The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 132

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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 132

Performances in the Empire fell into two distinctly separate categories.
One was produced by the Imperial Palace and presented to select invited guests, while the other was created by commoners who performed for anyone willing to pay.
Naturally, the nobility recognized only the former as refined art.
The latter was widely regarded as crude and inferior work, created by money-hungry commoners.
Yet the notion of a noblewoman conducting business through such performances seemed decidedly unseemly.
“She has certainly been bold since her divorce, but it seems to be escalating. It appears she has no intention of maintaining a lady’s dignity whatsoever.”
Of course, not all opinions were unfavorable.
Women acquainted with Artia, including those of the Flower Ladies, actively defended her.
“To be honest, there truly isn’t anything worth watching among the Empire’s performances. The Imperial Palace produces works of high quality, but they’re always similar in content, while commoner performances are entertaining but lack refinement in many ways.”
Those who loved performances had to venture abroad to see anything worthwhile.
“I’m curious what sort of work might emerge if a noblewoman were to invest capital on such a grand scale.”
A man who heard this let out a derisive laugh.
“Ha! What could a woman who knows nothing but sipping tea at home possibly create of any significance? She’ll foolishly squander her fortune and only then realize how difficult it is to earn money.”
The nobility discussed this matter whenever they gathered.
Since opinions were divided, the impact was equally substantial.
Eventually, word reached the ears of the Empress herself in the Imperial Palace.
The Empress, who had been reclining on a long sofa, furrowed her brow.
“Edenberg again?”
I had been irritated since she announced her divorce.
Beyond that, she involved herself in the trial of Count Elysium and his wife, and even became an Ethereal.
And now she claims to be conducting business….
I despised anyone who vexed me.
“Perhaps I should teach her a lesson so she learns to behave….”
“Please don’t waste your efforts on such trivial matters, Mother.”
Startled by the low voice, I lifted my head to find Killian von Orpheus had entered the chamber.
The moment I saw my son, my expression grew fiercer as Killian von Orpheus spoke.
“The business that Artia is currently preparing is something I have been watching with great interest. There would be no benefit in interfering with such matters, would there?”
His tone was gentle, but his words carried a chill.
I felt my mood sour, but I did not voice complaints about how my son dared speak to his mother in such a manner.
After all, I harbored no affection sufficient to warrant such words.
Separate from that, I found it peculiar.
“Why would you take interest in such a vulgar business venture? …Now that I think about it, you also meddled when Edenberg divorced.”
A strange light flickered in my eyes.
“Could it be that you have taken an interest in that girl?”
Killian nodded with a cold expression.
“Yes, we do. Though the House of Edenberg has fallen into disrepair, it is a family that has served the throne since the first Emperor. Once we excise the rot and provide a measure of nourishment, it will reclaim its former glory and become a pillar supporting the Imperial Court.”
The way he judged others solely by whether they benefited the Empire and the Imperial Court was identical to my father’s approach.
The Empress covered her mouth, as if she might retch.
Killian gazed down at her in silence.
Understanding his intent, the Empress spoke with a distorted expression.
“Don’t touch him. Are we done here?”
“A wise decision.”
The Empress glared at Killian with a terrifying gaze, then turned away.
It had become unbearable to look upon the face of her son, whom the world revered as beautiful.
The Empress, her brow furrowed, asked a question.
“How is Arsen?”
“He is in deep sleep.”
The Empress exhaled a breath of relief, her long lashes trembling.
On the night when Killian had drunk with Artia in Leju, he received an urgent report from Nocton and returned to the Imperial Palace.
The Empress, her face streaked with tears, slapped his cheek the moment she saw him.
“How dare you show your face now! Were you waiting for your brother to die?!”
That Killian had absented himself from the Imperial Palace was a secret known only to Nocton. Yet even had the Empress known, it would have changed nothing.
She was incapable of rational thought when it concerned Arsen.
Killian passed the Empress, whose gaze could have killed him, and opened the door.
“Gasp… gasp…!”
Arsen, lying upon the bed, was breathing so faintly it seemed his breath might cease at any moment.
Though three physicians stood beside him, they were helpless, their brows beaded with cold sweat.
Killian rushed to Arsen and embraced the skeletal frame.
It would have been less terrifying had his body burned with fever. Yet Arsen’s body was cold as ice.
Killian patted the emaciated back, now little more than skin stretched over bone, and whispered.
“It’s me, brother.”
Unable to respond, Arsen gasped as Killian continued.
“You’ll be well soon.”
Killian possessed no magical ability to heal others through mana.
He had tried countless times over the years for Arsen’s sake, yet ultimately failed.
But when Arsen’s symptoms appeared—their cause unknown—holding him seemed to ease them gradually.
Yet this time, it took longer than usual.
Only after three full days did Arsen’s breathing stabilize, and even then he continued to breathe roughly at intervals until recently, when his body finally recovered completely.
The Empress opened her mouth, gently caressing the cheek of Arsen as he slept peacefully.
“Leave now.”
The cold words were directed at Killian, who stood behind her.
Killian could see only the Empress’s back, yet he understood.
How tenderly her expression must be fixed upon Arsen.
Killian stared at her and Arsen for a moment, then nodded.
“Understood.”
Days like this were far from rare.
I had felt a hundred times over that I alone was the abandoned child.
The sorrow that once drew tears from my eyes belonged to the distant past.
At twenty-three, a man grown, I no longer wept. My heart no longer ached.
But… I longed to see Artia.
* * *
A temporary office fashioned in the annex of the Edenberg Estate.
A nameplate reading “Edenberg Production Company” hung upon the door.
At the knock, Artia turned and let out a startled cry.
In the days since they’d last met, Lamb’s face had grown even more pallid.
“Are you… are you alright?”
“Yes… I haven’t slept in five days straight, so I look like this, but I won’t die… probably…”
“That word ‘probably’ is deeply concerning.”
“Don’t worry… Until I finish the work, even if Death itself seized me by the collar, I wouldn’t go. I’d hold firm…”
Lamb, speaking with the feverish intensity of one whose days were numbered, thrust a thick sheaf of papers toward Artia.
It was the script he had poured his very life into creating. Having read through it entirely on the spot, Artia clasped her hands together.
“It’s magnificent, Lamb. Just reading the words, I can already envision how splendid the stage will be.”
For him, renowned as a genius director, praise came as naturally as breathing.
He spoke with the ease of one hearing something obvious.
“Now that the script is complete, let’s cast those who will transform these words on paper into reality.”
Lamb’s eyes, shadowed by deep dark circles, gleamed with intensity.
“No matter how rotten the Empire’s performance industry is, a genius like me has emerged. The same goes for actors. There are many jewel-like talents.”
A newly established yet highly trusted production company operated by House of Edenberg, performance fees set incomparably higher than anywhere else, and a genius director like Lamb—no actor would refuse such an opportunity.
Actors were cast in rapid succession.
The day Artia first met the actor who would play the lead role, her true thoughts spilled out unfiltered.
“My goodness, Reinhardt and Maria have stepped right out of the book.”
It was no mere jest.
The man with a towering height and massive frame that made Artia lift her head, and the beautiful woman with drooping eyes, bore a striking resemblance to the protagonists from “The Burning Heart of the Northern Grand Duke.”

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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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