The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 58

After a long pause, Artia spoke.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

It was a vague answer.

 

But Catherine didn’t ask for a precise answer or accuse her of being hard. She just smiled, as if that was enough.

 

“Thank you, Artia. Thank you so much…”

 

With these words, Catherine left Edenberg Manor.

 

That night, Artia entered the room where Catherine had stayed.

 

The room was so empty that it looked as if it had never been occupied, and on the table was a mountain of papers.

 

They were all about the men who had proposed to her.

 

She always gives her just a few sheets of paper with a portrait, so she wasn’t expecting this much information.

 

Artia read the papers in amazement.

 

The lines were sagging as if they had been read many times, and notes were scrawled all over them.

 

 

“Rumored to beat women X.”

“Rumored to be a debt collector due to repeated business failures X.”

“Suffers from genetic disease. Unlikely to get better.”

 

 

Artia realized at once.

 

The men Catherine had set her up with had been her own choice of husbands.

 

They weren’t great, even considering…

 

Still, it was comforting to know that she hadn’t just pushed her away, that she genuinely wanted her to be happy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A letter from Shylock has arrived for Artia.

 

“If you marry Simone, I will give you my family’s entire business.”

 

She thought he’d come to his senses, but he’s still barking at the top of his lungs.

 

Artia folded the paper into an airplane and threw it out the window.

 

But no matter how much she ignored him, Shylock continued to send her letters, and the price of marriage in them grew higher and higher.

 

There was a terrible determination to get what he wanted, no matter what.

 

Just when she thought, ‘I’m getting tired of origami,’ the letters stopped coming.

 

Artia assumed that Shylock had simply given up on her.

 

Never in her wildest dreams had she thought such a thing could happen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A few days ago, Baron Rushan.

 

Bottles of wine littered the darkened room, and in the middle of it all sat Simone, his face grim.

 

With his unkempt hair and unkempt beard, he looked like a tramp who had lost his clean-cut appearance.

 

Shylock entered the room and raised an eyebrow.

 

“You drank all day yesterday, passed out, and then drank again.”

 

Simone, who normally would have seen through Shylock, replied in a slurred voice.

 

“Uh, I drank.”

 

Instead of pointing out his brother’s abbreviated words, Shylock said.

 

“Get a grip, Simone, I’ll make her your bride somehow…”

 

“No, you can’t.”

 

Simone remembered the look in Artia’s eyes the last time he’d seen her.

 

Contempt.

 

Simone felt an intense sense of shame, along with the certainty that no matter what he did, he would never be able to repair his relationship with Artia.

 

And those feelings immediately turned to resentment toward his brother.

 

Simone glared at Shylock.

 

“It’s all your fault, you’ve ruined everything!”

 

“Simone von Rushan!”

 

Shylock’s shout didn’t stop Simone from storming out of the room. Apparently he was going to get drunk again today.

 

“Damn it…”

 

Shylock, alone in the room, slapped his forehead and cursed.

 

Everything was twisted.

 

The rebellion of her obedient brother, the accusations of society that he had tried to force a marriage through dirty tricks.

 

Nothing was gained and everything was lost.

 

Shylock clenched his fists.

 

“No, this is not over.”

 

When you play with money, you inevitably lose.

 

The process didn’t matter.

 

Whoever gets what he wants in the end wins the game.

 

“You just have to offer a price that would make even a stupid girl who doesn’t know how much money you have roll her eyes. But if she still turns up her nose, I can’t help it, I’ll set another trap.”

 

A trap so deep, so fierce, that the little rabbit woman couldn’t escape, no matter what she did.

 

Shylock’s serpentine eyes flashed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What could possibly be going through your head that makes you look so savage?”

 

Shylock’s head snapped up with a tiny squeak.

 

A man had entered the room he was sure he was alone in.

 

Shylock didn’t dare yell at him for entering without permission.

 

He instantly recognized the man with the arrogant golden eyes, huge as a black panther, and an aura of ferocity about him.

 

“How is it that His Highness Prince Killian is here…”

 

“Set an example for your royalty.” Killian said, his expression blank in contrast to the surprised Shylock.

 

It was far more impolite to enter another’s study without permission, but there was no time to argue.

 

Shylock dropped hastily to his knees.

 

Head bowed; Shylock broke into a cold sweat.

 

‘How the hell did he get in? The manor was heavily guarded. How he’d gotten past it was beyond him. No, that wasn’t the point. Why did he come to see me?’

 

Shylock remembered the information about the Mad King.

 

He had a history of slashing nobles, a cruel nickname, but he never did it indiscriminately.

 

There was always a good reason.

 

A noblewoman had drugged him to seduce him, or he’d plotted against the imperial family.

 

He never did anything like that…

 

Instead, he paid huge taxes and gifts to the empire every year.

 

A low voice spoke into Shylock’s confusion.

 

“You’re the real host of Baron Crovachon’s banquet, aren’t you?”

 

“……!”

 

Shylock blinked, then nodded slowly.

 

It was far wiser to admit it than to deny it and have his head cut off.

 

“Yes, but… What’s the problem with that?”

 

“Using someone else to host a banquet and then drinking, gambling, and, yes, having sex like animals at that banquet can be passed off as a night of entertainment. But…”

 

Killian’s golden eyes twinkled.

 

“There is something wrong with deliberately luring someone into gambling and then forcing them to take out a large loan.”

 

Shylock sounded indignant.

 

“I only lent them the money because they needed it! I was just doing legitimate business.”

 

“Business?”

 

The corners of Killian’s mouth turned up.

 

“One hundred and fifty-four people have borrowed money from the Rushans at the gambling tables in this ballroom in the last five years.”

 

“……!”

 

“Of those, eleven have committed suicide, sixteen have gone bankrupt, and twenty-five have suffered psychosis from extreme stress. How can you call this a business if not a heinous crime?”

 

As Killian recited the words from the Rushan family’s secret ledger, Shylock realized.

 

The reason the prince came here.

 

To punish him for the loan…!

 

Shylock paled and shook his head as his thoughts reached this point.

 

“Your Majesty, I realize that so much money has come and gone, with tragic consequences for some weaklings. But I never lent them the money with the intention of harming them, please believe me.”

 

The voice sounded so desperate that Killian wondered if it was the money-grubbing Shylock von Rushan but…

 

“I’m sure those who you lent money begged you to do this.”

 

“……!”

 

“Just a little longer, please.”

“I’ll pay them back somehow, if only to reduce the interest.”

 

“It’s funny that you expect me to do you a favor when you’ve never once granted their request.”