The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 22

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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 22

“Your Majesty…!”
Lloyd cried out in a strangled voice.
The Emperor replied with an irritable tone.
“Enough. If you contradict my words even once more, I shall deem it treason.”
His golden eyes blazed with unmistakable ferocity.
“Ah…”
Lloyd could offer no response and simply collapsed to the floor.
Watching this unfold, Artia clenched her trembling hands.
The decision had been made not for Artia’s sake, but to strip Lloyd of his dukedom—yet such distinctions hardly mattered.
She was filled only with the joy of finally obtaining what she had so desperately desired.
At last, finally, I was divorced!

* * *

As the Emperor rose from his seat and departed the Grand Chapel, and Artia lifted herself from her knees where she had remained throughout, Lloyd rushed forward in a single bound and seized her wrist, crying out.
“Go to His Majesty at once and tell him you won’t be divorced!”
“No.”
At her resolute tone, Lloyd’s face hardened. Regardless, Artia continued in a calm voice.
“You heard it yourself. His Majesty has imposed a punishment—upon us both for failing in our marital duties and our obligations as a duke. No one can overturn His Majesty’s decision.”
The moment Artia turned her head away, Lloyd lunged at her.
“You…!”
The wild fury in Lloyd’s eyes overlapped with the image of him from that night days ago when he had pinned her down.
In that instant, Artia’s body went rigid.
‘He’s going to hit me.’
It was the moment her lips pressed together.
Crack!
But it was not Artia who crashed to the floor with that tremendous impact—it was Lloyd.
‘Bibi?!’
This time, it was not.
Standing over Lloyd was a figure with jet-black hair and golden eyes—Killian von Orpheus.
Dressed immaculately in full military regalia as though attending some formal gathering, he twirled a riding crop in his hand, the veins prominent across his knuckles, and murmured.
“What an unsightly vermin in this sacred chapel.”
Contrary to his languid tone, his golden eyes gleamed with chilling menace.
Lloyd trembled as though facing death itself, unable even to protest the use of a whip against him.
Killian turned his gaze away from Lloyd and looked at Artia.
“What would you like me to do, Artia von Edenberg?”
“What? What do you mean?”
He parted his lips—a perfectly sculpted line—and posed the question to the now-tense Artia.
“Shall I kill the insect, or let it live?”
It was as though he were asking whether to give candy or chocolate.
His voice was monotone and casual.
That was why Artia took a moment to grasp the meaning of his words.
I was confident that even if Lloyd died, I wouldn’t shed a single tear.
But I had no desire to witness his death before my eyes.
Not for his sake, but for mine.
“Your Majesty, I prefer to see only beautiful things, if possible.”
I added one more thing.
“If you truly wish to do it, please do so somewhere I am not present.”
Killian’s lips curved upward in a smirk, and without even glancing at Lloyd, he spoke.
“Get out.”
“Y-yes! Thank you! Thank you so much!”
Lloyd bowed as though Killian—the very man who had whipped me—were his savior, and vanished from the Grand Chapel in an instant.
Now only Artia and Killian remained in the vast Grand Chapel.
‘Still impossibly beautiful.’
I gazed at Killian in a daze before catching myself and lowering my head.
No matter how radiant he appeared, the man before me was a severe misogynist—the one called the mad Emperor.
I needed to be careful.
As I kept my lips firmly sealed, Killian’s voice reached my ears.
“Your wounds are more severe than what the knights reported.”
Artia’s eyes widened in surprise as I lifted my head abruptly.
“Could it be that Your Majesty sent the Golden Knights?”
Surprisingly, a confirmation came.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The question tumbled out before I could observe proper courtesy. It was that shocking.
Killian gazed down at Artia, whose face was etched with astonishment, and recalled a night from several days ago.

Killian von Orpheus was reading the petitions submitted by the nobility on behalf of the Emperor.
The matters concerning the nation’s governance were intriguing, but the endless requests to mediate conflicts between rival houses only irritated him.
“I should sever the wrists of every fool who sends their petty grievances to the Imperial Court. That’ll teach them not to bother me again.”
He muttered these words with absolute sincerity when Nocton von Alihas appeared.
“Your Highness, a petition from the Duchess of Edenberg has just arrived.”
Artia’s letter concerned neither critical state affairs nor matters of familial importance. It was merely a personal appeal from a single woman.
Ordinarily, such petitions would languish in obscurity before being discarded by lower-ranking officials.
However, Nocton von Alihas, having learned of the letter by chance, brought it directly to Killian von Orpheus.
His instincts as a chamberlain who had served this mad prince for so long demanded it.
‘If he finds out later that I didn’t bring this to him, he’ll throw a fit.’
It was the right call.
Killian von Orpheus’s golden eyes gleamed with sudden interest, as though his boredom had evaporated, and he swiftly snatched the letter from Nocton von Alihas’s hands to read it.
Watching this, Nocton von Alihas exhaled a silent breath of relief.
But moments later, he felt a chill of dread.
The golden irises that had moments before sparkled like those of a child discovering an amusing toy now glowed with something sinister and unsettling.
‘What in the world is written in that letter?’
This mad prince—as if a handsome face were all that mattered. He needed to become human first.
Was the letter perhaps inscribed with words Nocton von Alihas had often imagined saying to him?
Moments later, Killian von Orpheus lifted his gaze from the letter.
“Send the Golden Knights to protect Artia von Edenberg.”

Nocton’s mouth fell open.
The Golden Knights were the Imperial Palace’s personal guard, and their primary duty was protecting the Imperial Family.
To send such elite warriors to escort a single noblewoman was extraordinary.
Yet Nocton couldn’t say “but that’s a bit much…” because Killian’s golden eyes were anything but ordinary.
‘At times like this, I must never provoke His Highness’s mood.’
It would be a one-way ticket to hell.
“I’ll see to it at once.”
Nocton answered with lightning speed and fled the room.
Before the door closed, Killian caught the look in Nocton’s eyes.
‘His Highness has finally lost his mind.’
That was the message written there.
Killian himself thought the same.
He’d read the letter as if waiting for it, grown furious, and taken immediate action.
None of those actions were like him.
And now, this small woman was asking him the same question with that same look in her eyes.
“Why?”
Killian’s brow furrowed slightly.
Why indeed?
Why had he become so angry upon reading that a woman had been assaulted and beaten by her own husband?
The content was certainly appalling, but it shouldn’t have been enough to provoke someone as indifferent to others as Killian.
After deliberating, Killian finally reached a conclusion.
“Sometimes when you watch a small caterpillar struggling to escape from a spider’s web, you feel the urge to help it.”
Artia, suddenly transformed into a caterpillar, furrowed her brows and asked.
“So… you’re saying it’s pity?”
Killian felt an unpleasant sense that he’d dodged the real answer, yet he nodded anyway.
“Yes.”
Pity was shameful. All the more so for a nobleman.
Yet Artia didn’t grow angry.
Instead, she smiled.
As if relieved to have found the answer.
“I see. It’s surprising that Your Highness possesses such an ordinary emotion, but…”
Artia covered her mouth with an “oh” and carefully observed Killian’s expression as she continued.
“Forgive me. I had no intention of criticizing Your Highness whatsoever.”
Fortunately, Killian showed no sign of concern, his expression remaining unchanged.
After all, who would grow angry at a caterpillar for a mere slip of the tongue?
Artia gazed at Killian, grateful for her own insignificant existence.
Those fierce golden eyes remained inscrutable, but one thing was certain.
He had helped her.
Artia lifted the hem of her skirt and bowed her head.
“Thank you for your kindness in so many ways, Your Highness. Thanks to you, I was able to achieve what I desired.”
Artia announced the day’s victory with an animated voice.
“I’m divorced.”

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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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