The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 171

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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 171

“Master!”
Luka’s face brightened like a wagging puppy upon seeing Artia, but his expression quickly shifted to one of concern.
“Is something troubling you?”
“Well… it’s…”
Artia couldn’t answer immediately, her eyes darting about.
‘I never wanted to ask Luka for something like this…’
But Charlotte was the only person who could help Arsen.
In the end, Artia spoke with an expression of profound apology.
“Luka, there’s someone I know who would like to meet you, just once. Could you spare some time, even if it’s brief?”
If Luka showed the slightest reluctance, I was prepared to immediately dismiss it as nothing and end the conversation.
But contrary to my worries, Luka answered cheerfully, “Of course!”
Artia asked carefully.
“Are you really sure?”
“Absolutely!”
Luka would do anything for his master.
A few days later, Luka and Charlotte met in the Reception Room of the Edenberg Mansion.
They were not alone.
Artia and Bibi decided to keep watch from the side.
Among the zealous fans, there were those who would rush at actors, touching their bodies or whispering indecent words in their ears.
I had thought that even if Charlotte found it unpleasant, this was one thing I wouldn’t compromise on, but surprisingly, she was delighted.
“Of course, our Luka must be protected. But will the two of you be enough? I’ll assign a dedicated escort for Luka.”
Charlotte, who had spoken so confidently, turned bright red the moment Luka appeared, her expression freezing in place.
Meanwhile, Luka’s enthusiasm burned bright, thinking this must be someone important to his master.
Determined to show his best self, Luka’s eyes curved into crescents.
“Hello, Charlotte.”
Gasp!
At that sweet voice, Charlotte nearly fainted on the spot.
Barely clinging to a thread of composure, Charlotte opened her mouth.
“H-h-how do you… know my name…?”
“I asked my master.”
“I-I-I see.”
Charlotte trembled as she held out a small box.
“S-s-since you said you don’t accept expensive gifts from fans, I p-p-prepared cookies instead.”
Luka accepted the box with an even brighter smile than before.
“Thank you. I’ll enjoy this.”
Charlotte stifled a laugh as she watched Luka gleam with radiance.
Due to the special hereditary abilities passed down through her bloodline, she possessed memories as vast as if she had lived for centuries. Thus, throughout her life, she had rarely experienced genuine emotion.
Yet in this moment, her heart raced like that of a young girl.
Charlotte wept hot tears as the thought crystallized within her.
What is magic, truly?
Luka—he is the miracle itself, the very embodiment of magic!

* * *

The meeting between Luka and Charlotte concluded in an instant.
Artia wondered if this was truly sufficient, yet Charlotte’s expression radiated complete satisfaction.
“I’ll meet with Arsen or the Emperor, whichever you wish.”
However, after that day, Killian and Artia did not see each other.
Each had too much to accomplish.
Artia had to prepare for the Noble Conference scheduled in the coming weeks, while Killian arranged the meeting between Charlotte and Arsen.
A fortnight later, Artia pulled Killian into her arms as he appeared in her chamber.
“I missed you so much!”
I missed you too.
Instead of speaking those words, Killian tightened his embrace around Artia.
Her fragrance melted away all tension in his body, leaving him drowsy and content.
The two held each other for a long while before finally separating.
Though they were drawn back together almost immediately.
With her head resting against Killian’s shoulder, Artia spoke.
“Tomorrow has finally arrived.”
The fruits of their long preparation would soon be revealed.
“Will you be alright on your own?”
At Killian’s words, Artia smiled and took his hand, placing it over her heart.
Artia spoke to Killian, whose eyes had widened in surprise.
“Can you hear it? My heartbeat?”
“….”
Thump, thump, thump.
With senses far more acute than those of ordinary mortals, Killian felt her heartbeat vividly against his palm.
“Every time I feel that sound, it gives me strength.”
This second life, bestowed upon her anew, was precious beyond measure, and she was grateful for this miraculous existence.
Artia smiled once more.
“I’ve conquered death itself—what is there left to fear?”
In the next moment, Killian’s sharp eyes narrowed with intensity.
She was not alone in this resolve.
The man who had denied Artia’s death and fought desperately to bring her back to life—there was nothing in this world he could not accomplish.

* * *

The next day, the Noble Conference convened.
Heads of the Empire’s most venerable houses gathered in succession.
Seating was assigned according to each house’s rank and prestige, and the House of Edenberg was granted a place of honor at the head of the chamber.
The nobles who arrived first whispered among themselves.
“Since the Dukedom of Edenberg is vacant, Derek will attend in its stead, won’t he?”
“Perhaps. By succession, Derek would be correct, but given his delicate constitution, wouldn’t Ian be more likely to attend?”
In truth, it mattered little who came.
Both Derek and Ian were such easily managed men that their presence hardly warranted concern.
Just then, the servant guarding the entrance announced in a clear voice:
“The head of House Edenberg has arrived.”
The faces of the assembled nobles turned pale with shock.
For the figure who appeared wore a green dress—a woman.
Just before Artia stepped into the conference hall, an elderly gentleman with white hair cried out:
“Stop!”
It was Marquis Ganyuel, revered among the nobility as a great elder.
“This chamber has, for five hundred years, been reserved exclusively for the noble bloodlines who guide the Empire. Women are not permitted to enter!”
His voice rang with such authority that nearby nobles flinched.
Yet Artia showed no fear—only calm composure, as though she had anticipated this very moment.
“I am the representative of House Edenberg.”
“…?!”
The faces of Marquis Ganyuel and the other nobles contorted.
Just as Derek and Ian’s had done mere days before.
When Artia had announced she would attend the Noble Conference as acting head of house, both men had turned crimson with rage.
“How can a woman become the representative of a house!”
“Just because your business succeeded, you think you can do anything?!”
Now Artia repeated to the assembly the very words she had spoken to them.
“There is no law forbidding women from attending the Noble Conference. Isn’t that correct, Count Haider?”
Count Haider was the highest administrator of the Ministry of Law.
Though his expression grew uncomfortable, he nodded in acknowledgment.
For Artia’s words were true.
Yet Marquis Ganyuel refused to yield.
“What is not explicitly stated in the legal code need not be mentioned—it is so obvious, so self-evident, that all must naturally abide by it as sacred custom.”
Artia responded:
“Your words are wise. Yet all customs, by their nature, evolve with the times.”
Artia’s gaze swept across the nobles seated at the long table.
“I wish to ask you all who now guide the Empire: Would it be acceptable for me, Artia von Edenberg, to take my seat as the representative of House Edenberg?”
An absurd notion!
But before Marquis Ganyuel could raise his voice further, Count Goldjurse cut in with surprising speed.
“I have no objection.”
Marquis Ganyuel’s face contorted with displeasure.
“Have you lost your mind?!”
Count Goldjurse’s expression turned regretful.
“To speak so disrespectfully before so many witnesses—are you challenging me to a duel?”
Count Goldjurse possessed the massive frame of an ox and the weathered, fierce visage of a brigand.
Marquis Ganyuel’s shoulders flinched momentarily before he corrected himself.
“I merely misspoke in my shock.”
Then he returned to his original argument.
“How could you possibly support a woman attending a conference?”
Marquis Ganyuel’s eyes narrowed as if he had grasped something.
“Now that I think of it, Count Goldjurse has earned substantial wealth through business dealings with that woman. Surely you’re not taking her side for such a vulgar reason?”
At Marquis Ganyuel’s provocation, Count Goldjurse’s thick brows furrowed deeply.
‘Here stands a man draped in premium leather jackets and jewels unbecoming his age, calling money vulgar.’
This was precisely the sort of person I despised most.
Count Goldjurse nodded, thinking that soon enough, I would teach him the true terror of wealth—so thoroughly that he could no longer afford to wear his mask of refinement.
“Yes, that is correct.”
“…!”
“I conduct business in close partnership with Edenberg Company. That is precisely why I can speak so boldly.”
Count Goldjurse’s resonant voice echoed through the Conference Hall.
“Everyone present here operates enterprises as heads of their respective houses, so you all understand this: success in business is not achieved through luck alone.”
It required effort, connections, wisdom, judgment, and capital—a multitude of abilities.
“The Duchess of Edenberg founded Edenberg Production Company and achieved tremendous success, reviving a house that was falling into ruin. She has demonstrated the capability to lead an entire family.”
Count Goldjurse met the eyes of each nobleman seated at the long table as he spoke.
“Today’s conference is not a place for us to boast of our family’s accomplishments. It is a gathering of nobility to discuss how we might make this nation stronger and more prosperous. If that is our purpose, then tell me—is the most important quality of a participant their gender, or….”
Count Goldjurse gestured toward Artia, who still stood beyond the threshold.
“their ability?”

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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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