The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 115

Artia stared at Killian blankly, then nodded like a child realizing the error of her ways.

 

“Yes…”

 

The whole of her neck, where Killian’s fingers had touched a moment ago, was now bright red.

 

Killian bit his lip and tightened his grip on the necklace.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Killian and Artia sat next to each other by the window and talked about many things.

 

Being “friends” had brought them closer together, and they felt more comfortable confiding in each other than before. At least that’s what Artia said.

 

“The first time I really saw you was when I was twenty-one, when Lloyd and I were married, and we greeted you together for the first time.”

 

“What a piece of garbage, Edenberg.”

 

The harshness in Killian’s eyes as he spoke of Lloyd was so frightening that Artia ducked her head, not daring to protest.

 

“I was so frightened, I was on the verge of tears.”

 

Killian spoke up apologetically.

 

“Because you brought that piece of trash home as your husband.”

 

Artia laughed instead of feeling sorry for herself for calling her ex-husband a scumbag.

 

“I admit I was a terrible judge of character back then, but unlike me, you recognized him at a glance.”

 

“…….”

 

Artia was right, Killian was good at reading people.

 

But it was a purely rational judgment.

 

There was no emotion involved in his assessment.

 

But it was different with Lloyd: the moment he looked at her, she felt a surge of hostility that embarrassed her.

 

She didn’t know it then, but now she knows why.

 

“Anyone but Lloyd would have been angry.”

 

“What?”

 

“Anyone standing next to Artia von Edenberg.”

 

“……?”

 

It took a few seconds for Artia’s face to flush red as she realized what he was saying.

 

*Knock, knock, knock*

 

A knock sounded on the door and Vivi’s voice came from outside.

 

“Master, it’s time for bed.”

 

‘When did time pass by so fast?’

 

Turning to Artia, who looked puzzled, Killian said, “I’ll go.”

 

Artia didn’t bother to follow him. It was too late.

 

But she couldn’t help but grab the hem of Killian’s robe. Turning to the wide-eyed Killian, Artia said, “I had a lot of fun today. You should come back again.”

 

“…….”

 

‘She’s saying that to me, a non-butterfly?’

 

Killian stared at Artia in surprise, then his eyes curved upward. It wasn’t a calculated smile. It wasn’t a masked smile.

 

It was simply a smile of uncontrollable joy.

 

 

 

Returning to the palace unnoticed, Killian stood still in the darkness and slowly raised his hand. He stared at his hands in the moonlight and muttered.

 

“Why is her touch like that?”

 

Killian was accustomed to touching human skin. He’d seen it, touched it, and cut it countless times on the battlefield.

 

But the skin he’d torn was so different from Artia’s.

 

It was white, soft, and fragile, like peach pudding. It looked as if it would crumble at the slightest pressure.

 

Killian wanted to eat Artia’s white skin.

 

He wanted to kiss it, suck it, nibble on it. He wanted to smear himself all over that white, soft body.

 

Dirty.

 

Killian clenched his fists in pain. Blood spurted from his knuckles. Blood leaked from between his interlocking fingernails.

 

Being with Artia was so pleasurable, like heaven.

 

But at the same time, it’s painful.

 

He had to put on a face of nonchalance, fighting an urge that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard he suppressed it.

 

Killian knew exactly why Artia was so relaxed, laughing and talking in his presence.

 

Because he was her favorite butterfly, because he was her special friend.

 

The moment that line is crossed, that relationship is broken.

 

Killian never wanted that to happen. Desperately, intensely.

 

Killian mumbled hypnotically.

 

“Me and Artia von Edenberg are friends.”

 

Friends. Closer than most, but with no room for rational emotion.

 

To preserve that relationship, he must never reveal his dirty desires. Never.

 

Killian’s hand trembled slightly as he repeated the same words over and over.

 

The sensation of her touch was too vivid.

 

 

 

 

At the same time, Artia lay in bed, transfixed.

 

The image of Killian’s face before he left flashed before her eyes.

 

It was a boyish, innocent smile, not at all in keeping with his nickname, the Mad King.

 

She wasn’t just hallucinating. She also heard voices.

 

“Whoever is next to Artia of Edenberg.”

 

She remembered the panic she felt the moment she heard those words, the way her heart skipped a beat, everything.

 

Artia gripped the hem of the blanket tightly, her face tense.

 

“Wake up, Artia von Edenberg. Your friends.”

 

‘My dear friend, my dear butterfly.’

 

No matter how much he shows her a smile as beautiful as a rose in full bloom, no matter how much he says the wrong thing, her heart shouldn’t be pounding like this. She’s being rude to her boyfriend.

 

“Let’s get over it and get some sleep.”

 

Even as she closed her eyes in determination, the image of Killian refused to leave her mind, and Artia had to spend the night kicking at the hem of the covers.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was a day of white snow. The noble women gathered in the Imperial Palace, each one brighter than a flower. They were there to choose the best lady of the year, the Ethereal.

 

Artia was there.

 

A crowd of women gathered around her, as if it were a lie that just a few months ago she hadn’t known more than a handful of people.

 

As she chatted happily with her friends, including Penelope, Artia turned her head.

 

Marigold, Dahlia and Freesia entered. It had been a long time since she had seen the Flower Ladies.

 

All three were beautiful women, but all eyes were on Freesia, who hadn’t been seen in the ballroom in a long time.

 

Her golden hair was as bright as a bee’s, her emerald eyes were like spring buds, and her skin was as clear as a pearl.

 

She had put on a few pounds, but she was fresher and more beautiful than ever.

 

Women flocked to her like bees to a bright flower.

 

“Mrs. Elysium, we have missed you so much. Are you feeling better?”

 

“I am fine, thanks to the concern of so many of you. I’ve missed you too.”

 

The women blushed in unison at Freesia’s kind words.

 

Marigold, now approaching Artia, whispered, “She’s become even more popular in her absence.”

 

Marigold said calmly. “There’s a story about a princess who had the courage to escape her evil husband.”

 

Artia clasped her hands together and her eyes twinkled.

 

“And most of all, you’re beautiful, and I’m grateful that you let me see that beauty with my own eyes.”

 

Marigold and Dahlia nodded in agreement.

 

Moments later, the ballroom erupted again. Killian had arrived.

 

The reaction was very different from Freesia’s. Whereas before they had been ecstatic, as if they had seen an angel, this time they were frozen, as if they had met the devil.

 

Of course, it wasn’t just fear.

 

Marigold muttered with hypnotized eyes.

 

“If the devil looked like that, I’d become a devil worshipper in a heartbeat.”

 

Dahlia nodded, also spellbound.

 

The husbands standing beside the two women were stunned, but unable to say anything. They were in agreement.

 

Meanwhile, Artia’s face was as red as an apple.

 

‘That is the outfit I picked out for him before.’

 

The black suit that showed off the skeleton of his hard body was one of the clothes Artia had picked out for him before.

 

It was no big deal, just a chance encounter, and he wore it.

 

And yet, for some reason, her heart sank.

 

Then her eyes met Killian’s.