I’m Going to Change My Husband With a Predatory Marriage - Chapter 81

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 81

The Prince’s Palace, which should have been overflowing with joy from the successful banquet at Artanus Hall, was already consumed by worry and tension on the fourth day.
It was a fact known only to those closest to the Prince’s Palace, but the Empress had taken ill and was bedridden.
Anny, who had recently received her title and become an official lady-in-waiting, stood before Ivory’s Bedroom door for four sleepless nights, her sharp features worn with exhaustion, holding towels, a basin, and ice.
Then the Knight, who had been standing as immovable as a statue that was part of the door itself, called out her name.
“Dame Lorent.”
From guarding the door like an iron fortress for four straight days, Count Beltane’s jawline was covered in stubble.
Anny shook her head at the unfamiliar title.
“No, Count Beltane. Please call me Anny, as you always have.”
“That cannot be. You have now rightfully received your title. Isn’t that the will of the Protagonist?”
“That was only for the banquet….”
“Regardless of the reason, it was a decision made and executed by our mistress.”
“…I want to tell the Protagonist right away that this is far too much, and ask her to take it back.”
For four days straight, Hillia had not regained consciousness.
So she could hear neither Anny’s complaints nor Count Beltane’s principled words.
“I also pray that the Protagonist recovers soon, but I suspect she will not withdraw the order regarding your title.”
“My heart trembles at the sound of ‘Dame.’ Please, I really wish you’d listen to what I’m saying—that she’d wake up soon and take it back….”
In the end, Anny could not hold back her tears.
Count Beltane reached out and took the basin from her.
It was so she could wipe her tears with her sleeve.
Then the door burst open.
“!”
Anny nearly fainted from the shock, but Count Beltane remained completely unmoved.
There was only one person who could emerge from that door.
Anny composed herself and asked.
“Your Highness! How is the Protagonist?”
“….”
Arpard gave no response.
He simply reached out and took the basin that Count Beltane was holding and the towel that Anny had been carrying.
Just as he had done for the past four days, Arpard was about to enter Ivory’s Bedroom alone once more.
Then Anny, scraping together every ounce of courage she possessed, cried out.
“P-please, let us see the Protagonist’s face too. Let me care for her at her side, as I have served her since childhood…!”
But Arpard shut the door with a bang before Anny could even finish speaking.
“…Ah.”
Anny raised her hand in despair.
But the firmly closed door showed no sign of opening, just as it had been for the past four days.
Count Beltane gazed at the closed door for a moment, then resumed his position guarding it.
As if to ensure that no danger could reach the bedroom’s mistress.
He recalled the conflict that had unfolded before this door four days ago.
Hillia collapsed just before entering the bedroom.
Her body had been in poor condition from overexertion, but fortunately, she had trustworthy confidants by her side.
Anny and Count Beltane, along with a few attendants and knights under their command.
Arpard was the first to see her collapse, and the first to catch her in his arms.
His face had turned unnaturally pale as he cried out.

“Summon the court physician at once!”
“Yes, yes!”
“…Bring them as discreetly as possible. Let no word of this spread.”

Upon receiving the order, the Chamberlain of the Crown Prince moved personally.
It was Arpard who carried Hillia to the bed.
Count Beltane watched Arpard’s anxious profile, then spoke impulsively.

“Why are you summoning the physician in secret?”

Now that Hillia was unconscious, the two men spoke for the first time.
Until now, they had shown no interest in each other.
Their attention had been focused solely on one woman.
Arpard did not turn his gaze away as he countered.

“Why do you ask?”
“…It’s simply surprising that even in a situation like this, political calculation comes first for you.”

Only then did Arpard lift his eyes.
And Count Beltane experienced a chill he had never felt before in his life.
Like ice, or the sensation of a blade’s edge cutting across the nape of his neck.
Arpard’s killing intent took form, seeming to target him directly.

“…Because when she wakes, she’ll undoubtedly be furious that everything she struggled so hard to achieve has been shaken.”

Count Beltane was taken aback by Arpard’s words.
It was a depth of consideration that he himself had failed to grasp.
After finishing his statement, Arpard was visibly and emotionally agitated in a way that was unlike him.
Even Count Beltane, who was rather dull at reading others’ emotions, could sense that Arpard was restraining himself.
‘That’s… only natural.’
After all, Arpard had committed a bride abduction because he was smitten with Hillia.
Yet… why did this strike him with such force?
Count Beltane found it difficult to get his bearings, even with his own heart.
He was not given the leisure to realize that what he felt bordered on jealousy.
In the very next moment, Arpard expelled everyone from the Bedroom.

“Get out.”
“I am the Protagonist’s Knight. I follow only her orders!”

When Count Beltane spoke with reckless audacity, Arpard laughed coldly.

“I alone am sufficient to guard her side. I have no wish to create a situation that would anger my wife upon her awakening.”

In other words, leave if you wish to live.
And Count Beltane understood.
Arpard now resembled a dragon whose reverse scales had been touched.
A dragon’s skin is covered seamlessly with scales as hard as steel, but there is one place—before the heart—where soft scales grow in reverse. It is said.
Pierce those scales, and any dragon falls in an instant—an absolute weakness.
He sensed instinctively that if he resisted even once more, he could not predict what Arpard might do.
In the end, taking a step back, he forced himself to speak.
He twisted his lips open by sheer force, overcoming the fear of death that sought to seal them shut.

“Then, please permit me to stand guard before the door. I am her Knight, after all.”
“Do as you see fit.”

As if indifferent, Arpard shook his head and closed the door.
Slam!
And so the fourth day began when no one but Arpard could enter the Palace.

* * *

The Palace Physician’s diagnosis was straightforward.

“You’ve simply fainted from overexertion. Your physical strength has weakened, so I’ll prescribe you a tonic for protection. With proper rest, you’ll make a full recovery.”

When the fever persisted throughout the day, Arpard summoned the Court Mage through his Chamberlain.
The Court Mage, who had taken great interest in the verdant magical artifact Hillia had displayed at the banquet, readily set aside his heavy schedule.
However, since Hillia remained unconscious and he couldn’t inquire about the magical artifact, he departed visibly disappointed.
The Court Mage’s diagnosis differed little from the Palace Physician’s.

“There’s no need for great concern. The flow of magical energy shows no abnormalities.”

But on the fourth day, Hillia still had not awakened.
Arpard reached out and touched his wife’s rosy cheek as she lay in bed.
The sensation was hot and damp.
He felt displeased and anxious.
‘Perhaps I should kill those charlatans after all.’
Arpard did not trust the Palace Physician. The Court Mage was no different.
Neither of them—nor his mother, nor he himself—had been able to cure it.
A hereditary madness that had afflicted the Imperial Family for generations, its cause unknown.
The Imperial Palace had worked in secret to resolve this matter.
In Arpard’s case especially, since he had shown signs of the affliction not long after his mother’s death, the Emperor’s concern had been immense.
He had scoured the continent to gather the finest physicians and mages for his son.
The current Palace Physician and Court Mage were the most exceptional among them.
‘Yet they’ve been utterly helpless against the madness.’
Throughout the Empire’s long history, no one had ever managed to overcome this affliction.
But this woman was different.

“I can ensure that Your Majesty ascends to the throne safely, without succumbing to madness.”

Her words seemed to hold truth.
Or perhaps the opposite was true.
Before the madness consumed me, I felt as though this woman alone would drive me to ruin.
For four days straight, burning with fever and refusing to open my eyes—all because of this small woman.
Arpard felt a vicious thirst rising from deep within his throat.
It was a sensation he could never feel when Hillia ordinarily voiced her complaints beside him.
A strangling anxiety and displeasure amplified and crawled up his spine.
It was truly an unfamiliar sensation, one that did not suit him at all.
This was why he had driven everyone around him away.
Merely gazing upon the collapsed Hillia was enough to fray his nerves to breaking point.
If a maid had made noise fussing over Hillia, or if that knight had lingered nearby, his already fragile patience would have shattered at any moment.
Simply put, driving them away was the precise way to describe it—to keep from killing them.
It was then.
Hillia’s parched lips moved faintly.
“…no.”
“…Hillia?”
Arpard noticed his own voice sounded terribly strange.
As if scraped raw by something sharp.
If Hillia heard it, she would surely laugh and call him foolish.
But this thought did not linger long.
A scream tore from Hillia’s fever-wracked lips.
“…No! Arpard!”
“!”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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