The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 93

“I was desperate not to let anyone know.”

 

If she got a visible cut, she wouldn’t leave the room until it healed.

 

She’d tell doctors who came to treat her that she’d accidentally bumped into them, without being asked.

 

But hiding her wounds from others didn’t mean she could hide them from herself.

 

The pain piled up, and her mind and body became exhausted.

 

So much so that she threw herself into a deep pool.

 

‘The real Artia died then.’

 

Artia wished Freesia hadn’t made that choice. With all her heart.

 

Artia looked into Freesia’s eyes and said, “I’m not going to hide the fact that my ex-husband hit me anymore, because he’s the one who did the wrong thing, not me, and he’s the one who should be ashamed.”

 

“……!”

 

Tears welled up at the corners of Freesia’s eyes.

 

She wiped them away with a shaking hand.

 

“You really are as good as you say.”

 

It wasn’t just nice to hear. It was moving.

 

But still…

 

“I don’t want ayone to know my secret.”

 

She was a beautiful and noble princess, and her integrity is her pride.

 

Even if it is a foolish conceit.

 

Artia lowered her eyebrows as she read the young determination in Freesia’s green eyes.

 

‘How could she call her foolish?’

 

Artia herself had died once, and only after another’s soul had entered her body had she been able to leave it.

 

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about your husband.”

 

The voice sounded trusting.

 

“But if you need anything, just ask. I’ll help you as much as I can.”

 

Freesia asked, confused. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

 

“…….”

 

“I was mean to you, do you think you have to take care of me because of Marigold and Dahlia or because you feel sorry for me?”

 

“It’s not like that, it’s because I went through the same thing and I can’t let it go.” Artia said, her tone more playful.

 

“And I’m a big girl, as long as it’s someone I care about.”

 

Freesia read the young emotion in the pink eyes.

 

Pure favor.

 

She lowered her head, barely holding back the tears that threatened to fall again.

 

“I’ve said everything I wanted to say, so I’ll go now.”

 

“Wait a moment.”

 

Artia took Freesia’s hand and looked at Vivi.

 

After a moment, Artia handed Freesia the barrel that Vivi had brought. It was the ointment she’d gotten from Killian a few months ago when he’d asked her to help him get a divorce.

 

“I’ve used it, and it heals wounds surprisingly quickly. Use it when you need it.”

 

It wouldn’t be easy to show the doctor the wound.

 

The corners of Freesia’s eyes watered as she understood Artia’s unspoken words. She took the vial with both hands.

 

“I’ll take it, thank you.”

 

With that, Freesia left the mansion.

 

 

* * *

 

 

True to Freesia’s word, Artia tried not to pay any more attention to her, but she kept hearing bad news.

 

“The princess has been acting strangely lately.”

 

Marigold said, and Artia asked.

 

“Why is that?”

 

“She’s been out socializing, being her usual pretty, sweet self, but sometimes her expression gets dark. When you ask her what’s wrong, she just says she’s fine.”

 

Dahlia said, “I wonder if it’s because Count Elysium’s business has taken a turn for the worse? The nobles have been talking about it a lot lately.”

 

No one said it out loud in front of Freesia, but it was impossible for her not to pick up on the mood.

 

Marigold sighed.

 

“I hope that’s the reason, but I’m afraid she’s ill, because at the tea party a few days ago she turned pale, broke out in a cold sweat and went home early.”

 

Marigold suspected illness, but Artia suspected violence.

 

She recalled images of Freesia being roughly beaten by her husband in the garden when no one was around.

 

But Freesia made it clear that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

 

If she went to see her, she’d only make her uncomfortable.

 

Artia tried not to think about it.

 

Then one night, when it was raining heavily, Freesia came to visit her.

 

She wasn’t the perfect, beautiful woman she’d always seen.

 

Her hair was wet, her face pale without makeup, her clothes disheveled.

 

Worst of all, she was holding a little girl of about four years old.

 

“Help me,” Freesia said, tears falling harder than raindrops.

 

“Please help me…”

 

* * *

 

 

After cleaning up and changing into comfortable indoor clothes, Freesia was much calmer.

 

Her eyes were red and puffy as she looked at the baby sleeping on her lap, making small breathing sounds. It looked just like her.

 

Artia handed her a steaming cup of tea.

 

“Please drink.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Freesia sipped the tea. The aromatic mint flavor eased the tension in her body.

 

Artia asked no questions. Only the sound of the tea drinking filled the silence.

 

When she finally emptied her cup, Freesia spoke.

 

“People think I’m King Palenta’s favorite princess, but that’s not true. I’ve never been loved because my mother, who gave birth to me, was a slave in the Imperial Palace.”

 

The Palentine Kingdom was smaller and poorer than the Empire, but it had a strict hierarchy of status.

 

The child of a slave, even the child of a king, was a lowly creature, especially if that slave was nothing more than the emperor’s one-night stand.

 

Freesia grew up in a dilapidated room in a corner of the palace, wearing ragged clothes and eating moldy bread.

 

It was a life not unlike that of a slave, only without the work.

 

Things changed for Freesia when she turned thirteen.

 

She had a chance encounter with the king, whom she had never seen. As she lay on the floor like a slave, the king said to her.

 

“Look up.”

 

Trembling, she looked up.

 

The king’s eyes lit up in a strange way when he saw her face.

 

“Hmm, beautiful.”

 

The king’s words changed everything around her.

 

She was taken to a clean, sunny room and given a maid to take care of her exclusively.

 

Every day, the maid bathed her, combed her long hair, dressed her in beautiful gowns, and taught her strict manners and dancing.

 

Soon Freesia was the most beautiful princess in the palace.

 

The king smiled with satisfaction.

 

“As expected, my eyes were right.”

 

“My pleasure, Your Majesty.”

 

“Uh-huh, I’ll say.”

 

The king stroked the peach cheeks of his young daughter.

 

“You are my daughter. So you must grow up to be beautiful and useful to this father and this country. Do you understand?”

 

Freesia was overwhelmed by the words of the king with whom she had never had a real conversation. Clear tears welled in her sparkling green eyes.

 

“Yes, I will.”

 

Freesia kept her word. She maintained her appearance with a rigor that was almost unbearable.

 

She ate only the small meals her maid gave her each day. She washed her hair in cold water, even in the dead of winter, believing that hot water was bad for her hair. She drank bitter medicine every day to detoxify her body.

 

With her natural beauty and hard work, Freesia’s beauty reached its peak.

 

“I almost wish she wasn’t my daughter.”

 

The king scanned her with his snake-like eyes and muttered.

 

Fortunately, the king’s reason prevailed over his instincts, and he set out to find a man who would buy Freesia for the highest price.

 

There were many bidders for the young, beautiful princess who, despite her humble origins, was dearly loved by the king.

 

The man the king chose was Count Elysium, a nobleman from the Orpheus Empire.