The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 56

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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 56

Watching Shylock’s contorted face, I continued speaking.
“I have no desire for lengthy conversation, so let us conclude this matter. I have repaid the debt, and this sordid, dreadful relationship ends now.”
I withdrew the loan documents Shylock had given me and tore them to shreds with a sharp rip.
Shylock, belatedly regaining his composure, could not hide his urgency as he spoke.
“If you marry Simon, I shall present a wedding gift double this amount. I will prepare a grand mansion in the Convent as your newlywed home, arrange the most magnificent ceremony venue in the Empire, and provide the finest betrothal gifts. If even that is insufficient, tell me. I shall grant whatever you desire.”
For Shylock, who valued money above life itself, to speak such words meant he genuinely desired my marriage to Simon with all his heart.
Yet I responded in a voice so cold it carried no emotion whatsoever.
“What I desire is never to encounter you again, nor your brother, nor any of those insufferable men of House of Rushian.”
With those words, I turned and left the room, only to open my eyes wide.
Simon stood before me.
Having heard of my arrival, Simon—groomed meticulously from head to toe—wore an expression brimming with excitement.
“Duchess of Edenberg, it has been far too long.”
Observing Simon offer his shy greeting, unaware of what had transpired within, I spoke.
“I once said you were a kind and good man. But that is no longer true.”
“…!”
“You are a foolish, cowardly, and contemptible man, Simon von Rushian.”
Shock consumed Simon’s face.
Yet rather than offer comfort, I drove the blade deeper.
“What, will you run crying to your brother again?”
Contempt and shame twisted Simon’s features.
Regardless of his reaction, I walked past him with an expressionless face and departed.
Upon leaving the mansion, a brilliant azure sky came into view.
I, who had worn an expression as frigid as ice mere moments before, finally broke into a radiant smile.
“Ah, what a relief that is.”
Bibi, arriving a beat late, handed me a document.
“This is the receipt confirming full repayment of the loan.”
“I thought he would resist, but he surrendered surprisingly easily.”
That was not quite accurate. Bibi had simply made him surrender willingly.
The art of coercing others into compliance was not Shylock’s exclusive domain.
Yet Bibi refrained from stating this outright and instead said:
“It seems you have made your master’s formidable power abundantly clear.”
At the word “formidable,” the corners of my mouth lifted.
‘Even I must admit, my performance today was quite impressive.’
But my self-satisfied expression faded quickly, and my face grew dejected.
Because there remained matters as important as—or perhaps even more important than—the debt itself.

* * *

In the Audience Chamber of the Imperial Palace, Killian von Orpheus and Artia sat facing one another.
With her head bowed before him, Artia was perspiring heavily—a far cry from the composure she had displayed moments earlier in front of Shylock von Rushian.
In the suffocating silence, Killian von Orpheus spoke first.
“How unexpected that the bride who abandoned her groom has returned to seek me out.”
His voice was glacial.
Artia fought the urge to turn and flee immediately, and instead spoke.
“That day was truly chaotic. I apologize for leaving without even greeting you properly.”
“Your apology is unnecessary. The wedding was cancelled, yet I received compensation generously—double the originally agreed amount.”
“…How fortunate for you.”
“…”
Enduring this suffocating silence, Artia suddenly felt a surge of indignation.
‘Why must I tremble like a criminal?’
She regretted leaving without a word, but truthfully, if the other party had not been Killian von Orpheus, this would have been no problem at all.
Artia gathered her courage and spoke.
“I understand Your Highness is displeased, but it was you who came to me unilaterally, insisting you wished this. To blame me for it now is…”
Aggrieved? Troubled? Irritated?
Yet the words that followed completely defied Killian von Orpheus’s expectations.
“I’m afraid of you.”
“…!”
A crack appeared in Killian von Orpheus’s perfect composure.
One of his eyebrows arched upward in evident displeasure.
“What exactly have I done?”
Killian von Orpheus had merely recounted what had transpired at the Bluerance Mansion to Artia—he had not blamed her. He had not even been angry.
And yet Artia…
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but you bear a rather ominous epithet.”
The Mad Prince does not hesitate to sever the neck of anyone who displeases him.
It was a name known throughout the Empire.
“That’s…”
As Killian von Orpheus moved to object, Artia’s hands entered his field of vision.
Her two pale hands, clasped together, trembled slightly.
His heart sank inexplicably at the sight.
Killian von Orpheus furrowed his brow and murmured.
“What exactly do you take me for…?”
With a soft sigh, he brushed back his hair and spoke.
“Let us speak of this no further.”
“…Truly?”
“Yes.”
Only then did Artia’s trembling hand still.
Seeing this, Killian’s brow furrowed deeper at his own relief—how absurd of him.
Witnessing his expression, Artia’s heart raced again, but she clenched her fists tightly.
‘His Highness said to stop first, so he won’t do anything frightening. So….’
Artia gathered her courage and spoke the words she truly wished to say.
“Your Highness.”
“Speak.”
Killian’s response came somewhat tersely, and Artia continued.
“With neither my mother nor my relatives standing by my side, I was truly delighted when you came all this way to offer me your help.”
Though he had provided no tangible assistance, my gratitude remained. Besides, he had offered to lend me money.
“So I’ve prepared a small gift for you.”
A gift—a word that ordinarily stirred no emotion in Killian whatsoever.
Dozens of people visited him daily, presenting him with extraordinary treasures.
Yet unlike his usual demeanor, Killian’s golden eyes gleamed with intrigue.
What Artia offered with such evident nervousness was a chocolate cake—one that exuded rich sweetness even to the eye.
“Will you accept it?”

* * *

Artia sat across from Killian.
Not in the austere Audience Chamber as before, but at a table in the luminously decorated Garden.
‘How did this happen?!’
Artia recalled what had just transpired.
Killian had spoken to her as she presented the cake with reverent courtesy, as though offering a precious treasure.
“Let’s eat together.”
“Pardon?”
When had her ears stopped working?
As Artia blinked, Killian’s voice continued.
“Or are you planning to abandon me and flee again?”
“No! Of course not!”
Thus, quite against her will, she found herself seated across from him, eating cake.
‘Why would such a virulent misogynist want to do this with me?’
Lost in confusion, Artia was startled once more.
The one who had brought the teapot and teacups was not a maidservant, but Nocton.
“You have that ‘why are you the one doing this’ expression, Duchess of Edenberg.”
Nocton smiled gently as he continued.
“His Highness Killian accepts service from no one but myself.”
Which is why I’m working myself to death.
Nocton kept his true thoughts unspoken in the presence of his superior and skillfully arranged the table setting.
Soon, a delicate teapot and teacup adorned with intricate patterns were placed on the table, along with the chocolate cake Artia had brought.
Nocton von Alihas cut the round cake into perfect sixths and placed a slice before Killian von Orpheus and Artia.
‘To be served by the eldest son of an earl and the direct subordinate of His Imperial Highness….’
Seeing Artia’s stiffened expression born of unease, Nocton von Alihas’s eyes softened with warmth.
“I’m simply fulfilling my duties, so please don’t concern yourself and enjoy your meal.”
“Yes, thank you.”
At his words, Artia’s heart eased considerably, and she answered with a bright smile.
“Why chocolate cake? Of all things.”
At Killian von Orpheus’s voice, Artia turned her head.
The sight of him standing with arms crossed before the chocolate cake was truly… so incongruous it was almost unsettling.
‘A malevolent demon lord holding a dainty cherry would suit him better than this.’
With that thought, Artia answered matter-of-factly.
“You enjoy chocolate cake, don’t you?”
“…!”
In that moment, Killian von Orpheus’s eyes widened ever so slightly. Though his expression remained unchanged, Nocton von Alihas, standing beside him, did the same.

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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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