The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 108

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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 108

“Regardless, did you have to make such a spectacle of it?”
“There was no choice. The Countess of Elisium begged her husband countless times to stop the violence, but he refused. What else could she have done in such circumstances?”
Artia continued, her gaze fixed upon the still-disgruntled man.
“Baron Dacht, I hear you are a most devoted son to your mother.”
“Wh-why bring up my mother all of a sudden…?”
“And you have a loving wife and a dear daughter, do you not?”
Artia smiled gently.
“Would you not consider this verdict a judgment made for their sake?”
A verdict declaring that violence is a crime, regardless of who commits it—even a husband. It would become the most fundamental shield to protect women.
The man’s expression crumpled as though he had been struck, and he turned his head away with a sharp click of his tongue.
As if he wished to speak no further.
At the sound of applause, I turned to see Marigold standing there, adorned from head to toe in diamonds.
“Bravo! That was a magnificent response, Tia.”
Cecilia, wearing a golden ribbon in her hair like Marigold’s hairpin, sparkled with delight.
“As expected of Lady Artia! To stand firm even against such a disagreeable gentleman—truly magnificent!”
Oh, Miss Cecilia…
I hoped Baron Dacht had not heard Cecilia’s candid remark, and I reached out to gently stroke her round head, which wagged like a tail.
Cecilia, who had adored me since long ago, had become an even more devoted admirer following this trial.
“She’s even formed a fan club with her peers her own age. They call themselves ‘Glory of Edenberg’… isn’t that adorable?” Marigold had laughed, and I recalled her words.
It was then that a man approached me.
It was Count Golzess, with the massive build of an ox and a fierce countenance.
“My wife and daughter are so fond of you that I held my tongue, but truthfully, I was not pleased with the trial’s outcome. However, after hearing what you said just now, my mind has changed.”
Count Golzess’s gaze fell upon Cecilia, who was beaming with joy.
“I support your position.”
Count Golzess was a typical arrogant nobleman with an inflated sense of pride. That such a man would endorse the verdict in Count Elysium’s trial signified a shift in the atmosphere of High Society.
As the voices supporting Frigia grew louder, those defending Count Elysium grew quieter.
Some, like Count Golzess, had changed their minds, while others, unwilling to be branded as “barbaric defenders of violence,” had simply fallen silent.
In this shifting atmosphere, Frigia spoke.
“The trial is won, so I shall return home now.”
More than a month had already passed since Frigia arrived at the Edenberg Mansion.
Because I had treated Frigia with such warmth, the two of us had grown as close as sisters, yet Frigia’s heart was heavy with the weight of the debt she felt she owed.
But I shook my head.
“You cannot. Who knows what Count Elysium might do now that his pride has been wounded.”
“But to remain here indefinitely…”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind if it’s forever.”
“….”
“But that’s just my selfish desire. Realistically, it would be difficult.”
No matter how well Artia treated her, this was ultimately someone else’s home. Frigia needed a place of her own.
A home where she could live comfortably with her young daughter Lize, no longer trembling in fear of her husband.
“I’ll send her back once Count Elysium comes to apologize formally and swears to abide by the court’s decision.”
Of course, that alone wouldn’t be enough reassurance, so Artia intended to assign a maid to Frigia.
A maid trained to prioritize Frigia’s safety above all else, and to rush to the court and report immediately if anything unseemly occurred.
It was the best method Artia could employ to ensure Frigia’s safety.
Yet no matter how long she waited, Count Elysium never came.
Frigia spoke with a darkened expression.
“It seems my husband has no intention of abiding by the court’s verdict.”
“It does appear that way. But he won’t be able to remain stubborn forever.”
The power of law was formidable. If he continued to take no action, the court itself would apply pressure.
“Let’s wait a bit longer.”
Artia whispered this near Frigia’s ear.
“I’m happy that I get to spend more time with Frigia and Lize.”
At such childlike, innocent words, Frigia burst into laughter, her face flushed.

At that same moment.
In a dark room where empty bottles lay scattered about.
Count Elysium sat crumpled on the floor, a bottle of liquor clutched in his hand, drinking it down in great gulps.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his beard had grown rough and unkempt, and a sickening stench of alcohol emanated from his entire body.
The gentlemanly appearance that had once made noble ladies’ hearts flutter had vanished like a lie, leaving only a pathetic, defeated wretch.
Betrayal toward his wife, rage, indignation, hatred, and shame.
He was sinking deeper into emotions he had never felt in his entire life.
“How dare you reduce me to this state? Just come home. I’ll cut out your tongue so you can never spout such nonsense again….”
His fury was not directed at his wife alone.
The narrow-minded judge who had rendered the verdict, the maid who had testified in Frigia’s favor, the women who had cheered the moment the verdict was announced, the men who had clicked their tongues and regarded him with pitying eyes.
…And Artia von Edenberg.
The image of Artia’s face as he had seen it in the courtroom surfaced vividly.
That pale, triumphant face standing beside Frigia—he wanted to tear it to shreds.
“It’s all because of that bitch.”
Frigia had been a virtuous woman. She sought her husband’s permission whenever she went out, and waited without eating until he returned home.
Yet such a woman had reported her husband and screamed in the courtroom.
The reason for her uncharacteristic behavior was entirely due to Artia von Edenberg.
“That mad woman who divorced her own husband because she hated him has seduced my innocent wife….”
Count Elysium tightened his grip on the wine glass in his hand. The fragile glass could not withstand the pressure and shattered into pieces.
He clenched his hand, from which glass shards protruded and blood flowed crimson.
In the moment when his scattered rage converged into a single point, it transformed into a deranged, murderous hatred.

* * *

Artia found herself at the Masked Gathering once again.
Her daily attendance was not merely for the sake of laughter and idle chatter—it was to solidify the favorable sentiment surrounding Frigia, to fortify the foundation of public opinion with each passing night.
‘I cannot afford to let this momentum fade. The currents of society shift unpredictably, so I must maintain constant vigilance.’
The warmth must neither burn too fiercely nor cool to ash.
As I conversed with the assembled women, a man with dark hair entered my field of vision.
My eyes widened in that instant.
‘Killian von Orpheus?!’
Yet the moment I glimpsed his face, disappointment flooded my expression.
It was not him.
Upon reflection, it was only natural. He rarely attended such modest gatherings.
‘His appearance at the Masked Gathering held at House of Elisium was the anomaly, not this.’
Even knowing this, my gaze involuntarily followed each dark-haired figure, accompanied by a faint hope—what if it were him?
“What is it? Are you unwell?”
At Penelope’s concern, I shook my head.
“I feel a bit stifled. I’ll step outside for some air.”
I left the Banquet Hall, unaware that someone watching from afar had begun to follow in my wake.

I stepped onto the Outdoor Terrace and exhaled deeply. The cool night breeze, so different from the stifling warmth of the hall, seeped into my lungs.
Behind me, I heard the soft click of a door closing.
‘They followed, as expected.’
I had sensed the persistent gaze upon me throughout the gathering. I had deliberately stepped outside to draw them out, and my instinct had proven correct.
These days, more than one person harbored interest in me.
‘A noblewoman seeking counsel? A gentleman bearing regrets? Someone offering encouragement?’
Or perhaps Killian von Orpheus himself?
My speculations proved entirely wrong. Yet there was no time for disappointment.
Beneath the moonlight stood Evangeline von Gloster.

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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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