The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 51

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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 51

Had this man been anyone other than Killian von Orpheus, I might have believed it.
But he was a misogynist so notorious that there wasn’t a soul in the Empire who didn’t know it.
There was no way a man who had even refused the attendance of maidservants would do such a thing.
‘I can’t fathom this…’
Artia abandoned her attempt to unravel his inscrutable intentions and decided to address what mattered most at this moment.
“Fine. I’ll accept that you came out of curiosity after hearing about my situation. But then you could simply pose as an ordinary guest—why on earth…?”
Her voice faltered at the end.
“Did you come as the groom?”
That alone could not be dismissed with mere curiosity.
At Artia’s question, Killian von Orpheus recalled events from days prior.
Nocton von Alihas had used the Rat Network—the Crown Prince’s personal intelligence apparatus—to locate the man who was to play the groom’s role.
He was a male actor who acted abominably but managed to scrape by on his handsome face alone.
The man chuckled as he read the letter commissioned by Humphrey.
“Thirty million gold just to pretend to be a groom for two days? What fortune! If the bride is decent-looking, maybe I can even seduce her…”
A sharp crack echoed as the back of his head was struck, and the man lost consciousness.
Not long after, the man’s eyes fluttered open and he let out a shriek.
Before him sat a man radiating arrogance.
The man’s presence was so overwhelmingly intense that it eclipsed any shabby surroundings, and his gaze was so chilling it made one’s skin crawl.
“Ah… the devil himself has appeared…”
Killian von Orpheus did not deny the accusation and spoke.
“Transfer the commission you received from Count Bluerance to me.”
Even if I say I’m a professional who works for payment, and I cannot transfer a job once I’ve accepted it to someone else.
Such words would never leave his lips.
The man understood instinctively.
If he misspoke, this terrifyingly beautiful devil would draw the sword at his waist and separate his head from his body.
“Yes, sir!”
The man answered with lightning speed, offering the letter he’d received from Count Humphrey with both hands as though presenting tribute to a king.
After receiving the letter, Killian von Orpheus gestured toward Nocton von Alihas, who stood beside the man. The man misinterpreted the gesture and shrieked.
“Ahhhhh! You said you’d spare me…”
A silk pouch landed before the man with a soft thud.
At Nocton von Alihas’s gesture, the man trembled as he opened the pouch. His eyes widened to the point of splitting.
The pouch was filled to the brim with gold coins, their gleam so brilliant it dazzled his eyes.
Nocton von Alihas smiled kindly and spoke.
“This is payment for transferring the job. You understand, yes? This is a transaction, not coercion.”
A man with eyes wide open nodded his head.
“Of course!”
With this much money, Count Mizura had every right to be upset about delegating his work to someone else without complaint.
In any case, through this very legitimate(?) method, Killian von Orpheus had taken over the task.
And the reason he went through such tedious trouble was….
Killian von Orpheus answered while looking at Artia, who was gazing up at him intently.
“I decided to marry a man I actually like. I can’t stand cheap actors who quibble over pocket change.”
But this isn’t a real marriage anyway.
Killian von Orpheus added another remark toward Artia, who couldn’t accept his reasoning.
“And Count Mizura carries Imperial bloodline, however distant. I can’t let just anyone perform this role for the sake of the Imperial Family’s honor.”
“????”
It was plausible yet peculiar logic.
Eventually, Artia let out a small sigh.
‘Let me just think of it this way.’
The Prince seems to want to play the role of a fake bridegroom. He appears to have such an eccentric hobby(?).
After reluctantly convincing herself of the situation, Artia steadied her voice and spoke.
“I understand, Your Highness. I will respect your preferences. However, I have one request.”
“Tell me.”
“This wedding is very important to me. Please cooperate so that I can bring this ceremony to a successful conclusion.”
“Of course.”
“….”
Despite Killian von Orpheus’s composed response, the furrow between Artia’s brows did not ease.

* * *

As Artia and Killian von Orpheus returned to the Banquet Hall, all eyes converged upon them.
‘Can that arrogant, cruel madman truly pull this off?’
Contrary to Artia’s concerns, Killian von Orpheus presented a starkly different demeanor from what he had shown at the Convent.
First, that terrifying aura of oppression had vanished as if it were nothing but illusion.
(The guests remained tense, certainly, but at least they were no longer trembling as though death itself stood before them.)
Those threatening golden eyes had softened considerably.
(The guests remained cautious, certainly, but at least they no longer begged forgiveness the moment their gazes met his.)
He even engaged in conversation with the assembled guests.
(Though his words rarely exceeded three sentences, at least a suffocating silence no longer fell whenever he spoke.)
‘So His Highness can do it when he tries.’
I gazed at him anew, marveling at his capabilities.
Was it the change in his demeanor?
Or perhaps the antique formal attire?
Or could it be those lengthened locks—however he had managed to attach them so convincingly?
‘He looks like a different person.’
Entranced by the sight of him, I stepped on the hem of my own skirt.
Stumbling forward, I instinctively reached out and grasped his arm to steady myself.
In that same instant, his firm arm tensed—as though something forbidden had made contact.
I withdrew my hand in alarm.
“I apologize!”
“…It’s fine.”
Killian von Orpheus did not brush away my hand. His eyes did not roll back in anger.
Yet within those golden irises, a confusion now flickered—one that had not been there moments before.
His severe misogyny.
I recalled that particular affliction of his, which I had momentarily forgotten, and my expression grew troubled.

Meanwhile, the guests, blissfully unaware of what had transpired between bride and groom, whispered excitedly among themselves.
“Though the veil hides her face, Count Mizura says she bears a striking resemblance to Juliet.”
“Well, that would explain why Helen mistook her for her living daughter.”
Those who knew of Helen’s longing for her daughter regarded Artia with complex expressions before deliberately averting their gaze.
Those who beheld Killian von Orpheus—even the men—felt their faces flush.
“Count Mizura was handsome twenty years ago, but this man is incomparably more striking. Wherever did they find such a noble gentleman?”
“His beauty aside, those eyes are truly mesmerizing. Such vivid golden irises—he looks exactly like someone of Imperial blood, a true member of the Imperial Family.”
Not a single nobleman present had ever seen the face of Killian von Orpheus.
Thus they never considered their words might be truth, and instead marveled genuinely at the man’s appearance.
Humphrey, who had hired the false groom, felt the same way.
‘I must have entrusted the portrait to an incompetent painter. He’s far more handsome than the painting sent to me before the contract.’
Honest Humphrey never dreamed that someone else had arrived.
‘A man of such caliber makes the substantial sum I paid seem a bargain. If anything, I feel I paid too little.’
Thinking he should provide additional payment after the ceremony concluded, Humphrey turned his head toward Helen.
Helen gazed at Artia and Killian von Orpheus with tears glistening in her eyes.
“They truly are a perfect match. Our Julie will become a happy bride and live well, won’t she?”
“…Of course she will.”
Humphrey replied, squeezing his wife’s hand firmly.
Everything was false.
The glittering Banquet Hall, the smiling guests, the dignified groom, the beautiful bride—all of it.
Yet Humphrey felt as though he had returned to that day twenty years ago. He furrowed his brow in discomfort.
‘Have I lost my mind like Helen…’
But it seemed not to matter.
Not until tomorrow’s ceremony.
Humphrey lifted his head to hide his moistening eyes. Thus he remained unaware.
That Helen’s expression as she gazed upon Artia had transformed entirely from moments before.
Helen murmured with a chilled countenance.
“But I feel as though I’ve forgotten something important… what could it be?”

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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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