The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 162

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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 162

Artia bowed deeply toward Arsen, who sat in a wooden wheelchair.
“I pay my respects to the blood of the almighty House of Orpheus. I am Artia von Edenberg.”
A soft, delicate voice soon reached her ears.
“Please, lift your head, Artia.”
Artia slowly raised her gaze.
A prince who should never have been born.
A prince who should have died long ago.
Arsen von Orpheus—whispered about in such hushed, damning tones, forbidden even from mention in official gatherings.
Confined always to his chamber within the Empress’s Palace, unseen by any of the nobility, yet the moment Artia laid eyes on him for the first time, she could not look away.
He appeared as a boy far too young to be twenty-four, merely a year older than Killian and Artia.
His pallid face devoid of all color and his gaunt frame might have seemed merely sickly, had it not been for the mysterious aura emanating from his delicate, exquisitely beautiful features—as if painted with meticulous care by a master artist.
“It’s wonderful to meet you.”
At his gentle voice, Artia collected herself and nodded.
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance as well.”
Contrary to her worries, Artia found herself conversing with Arsen quite naturally.
It was because of Arsen’s uniquely warm presence.
Above all, she was delighted to speak so much about Killian.
“What was His Highness Killian like when he was younger?”
Arsen answered Artia’s question.
“He was very small and adorable. And he called me ‘older brother.'”
Older brother!
At the endearing title, Artia covered her mouth with a delighted squeak.
Arsen chuckled softly and continued.
“Killian is truly kind and affectionate.”
“As expected, Your Highness Arsen truly knows the real Killian. When people who don’t know him speak ill of him, calling him mad and such, it makes me feel so wronged and angry.”
Killian found it difficult to hear, yet he said nothing and remained still.
Artia and Arsen.
He did not wish to shatter this dreamlike moment where the two people he loved faced each other and smiled.
Unfortunately, that moment did not last long.
Arsen’s body began to strain.
Cough.
The moment Killian heard Arsen’s cough, he sprang to his feet and examined him.
“Just go rest in your room. Don’t worry.”
Arsen reassured Killian and turned his head toward Artia.
I spoke while gazing at Artia’s deeply worried expression through my hazy golden eyes.
“Artia, please make Killian von Orpheus happy from now on.”
A thin voice devoid of any strength.
Yet within it lay an immeasurably profound love.
Artia felt tears threatening to spill and answered with forced cheerfulness, her eyes reddened.
“Yes, I will.”
Arsen von Orpheus smiled as though relieved.
Thus our brief meeting came to an end.

* * *

On the journey home from the Imperial Palace.
Artia rode upon the back of Killian von Orpheus, transformed into a black panther.
Atop the panther racing at a speed as swift as flight through the heavens, Artia recalled what had transpired mere hours before.
Nocton von Alihas and Arsen von Orpheus.
The two people closest to Killian von Orpheus had blessed her relationship with him.
In that moment, the anxiety that had lingered in her heart dissipated, and courage bloomed—the courage to believe she might belong at this man’s side.
‘It matters not if they think me reckless and shameless. I wish to dream of a future with Your Majesty.’
Whatever form that future might take.
Artia embraced the dark, soft fur tightly.

At that same moment.
Arsen von Orpheus, having returned to his chamber, exhaled ragged breaths with a pallid complexion.
A mere thirty minutes away from his room.
Even that brief excursion had taxed his frail body, and as I held myself together, I thought of Artia.
Killian von Orpheus had spoken true.
‘A person as beautiful and warm as cherry blossoms in spring.’
I was glad.
That the woman Killian von Orpheus loved was such a person.
She would surely make Killian von Orpheus, who had been lonely his entire life, happy.
Even as my entire body trembled with excruciating pain, my eyes softened—until something entirely different spilled from my lips.
“I want to tear her to shreds.”
My expression turned cold in an instant.
“Killian von Orpheus is mine. No one else can stand beside him but me.”
My expression shifted once more—to one on the verge of tears.
“No, Killian von Orpheus must escape from me. He must meet people who can truly care for him.”
I smiled with a chilling expression, as though I had heard something absurd, and spoke.
“If you truly believed that, you should have died long ago, Arsen von Orpheus.”
“…!”
“Every time, you just spout such words and struggle like a worm.”
Because I want to live.
Because I want to be with Killian for even a little longer!
Another Arsen spoke to the Arsen who could say nothing.
“We cannot leave Killian.”
We love him far too much.

6. The Love of House of Orpheus

The Edenberg Production Company office finally opened its doors officially.
On the third floor of the Montecro Theater.
The office was in constant chaos from daily visitors.
Today’s visitor was Count Golzess.
Count Golzess grinned with his rough, bandit-like face and spoke.
“Orders for Snow Diamond are skyrocketing.”
Artia had collaborated with Count Golzess to create the Snow Diamond featured in “The Burning Heart of the Northern Grand Duke.”
Though they named it Snow Diamond, it was actually an ordinary diamond.
However, its unique snowflake-like design and the romantic tale of the Northern Grand Duke’s love woven into it drew tremendous popularity.
“Demand is outpacing supply—what if we increased Snow Diamond production?”
Artia answered Count Golzess’s proposal.
“Diamonds are special compared to other jewels precisely because of their rarity. The harder they are to obtain, the brighter they shine. I’ll maintain production at its current level.”
“Won’t customers complain?”
“That’s my sales strategy. The more I make customers yearn, the higher the demand climbs.”
Count Golzess’s lips curved upward.
“Who on earth taught you so well?”
Artia dropped her businesswoman’s mask and smiled warmly.
“My mentor, of course.”

After concluding her conversation with Count Golzess, Artia made her way to the shop that had recently opened on Diamond Street.
As the premier shopping district in the Convent, the monthly rent was astronomical.
Yet the expense proved no deterrent—the shop bustled with customers, its shelves and racks a testament to its success.
Andy rushed forward the moment she spotted Artia.
“Welcome, Director!”
“I’m just browsing. Don’t mind me—continue with your work.”
“How could I possibly ignore you? You’re the most gracious employer in the world.”
The shop selling garments in a style similar to those worn by the actors in “The Northern Grand Duke’s Burning Heart” had become a runaway success.
Andy, who oversaw the costume production, was receiving substantial bonuses alongside her regular wages.
Though exhaustion still lined her features, her eyes gleamed like diamonds as Artia posed a question.
“Are there any difficulties in managing the shop?”
“None whatsoever!”
Andy answered with spirited enthusiasm, continuing her thought.
“Most importantly, Frigia handles all the challenging aspects.”
Andy, having come from common stock and specialized in stage costumes, found herself awkward when dealing with noble clientele.
Frigia had stepped in to fill that gap.
Watching Frigia introduce garments to the women across the shop, Artia’s mind drifted to a conversation from days prior.
“I spoke with Andy about this, and I’d like to formally entrust the management of the Dress Shop to Frigia.”
When Artia extended the contract, Frigia hesitated and shook her head in protest.
“I haven’t done anything significant enough to warrant such formality.”
“On the contrary, your assistance has transcended the bounds of friendship. I’ve reached the point where I feel guilty asking for more help. That’s precisely why I want to formalize this with a contract—so I can utilize your talents without reservation.”
It was exceedingly rare for noblewomen to receive wages for their labor.
Frigia, her expression clouded with confusion, deferred her answer.
Several days later, Frigia sought Artia out.
“I asked Lize what she thought about her mother working and earning money.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she exclaimed with delight.
How wonderful!
“With my daughter’s encouragement, I’ve found the courage to proceed.”
Frigia signed the contract, her expression a blend of apprehension and anticipation.

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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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