The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 59

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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 59

Observing the unmistakable hostility gleaming in those golden eyes, Shylock von Rushian realized that excuses would no longer suffice, and he cried out.
“I shall cease the Masked Gathering at once! There will be no more gambling dens, no more loans at murderous interest rates!”
“That is insufficient.”
“Then what more could I possibly——”
“Return every coin you received from those whom you ensnared into gambling debts during the five years since you became head of House of Rushian. Principal and interest alike.”
Killian von Orpheus momentarily forgot even his fear of the mad Duke and cried out.
“This is preposterous! Interest, perhaps, but the principal as well? Why should I return money to them?”
“Do not feign innocence. Every coin they borrowed and squandered at the gambling tables—it all found its way into your pockets.”
“…!”
Shylock von Rushian answered in a voice devoid of confidence.
“That is merely a fraction of what I received. If I return all the money I took from them, House of Rushian faces ruin.”
“Then let it be ruined.”
“…!”
“If that burden is too great, take your own life instead.”
“….”
“If that displeases you as well, do nothing. I shall ensure you come to regard the first two options as the finest choices available.”
The languid voice was no jest. It was chilling sincerity.
Shylock von Rushian’s expression grew desperate, and he spoke with a trembling voice.
“W-why would you concern yourself with someone like me? Surely I am not worthy of Your Majesty’s attention.”
To implement social justice.
To protect the Nobility.
Rather than uttering such trite platitudes, Killian von Orpheus spoke a single sentence.
“You laid hands upon Artia von Edenberg.”
“…?!”
Why would that name emerge here?!
Shylock von Rushian’s jaw fell open in utter shock.
Killian von Orpheus pointed at him with his second finger.
“Never appear before her again. Should you do so——”
He moved his finger across his throat.
As though slicing through Shylock’s neck.
“You die.”
It was the very phrase Artia had uttered at Baron Crobason’s gathering—crude perhaps, but devastatingly effective.

* * *

The following day, chaos erupted throughout the Convent.
Shylock von Rushian had confessed his sins to everyone.
“Suddenly burdened with the weight of becoming the family head and expanding our house’s enterprises, I committed acts I should never have undertaken.”
He enumerated every wrongdoing he had committed.
In truth, while his actions were morally reprehensible, they were not legally punishable offenses.
Yet he expressed remorse and made the extraordinary declaration that he would return both principal and interest to all those he had wronged as an act of atonement.
Upon hearing this news, my first thought was, ‘Has that man lost his mind?’ My second was, ‘Is he serious?’
Remarkably, Shylock von Rushian’s words proved genuine.
Shortly thereafter, an enormous crate arrived at the Edenberke Estate, sent from House of Rushian.
The box was filled to the brim with gleaming gold coins. When I counted them all, it totaled exactly three billion gold—the sum I had given him.
I was so astonished that I could not utter a single word.
‘What in the world is happening? Did some angel watching from heaven reform this villain?’
Though I could not fathom how this had come to pass, it felt nothing short of miraculous.
I had resigned myself to accepting the peaceful resolution, but truthfully, I had been deeply distressed.
Overjoyed, I immediately sent two billion gold to Humphrey.
‘Even though it was compensation for fulfilling my promise, I cannot express how heavy my heart felt. It is such an enormous sum for Uncle as well.’
Afterward, I visited the second-hand shop where I had sold the estate’s furnishings.
“I wish to repurchase the items I sold to you previously.”
I had naturally expected the Shop Owner to demand more than the original sale price, yet he spoke with a peculiar expression of fear.
“I need only the amount I originally received from you.”
‘Has the angel visited the creditors as well?’
In any case, thanks to this, I was able to reclaim all the items, and the empty Edenberke Estate returned to its former state.
As though nothing had ever transpired.

That evening, Artia looked up from the book she was reading in her chamber, her eyes brightening.
The black cat had come to visit.
“Welcome, Nabi!”
“….”
“It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it? I was worried you might come while I was away, but you didn’t, did you?”
Before leaving the Edenberg Mansion, Artia had asked Bibi to look after Nabi if the cat came by.
Bibi had entered Artia’s chamber several times a day to check the windowsill and even left a bowl of cat treats on the window each morning, yet she reported finding no trace of the black cat’s visit.
‘It’s true the cat didn’t come, but would it even eat cat treats if it did?’
Killian sat perched on the windowsill, his eyes gleaming with fresh interest.
As if urging her to continue talking.
Artia, sensing his desire to listen, began chattering about everything that had happened.
The enormous debt Catherine had incurred, the visit to Baron Humphrey’s estate to repay it, and….
“I almost got (fake) married.”
“…!”
“To someone with a terrible case of misogyny, no less.”
Artia stared intently at the black cat before murmuring thoughtfully.
“Now that I think about it, you and he are remarkably alike.”
“…!”
At her unexpected words, the black cat’s tail stiffened. Artia, oblivious to the reaction, continued with an innocent expression.
“Black fur, golden eyes, a breathtakingly beautiful face….”
In that instant, the corner of the black cat’s mouth twitched slightly.
So she does have proper taste after all, Artia von Edenberg.
I had begun to suspect her aesthetic judgment was flawed, given how she always trembled and looked at the ground whenever she saw me.
Artia, unaware of the black cat’s arrogant musings, continued speaking.
“You both dislike being touched by others too.”
“….”
“When I held His Majesty’s hand, he made this expression.”
Artia fixed the black cat with a terrifying glare.
“He seemed quite displeased.”
That wasn’t displeasure at all…!
The black cat felt an urge to correct her immediately, but Artia laughed softly at him.
“Still, I rather enjoyed it.”
“…?!”
“It felt as though someone who had always seemed infinitely distant suddenly became a little closer.”
“….”
After a moment of consideration, Artia spoke.
“Say, would it be alright if I touched you just a little?”
Artia had been careful all this time not to accidentally touch Nabi, sensing the cat’s aversion to it.
But His Majesty Killian, who seemed as though he might rage like an angry black panther, had actually responded better than expected when she did touch him.
His expression had been frightening, but there was no genuine displeasure in it.
‘Perhaps Nabi could be the same way, couldn’t she?’
It was a small, carefully hidden wish that I had kept locked away.
I wanted to touch her.
To stroke that soft black fur and feel the warmth radiating from her body.
“Of course, if you dislike it, I would never force you to do anything….”
My eyes widened.
The black cat had extended one of her front paws toward me.
As if to say, do as you wish, her expression was one of arrogant permission.
“So I’m allowed to touch you?”
“….”
“…Then, if I may.”
I carefully reached out and grasped the small, round paw.
Oh my. It was far softer than I had imagined, so pliant and warm!
Watching me wear an expression of rapture as though I possessed the entire world, Killian furrowed his brow.
‘She’s far more delighted holding my paw than when she held my hand in human form?’
Why did that irritate me?

* * *

Dear Artia

How have you been, Artia?
I write to you now, curious about what has transpired since your departure.
The morning after you left, Helen no longer searched for Juliet. She did not weep either.
Though a longing she could not conceal lingered in her eyes, she remained elegant and beautiful—just as Juliet had been before her death.
Helen spoke to me thus.
“My dear, let us host a Masked Gathering.”

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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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