The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 129

The boss, who values his life, didn’t show an ounce of displeasure at having kicked out all the customers who were there, but gave her a friendly smile.

 

“What would you like to drink?

 

Artia asked Killian.

 

“Do you have a favorite drink?”

 

“Not really. I don’t really like alcohol.”

 

Artia’s eyes widened in surprise.

 

“Then should I order milk or juice?”

 

Killian’s eyebrows rose at the implication that he was a child.

 

“It’s not that I can’t drink it, it’s that I don’t like it. Get me the strongest thing here.”

 

“I’ll have the weakest one here.”

 

The barkeep nodded with a smile at the man and woman’s orders.

 

The drinks that came a few moments later were as unique as the city of art itself.

 

The drink was ordinary, but the glasses were extraordinary.

 

The wooden goblet in front of Artia had a beer in its gaping mouth, while the iron goblet in front of Killian was engraved on the top with a bear bathing in purple liquor.

 

“Wow, I’ve never seen a glass like that before.”

 

“It makes me want to drink.”

 

Artia didn’t deny Killian’s statement.

 

“I suppose it’s a kind gesture from the boss to keep his guests from drinking too much.”

 

In less than an hour, Artia had five empty wooden glasses in front of her.

 

Killian, unwrapping his scarf, raised an eyebrow.

 

“Don’t you think you’re drinking too much?”

 

“The beer tastes good, so… I’m fine.”

 

With a flourish, Artia placed the empty glass on the table and raised a second finger at Killian.

 

“I’ll have just one more.”

 

“That’s the fifth time I’ve heard you say that.”

 

“This is really the last time.”

 

Killian had no interest in others.

 

Whether they were drinking poison or cutting themselves with knives, he didn’t give them a second glance as long as they didn’t harm him.

 

But why does it bother him so much that Artia drinks a few beers…

 

If it bothered him, he could have ordered her to stop, but he didn’t.

 

Killian let out a short sigh and raised his hand to order a sixth beer.

 

Artia put her mouth to the glass as happily as if it were her first beer.

 

The corners of her eyes crinkled and her cheeks flushed as she gulped it down with both hands.

 

‘You’re a beautiful drunk.’

 

Artia said to Killian, who was thinking. “By the way, haven’t we done this before?”

 

“Never.”

 

“I’ve faced Your Highness in a state of stupor before.”

 

“……!”

 

Artia’s heart sank as the ambushing enemy appeared at her back.

 

Killian had no intention of telling Artia about that night.

 

He knew it would only jeopardize their relationship if she recalled it.

 

But that was the judgment of his mind, not his heart.

 

It was a shame she couldn’t remember that hot, sweet moment. He was upset.

 

“Wasn’t it a dream?”

 

Killian said to Artia, who shook her head. “It wasn’t a dream.”

 

“……!”

 

“You were drunk that day, and you made me…” Killian’s eyes narrowed. “You were pretty.”

 

In the dim light, the man’s smiling eyes were unrealistically beautiful.

 

Artia stared at him, her mouth slightly open, and then she said, “Ah! I somewhat remembered, so…”

 

Artia jumped up from her chair, reached out her arms, and placed her hands on Killian’s cheeks. Then she turned to the side.

 

Lips met lips.

 

When they parted, Artia smiled.

 

“…This is how we did it, isn’t it?”

 

“…….”

 

His face was so innocent, like a child who had just answered a difficult math problem correctly.

 

Killian stared at Artia with wide eyes, then opened his mouth.

 

“No, it was like this.”

 

This time, Kilian stood up from his chair.

 

He wrapped one hand around the back of Artia’s head and kissed her.

 

It wasn’t a baby kiss like the one they’d shared earlier, where their lips briefly touched.

 

This was a deep, adult kiss.

 

Artia’s shoulders flinched in surprise, but only for a moment. Then she accepted him as if she’d been waiting for it.

 

Yes, this was what it felt like.

 

Soft, sweet, hot…

 

 

* * *

 

 

So good, we should keep going.

 

Killian pushed Artia away from him, unwilling to let go.

 

Any more and he was going to lose his mind.

 

“I want more…”

 

Artia whimpered and then fell asleep.

 

Killian leaned into her arms, feeling the warmth of her body against his.

 

The full sensation of her soft body and body heat sent a surge of barely contained heat through him.

 

“F*ck.”

 

Killian squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stop himself from touching Artia.

 

The emotional control he’d been taught since childhood was useless; he needed something more powerful.

 

Killian thought of his mother.

 

The image of the Empress’s face, colder than a winter wind, cooled his fever.

 

‘I can’t believe I’m using someone I’ve spent my life trying not to think about…’

 

Killian sighed and slowly opened his eyes.

 

He gently picked up Artia, who was leaning against him.

 

The sweet scent of her body, the feel of her fine hair, her rhythmic breathing, her soft, warm body.

 

They barely made it out of the bar before he was reminded of his mother’s face whenever she was provoked.

 

He hugged her tightly, not wanting the people on the street to see her sleeping.

 

No one dared to look this way, not with the vicious aura he emitted.

 

“Welcome.”

 

Vivi greeted Killian and Artia as they arrived at the inn.

 

“She had a lot to drink, and she’ll be hungover. Take care of her.”

 

“Yes, I’ll take care of her now.”

 

Vivi stretched out her hand, and Killian involuntarily tightened his grip on Artia’s hand.

 

‘I don’t want to give her.’

 

But there was no way he could continue to stand outside the door with Artia in his arms.

 

Killian gave her a pained look and handed Artia to Vivi.

 

The look in his eyes was so fierce and pitiful, it reminded Vivi of the time she had taken a wolf pup from its mother.

 

Finally handing Artia over, Vivi bowed her head.

 

“Be safe inside, Your Grace.”

 

Killian closed the door. If he didn’t, he knew he’d snatch Artia from Vivi again.

 

Killian’s room was next door.

 

Within a few steps, he entered the room and sank to the floor in a heap.

 

He kept replaying the moment their lips met.

 

The feel, the scent, the warmth. Every sensation remained vivid and tormented him.

 

He knew from her that it could be too good to be painful.

 

Time passed, and dawn began to rise.

 

Killian, still crouched on the floor, stared up at the blue sky with cold eyes and thought.

 

‘I wonder if Artia von Edenberg remembers what happened last night?’

 

Last time, she hadn’t remembered anything. So, he could pretend it hadn’t happened.

 

But this time?

 

Killian wanted to share the sensations he’d shared with her, but at the same time he hoped she remembered nothing.

 

He wanted to remain friends with her.

 

He wanted to be connected to Artia von Edenberg in some way.

 

It was then. A black bird swooped noiselessly into the window.

 

As it landed on Killian’s wrist, a tuneless sound leaked from its mouth.

 

“King Arsen, critical. Demand your return.”

 

As if doused in cold water, Killian realized what he had forgotten.

 

What an unseemly luxury he’d had.

 

Rising to his feet, he stared for a long moment into the room next door, where Artia was staying, then turned his head again.

 

His golden eyes changed.

 

Once filled with boyish emotion, they were now filled with cold reasons.

 

Then his figure disappeared from the room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Opening her eyes long after the morning sun had risen, Artia let out a small scream.

 

Vivi, who had entered the room like lightning, asked, “What is the matter, my lady?”

 

“Oh, nothing, I just have a little stomachache…”

 

“Well, I thought you might have a hangover anyway, so I prepared some mint tea. Shall I bring it?”

 

“Yes…”

 

After Vivi left, Artia wrapped her arms around her head.

 

“You’re crazy, you’re crazy, Artia, no matter how drunk you are, how could you do that!”