The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 51

Had this man not been Killian, she might have thought so.

 

But he was a virulent misogynist, known throughout the Empire.

 

There’s no way a man would refuse to be served by his maids.

 

Artia gave up trying to pry into his mysterious intentions and decided to get down to business.

 

“Okay. I assume you’ve heard about my situation and are just curious to see what’s going on, so why don’t you just disguise yourself as an ordinary guest…”

 

There was a slight pause at the last word.

 

“You’re here as a groom?”

 

It couldn’t be more than “just curious”.

 

Artia’s question made Killian think back to a few days ago.

 

Nocturne had used the Crown Prince’s direct intelligence line, the Rat Pack, to find a man to play Artia’s groom.

 

The man was an actor who could barely act, but made a decent living off his handsome face.

 

The man chuckled as he read Humphrey’s letter.

 

“Thirty million gold for pretending to be a groom for two days, what a bargain. If the bride is a nice girl, I can even try to seduce her…”

 

Puck! 

 

A blow to the back of the head knocked the man unconscious.

 

When he opened his eyes a moment later, he let out a gasp and a scream.

 

He saw a man sitting arrogantly in front of him.

 

The man’s eyes radiated such a powerful presence that the shabby house was forgotten.

 

“Ah, the devil…”

 

“Give me the job the Count of Blührens gave you.” Killian said, not denying the words.

 

‘I’m a paid professional. I can’t give someone else a job once it’s been given to me. He can’t be serious.’

 

The man knew instinctively.

 

If he opened his mouth the wrong way, that creepily beautiful demon would swing the sword at his waist and separate his head from his body.

 

“Yes!”

 

The man replied in a flash, holding out the letter from Count Humphrey with both hands as if he were presenting a tribute to the king.

 

Killian took the letter and gestured to Nocturne, who was standing next to the man. The man, misunderstanding the gesture, screamed.

 

“Aaahhhh! You said you’d spare my life…”

 

*Thud*

 

A silk pouch was placed in front of the man.

 

Nocturne’s gesture made the man tremble and open the pouch. The man’s eyes widened into tears.

 

The pouch was filled with gold coins that glistened in the sunlight.

 

Nocturne smiled kindly.

 

“This is for giving us the job. This is a deal, not a threat.”

 

The man nodded, his eyes wide.

 

“Of course!”

 

For that kind of money, Count Blührens could hardly be blamed for being angry with him for handing the job over to someone else at will.

 

After all, Killian had taken over the job in a very fair (?) way.

 

And the reason he went to all that trouble was because…

 

 

Killian looked at Artia, who was staring at him, and replied.

 

“You should marry the man you like. You don’t want some cheap actor who does this and that for a dollar.”

 

“Though it’s not a real marriage,” Killian added, looking at Artia, who was still not convinced.

 

“And Count Missoula is a distant relative of the royal family, and we can’t let just anyone play him, not even for the sake of his honor.”

 

“????”

 

It was plausible and bizarre at the same time.

 

Finally, Artia let out a small sigh.

 

‘Let’s look at it this way: His Highness wants to play the role of a fake bridegroom. He seems to have an eccentric hobby (?).’

 

“I see,” Artia said, clearing her throat after explaining the situation to herself.

 

“I understand, Your Highness, and I will respect your taste, but I have a request.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“This wedding is very important to me, and I hope you will help me make it a success.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“…….”

 

Artia’s narrowed brow didn’t loosen at Killian’s casual answer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

All eyes were on Artia and Killian as they returned to the ballroom.

 

“Will the arrogant, cruel, and insane king be able to pull it off?”

 

To Artia’s concern, Killian was a far cry from the man he had been in the capital.

 

For one thing, the intimidating air of authority was gone.

 

People were nervous, yes, but at least they weren’t shaking like they were about to die.

 

His menacing golden eyes softened.

 

People were still staring, but at least they weren’t begging him when he made eye contact.

 

They made small talk with their guests.

 

It wasn’t more than three words at the most, but at least it wasn’t a deathly silence.

 

“So you can do it, too.”

 

Artia looked at Killian with renewed admiration for his skills.

 

Was it his manner?

 

Perhaps it was the archaic robes.

 

Or maybe it was his hair, which had somehow grown longer like real hair.

 

‘He is different.’

 

She stared at him in fascination, then stepped on the hem of her skirt.

 

Artia staggered back and involuntarily reached out to grab Killian’s arm.

 

At the same time, his strong arm flinched. As if something had touched it that it shouldn’t have.

 

Artia jerked her hand away in surprise.

 

“I’m sorry!”

 

“It’s… alright.”

 

Killian didn’t push Artia’s hand away. His eyes didn’t turn away, nor did he look angry.

 

But there was a confusion in his golden eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

 

A vicious misogyny.

 

Artia frowned, remembering a quirk of his that she had forgotten.

 

 

Meanwhile, the guests, who had no idea what was going on between the bride and groom, giggled as they remembered.

 

“I can’t see her face because of the cotton wool, but the Count says she looks just like Juliet.”

 

“Yes, that would explain why Helen thought her daughter was alive.”

 

Knowing Helen’s longing for her daughter, they looked at Artia with complicated eyes and then looked away.

 

At the sight of Killian, they blushed – even the men.

 

“Even the Count of Missoula twenty years ago was handsome, but this is nothing compared to him. Where did they get such a nobleman?”

 

“He’s handsome, but the color of his eyes is truly mysterious. They’re a vivid golden color. It’s like he’s a true imperial bloodline.”

 

None of the nobles in the room had seen Prince Killian’s face before.

 

So they sincerely admired the man’s appearance, never thinking that what they were saying was true.

 

Humphrey, who had arranged for the false groom, was no different.

 

“He must have had an unskilled painter paint his portrait,” he thought, “for he is not even as handsome as the one he sent me before the contract.”

 

Honest Humphrey never dreamed anyone else had come.

 

‘For a man of his stature,’ he thought, ‘it was well worth the money. In fact, I think I’ve given him too little.’

 

Humphrey turned to Helen, thinking that he would have to give her more money after the wedding.

 

Helen looked at Artia and Killian with tears in her eyes.

 

“They look so good together, my dear Julie, and I’m sure she’ll be a happy bride, won’t she?”

 

“…Yes, I’m sure.” Humphrey replied, squeezing his wife’s hand.

 

Everything was fake.

 

The glittering ballroom, the smiling guests, the majestic groom, the beautiful bride.

 

And yet Humphrey felt as if he had been transported back to that day twenty years ago. Humphrey’s eyebrows knitted in confusion.

 

He wonders if he also lost his mind like Helen…

 

It didn’t seem to matter though.

 

Until the wedding tomorrow.

 

Humphrey looked up, trying not to show the moisture at the corners of his eyes so nobody would notice.

 

Helen’s expression as she looked at Artia had changed from a moment ago.

 

Helen’s face grew cold, and she muttered.

 

“But I think I forgot something important… What is it?”