The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 154

Arthia left her room in her pajamas.

 

Her eyes widened as she jumped out of the carriage as it came to a stop.

 

The building that had been so beautiful and majestic just a few hours ago was burning bright red.

 

“What the hell..!”

 

Artia asked Vivi, barely able to control herself.

 

“Did you call the fire department?”

 

“Yes, but they have to bring a water cart, so it will take them a while to get here.”

 

There was no point in waiting.

 

Artia shouted.

 

“Vivi, find a place nearby where we can fetch water, and get the workers in line to put out the fire.”

 

The servants from the mansion followed Vivi’s instructions and began fetching water.

 

Among them was Artia.

 

Artia gritted her teeth as she lifted a weight she would never normally lift.

 

“It’s okay, we just need to turn it off as soon as possible. Then we’ll be good to go for tomorro performance!”

 

She didn’t stop, not even when sparks flew in her face or when her arms shook from the exertion.

 

But the flames showed no sign of abating, as if ignoring Artia’s efforts.

 

Vivi, covered in black ash, said,

 

“Master, no matter how much water I pour on it, the fire won’t go out at all.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“It doesn’t seem to be a spontaneous fire, but rather a fire that someone created in a special way, and it can’t be put out in the usual way.”

 

Artia paused for a moment.

 

The idea that it would be hard to put out was more shocking than the idea that it was intentionally set.

 

“No, don’t stop. Think. Move, Artia!”

 

But nothing came to mind.

 

If the building engulfed in flames hadn’t been the theater she’d spent the last few months painstakingly creating, she might have been able to think straight.

 

But as the building burned black, her reason crumbled.

 

It was in despair that a single, transparent tear escaped from Artia’s eye.

 

“Artia von Edenberg.”

 

At the familiar voice, Artia slowly turned her head.

 

Under the dark night sky stood Killian.

 

There was no time to wonder why or how he was here.

 

Artia called out in a cracked voice.

 

“Help, Your Majesty!”

 

Killian nodded toward Artia, tears streaming down her black-stained face.

 

“Yes.”

 

After a short reply, Killian began to approach the building.

 

Artia’s eyes widened at the sight of him.

 

“What did I just say…!”

 

Artia stretched out her hand toward Kilian.

 

“Your Majesty, it’s dangerous…”

 

Artia stuttered.

 

Killian’s golden eyes widened, and a blinding light began to radiate from his body.

 

He raised his hand.

 

The giant golden molecules gathered in his hands flew like pollen and began to envelop a great flame that burned hot.

 

Then the fire, which could not be extinguished by dozens of people pouring water on it, began to die down like a lie.

 

“……!”

 

Artia and everyone else around her couldn’t take their eyes off the miraculous sight.

 

In an instant, the flames were gone.

 

Killian spun around.

 

His eyes, still glowing, held Artia’s, and he said,

 

“I’m done, so…”

 

Kilian’s large hand cupped Artia’s cheek.

 

“Don’t cry.”

 

With those words, his eyes closed and his rigid body jerked.

 

Startled, Artia opened her arms and hugged him tightly.

 

Her thin arms trembled, but she never let go.

 

 

* * *

 

 

An imperial ballroom.

 

Ten-year-old Killian stood before the chubby-cheeked Artia, who was only a hair shorter than him.

 

“Artia von Edenberg.”

 

Artia looked up, her large pink eyes reflecting Killian’s.

 

Artia smiled shyly, not the least bit afraid of Killian.

 

The two sat side by side at a round table.

 

On the table was an orange-colored dessert made of carrots.

 

Artia took a bite of the carrot cake and smiled happily.

 

“The palace is scary and I hate it, but I love that they serve carrot dessert every time I come here.”

 

Killian gave her a smug look.

 

“I know, that’s why I had the maids make it. Eat lots of it.”

 

The cherry blossoms swayed and the space changed.

 

A corner of the palace garden.

 

Young Artia was crying, her face buried in her lap.

 

As the young Killian approached, Artia slowly raised her head.

 

Looking into her tear-stained pink eyes, Killian held out a handkerchief.

 

“Don’t cry.”

 

The cherry blossoms fluttered again and the room shifted.

 

This time, it was the glittering ballroom of the Imperial Palace.

 

Standing beneath the bright chandeliers, Artia was no longer a chubby-cheeked little girl.

 

She was a beautiful young woman of eighteen.

 

Killian extended his hand politely to Artia in her pink dress.

 

“Would you like to dance with me?”

 

Artia’s eyes widened, she blushed, and nodded.

 

The two of them clasped hands and swayed to the music.

 

The sweet scent of her perfume made Killian giddy.

 

His heart pounded hard against her white, thin neck and bare shoulders.

 

At the end of the dance, Killian said.

 

“You look beautiful tonight.”

 

The cherry blossoms flew again.

 

Twenty-year-old Killian was in a war zone.

 

It was dangerous and uncomfortable, with the smell of blood everywhere, but it was much more comfortable than being in the imperial palace.

 

Here he could escape the pressure of the Emperor, the Empress’s resentment, and Arsen’s grief.

 

After another battle, Killian entered the barracks, his armor stained with blood, and sat down.

 

As he drank the strong ale like water, Nocturne reported the news from the capital.

 

“Artia von Edenberg is to be married to Lloyd von Reiner in full moon.”

 

He knew Artia had a favorite man.

 

Even if she didn’t, she was of marriageable age for a noblewoman.

 

It had been predictable enough.

 

But her heart swelled in her chest.

 

The feelings for Artia that he’d thought he’d cut off when he’d come to war had rekindled.

 

‘Be patient, Killian von Orpheus.’

 

He suppressed it, as he had been taught since childhood.

 

Days passed.

 

Killian desperately controlled himself.

 

But on the eve of Artia’s wedding, his golden eyes flashed.

 

He couldn’t hold it in.

 

No, he didn’t want to.

 

In the darkness of the night, Killian turned into a black panther and ran at lightning speed.

 

He couldn’t think about tomorrow’s battle.

 

All that filled his mind was Artia von Edenberg.

 

After a day of riding, he reached the imperial palace.

 

“Monster, monster!”

 

People screamed in alarm at the sight of a black panther, much larger than normal.

 

The black panther rushed through the crowd and entered the chapel.

 

At the end of the long aisle stood Artia in a white dress.

 

The panther ran up the aisle and approached Artia.

 

“Aaah!”

 

Lloyd, who was next to Artia, screamed and ran away.

 

Alone, Artia was too frightened to think of running away.

 

But then her eyes widened.

 

The giant black panther had changed into Killian’s form right before her eyes.

 

Killian knelt down in front of Artia.

 

He looked up at her and said,

 

“Don’t marry another man.”

 

His voice was desperate, almost pleading.

 

…It was all Killian’s dream.

 

It was a longing he hid so tightly in the depths of his heart, not wanting anyone to know, not even himself.

 

 

 

Back in reality, Killian slowly opened his eyes.

 

He saw Artia.

 

Her hair was disheveled, and her white face was smeared with black ash.

 

Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.

 

“Are you awake, Your Majesty?!”

 

“…….”

 

“The doctor said it wasn’t serious, but I’m surprised you couldn’t stay awake.”

 

Artia sobbed, releasing the tears she’d been holding back.

 

Killian’s low voice rang out over the sobbing child.

 

“Artia von Edenberg.”

 

Artia looked up, her pink eyes reflecting Killian’s.

 

“I like you,” he said, feeling a thrill of pleasure at the sight.

 

He meant it, more than he’d ever said in his dreams.