The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 152

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

In Search of the Duke’s Husband – Episode 152

The men sitting about with bored expressions suddenly jolted upright in alarm.
“What the hell is happening?”
Luka spoke through gritted teeth, his face twisted in agony.
“I… I… can’t breathe…”
His pallid complexion and violent trembling were unmistakably dire.
With any other servant, they would have simply let him perish without concern, but Luka was a valued attendant whom Madame Tungguel had dragged back even after he fled.
Should anything go wrong, they would face her terrible wrath.
“I’ll inform the mistress at once!”
One of the men bolted from the room.
The remaining man, uncertain what to do, approached to examine Luka more closely.
Seizing the opportunity, Luka drove his head forward in a vicious headbutt.
“Aaagh!”
As the man crumpled, Luka sprang to his feet. Fortune favored him—his legs were unbound.
The man shouted after Luka as he bolted from the chamber.
“You bastard, you’re dead if we catch you!”

* * *

“Fortunately, there were no servants at the estate who had been there as long as I have. So I was able to escape through a path only I knew and shake off the people chasing me.”
Luka spoke with a scarred face and laughed.
There was no sign of fear from the terrible ordeal he had endured.
Only joy radiated from him—the joy of a successful escape and safe return to Artia’s side.
But Artia found herself unable to smile in the same way.
The smile vanished from Luka’s face as he noticed Artia’s rigid expression.
Luka asked cautiously.
“Master, are you perhaps angry?”
“No.”
Despite her words, Artia’s insides roiled with fury—toward Madame Tungguel.
But this was not an emotion to display before an injured child.
Artia composed a gentle expression and spoke.
“Now that I understand what happened, I think it’s best you rest.”
“Yes.”
“If your fever rises further, you’ll suffer greatly. I’ve instructed Susan to care for you, so tell her immediately if you need anything.”
Wouldn’t it be better if you stayed by my side instead of the head maid?
Luka barely restrained the words that rose to his throat and nodded.

As the Doctor had said, Luka’s fever was severe.
Overcome by fever and medicine, Luka fell into a deep sleep.
Luka rarely fell ill. Or rather, he could not afford to.
The moment he mentioned being sick, reproach would come raining down.
“Tch, what good is a Kudran who can’t even work? If you can’t get up right now, just drop dead.”
It was the same with his grandmother.
Noma labored under excessive work with her aging body every day.
He did not wish to burden his already struggling grandmother with needless worry.
All young Luka could do was endure his illness in silence and curl his small body inward.
“….”
Now eighteen years old, Luka’s eyes opened.
His listless gaze suddenly widened.
Because Artia was there.
“M-Master…!”
Artia stopped Luka as he tried to bolt upright.
“Your fever is still high. Stay in bed.”
“….”
Earlier, Artia had entrusted Luka’s care to another maid and left the room.
So why was the master here now?
Glancing at the window, it was the dark hours before dawn.
Artia wrung out a cloth in water and spoke.
“It’s rather awkward to mention, but I asked Susan to take over earlier because there were too many eyes watching. If the master personally nursed a single servant back to health, it might invite unwanted gossip among the workers.”
He was already quite conspicuous, and if Artia showed special affection toward him, no one would begrudge him for it.
Just as they hadn’t with Bibi in the past.
“That’s why I switched shifts with Susan at dawn. The servants are resting in their quarters at this hour.”
Ah, Artia added, as if remembering something.
“The servants who share a room with you might catch your cold, so I’ve temporarily moved them to another chamber. Don’t worry about it—just rest well.”
With those words, Artia placed a damp cloth across Luka’s forehead.
The cool touch of the cloth against his burning brow dissolved the pain, replacing it with soothing relief.
Sleep began creeping back in.
‘I don’t want to sleep….’
It was a miraculous moment—my mistress staying by my side.
I wanted to savor this instant for as long as possible.
But my wounded body craved recovery, and my eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment.
Luka desperately imprinted Artia’s image into his violet eyes before sleep claimed him.

* * *

Artia wanted to rush to Madame Tungguel and unleash her fury, but she restrained herself.
They had moved beyond the stage of threats and words.
‘Words mean nothing to that woman.’
She needed to deliver a devastation that could be felt in every fiber of her being.
The moment dawn broke, Artia postponed her original schedule and sought out her closest noble acquaintances.

Madame Tungguel’s Estate.
She had been drinking since midday.
Ever since Luka fled, her rage had become uncontrollable.
Her eyes half-lidded, she gnawed at her lips with grinding teeth.
“Luka, you’re my dog. You belong to me, to Madame Tungguel!”
It was less affection than sheer stubbornness.
Madame Tungguel could not accept the fact that someone had stolen away her favorite plaything.
Her fear of the Nobility had evaporated entirely.
“If that woman truly possessed the power to take what’s mine, she would have come here long ago and caused a scene.”
Yet Artia had not shown so much as a single hair until now.
“See? The Nobility aren’t so impressive after all.”
It was precisely when Madame Tungguel let out a derisive snort.
The door burst open and a servant entered.
“M-Miss! This is terrible!”
The elderly servant who addressed Madame Tungguel with such an ill-fitting title was named John.
He had served the estate since Madame Tungguel’s parents’ time, her most trusted retainer.
Madame Tungguel glared at John with a vicious expression.
“I told you no one was to enter. I’m about to lose my mind. Did you think I’d make an exception for an old man?”
“Of course not, Miss. But the matter is far too urgent for me to ignore.”
“What on earth is it?!”
Frightened by Madame Tungguel’s outburst, John spoke in a trembling voice.
“All of our trading partners have sent word that they wish to sever ties with us. They will no longer purchase our goods.”
“What…?!”
Madame Tungguel operated a massive Livestock Business.
The enterprise, passed down through generations of her family, lacked elegance but had operated stably thanks to its timeless nature.
Yet now, in a single day, they were cutting ties…?!
John continued.
“When I inquired with one of the trading partners’ owners, I learned the Nobility had intervened.”
“The Nobility?!”
“Yes, dozens of nobles have declared they wish not to consume any food made from meat supplied by our family. To defy them would be to make dozens of nobles into enemies, so they had no choice but to comply.”
Though they spoke thus, the trading partners’ owners were secretly laughing among themselves.
For years, they had watched as the quality of meat from Madame Tungguel’s household declined while prices only climbed, and they had been waiting for an opportunity to sever the relationship.
For them, this was that opportunity—one they had feared to seize before now.
Yet Madame Tungguel could not possibly know this.
Having suddenly inherited the family business when her parents died in an accident, all she knew how to do was hound her subordinates.
“How could you let those fools speak such nonsense?!
John felt despair at Madame Tungguel’s instinct to fight even in this crisis, and he pressed on with difficulty.
“If it were one or two partners, we could manage. But with every trading partner withdrawing at once, there is simply no solution. What shall we do, Miss?”
Madame Tungguel hurled the glass she had been holding directly at John.
“How dare you ask me such a thing! When something like this happens, that’s why I pay you—to solve it!”
With a bandage wrapped around his head from being struck by a glass, John struggled to salvage the situation.
Every day he visited his business partners, cajoling them, pleading with them, and resorting to threats unbecoming of his station.
Yet the Shop Owners merely clicked their tongues in disapproval.
“Don’t come to us with this. Go speak to Madame Tungguel instead. I don’t know which noble’s displeasure you’ve incurred, but beg for forgiveness with all your might. Then we’ll consider resuming our dealings.”
The Shop Owner added further.
“Of course, at a lower price than what you’re currently receiving.”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————