The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 152

The men sitting there with bored faces looked up in surprise.

 

“What happened?”

 

Luca said with a pained face.

 

“I can’t breathe…”

 

His pale face and the way he was shaking so violently was alarming.

 

Any other servant would have left him for dead, but Luca was Tunguel’s favorite servant enough to bring him back when he ran away.

 

If anything went wrong, they’d have to face her fierce wrath.

 

“I’ll speak to my master!”

 

One of the men rushed out.

 

The others in the room stepped forward to check on Luca, unsure of what to do.

 

Without missing a beat, Luca smashed the man’s head with his head.

 

“Ow!”

 

Luca scrambled to his feet as the man fell to the ground. He was lucky his legs weren’t tied.

 

As Luca left the room, the man yelled at him.

 

“You’re a dead man if they catch you!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Luckily, the mansion didn’t have any servants who had been there as long as I had, so I was able to escape and outrun them by taking a path that only I knew.”

 

Luca laughed as he said that, his face scarred.

 

There was no fear that something terrible had happened to him.

 

There was only joy that he had escaped and was safely back at Artia’s side.

 

But Artia couldn’t help but smile back.

 

Luca’s smile vanished from his face when he saw the stony expression on Artia’s face.

 

Luca looked up and asked.

 

“Master, are you angry with me?”

 

“No.”

 

Despite her words, Artia’s insides were boiling. With feelings for Tunguel.

 

But not in front of a sick child.

 

Artia put on a soft face and spoke.

 

“Now that we know what happened, I think it’s time for you to rest.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’ve told Susan to nurse you, so if you need anything else, just let me know.”

 

‘Can’t I have my master with me instead of the maid?’

 

Luca nodded, barely able to keep the words out of his throat.

 

 

Just as the doctor had said, Luca was running a high fever.

 

Between the fever and the medicine, Luca passed out and fell asleep.

 

Luca wasn’t sick. No, he couldn’t be sick.

 

Because the moment he said he was sick, the accusations flew.

 

“Ugh, you’re a Kudran, you can’t work, so what if you can’t get up? If you can’t get up right now, just go fuck yourself.”

 

It was the same with his grandmother.

 

Norma was old and overworked every day.

 

He didn’t want to cause her unnecessary worry when she was already struggling.

 

All little Luca could do was curl up into a tiny ball and try not to show his pain.

 

“…….”

 

Luca, now eighteen years old, opened his eyes.

 

His eyes widened for a moment.

 

He saw Artia.

 

“Master, master…!”

 

Artia stopped him as he tried to get up.

 

“You’re still feverish. Stay down.”

 

“…….”

 

Earlier, Artia had left the room, leaving Luca’s care to another maid.

 

‘But why was her master here?’

 

A glance at the window told her it was dark.

 

Artia dampened her towel and said.

 

“It’s a strange story, but I asked Susan to do it because she’s a prying eye, and if the master herself tends to one of her servants when he’s ill, it might cause a bad word among the workers.”

 

It’s bad enough that she stands out in many ways, but if Artia is seen to be taking special care of her, it won’t go unnoticed.

 

Like Vivi used to say.

 

“That’s why I take Susan’s shift at dawn, because that’s when the servants rest in their rooms.”  Artia added.

 

“Oh.”

 

“The servants who share a room with you have been moved to another room for a while, in case they catch a cold, so don’t worry about them and get some rest.”

 

With that, Artia placed a wet towel over Luca’s forehead.

 

As the cool washcloth touched his hot forehead, the pain disappeared and he relaxed.

 

Then sleep began to creep in again.

 

‘I don’t want to go to bed…’

 

It was a miraculous time to have his master by his side.

 

I wanted to feel this moment as long as possible.

 

But his wounded body wanted to recover, and his eyes gradually closed.

 

Luca desperately held Artia in his violet eyes and fell asleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Artia wanted to go straight to Tunguel and vent her anger, but she held back.

 

She was past the stage of verbal threats now.

 

‘There’s no use talking to her,’ she thought.

 

She had to give her a punishment she could feel with her whole body.

 

As soon as morning came, Artia abandoned her original schedule and went to visit her favorite ladies.

 

 

Madame Tunguel’s mansion.

 

She had been drinking since midday.

 

She hadn’t been able to control her anger since Luca’s escape.

 

Her eyes were half-lidded and she chewed her lip.

 

“Luca, you’re my dog, you belong to this Tunguel!”

 

It was more of an exclamation than an affection.

 

Tunguel couldn’t accept that her favorite toy had been taken from her.

 

She forgot her fear of nobles.

 

“If she really had the power to take what was mine, she would have come and done it long ago.”

 

But Artia hadn’t shown a single hair so far.

 

“See, nobility is no big deal.”

 

Tunguel snorted.

 

The door burst open and a servant entered.

 

“Ah, my lady, trouble!”

 

The older servant, who called Tunguel by an inappropriate title, was named John.

 

He had been Tunguel’s closest confidant since her parents’ time.

 

Tunguel glared at John with a harsh glare.

 

“I told you no one was to come in here because it would drive me mad. You think I’m going to take you for an old man?”

 

“Well, of course not, but it was such an urgent matter that I had no choice.”

 

“What the hell!”

 

John said in a creeping voice, intimidated by Tunguel’s rant.

 

“All of our vendors have informed us that they’re cutting off business with us, and they won’t e buying anything from us in the future.”

 

“What…?!”

 

Tunguel had a huge livestock operation.

 

The business, which had been in the family for generations, had been steady, if not elegant, thanks to its timeless nature.

 

But to cut it off overnight…?!

 

John continues.

 

“I asked one of the owners, and he said it was a nobleman.”

 

“Aristocrats?!”

 

“Yes, not one, not two, but dozens of nobles have told me that they don’t want to eat food made from meat supplied by our family, and if I go against them, they’ll turn dozens of them against us, so I have no choice but to comply.”

 

Despite their words, the bosses were chuckling inside.

 

They had been looking for an excuse to cut off business with Tunguel’s family, whose meat had gotten worse and more expensive with each passing year.

 

This was an opportunity they had been too afraid to act on.

 

But Tunguel didn’t know that.

 

After taking over the family business when her parents died unexpectedly in an accident, all she knew how to do was scrub people down.

 

“You let them talk to me like that!”

 

John blurted out, dismayed at Tunguel’s refusal to fight in the face of such an emergency.

 

“One or two of them I could have dealt with, but all of them at once, I’m at a loss. What shall we do, my lady?”

 

Tunguel tossed the glass she was holding back at John.

 

“Don’t you dare ask me that, I’m paying the old man to take care of these things!”

 

With his head bandaged from the glass, John tried to defuse the situation.

 

Every day, he went to his customers, cajoling, begging, and making uncharacteristic threats.

 

But the bosses just clicked their tongues.

 

“Don’t do this to us, just go to Ms. Tunguel and tell her, “I don’t know which nobleman you offended, but I beg you to make your hand into a foot and beg for forgiveness, and then we’ll resume business.””

 

The boss adds.

 

“At a cheaper price than we’re getting it now, of course.”