The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 106

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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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In Search of the Duke’s Husband – Episode 106

Even Frigia, who had eaten so much that her slender belly protruded noticeably, closed her eyes and savored the satisfaction of a full stomach after a long time.
Left alone, Dahlia and Artia sipped their drinks and chattered ceaselessly.
“That scene where the Northern Grand Duke undressed and embraced Maria’s frozen body was truly the finest moment. It was thrilling yet sensual, passionate yet tender, and… The author is an absolute genius!”
Dahlia was the sort who never shared anything about RedLip with anyone, but today was different.
She replied with a flushed face warmed by alcohol.
“And what other scene did you love most?”
To think I’m finally discussing my favorite author and my favorite work with someone!
Artia, electrified by this miraculous turn of events, exhaled hot breath and prattled on without pause. And then…
“I’m quite the genius, aren’t I?”
“No.”
Before Dahlia could look disappointed, Artia continued.
“The word ‘genius’ alone cannot capture your brilliance. You are an unparalleled prodigy born to the Empire! A once-in-a-century talent that appears perhaps once every hundred years!”
I knew it.
Dahlia smiled with an uncharacteristic, unguarded expression—something she would never normally show—and collapsed onto the table, her head buried in her arms.
Just then, the door burst open and Elizabeth, Fregia’s Daughter, appeared holding Bibi’s hand.
Dressed in a lace-trimmed nightgown and clutching a princess doll, Elizabeth climbed onto the bed with a soft grunt and nestled into her mother’s embrace, who was already fast asleep.
Then she turned to Artia, who was still seated at the table.
“Auntie should sleep too. Good children need their rest.”
For a grown woman, it was admittedly rather early.
Yet Artia nodded obediently.
“Yes, good adults should sleep now too.”
Bibi extended her hand.
“You appear to be intoxicated, so I shall assist you.”
“I’m fine. I’m not drunk at all. I can walk on my own.”
Bibi did not bother to contradict her. After all, no drunkard in this world ever admits to being drunk.
Instead, she nodded, deciding she would catch Artia if she collapsed at any moment.
Artia’s gait toward the bedroom was truly a sight to behold.
Veering this way, then that way. She moved as if dancing. Despite her peculiar stumbling steps, Artia wore an expression of supreme confidence.
“See? I’m not drunk at all…”
“Indeed, so it would appear.”
After much meandering, Artia finally reached her destination.
Bibi laid Artia upon the bed and tucked the blanket around her with care.
“Sleep well.”
“You too, Bibi. Sleep well.”
Artia closed her eyes with a soft, bashful smile.
Yet long after Bibi left the room, sleep eluded me—my mind spun in dizzying circles, and my heartbeat quickened beyond its normal pace.
‘A good person should sleep early….’
It was then that Artia furrowed her brow with a strained expression.
The moment a rustling sound came from the window, my eyes snapped open and I kicked off the blanket, springing upright.
“Nabi!”
My voice was three times louder than usual.

* * *

The black cat tensed the instant Artia rose from the bed.
He worried she might be wearing that revealing undergarment again, the one that exposed her chest so brazenly. Contrary to his concerns, Artia was dressed in an indoor gown.
The black cat felt relief wash over him, yet simultaneously, an entirely different thought crossed his mind.
‘What a shame….’
The black cat immediately shook his head vigorously, as if questioning his own sanity.
In that moment, Artia had already drawn close.
Yet her condition, viewed at this proximity, was peculiar.
Unlike her usual appearance, her hair was braided into two plaits, her cheeks flushed crimson like apples, and her eyes and lips were loosened in a silly, giggling smile.
Most notably, a strong scent of wine emanated from her.
‘She’s been drinking.’
Artia was, after all, a proper adult woman. Drinking was naturally within her rights.
Yet an uncharacteristic worry seized me.
‘Can such a fragile body tolerate alcohol?’
As if answering that it could, Artia lifted the black cat effortlessly into her arms.
“…!”
Artia’s eyes met the cat’s wide, startled gaze, and she swayed slightly.
“Nabi, do you know how much I adore you?”
“…!”
“Every time you leave, I miss you so terribly. I wish you wouldn’t go anywhere else—that we could live together in this room. Forever, always.”
“….”
Her voice carried that characteristic lightness of intoxication. Yet the black cat felt his heart seized by an overwhelming sensation.
It was a shock of that magnitude.
Unaware of the cat’s turmoil, Artia continued.
“It’s so difficult not touching you because I fear you might dislike it. The truth is, I want to touch you so very much.”
“….”
“I want to shake your plump little paws. Every time I see you, I want to hold you close to my chest. I want to stroke your round head. And… I want to give you so many kisses.”
Smack.
Artia’s lips brushed against the black cat’s mouth.
“…!!!!!!!”
Killian experienced a greater shock in this moment than when his mother first struck his cheek, than when he wept fearing his ailing brother might die, than when he first beheld Artia’s pink eyes—a shock more profound than any of these.
All the blood drained from my body. My mind went blank, incapable of a single coherent thought.
I held my breath, and when I opened my eyes again, the black cat had transformed into a man with raven hair and golden eyes.
‘This is…!’
Killian von Orpheus wore an expression of utter bewilderment, yet Artia’s clear voice reached his ears.
“Oh my, Nabi has vanished and Your Highness has appeared?”
She showed no sign of alarm. More precisely, she seemed entirely unaware of what had just transpired.
Yet Killian von Orpheus could not regain his composure.
Artia still held him in the same embrace she’d used for the cat, her arms wrapped around his waist.
Because Killian von Orpheus’s body was now larger than when he’d been a cat, Artia found herself pressed against him far more intimately than intended. The softness of her form, the sweetness of her scent mingled with wine, became all the more vivid.
Artia spoke to Killian von Orpheus, who bit his lip.
“I understand everything now. The appointment of the senior judge, the favorable public sentiment toward Frigia, the change to a public trial, my selection as an observer—Your Highness orchestrated it all, didn’t you?”
How on earth?
Artia’s eyes widened as she gazed at Killian von Orpheus’s shocked expression.
“I’m not someone fortune typically favors.”
My biological father was violent, my biological mother was sickly, and my first love—my husband—was a scoundrel.
Yet I succeeded in my divorce, cleanly severed ties with the serpentine Shylock von Rushian, and won Frigia’s trial.
Of course, I had labored tirelessly to achieve these results. But the world is not so forgiving that effort alone could make everything unfold so smoothly.
This isn’t mere luck. It’s not divine blessing or miracles. This is….
“Your Highness has been helping me all along, like a guardian angel.”
It was half conjecture, half intuition, yet Artia was certain her conclusion was correct.
The look on Killian von Orpheus’s face—as though he’d been struck from behind—only confirmed it.
Artia smiled, brighter than moonlight itself.
“Thank you. Truly.”
“….”
I had not acted in expectation of reward. Yet in this moment, I felt I had received compensation a hundredfold greater than my deeds deserved.
My entire body burned with overwhelming joy. My heart thundered in my chest.
Artia turned to me with an unexpectedly serious expression.
“I want to repay Your Highness.”
“It’s already enough.”
More than enough—overflowing, even.
Yet Artia shook her head as though the very notion were absurd.
“Ask for anything. I’ll do whatever you wish.”
Artia von Edenberg’s pronunciation was crisp, her gaze sharp and lucid.
And yet, she was intoxicated.
So much so that she felt no unease at the small cat transforming into a man large enough to obscure her entirely.
So I mustn’t be swayed by her. I mustn’t sway her. But….
But…!
Artia, gazing up at me, was breathtakingly beautiful. My eyes kept drifting to her lips—soft as rose petals, which I had touched like in a dream mere moments before.
In the end, I chose instinct over reason.
“Love me as beautifully as you loved the butterfly.”
He immediately corrected himself.
“No, more than Nabi.”
Artia’s eyes widened in surprise, then softened into a gentle curve.
As though it were the easiest thing in the world.
Artia rose onto the tips of her toes, and her lips met his.

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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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