juliet woke up, and Enoch had a lot of work to do. There was no time to waste with each other.
After that, it was just a repetition of the same tasks: receiving reports and issuing instructions.
It was fortunate that most of those under his command still hadn’t erased their military days. As familiar with orders as he was, they followed commands well.
After finishing the morning tasks, there was usually a meal with his aides.
Sometimes, when Kinas sent someone, he would dine alone with the guest.
On such occasions, he would hear two main things: one, when would he come up to the capital; and two, is his wife still in that state?
Enoch would give the same answers he had given countless times before. One, he would go to the capital once his affairs were in order; and two, there was nothing wrong with Juliet.
It was true. Juliet was really fine. Her frequent melancholy, occasional outbursts of irritation, and sporadic eccentricities were entirely his fault.
Enoch believed so and told Kinas the same, but his brother just grumbled about having an unworthy bride. Clearly, he had forgotten that he had forcibly married him to this bride.
And this attitude of his only brother, though he never told anyone, was one of the reasons Enoch could not go to the capital.
To go to the capital, he would have to take Juliet with him, and there was no chance that the two of them would not clash when they met each other. Kinas was quite prone to complaints, and Juliet disliked him.
Enoch didn’t want to upset a woman who already had plenty to be upset about, and he didn’t want to give his brother any excuse to nag at him.
This was why he was holed up in his domain. There was no hope that Juliet and Kinas would ever get along, and Enoch found it difficult to handle the temperament of either of them.
After finishing his meal, Enoch had a brief moment of leisure before returning to work, during which he selected flowers to send to the annex. Flowers were the only thing he could send to the annex where Juliet was.
Something that would wilt quickly and leave no trace—something she would only give a glance at—but Enoch could not let go of even that.
It was natural. Enoch knew his place. The narrow intersection between what he could give and what she would accept. A precarious position, like thin ice that could melt at any moment.
He couldn’t afford to be lazy in order to maintain that position.
Yet, he could not spend his entire life just fiddling with flowers, so he had to do his best within the allotted time.
After picking flowers, he wrote a small note and sent it to the annex. The note, which usually accompanied the flowers, was never unfolded. Knowing this, Enoch still wrote letters every day, similar to sending flowers.
After sending the note along with the flowers, it was time to start the afternoon tasks. There were various issues in the domain, and Enoch needed to prove to Kinas, as he had said, that he was too busy to come to the capital.
After squeezing in every issue, large or small, the aides would retire, and the vassals would also return to their own homes.
As they dispersed one by one, the time that Enoch was both eagerly anticipating and dreading arrived.
After changing for dinner and heading to the dining hall, there were always two meals set out.
After waiting for a few minutes at the table with Juliet’s place set, a woman with a gloomy expression would enter.
The woman with black hair and dark green eyes never smiled. Yet her beauty remained. At times, Enoch missed her smile.
Whenever that occurred, the words whispered by his late mother would come to mind: “You must be satisfied with whatever you have.”
Unlike Enoch, who could not exist without her due to the inescapable blood ties, Juliet had no need for him.
Enoch considered this to be perfectly in keeping with her character, but it sometimes made him melancholic.
He wanted to be useful to her in any way. He didn’t dare hope for her to desire him.
He just wanted her to keep him by her side, even if it was uncomfortable. That was his wish.
But the reality was that he only ever made her uncomfortable.
Juliet had never once sat at the table with a willing expression.
The most she did was reluctantly nod in response to his awkward greetings. Juliet tended to keep her mouth shut in his presence.
That didn’t stop her from communicating, though, as her eyes and facial expressions said everything she was thinking.
After the brief greetings, the servants would begin serving the food, signaling the start of the meal.
Truthfully, Enoch could hardly taste the food, but if it were not for this time, Juliet would not even show him the tip of her nose.
Knowing that, Enoch ate what was placed on the plate without complaint.
But there was no rule that Juliet had to do the same, so she often irritably pushed the dishes aside or just stared at the table without eating.
Still, she never threw things or left the table, purely because she was born and raised as a princess.
As the only princess of Rosenta, Juliet’s manners were ingrained in her subconscious mind.
Even when lowering her gaze or raising her hand, she exuded dignity.
Enoch often admired her elegance, but Kinas dismissed it as his brother’s infatuation. Of course, Enoch only listened to his brother when it suited him, so his opinion didn’t matter.
When the silent dinner ended, so did their only moment together. Then Juliet would return to the annex without looking back, and Enoch would stay in the main house to finish the remaining tasks before going to bed.
That was his day.
☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓 ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓
Yes, it definitely was.
But what is this now?
As he looked down at the woman clinging to his waist, sobbing, Enoch thought. What on earth is happening? He couldn’t figure it out.
Her dark, lustrous hair and graceful neck—all of them belonged to Juliet.
Her arms, too weak despite the effort to cling, and her thin clothes, as delicate as they would crumble at a touch—all of it belonged to her.
“You fool, idiot, moron.”
…Why did she come to him at dawn, pouring out these words?
