The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 60

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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 60

I had originally planned to explain the situation to the guests and cancel the wedding, but I changed my plans and held a gathering instead.
White tables arranged in a garden bursting with blooms, delectable dishes arranged like a painting come to life.
The guests arrived at the banquet hall, which I had prepared with utmost care.
The fake wedding that had been scheduled transformed into an ordinary gathering in just one day, yet not a single guest questioned it. They simply smiled and exchanged pleasant, everyday conversation.
Helen did the same.
Watching Helen inquire about others’ well-being, laugh and chatter about flowers and food, I found myself forgetting all about maintaining a gentleman’s dignity—tears welled up in my eyes.
Those who witnessed it graciously helped preserve my honor by suggesting dust had gotten in my eye.
As the gathering drew to a close, Helen spoke to the guests.
“Everyone, when you attended Juliet’s funeral twenty years ago, I wasn’t able to properly greet you, was I?”
In that instant, the warm atmosphere of the banquet hall filled with silence.
I was equally taken aback.
Twenty years ago, on the day that transformed a wedding into a funeral, Helen had called out Juliet’s name while sobbing uncontrollably, only to faint repeatedly.
In no state to conduct a proper funeral, she ultimately could not attend the ceremony.
Recalling that time, the guests fell silent, and Helen continued in a trembling voice.
“Then and now, I thank you for mourning my daughter’s passing.”
That was when I understood.
That Helen had finally bid farewell to Juliet.
That today’s gathering was Juliet’s funeral, held again after twenty years.
I could no longer hold back my tears. A gentleman’s honor no longer mattered to me at all.
After that day, Helen changed.
She no longer lies in a darkened room behind drawn curtains.
She rises in the morning, takes her meals, and walks through the Garden.
Her blue eyes, which resemble Juliet’s, still carry a trace of sorrow, but they no longer hold only despair. They are the eyes of someone living life with steadfast resolve.
Helen has never once asked about the false Juliet who briefly stayed with us.
But should that day ever come, would it be alright to tell her about you, Artia?」

Days later, Artia’s reply arrived.

「Of course.
When we meet again, please introduce me not as Juliet, but as your niece, Artia.」

3. The noble and beautiful lady is actually…

* * *

At the Edenberke Estate, Artia and Penelope sat across from each other, sipping tea.
Penelope gazed out at the rain pouring beyond the window and spoke.
“It’s been gloomy all morning, and now it’s really coming down.”
Artia spoke with a worried expression.
“It’s dangerous to travel in this weather. Stay the night.”
Penelope laughed softly.
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Oh my, how thrilling.”
Penelope laughed, touching her flushed cheeks with both hands, then let slip a thought.
“Whenever it rains like this, I find myself thinking of the First Prince.”
…
The First Prince, Arsen von Orpheus.
The Emperor and Empress’s firstborn child.
Yet despite his glorious station, he was a figure whose very mention was forbidden in whispered circles.
“They say it rained just like this on the day the First Prince was born?”
Though younger than the First Prince, both Artia and Penelope knew the tales of the day he came into the world.
It was that famous a story.
Torrential rains had fallen, flooding everywhere and triggering landslides.
Amid the disaster, as people screamed, the long-awaited first child of the Imperial Family was born.
“Born like a miracle amid the calamity of divine wrath! Surely he shall lead the Empire to glory!”
Yet the priest’s proclamation rang hollow—the newborn did not cry. Could not cry.
His body was too fragile to even breathe properly.
The attending doctors managed to save him through their skill, but the child’s body was so frail he teetered between life and death at every turn.
The Empire, the Imperial Court, the Emperor, the Empress—all despaired.
Whispers spread that an ill-fated prince had been born, and the Empire would surely fall into ruin.
Fortunately, the darkness did not last long.
A year later, the Second Prince, Killian von Orpheus, was born.
“Waaaaaah!”
From the moment of his birth, Killian von Orpheus cried with a lusty voice, and everything about him was perfect.
His golden eyes, which marked his Imperial bloodline, were bright and keen; he was precocious beyond his peers; and he was so healthy he never suffered a single childhood ailment.
The people of the Empire cast off their despair and reclaimed their hope as though they had never lost it.
“The Second Prince Killian von Orpheus, who carries the deep blood of the founding Emperor Orpheus, shall surely lead the Empire to glory!”
But there was one problem: he was the Second Prince.
The Empire followed the principle of primogeniture, and the Imperial Family was no exception.
The people’s desire for Killian von Orpheus to become the next Emperor soon transformed into resentment toward Arsen.
“If only Prince Arsen would disappear, then Prince Killian could become Emperor…!”
Some even dared openly wish for Arsen’s absence.
Was it concern for public opinion?
The Imperial Court kept Arsen von Orpheus hidden from view as much as possible, and people ceased to speak his name aloud.
As though he were a person who did not exist.
Penelope spoke.
“Prince Killian von Orpheus enjoys not only His Majesty’s trust but also the respect of the Empire’s people. He has acted for the Empire’s sake, having fought on the battlefield for years.”
Ultimately, the overwhelming consensus was that the Second Prince, Killian von Orpheus, would ascend to the throne, displacing the First Prince, Arsen von Orpheus.
I agreed with that assessment. And yet….
“There are even rumors circulating that His Highness Killian von Orpheus will somehow drag His Highness Arsen von Orpheus—who stands in the way of his path to the throne—into the swamp of death.”
I could not bring myself to nod at Penelope’s words, spoken with such fascination.
Had it been a few months ago, I would have chattered away with equal delight, just as she did.
As though recounting an ancient tale of a beautiful and terrifying demon named Killian von Orpheus.
But now I could not.
I have witnessed so many facets of His Highness Killian von Orpheus.
The mad prince who supposedly could not rest until blood stained his hands daily had never once shown me cruelty.
Far from it….
He had been kind. Impossibly so.
I recalled the image of him serving me carrot tea with a faint smile.
My heart had raced at that moment, and the confusion of it made me take a sip of tea.
In any case, he was not nearly as frightening as the world believed him to be.
Yet it remained true that the First Prince, Arsen von Orpheus, was the greatest obstacle to his ascension to the throne.
Would he, as the rumors suggested, wish to eliminate his elder brother? Or perhaps….
Would he show me a side of himself entirely at odds with the rumors, just as he had with me?

* * *

At that moment, in the Imperial Palace Garden, I stood beneath a marble pergola, watching the rain pour down in torrents.
And before me sat a young boy in a wooden wheelchair.
Seeing him hunch his shoulders against the howling wind, I spoke.
“Are you cold, brother?”
Remarkably, the boy was Arsen von Orpheus, my elder brother and the First Prince.
Perhaps it was because he had been so sickly that he never grew properly.
At twenty-four years old, he still bore the appearance of a young boy.
Long white hair, a beautiful but lifeless face, a frame so fragile it seemed it might shatter, a voice thin as gossamer.
With an appearance as though he might vanish at any moment, Arsen replied.
“Yes, I’m cold.”
At those words, I knelt before the wheelchair and unwound the scarf from my neck, beginning to wrap it around his.
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Of what?”
“I could strangle you right now with this scarf.”
Arsen’s eyes widened.
“That would be fine.”
“…How tedious.”
I murmured softly, tying the ends of the scarf around his neck into a ribbon bow before withdrawing my hands.
With the scarf draped around him, Arsen looked up at me and spoke.
“Whenever you wish, however you wish, I will die for you. It’s the only thing I can do for you.”
Hearing my brother’s words—a refrain he had uttered since childhood—my expression grew cold.
“If you die whenever and however I wish, I’ll be blamed as your murderer. I have no desire to become a heinous killer who murdered his own brother.”
At those words, Arsen’s expression fell.
“Then what should I do?”
“Simply live.”
Continue, like this, stay by my side. Don’t die.

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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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