The Search for the Duchess’s Husband

Since that was not an answer, Killian spoke something that was far from the truth.

 “It was said that something illegal was going on at Baron Crovachon’s banquet, and that made me curious. It would be more natural to come with a partner than alone if I were to explore the ballroom in secret.” 

It made sense, but she had one more question.

 “Why did you choose me to be your partner?” 

Kilian added, reading the look in Artia’s eyes.

“It makes me sick to my stomach to be around women, but you…” “And me?” “You’re relatively okay.” “……?” 

The question still had

n’t been answered, but Artia had her own answer.

 

‘Maybe I’m okay because I don’t exist?’

 

He wasn’t as scary to her as she’d heard through the grapevine, which made her wonder if he really was misogynistic.

 

Sometimes it’s helpful to have a presence that’s so blurry you can’t tell if you’re there or not.

 

As Artia nodded with pride, Killian’s low voice spoke.

 “Let’s go.” 

Before she knew it, the carriage had sto

pped.

 

It was proper etiquette for a gentleman to take a lady’s hand, but Killian, who had stepped out of the carriage first, stood still with an arrogant expression on his face.

 

She should be grateful that a man, who would stare a woman to death if she made eye contact with him, is riding with her.

 

In the first place, Artia didn’t like being escorted every time she got on and off the carriage.

 

But there was a problem with getting out of the carriage alone.

 

Killian’s gaze was piercing.

 “Why are you looking at me so anxiously?” 

She felt like it was an unspoken request to get off the carriage quickly and not bother him.

 

But…

 “Oops!” 

She accidentally stepped on the hem of her dress, sending her sprawling.

 

Artia’s eyes widened as she quickly regained her balance.

 

Killian, who had been standing there with a cold stare that made her wonder if they were even in the same group, reached for her.

 “You tried to grab me?” 

Artia looked up at Kilian in surprise, then remembered a saying she’d heard once.

 

“I hate women with wounds.”

 

The last thing he wants is to see someo

ne he already hates look unpleasant.

 

Convinced, Artia gave a small smile.

 “Thank you.” 

He was trying to help, after all.

 

Killian glared at Artia, then looked away.

 “Let’s go.” “Okay.” 

Artia followed closely behind Killian.

 

A moment later, the doors to the ballroom swung open.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Artia entered the ballroom, she was stunned.

 

It was unlike any banquet she had ever attended.

 

Instead of bright chandeliers, only candlelight illuminated the dimly lit interior.

 

The tables were piled high with bottles of liquor instead of flower arrangements, and the stale smell of cigarettes filled the room instead of perfume.

 

The people were different.

 

The masked men were unbuttoning their shirts, cursing loudly enough to be heard, making out, and otherwise engaging in all manner of decadence.

 “Bam!” 

It was the first time since Lloyd and Lyrica that she’d seen someone making out with someone else.

 

Artia looked at Killian, desperately trying to calm her pounding heart.

 

His face was hidden by his black mask, but he was as unmoved as a pebble on the side of the road.

 

‘Surely His Highness cannot be surprised by such a sight. This is a man who laughed with the blood of thousands on his hands.

 

Nothing in this world can shake a man as arrogant and strong as this black panther.’

She thought to herself.

 

A woman with a colorful mask and a confident figure approached.

 “My goodness, even if half of his face was covered by a mask, I’d still buy a ticket!” “…….” “And a beautiful body.” 

After running her eyes up and down Killian’s body, the woman stuck out her tongue and licked her red lips.

 

Like a dog that found a tasty piece of meat.

 “Would you like to play with me tonight?” 

The woman started to move toward Killian, but Artia stepped in front of her.

 “No.” 

For a moment, the woman’s eyes narrowed in surprise at Artia’s appearance.

 

She had known it all along.

 

The woman in white had been standing next to the man in black from the beginning.

 

Yet she was confident enough to charge him.

 

She was confident enough to take a picture of a woman who had no presence.

 “You look like a beginner, but there’s no point in having a partner in this ballroom. Just go with your heart and your instincts.” 

Oh, right, she respects the rules of the ballroom.

 

Do what your instincts tell you to do, whether it’s dancing in a circle or singing a corny song.

 

But don’t touch him, or you’ll get your head blown off!

 

Artia did not want to see such a terrible event.

 

Obviously, to put it politely, he’s not going…

 

In times like these, you have to be tough.

 “……?!” 

The woman’s eyes widened.

 

There was a hint of fierceness in her pupils beneath her white mask.

 

Artia opened her mout

h.

 “It’s my husband.” “……?!” 

Artia thrust her fan in front of the woman.

 “If you touch him…” 

The fan moved from side to side.

 

Like it was about to slit the woman’s throat.

 “Toucjh?” “……?!” 

No matter how debauched she was in a place like this, she was an aristocrat after all. The woman’s face contorted as if she’d been punched in the face with a word she’d never heard before.

 

When the woman regained her composure, she glared at Artia, her pink eyes showing a clear madness that was unrecognizable from a moment ago.

 

The woman was certain.

 

‘She’s crazier than I am!’

 

Knowing instinctively that touching him would make her tired, the woman spun on her heel, hissing irritably,

“You’re not worthy.” 

After the woman left, Artia turned her head sneakily to look at Killian.

 

Then she bowed her head toward the man, whose mask made it impossible to read his expression.

 “I apologize. Please forgive me.” “For what?” “For my rude remark about your highness, I mean… being my man.” “…….” 

The words were uttered in haste, fearing that an innocent woman might suffer a different fate at the hands of a mad king because she had the ability to recognize a handsome man at a glance, even when he wore a mask. But now that she thought about it, it made her giddy.

 

Artia was a woman, after all, even if Kilian had said she was a relatively decent woman.

 

From Killian’s point of view, it must have felt like a hideous monster had claimed him.

 

Maybe he’ll take back what he said about her being relatively harmless.

 

Artia looked at Killian with a horrified expression on her face.

 

But as expected, he didn’t…

 “I don’t care.” 

Huh? That’s it?

 

‘You’re not going to stare at me like you’re going to eat me, or emit an aura so terrifying I can’t breathe, or pull a sword out of your holster and separate my head from my body, or anything like that?’

 

Surprisingly, she didn’t feel offended by Killian at all.

 

On the contrary, it was more like…

 

‘Is the corner of his mouth slightly upturned?’

 

Oh, she must be mistaken.

 “Oh, I’m wrong,”

Artia said, denying the absurdity of the thought.

 “Then if there is another situation like the one before, may I protect you?” “You don’t want to protect the other woman, but me?” 

Artia affirmed obediently.

 “Yes, but I’m also really interested in protecting you, and I know you have a hard time with strange women.” “…….” 

Killian’s misogyny was well known. Many people were extremely careful not to offend the foul-mouthed prince.

 

Behind their backs, they criticized him, laughed at him, or simply refused to believe that a man could hate women.

 

But not Artia.

 

She protects him…

 

It was the first time he’d heard her say that.

 

Killian was glad he wore a mask. He didn’t want to show her his expression.

 

Killian spoke with a cold voice.

 “Do whatever you want.”Visit my Ko-fi for advance chapter discounts!!