The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 55

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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 55

When Helen finally lowered her hand after being alone for some time, Humphrey entered the room.
Humphrey’s eyes widened at the sight of Helen alone. Before he could ask where Artia had gone, Helen spoke first.
“Darling, Julie came to see me.”
“….”
“She must have been worried because Mother kept acting like this. She’s always been such a good girl, after all.”
“….”
“I told Julie that I’m fine, and asked her not to worry about me and to go on her way. Now that….”
Tears began flowing again from Helen’s swollen eyes. Humphrey gently patted Helen’s back with reddened eyes.

* * *

Artia, who had left the mansion, quietly returned and sought out Count Humphrey.
Humphrey received Artia.
“I hear Helen said farewell to Juliet. What on earth happened?”
Artia relayed to Humphrey everything she had heard from Helen, except for Juliet’s secret.
Humphrey could not hide his shock.
“Juliet didn’t want to marry?”
“Yes, while discussing this matter with Aunt, emotions escalated, and it seems she fell from the window.”
Humphrey covered his face with his weathered hands.
He had known the truth all along.
That a grown daughter falling from a window by accident was a forced narrative.
Juliet had thrown herself.
Yet he had desperately denied this fact.
He lacked the courage to face his own guilt for driving his daughter to such a choice, and the courage to acknowledge how much she had suffered.
But now he could no longer flee cowardly.
Humphrey clasped his hands together and wept.
“I’m sorry, Juliet. Forgive your worthless father.”
Artia stood quietly, listening to the old man’s anguished words.
After a long while, Humphrey, having finally composed himself, bowed deeply to Artia. He spoke to the startled Artia.
“Thank you for all your help. You no longer need to pretend to be Juliet.”
“What will you do about the wedding?”
“Since the bride has departed, it must be cancelled. I’ll handle the arrangements myself, so don’t worry about it.”
There was not a trace of regret in Humphrey’s expression as he spoke.
“I’ve placed the promised money in the carriage, so you may leave now.”
“….”
When Artia first came to this place, she harbored no familial affection whatsoever. She had come simply because she needed money.
Yet here, she had experienced warmth and love.
Even if that tenderness was directed not at her, but at a daughter who existed nowhere in this world….
‘I should be happy that everything ended well, so why does my heart feel so wistful?’
Bewildered by the sharp ache in her chest, Artia handed the leather bag to Humphrey.
“This is the bag Aunt Helen gave me earlier. When I opened it, I found it full of what appear to be her jewels.”
But Humphrey shook his head.
“Helen gave it to you, so take it with you.”
“But….”
“Think of it as pocket money from your aunt. Surely an aunt can give her niece that much, can she not?”
“…!”
Humphrey’s voice continued.
“Would it be alright if I wrote to you occasionally?”
It wasn’t over….
This bond would continue into the future.
Artia smiled, her eyes glistening with tears.
“Of course.”
A smile bloomed across Humphrey’s weathered eyes as well.

* * *

Shortly after, Artia boarded the carriage that Humphrey had prepared.
Through the carriage window, she gazed at the mansion and recalled everything that had happened over the past fortnight.
The morning greetings she had exchanged with Helen in their embraces.
The way Helen would place small, carefully cut pieces of food on Artia’s plate.
The beautiful garden where she had walked arm in arm with Helen.
Helen’s smile as she looked at Artia with eyes brimming with boundless affection.
“I was happy, Mother.”
With those words, the carriage departed from the mansion.
But due to the shock of recent events, there was something she had momentarily forgotten. It was only much later that Artia realized it, and she cried out in a voice drained of all color.
“Your Highness Killian!”
Artia leaned her face out the window. The mansion, now distant, appeared small in the distance.
Artia muttered with an expression as though she might weep.
“I’ve struggled so hard to repay the debt, and now I’m going to die….”

At Bluerance Mansion, Killian von Orpheus lay in his chamber, unaware of the events that had unfolded during the night.
He stared at the hand that had touched Artia’s moments before as if he could kill it with his gaze.
The moment he had touched her kept replaying in his mind.
When her small, pale fingers brushed against his fingertips, it felt as though lightning pierced through his entire body, tingling and electric.
‘Did she cast some kind of spell?’
The absurd thought had even crossed his mind.
Yet he sensed no magical power from her. As expected.
‘Then why am I feeling this sensation at all?’
Before he could comprehend the answer, Artia’s hand rose onto his.
In that instant, Killian von Orpheus experienced an even greater shock than before.
‘Is this really a hand?’
It was so small, so soft, so delicate… and so warm.
It felt less like a part of the human body and more like a single warm droplet resting upon his skin.
As time passed, my mind grew blank. My heart raced. The blood throughout my body seemed to flow of its own accord.
The only reason I could conceal the confusion that gripped me as though I were facing catastrophe was the training I had received as a prince.
Had it been otherwise, I would have withdrawn my hand immediately.
…Or I would have crushed hers until it shattered.
‘If the Countess had not entered, what would I have done….’
Killian von Orpheus gazed at his own hand with conflicted eyes, then turned his gaze toward the window.
The dark night sky had begun to brighten.
“The wedding will be soon.”
What I had said to Artia was sincere.
The only reason I had come here was curiosity about what she was doing in this place.
I had not particularly cared about the additional matter of becoming a false groom and conducting the ceremony.
For one who had cut down dozens of enemies on the battlefield and faced those who concealed blades within the Imperial Palace, such a task was as simple as children’s play.
Yet as the hour drew near, my heartbeat quickened.
Uncharacteristically so.
In the end, I greeted the morning sun without having slept a single moment.
Creak.
The firmly shut door opened, and Humphrey entered. His face bore the marks of a sleepless night, his eyes swollen as he spoke.
“The wedding has been cancelled, so please depart.”
“…?!”
Thunder crackled within Killian von Orpheus’s golden eyes.

* * *

“The Duchess of Edenberg has arrived.”
At the servant’s words, Shylock lifted his head, adjusting his spectacles.
Moments later, Artia stepped into the study.
Shylock’s lips curved upward.
“I heard you were too unwell to leave the mansion, yet you appear to be in excellent health.”
A barb aimed at Artia’s feigned illness.
In other words, Shylock remained unaware that Artia had been absent from the mansion all this time.
‘If he’d known, he would have found some way to obstruct me.’
Shylock, mistaking Artia’s silence for embarrassment, laughed with arrogant satisfaction.
“Today is the deadline, then. So, what will you choose? Will you surrender Ansi Lake to me, or will you become my brother’s bride?”
Artia, seated across from him, let out a soft laugh.
“Your choices are remarkably self-centered. I will not hand over Ansi Lake, nor will I marry your brother.”
“…?!”
Shylock’s eyebrows shot upward at this unexpected response.
“Bibi.”
At Artia’s voice, the door opened, and Bibi entered carrying an enormous box—large enough to fit four people inside.
Thud!
Bibi set the box down with a rough motion, as if to slam it directly onto Shylock. He instinctively hunched his shoulders before opening the lid.
“This is….”
Inside the box, 1 Blanc coins
(the Empire’s smallest unit of currency)
were stacked like a mountain.
“Three billion Gold in principal plus interest—six billion Gold total. Feel free to verify. Though it may take some time, given there are six billion coins.”
“…!”
Shylock’s face went rigid.
Artia had systematically cut off every avenue through which he could obtain funds.
The elders of House of Edenberg, the nobles engaged in lending, even the merchants who might have purchased her possessions—all thoroughly blocked.
“Where on earth did you procure this money?”
Artia answered his muttered question as if speaking to herself.
“I’d rather not tell a scheming villain who tried to manipulate me at his whim….”

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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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