The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 156

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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 156

It wasn’t just her.
Throughout the Performance Hall, exhausted people lay collapsed like corpses.
Even Marigold and Frigia had abandoned all pretense of nobility and squeezed in among them.
Artia’s eyes were red as she looked around at all these people.
“I’m truly grateful to all of you.”
If I could, I would take each person’s hand and offer them every word of thanks I could muster.
But with the performance drawing near, there simply wasn’t time for such indulgences.
As if understanding my heart, Marigold waved her hand dismissively.
“We’re going to rest, so don’t worry about us. Just focus on what you need to do.”
Frigia furrowed her brow.
“Artia, you must be exhausted too. I’m sorry we’re the only ones resting. We’ll come back as soon as we’ve recovered.”
Seeing me on the verge of tears at those words, Dahlia jabbed me in the ribs.
She had also pulled an all-nighter, but she was in the best condition of all of us.
It was thanks to her being accustomed to working through the night.
“We need to prepare to receive the guests.”
“Yes.”
I took Dahlia’s hand and headed toward the preparation room.

As the sky darkened, people began gathering at the Performance Hall.
Not only those who had come to watch the performance.
Those hoping to procure tickets, those drawn by the atmosphere of the venue, and journalists besides—an enormous crowd had assembled.
The unexpected surge in attendance stemmed partly from what had transpired at dawn.
“There was a fire at the Performance Hall, wasn’t there?”
The woman who spoke surveyed the building as she continued.
“I worried they might be overextending themselves by proceeding with the performance as scheduled, but it seems my concern was unfounded. I see no trace of fire damage whatsoever.”
The Performance Hall was breathtakingly beautiful.
“Are you certain the fire wasn’t fabricated?”
“How could it be? Several people witnessed it.”
Then, naturally, a certain name emerged.
“Prince Killian extinguished the flames with his magic, didn’t he?”
It unfolded exactly as Nocton had anticipated.
Within hours, the rumor had spread far and wide.
Since Killian was already known to take exceptional interest in this performance, no one questioned his motives for such an act.
Instead, people’s fascination centered on the fact that he had wielded magic.
“Wasn’t His Highness unable to use magic?”
“That’s precisely what makes it so extraordinary! To possess such tremendous power—capable of extinguishing a fire in this vast building in mere moments!”
Before long, Killian had become the subject of everyone’s discourse.
‘This is problematic. Tonight, the focus must fall not on His Highness, but on the work we have created.’
With this thought, I made my appearance in the Performance Hall’s lobby.
The chattering crowd fell silent, their eyes turning toward me.
I wore a flowing white dress.
The gown Andy and Frigia had crafted for this evening was designed to evoke winter itself—pristine white, adorned with nothing.
The soft fabric and my slender frame ensured the dress appeared anything but plain.
Rather, it radiated a clean, crystalline allure.
Adorned with snowflake-shaped accessories, I closed my eyes briefly.
“Thank you for coming, everyone. I am Artia, representative of the Edenberg Production Company.”
It was the greeting of a businesswoman, not a noblewoman.
I continued, addressing the wide-eyed crowd.
“Before we begin the main performance, I wish to offer you a glimpse of the world we have created.”
I raised my hand.
Beyond the flowing white fabric of my dress, a man appeared on the second-floor railing.
A thin curtain hung before him, obscuring his features.
Yet even his silhouette conveyed the broad, sturdy frame of a knight.
The women’s faces flushed. As one of them recognized him and began to call out the name Mikhail—
“Reinhardt!”
A beautiful, clear feminine voice rang through the lobby, and a woman appeared opposite the man.
She too was veiled by thin fabric, her features obscured, yet her voice—far exceeding the volume of an ordinary person—commanded everyone’s attention.
The woman’s voice continued.
“Master of the frozen North, I am Maria, your bride from this day forward.”
“A bride… Yes, that was supposed to happen.”
Their voices crossed like the clash of swords.
“I need no wife—my heart is frozen by a curse, and I can love no one.”
“If I am not recognized as his wife, only death awaits me.”
“I will never love you.”
“Then you must be made to love me!”
Her voice erupted like a volcano, and the audience felt goosebumps prickle across their skin.
In that instant, the fabric before them billowed and fell away.
People’s eyes widened, eager to glimpse the face that had been hidden.
But where the cloth had parted, there was no one.
As if by magic.
The audience stared, entranced, then released a collective sigh.
Had they never seen the actors at all, or had they witnessed them in full, they would not have felt such longing.
Yet the two voices lingered with profound resonance, and curiosity stretched to its breaking point tormented them.
From the strange silence, Artia spoke.
She gestured toward the grand door beyond the stage as she continued.
“I invite you into a world where you may see the Northern Grand Duke with a frozen heart and his bride, Maria.”
Like children who had followed the Pied Piper, the audience filed in as if enchanted.
Some without tickets pleaded to be admitted, offering any sum of money.
Those fortunate enough to have tickets for the next showing breathed sighs of relief, knowing they would see it in a few days.

* * *

The performance began.
Among the audience members who had secured seats through fierce ticket competition, many were fans of the original work.
They anticipated the performance while harboring great concern that it might tarnish the source material.
Yet the moment the Northern Grand Duke appeared on stage, they could not help but gasp.
A cold visage with silver and blue eyes, coupled with an imposing frame.
It was as though Reinhardt, whom they had imagined in their minds, had stepped directly onto the stage.
The same held true when the female lead made her entrance.
Maria was beautiful as falling snow.
Though the audience marveled at the flawless appearance of both leads, they could not fully relax their guard.
Shine had not yet appeared.
‘They said they cast a Kudran native as Shine, didn’t they?’
And one who had never acted before at that.
Those who had ferreted out this information through obsessive curiosity felt their worry transform into indignation.
Shine was the third most crucial role in the production, after all.
‘No matter how similar Shine’s character is to a Kudran, putting an actual Kudran on stage? The quality of the entire performance would suffer.’
‘I heard he was quite famous among noble ladies for his handsome features, but an actor’s appearance isn’t everything. Acting skill is what truly matters.’
The audience fixed their gaze upon the stage with expressions dark enough to hurl condemnation at any moment.
Moments later, Shine made his entrance.
A handsome man with hair like blazing flames, skin the color of coffee, and violet eyes emanated an enigmatic and mysterious aura.
“Shine!”
At the sound of Maria calling my name, Shine’s eyes curved into crescents as he smiled.
The smile of a silent servant harboring unrequited love for his master was poignant and exquisite.
The audience let out a collective gasp, as though something within them had been swept away, their minds utterly captivated.
A performer radiating fervent energy and magnetism, refined and resplendent costumes, exquisite direction, and a performance that seamlessly wove together song and acting—all conspired to stir the hearts of the audience without a moment’s respite.
And then, in the latter half, that scene arrived.
Shine, who had remained silent throughout, opened his mouth for the first and final time.
Upon the quiet stage, now devoid of the orchestra’s accompaniment, Shine’s voice resonated.
A confession spilled from the lips of a man who had loved Maria for so long, uttered within a dream.
The song that could never reach Maria was achingly, devastatingly beautiful.
The audience wept, their hands pressed to their mouths. Among them were elderly gentlemen as well.
As Shine’s song concluded, he returned once more to the role of the silent servant.
When the poignant resonance Shine had left behind began to fade, the final scene of the play unfurled.
“I love you, even if my heart shatters.”
Reinhardt pressed his lips to the Snow Diamond adorning Maria’s finger.
With those words, white snow began to fall from the heavens above.
The lights gradually dimmed, and profound silence filled the theater.
When the curtain rose again and the actors lined up to take their bows, thunderous applause erupted throughout the hall.

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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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