The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 81

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

In Search of the Duke’s Husband – Episode 81

‘Surely you’re joking with me?’
Yet contrary to my hopes, Marigold’s expression remained utterly serious. I decided to be honest about my feelings.
“Pretty is certainly a charming nickname, but it feels far too burdensome.”
“Then how about Cutie?”
“Please… no.”
After that, Marigold’s relentless barrage of nicknames continued until we finally settled on calling me “Tia.”
Marigold spoke with obvious regret at not securing her desired nickname.
“Since I’ll call you Tia, you have to call me by the title I want.”
“How would you like me to address you?”
Marigold answered with eager enthusiasm, as if she’d been waiting for this moment.
“Big Sister♡”
“Big Sister?!”
“Yes, I’m two years older than you, after all.”
Yet among the nobility, it was unheard of to use such an intimate term simply because of an age difference. For me, an only child, it was an especially unfamiliar word.
Seeing my discomfort, Marigold shrugged her shoulders.
“If you don’t like it, there’s nothing I can do. But then I’ll call you Pretty instead of Tia…”
The absurd nickname made me blurt out a response before I could stop myself.
“Big Sister!”
Marigold, having secured the title she desired, laughed triumphantly with a smug expression. She even added one more subtle jab to her victory.
Actions that might have seemed rude coming from anyone else felt entirely natural from her.
‘That must be her strength.’
I surrendered completely to Marigold.
Meanwhile, Dahlia was struggling to steady her heart, which threatened to become dangerously soft.
‘Fans are truly precious beings.’
But ultimately, they were RedLip’s fans—they had nothing to do with the noblewoman Dahlia.
Yet despite her resolve, I was thinking something entirely different.
‘Count Greg’s wife’s expression has become so much softer.’
Her black eyes, which had been cold and distant, now radiated warmth. They often curved gently with kindness.
‘Has something good happened to her? Or perhaps the tea and dessert I prepared today suited her taste?’
Though I couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason, seeing Dahlia’s transformation lifted my spirits, and we were able to converse with genuine joy.
I had long forgotten any ambition about drawing closer to them to elevate my standing in High Society. I simply adored them.
‘I’m just another helpless noblewoman after all.’
A noblewoman completely captivated by the charm of the Flower Ladies.
I blushed deeply and honestly acknowledged my own heart.
It was a delightful tea party.

* * *

At that very moment, in the Imperial Palace, Nocton von Alihas stood with a smiling face while cold sweat dripped down his temples.
It was the ominous aura emanating from Killian von Orpheus that caused it.
‘What on earth is he reading to have such a terrible expression?’
Some profound philosophical treatise? Or perhaps a political work addressing sensitive matters?
None of these guesses were correct.
What Killian von Orpheus was reading was a romance novel that Artia had selected for him—a book that had set the hearts of countless women aflutter.
The title was “The First Love of Count Auguste.”
It was a tale, detailed and poignant, of a philandering count who gradually fell in love with the wife he had married for political advantage.

“The kneeling count grasped his wife’s rough fingertips with both hands and spoke.
“My body and heart are entirely yours. I beg of you—give me even a little of yourself in return.””

Killian von Orpheus felt a hostility he had never experienced even on the battlefield rising within him.
He wanted nothing more than to leap into the pages and tear apart the mouth of that absurd male protagonist spouting such ridiculous words.
…Yet Artia had said this man was magnificent, her pink eyes sparkling like cherry blossoms scattering beneath the spring sun.
‘…Let me read on.’
Killian von Orpheus turned the page again with the agonized expression of someone enduring torture.

* * *

Dalia’s Husband, Count Greg, was an upright and conscientious man, yet he made for a rather poor husband.
He devoted all his attention to matters of state, leaving his sole wife to languish in neglect.
Some whispered sympathies for the poor woman, but Dalia found his indifference rather agreeable.
After all, she harbored no great affection for a husband acquired through political arrangement.
Her passions lay solely in the art of writing.
After attending to her appearance, maintaining the household, and fulfilling her duties as a noblewoman in society, Dalia would steal away to her study to write.
Laughing, weeping, and anguishing through her words, Dalia finally let out a cry of triumph.
“At last, it’s finished!”
Her voice trembled with exultation.
Anyone who knew her would have been astonished by the sight.
Dalia gazed upon the thick stack of pages with eyes glistening with emotion.
After a full year of labor, RedLip’s new work—”The Noble Prince Is Her Footman”—was complete.
Though she had achieved the monumental task of completion, one great trial remained.
Delivering the manuscript to the Publishing House.
Dalia could not entrust her most precious manuscript to another soul, so she always delivered it herself.
Without anyone knowing.
Days later, Dalia left the Edenberg Mansion under the pretense of shopping.
A Maid had insisted on accompanying her, but that posed no difficulty. This was Dalia’s fifth such excursion, and she had become quite adept at managing the Maid.
“I shall browse the Bookstore, so feel free to go where you wish.”
“No, madam. How could I leave you unattended?”
“I prefer choosing books alone. When else would you have the chance to see the Street?”
With those words, Dalia pressed a gold coin into the Maid’s hand.
The Maid’s face lit with gratitude.
Our mistress is so clever, so beautiful, and so compassionate!
“Then I shall look about briefly and return here.”
They agreed upon a time to meet, and the Maid departed. The moment her figure vanished, the graceful smile faded from Dalia’s eyes, replaced by something far more resolute.
Dalia carried a conspicuously large bag under the guise of purchasing books—unbecoming of a noblewoman. Within it lay RedLip’s new manuscript.
Today, she would deliver it to the Publishing House.

* * *

Dahlia had been working with the same Publishing House since her first work until now.
Though modest in scale, the Publishing House did excellent work.
Most importantly, they faithfully honored the contract stipulation that they ask nothing about the author and reveal no information to the outside world.
Everything was satisfactory, save for one regrettable detail.
True to its small size, it was located in a remote and dimly lit Back Alley.
Had it not been for my novels, this was a place I would never have visited in my lifetime—yet every visit left me tense.
‘Let me get there as quickly as possible.’
As I walked faster than usual, a child appeared before me.
Startled, the child extended two grimy hands toward me.
“Beautiful lady, I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. Please, help me.”
Such encounters were common when walking through the Back Alley.
Without hesitation, I rummaged through my bag containing the manuscript and produced a silver coin.
The child’s face lit with gratitude as they eagerly accepted the money.
“Thank you so much!”
I bowed slightly in acknowledgment and was about to pass the child when—
“Most ladies don’t carry money or bags like this. You must be quite wealthy.”
“What?”
“Then you can give me more than that, can’t you?”
With those words, the child snatched my bag and bolted deeper into the Alley.
It happened so suddenly that I froze for a moment before my senses returned, and I gave chase.
“Stop!”
Even if fire consumed my dress, a noblewoman must never run.
I had long forgotten such etiquette, drilled into me since childhood until it became second nature.
Yet a noblewoman in a heavy gown and pointed heels could never catch a street child.
Eventually, my foot caught on a stone and I fell.
Sprawled on the ground, I lifted my head without time to assess my injuries.
The child’s figure, visible moments before, had vanished completely.
“No!”
A desperate cry echoed through the empty, dark Alley.

* * *

I lay there, tears streaming endlessly. My mind was blank.
I was in complete panic.
After a long moment, I came to my senses and muttered in a faltering voice.
“I… I have to find the manuscript.”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————