The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 129

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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 129

The Shop Owner, a man who valued his own life, showed not a trace of displeasure at having cleared out all his other patrons, instead offering a courteous smile.
“What sort of drink may I offer you?”
Artia turned to Killian von Orpheus with the question.
“Do you have a preferred drink?”
“Not particularly. I’m not fond of alcohol itself.”
Artia’s eyes widened in surprise at this revelation.
“Then shall I order you milk or juice instead?”
At her words—which felt like she was treating me as a child—Killian von Orpheus’s eyes narrowed.
“I said I don’t care for it, not that I can’t drink it. Bring me your strongest spirit.”
“I’ll have your mildest drink, please.”
At the orders from both, the Shop Owner nodded with a smile.
The drinks that arrived shortly after were as unique as one would expect from the Art City.
The alcohol itself was ordinary, but the vessels were extraordinary.
The wooden cup placed before Artia held beer within the gaping mouth of a carved face, while the metal cup before Killian von Orpheus bore an engraving of a bear bathing in violet-hued spirits across its rim.
“Wow, I’ve never seen cups like these before.”
“The desire to drink just vanishes at the sight of them.”
Artia did not contradict Killian von Orpheus’s words.
“It seems the thoughtful Shop Owner designed them to prevent his guests from overindulging and to protect their health.”
Yet, contradicting her own words, in less than an hour, five empty wooden cups were lined up before Artia.
With no one else present, Killian von Orpheus had unwound his scarf, and now his brow furrowed.
“Aren’t you drinking rather a lot?”
“The beer tastes so good that I… This much is fine, really.”
Artia answered with crisp, clear pronunciation that belied any intoxication, then downed another sip.
With a cheerful “Ahh!” she set the empty cup on the table and, watching Killian von Orpheus’s reaction, held up two fingers.
“Just one more glass, I promise.”
“That’s the fifth time I’ve heard that.”
“This time it’s truly the last.”
Killian von Orpheus had never concerned himself with others.
Whether they drank poison beside him or harmed themselves with blades, he would not spare them a glance—so long as they caused him no trouble.
Yet why did it bother him so much when Artia drank a few glasses of beer?
He could have simply commanded her to stop if it irritated him, but he found himself unable to do so.
With a short sigh, Killian von Orpheus raised his hand and ordered the sixth beer.
Artia brought the cup to her lips with the blissful expression of someone tasting beer for the first time.
Holding the cup with both hands, she drank deeply, her eyes crinkling at the corners while her cheeks flushed a rosy red.
‘Even drunk, she’s beautiful.’
Artia spoke to Killian von Orpheus, who was thinking such thoughts.
“But Your Highness, haven’t we been in a situation like this before?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean when I was in a hazy state like this and faced you.”
“…!”
Even when enemy forces had appeared from behind, attempting a surprise attack, his heart had never sunk so heavily.
Killian von Orpheus had no intention of telling Artia about that night.
He knew that if she recalled those moments, this fragile relationship would only become more precarious.
But that was merely a judgment born of reason, not of the heart.
He regretted that she couldn’t remember those moments—so fervent and sweet. It pained him.
“Was it not real? Was it a dream?”
Killian von Orpheus spoke to Artia, who tilted her head in confusion.
“It wasn’t a dream.”
“…!”
“That night, you were drunk and you….”
Killian von Orpheus narrowed his eyes slightly.
“You found me beautiful.”
Beneath the dim lamplight, the man’s smile was so ethereally beautiful it seemed unreal.
Artia stared at him with parted lips, dazed, before suddenly exclaiming, “Ah!”
“I remember now. So that means….”
Artia sprang from her chair and reached out, placing her hands on both of Killian von Orpheus’s cheeks. Then….
A soft kiss.
Their lips met briefly.
Artia pulled away and laughed innocently.
“It was like this, wasn’t it?”
“….”
Her expression was so ingenuous—like a child who had just solved a difficult mathematics problem.
Killian von Orpheus stared at her with widened eyes before speaking.
“No, it was like this.”
This time, Killian von Orpheus rose from his chair.
Cradling the back of her head with one hand, he pressed his lips to hers.
It was not a fleeting peck like before—lips merely grazing.
It was a deep, passionate kiss of an adult.
Artia flinched in surprise, her shoulders tensing momentarily. But soon she yielded, accepting him as if she had been waiting for this.
Yes, this was the feeling.
Soft, sweet, and burning….

* * *

This is wonderful. Let’s continue.
Killian von Orpheus reluctantly peeled Artia away from him—she showed no signs of letting go.
If he continued any further, his reason would scatter to the winds.
“I want to do more….”
Artia whimpered softly before drifting off to sleep.
She collapsed against his chest as though overwhelming him with her weight.
The moment he felt the softness of her body and the warmth of her skin, the heat he had barely suppressed surged forth once more.
‘Damn it.’
Killian von Orpheus clenched his eyes shut, unable to touch Artia.
The emotional discipline he had learned so harshly since childhood proved useless. He needed a far more powerful method.
Killian von Orpheus thought of his mother.
The moment he recalled the Empress’s face—colder than a winter wind—the heat subsided somewhat.
‘To think I’m using her, someone I’ve deliberately refused to think about my entire life, in this way….’
Killian von Orpheus exhaled a long breath and slowly opened his eyes.
He carefully lifted Artia, who rested against his chest.
Her sweet fragrance, the delicate texture of her hair, her soft breathing, her warm and tender body.
Each time she stimulated his senses, he recalled his mother’s face and barely managed to leave the Tavern.
He held her tightly, despising the thought of passersby seeing the sleeping Artia.
The ominous aura he radiated ensured that no one dared to look their way.
“Welcome back.”
Bibi greeted Killian von Orpheus and Artia as they arrived at the Lodging.
“She drank heavily and will suffer from a severe hangover. See that she’s cared for.”
“Yes, I shall attend to my lady now.”
The moment Bibi reached out her hands, Killian von Orpheus unconsciously tightened his grip around Artia.
I don’t want to let her go.
Yet he could not remain standing outside the door, holding Artia in his arms.
Killian von Orpheus made a pained expression before handing Artia over to Bibi.
His gaze was so sharp and sorrowful that Bibi was reminded of a mother wolf having her cub torn away.
Bibi, who had only just received Artia, bowed her head.
“Please rest well, Your Highness.”
Killian von Orpheus closed the door. Otherwise, he feared he would lose control and snatch Artia back from Bibi.
His chamber was right next door.
Within mere steps, Killian von Orpheus collapsed onto the floor.
He kept recalling the moment their lips had touched.
The sensation, the fragrance, the warmth—every sense remained vivid, tormenting him.
Through her, he learned that something could be so wonderful it became painful.
As time passed, dawn began to break.
Still sitting on the floor, Killian von Orpheus gazed at the blue-tinged sky with hollow eyes and wondered.
‘Will Artia von Edenberg remember what happened last night?’
Last time, she had remembered nothing. So he had been able to pretend nothing had occurred.
But this time?
Killian von Orpheus wanted to share the sensation he’d experienced with her. Yet simultaneously, he hoped she would remember nothing of it.
Because he wished to remain her friend.
Because he wanted to be connected to Artia in some way, any way at all.
That was when a black bird entered silently through the window.
From the beak of the black bird that alighted upon Killian von Orpheus’s wrist came a toneless sound.
“Prince Arsen gravely ill. Return urgently.”
As if doused with cold water, Killian von Orpheus’s mind snapped into focus, and he realized what he’d forgotten.
What an indulgent, utterly unbecoming luxury his worries had become.
Rising from his seat, he gazed for a long moment at the adjacent chamber where Artia was staying, then turned his head away.
His golden eyes transformed.
The passionate, boyish emotions that had filled them moments before were replaced entirely by cold rationality.
In the next instant, his form vanished from the room.

* * *

Artia opened her eyes long after the morning sun had risen, letting out a small cry of dismay.
Bibi rushed into the room like lightning.
“What is the matter, my lady?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just feeling a bit unwell….”
“I suspected you might have a hangover, so I’ve prepared mint tea. Shall I bring it?”
“Yes….”
After Bibi left, Artia cradled her head in her hands.
“I’m mad, absolutely mad, Artia. No matter how drunk I was, how could I have done such a thing!”

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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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