The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 115

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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 115

Artia stared blankly at Killian von Orpheus for a moment before nodding with the guilty expression of a child who had just realized her mistake.
“Yes….”
Her entire neck was flushed crimson where his fingers had touched her just moments before.
Killian von Orpheus bit his lip and tightened his grip on the hand holding the necklace.

* * *

Killian von Orpheus and Artia sat side by side by the window, sharing many stories.
The relationship of “friends” had made them more intimate, allowing them to open their hearts more freely than before. At least, that was true for Artia.
“The first time I truly saw Your Highness properly was when I was twenty-one—when I introduced him for the first time after marrying Lloyd.”
“What garbage, calling himself Edenberg.”
The intensity in Killian von Orpheus’s eyes as he spoke harshly of Lloyd was so frightening that Artia couldn’t even think to protest, and she hung her head low.
“I was so terrified. I nearly shed tears.”
Killian von Orpheus replied as if making an excuse.
“Because you brought that garbage and called him your husband.”
Rather than feeling hurt that he called her ex-husband garbage, Artia burst into laughter.
“I admit it. Back then, my judgment of people was terrible. Unlike me, Your Highness saw through him at a glance.”
“….”
As Artia said, Killian von Orpheus possessed an exceptional ability to understand others.
However, it was purely rational judgment.
Whether someone had ability or not, what kind of use they were suited for.
There was not a shred of emotion in that assessment.
But with Lloyd, it was different. The moment I saw him, hostility surged up so intensely that I was startled by my own reaction.
I didn’t understand it then, but now I knew the reason with absolute certainty.
“It wouldn’t have mattered if it wasn’t Lloyd. I would have been angry regardless.”
“Pardon?”
“Any man standing beside Artia von Edenberg.”
“…?”
Only after a few seconds did Artia understand his words, and her face flushed a deep crimson.
Knock, knock. Along with the sound of knocking, Bibi’s voice came from outside the door.
“My lady, it is time for bed. I have prepared your sleeping quarters.”
When had so much time passed?
Killian von Orpheus spoke to Artia, who wore a flustered expression.
“I’ll go check.”
Artia couldn’t bring herself to hold him back. It was far too late in the evening.
Yet, unable to suppress her reluctance, I found myself grasping at Killian von Orpheus’s sleeve. Artia spoke to him, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Today was truly wonderful. Please come visit again next time.”
“….”
She’s saying such things to me—not just to Nabi?
Killian looked at Artia with astonishment, then his eyes softened into a gentle curve. It wasn’t a calculated smile. It wasn’t a mask-like fabrication either.
It was simply an unguarded joy that welled up from within him, unbidden.

Killian returned to the Imperial Palace unnoticed and stood quietly in the darkness before slowly raising his hand. He gazed at it, illuminated by moonlight, and murmured softly.
“How can human skin be like that?”
Killian was accustomed to touching human flesh. He had seen it countless times on the battlefield, touched it, and torn through it.
Yet the skin he had lacerated and ravaged then was nothing like Artia’s skin.
It was white as peach pudding, soft and delicate. It seemed as though the slightest pressure would crush it.
…Killian wanted to devour Artia’s pale skin.
He wanted to press his lips against every inch of her body, to suck and bite and chew. He wanted to leave his mark all over that white, soft form.
How shamefully.
Killian clenched his fist with a pained expression. Veins bulged as though they might burst. Soon blood seeped between his clenched nails.
Time spent with Artia was far too pleasant. It felt like paradise itself.
Yet simultaneously, it was agonizing.
He had to suppress desires that wouldn’t fade no matter how much he restrained them, all while maintaining a composed expression.
Killian knew precisely why Artia felt so comfortable laughing and chattering away in his presence.
Because he was Nabi, whom she adored so much. Because he was her special friend.
The moment he crossed that line, this relationship would shatter.
Killian desperately, intensely did not wish for such a situation.
Killian murmured as though casting a spell upon himself.
“Nabi and Artia von Edenberg are friends.”
Friends. Far closer than strangers, yet romantic feelings were absolutely forbidden between them.
To maintain this relationship, he could never let even a hint of this vulgar desire show through. Never.
Killian repeated the same words over and over, his clenched fist trembling faintly.
The sensation of having touched her was far too vivid.

At that same moment, Artia lay sprawled across her bed, her mind adrift.
The expression Killian von Orpheus had worn before his departure lingered persistently in her vision.
It was a smile as pure and boyish as crystalline water—utterly at odds with the epithet “Mad Highness.”
She wasn’t merely seeing illusions. She was hearing them too.
“Anyone standing beside Artia von Edenberg.”
The bewilderment she’d felt upon hearing those words, the way her heart had lurched, every memory remained vividly etched in her mind.
Artia gripped the bedding with a strained expression.
“Compose yourself, Artia von Edenberg. His Highness is your friend.”
My cherished friend, my beloved Nabi.
No matter how beautifully His Highness smiled like a thousand blooming roses, no matter what confusing words he spoke, my heart mustn’t race like this. It would be disrespectful to a friend.
‘I should simply forget this and sleep.’
Yet despite her resolve, even as she closed her eyes, Killian von Orpheus’s image refused to fade from her mind, leaving her to spend the night thrashing beneath her covers.

* * *

On a day when white snow fell, the Imperial Palace gathered noble ladies adorned more brilliantly than flowers themselves. The occasion was to select Ethereal, the finest lady of the year.
Artia attended as well.
It seemed almost impossible that merely months ago she’d had scarcely anyone to exchange greetings with—yet now numerous women surrounded her.
While Artia conversed cheerfully with her friends, including Penelope, she turned her head.
Marigold, Dahlia, and Frigia were making their entrance. The Flower Ladies, whom she hadn’t seen in quite some time.
Though all three were beautiful women, the crowd’s attention fixed entirely upon Frigia, who had appeared in the Banquet Hall after such a long absence.
Hair as luminous as honeyed gold, eyes the color of spring’s emerging emerald leaves, skin as lustrous as pearls.
With a slight fullness to her frame, she appeared fresher and more radiant than before.
Like bees drawn to a resplendent blossom, the women rushed toward Frigia en masse.
“Lady Elysium, how we’ve missed you. Have your spirits improved?”
“Thanks to everyone’s concern, I’ve been managing well. I’ve missed all of you too.”
At Frigia’s gentle words, the women’s faces flushed in unison.
Marigold, who had drawn near to Artia, whistled softly.
“Her popularity has only grown despite the time away.”
Marigold spoke with a composed expression.
“She’s gained a narrative—a princess who found the courage to escape her wicked husband.”
Artia clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling.
“Beyond that, she’s simply stunning. I feel grateful merely to witness such beauty with my own eyes.”
Marigold and Dahlia nodded without the slightest objection.
Moments later, the Banquet Hall stirred once more. Killian von Orpheus had arrived.
The crowd’s reaction differed starkly from their response to Frigia. Where they had seemed enchanted by an angel, they now appeared frozen as if confronting a demon.
Though fear was not the only emotion present.
Marigold murmured with an entranced gaze.
“If a demon possessed such a face, I would become a demon worshipper without hesitation.”
Dahlia nodded, her expression equally spellbound.
The husbands standing beside the two women flinched, yet offered no rebuttal. They shared the same sentiment, after all.
Meanwhile, Artia’s face had flushed crimson as a ripe apple.
‘That’s the suit I picked out for him before.’
The black tailored jacket that clung to his lean, sculpted frame was one of the garments Artia had selected for him previously.
It was nothing remarkable. He had simply chosen to wear an outfit she had picked for him by chance.
Yet for some reason, my heart began to race.
At that moment, our eyes met with Killian’s.

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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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