Chapter 37

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 37

Chapter Title: I Want You to Like Me

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“Did it bother you?”

Agatha quietly looked up at Enoch.

Should she say yes? Or no?

She still hadn’t decided. Lately, their relationship had been so sweet it put love marriages to shame, but that was all it was.

Sharing the same bedroom, aligning their schedules for meals, even sharing fabrics for clothes, with a subtle tension flowing between them—but really, that was it.

Besides, now wasn’t the time for such talk. Her rational mind, reined in by reason, was aware of the gazes pretending not to notice all around them.

The Emperor and Empress, the Crown Prince, key ministers from every department, and nobles galore.

Even outside on the stairs, people seemed to be enjoying the ball, but the stares were pouring in.

Agatha flashed a practiced smile.

“I told you. I came because the one who said he’d be right back hadn’t shown up.”

“……”

“Now that it’s settled, I’ll be going.”

Agatha glided past Enoch and descended the stairs gracefully. Outwardly no different from usual, but inside, her heart was in turmoil.

It was a relief to know he felt nothing for his former fiancée.

But she was also shocked by the thoughts that process had stirred about her own relationship with him.

She couldn’t pinpoint why.

At the start, she hadn’t minded if it was one-sided; she’d even been happy basking in their sweet life together.

Just as when she’d arrived, Agatha’s single glance scattered the crowding nobles.

As she approached the couches, Iris the Marchioness, who had looked a bit flustered, and her close aides welcomed her with smiles.

“Welcome back, Marchioness Agatha.”

“I’m back. Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Of course not. As always, things here have been peaceful.”

Her aides and the nobles caught the warning in her words and smoothly shifted to other conversations, diverting attention from Agatha.

By now, her overheated mind had long cooled.

Unlike moments ago, Agatha didn’t glance at Enoch.

The unwavering, utterly normal demeanor drew focused stares that eventually dispersed, though some lingered.

From the Noblesse relatives and a few unfamiliar gazes.

Agatha, who had been silent, finally spoke.

“Rumors will spread, won’t they?”

Iris the Marchioness, standing nearby, flicked her fan with a subtle nod of affirmation.

“Even so, since their lady stepped forward, it’s not odd that you did too. Of course, anything involving Agatha Noblesse draws massive attention.”

“That much is within expectations.”

“Exactly. Madam Shallet and I will handle it discreetly.”

Marchioness Iris Domunia and the named Madam Shallet smiled softly.

The social circle would buzz with this rare gossip, but with no further reaction, it would die down soon enough.

Moments later, a servant approached the curtain and quietly summoned Agatha.

“Marchioness Aratus. Marquis Aratus requests your presence.”

“What for?”

“He seems to have had a bit too much to drink. He wishes to return early and asks for your thoughts.”

Only then did Agatha’s gaze turn to the imperial dais. Enoch, near the platform, was bowing to His Majesty and rising from his seat.

“Prepare the carriage. We’ll go together.”

“Yes, Marchioness.”

Agatha rose with an apologetic smile to those around her.

“I’ll have to head out now. See you at the palace ball tomorrow.”

“It’s a shame, but we must let you go. We’re counting the hours until tomorrow.”

“Farewell, Marchioness Agatha.”

From Marchioness Iris Domunia to Lady Kate Eblain, Heiress to the Eblain Dukedom, Heiress Vanessa Beatrice to the Beatrice Marchionate, Countess Sylvia Camelon, Madam Shallet, and beyond—even their aides received light nods from Agatha as she exited Asagrat Hall.

Notified in advance, First Knight Vice-Captain Sir Leon Takran and the Aratus knights awaited at the entrance.

“You’ve emerged, my lady.”

“And he?”

“The lord has already boarded the carriage. We’ll escort you there.”

The carriage waited at the palace exit below the stairs. With Sir Leon’s escort, as she descended, the coachman opened the door.

Inside, dimly lit by a lantern and moonlight, sat Enoch. She took the seat opposite, and Leon closed the door.

Click.

“We’ll depart.”

The moment the footsteps faded, Enoch spoke.

“Are you angry because of Lady Liras?”

“No.”

She was a little annoyed, but not because of that lady.

What kept Agatha from composing herself ran deeper.

She was this man’s wife, and they lived happily.

‘Is this really all there is?’

Her heart churned as if yearning for more, something beyond.

As Agatha’s gaze dropped, a low voice filled the carriage.

“I wish you wouldn’t avoid my eyes.”

“Pardon…?”

Lifting her head, she saw the man who had been staring at her since they boarded.

“Then it’s not about Lady Liras. Though she did affect your mood a bit. But let’s set that aside.”

He was still as perceptive as ever.

“What’s upset you? I have too many guesses, and it’s confusing.”

“……What do you think?”

After a brief silence, he added,

“Are you disappointed I have a past?”

Now it was Agatha’s turn to be speechless.

She had six ex-husbands, after all.

In the noble world, where engagements happened young and led straight to marriage, his past paled compared to hers.

Did it look like jealousy?

Agatha’s ears flushed faintly.

“Absolutely not. It’s just… dealing with Lady Liras made me think a little…”

“About something involving me, I assume.”

“……”

He was still quick on the uptake. As Agatha averted her eyes, a hand approached silently and gently cupped her cheek.

“Don’t avoid my gaze.”

His violet eyes flickered darkly, reflecting Enoch. He leaned in close and asked,

“Tell me, Agatha. If it’s neither my ex-fiancée nor my past, what’s troubling your heart?”

Rich wine scent and his massive frame devoured the lantern light and moonlight up close.

Without thinking, Agatha spoke.

“You’ve respected me perfectly as your wife so far. You protect me more than safely from any danger.”

She swallowed dryly, her red lips parting again.

“What if I want more than that?”

He paused, but before he could speak,

Agatha’s wish rang out first.

“I want you to like me.”

“……!”

“The way I like you.”

Enoch’s eyes shook violently. Watching him say nothing, Agatha’s hopeful expression twisted in pain.

“Just… that’s all.”

The carriage halted. Agatha opened the door herself and stepped out. Butler Allen, Vice-Captain Leon, the knights, and servants approaching all looked flustered.

“My lady?”

“I need to wash up.”

Agatha didn’t look back. So she didn’t see the man left alone in the carriage, pressing his forehead with a rigid face.

-I want you to like me.

-I wish Lord Enoch liked me.

The confession he’d just heard overlapped with a deeply buried memory.

His face twisted in pain as well.

That night, Enoch didn’t seek Agatha out. Their first separate rooms since the honeymoon.

After the Aratus couple departed,

Asagrat Hall, site of the palace ball, heated up with the excited whispers of nobles.

“As expected of Agatha Noblesse. She shut down that nonsense in one go.”

“If the marquis were alone, maybe, but with someone at his side? Did she think it would work? Though that’s why Count Liras pulled that stunt, right?”

“Surprising, though. I figured she’d leave it to her husband, but she handled it herself.”

As the murmurs veered slightly negative, a soft voice interjected.

“Since their lady stepped up instead of the count, didn’t Agatha think she had to respond in kind?”

“Oh, Marchioness Domunia.”

It was Iris Domunia, Marchioness and Agatha’s closest confidante and friend.

“I think if the count had acted, Agatha would’ve just watched.”

“True. The count did play a petty hand.”

“His Majesty even commented on Count Liras, didn’t he?”

“He did, he did. Goodness, what was Count Liras thinking?”

Led by Iris Domunia, Agatha’s faction, woven throughout the hall, shifted the mood.

Of course, the sharp ones knew Agatha had acted out of character and played along.

Openly, rumors spread of Agatha Noblesse rebuking House Liras for their shameless ploy.

But whispers also circulated that things between Agatha Noblesse and Enoch Aratus seemed unusually intimate—and those sensitive to it reacted.

The Aratus relatives, precisely.