Celebrity Lady - Chapter 90

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Celeb Lady
Chapter 90
Buooooo—
The brilliant trumpet fanfare of the Imperial Palace heralds sounded the beginning of the event.
“People of the Dekard Empire, thank you for attending this grand Imperial ceremony!”
The Emperor’s dignified voice poured forth from the high seat.
“Wooooh!”
“Long live the Dekard Empire!”
“Long live Your Majesty!”
As his voice, amplified by Spirit magic, reached every corner of the vast Tournament Ground, the spectators erupted in cheers in unison.
“I ask that you offer unflinching encouragement and praise to our Empire’s knights, who exemplify the honor of Chivalry!”
Once the Emperor’s brief greeting concluded, Aristana, the Third Princess and event organizer, took the floor.
“Dear citizens of the Empire, I am Aristana van Rashmah Dekard, Third Princess, honored to preside over this year’s Jousting Tournament.”
“Long live the Third Princess!”
“Wooooh!”
“Our honored Imperial family members, Crown Prince Lark van Rashmah Dekard and Second Prince Nathan van Rashmah Dekard, who have honed their martial prowess and been granted knighthood, shall grace us with the opening match.”
“Wooooh! Long live the Crown Prince!”
“Long live the Second Prince!”
As the excited crowd roared, Lark let out a deep, weary sigh.
When a court attendant handed him a Lance roughly four meters long, Lark took it, tucked it under his arm, and assumed his ready position.
“The Lance used in this competition is crafted from wood that breaks easily, and the Emperor’s Guardian Spirit watches over the match to ensure that no participant is injured by the shattered fragments of a broken Lance.”
As Aristana explained the rules, the spectators’ fervent cheers interspersed her words.
Lark glanced sideways at Rubetria Diolus, seated beside Aristana.
“Haaah…….”
And there it was again—another sigh deep enough to shake the earth.
“In the Empire’s Jousting Tournament, the first participant to earn six Points claims victory. Three Points are awarded for striking the opponent’s Helmet, two Points for striking the body or Shield, and six Points for a Knockdown. However, Points are only recorded if the Lance breaks upon impact.”
A Knockdown was worth six Points. If he fell from his horse even once, he wouldn’t need multiple rounds—Nathan would win outright.
‘All right, then I’ll make sure to take a hit to the Helmet in the next round too.’
That was what Lark thought to himself.
Rather than ‘How can I win?’, he was deliberating ‘How can I lose without looking ridiculous?’—a concern that would baffle anyone who knew his true thoughts.
“Then, I wish our honored Imperial knights a spirited match.”
As Aristana finished speaking, the heralds positioned themselves and blew their trumpets.
Buooooo—
The signal announcing the start of the match.
At once, Lark spurred his horse, and it surged forward with tremendous power, kicking up a great cloud of yellow dust in its wake.
With a barrier fence between them, the two charged toward each other at breakneck speed.
As Nathan drew near, Lark’s mind raced with calculation.
‘If he holds his Shield that carelessly, my Lance will strike his face dead-on.’
No matter how he looked at it, Nathan should have been taking a direct hit to the Helmet and going flying backward, but something told him that wouldn’t happen.
‘Ugh.’
Lark swung his Lance hard at Nathan, and Nathan swung his just as hard at Lark.
Whiiish—
And then.
Crack!!!!
“Ugh.”
Contrary to expectations, it was not Nathan but Lark who took a direct hit to the face.
“Whoa!”
“What, what happened!”
Shocked voices erupted from the spectators all around.
The galloping horses came to a halt, and Lark, removing his dented Helmet, turned his horse to check on Nathan.
Nathan, holding his Lance which had broken perfectly clean, was drawing thunderous applause from the crowd.
“Wow, wooooh!”
“Long live the Second Prince!”
Though his head was ringing from the direct blow to his face, Lark couldn’t help but steal a glance at Rubetria Diolus in the organizer’s box.
While everyone else was clapping and cheering for Nathan, her gaze was fixed entirely on him.
‘I wish there was a mouse hole I could crawl into.’
As awkwardness settled over him, a court attendant brought a fresh Helmet.
“In the first round, Second Prince Nathan van Rashmah Dekard struck his opponent’s Helmet and has been awarded three Points!”
3:0. The referee knight flipped the scoreboard and announced the tally.
“Wooooh!”
“My goodness! They say the Second Prince’s mastery of the Lance is unparalleled—it seems it’s true!”
“Did you see? The Crown Prince couldn’t even land a strike and just kept taking hits.”
“What on earth is happening? I was certain the Crown Prince would win without yielding a single Point.”
Stifling a groan amid the cheers and disappointed murmurs from the crowd, Lark accepted a new Lance.
‘Fine, let’s take another hit to the Helmet in the next round.’
Since he’d already given up three Points, another direct hit in the next round would make it six. He wouldn’t need to endure three rounds of humiliation—two would finish it cleanly.
Lark deliberately readied his Shield in a lower position and assumed his stance.
Buooooo—
The majestic trumpet signal sounded, and once more they charged toward each other.
Clop, clop, clop.
As Nathan drew closer, his stance looked sloppy again. At this distance, there was no way his Lance wouldn’t strike…….
Crack-bang!!!!
“Gah!”
Yet again, it was Lark who helplessly took the hit across his Helmet.
He’d been struck hard enough that his body lurched, but there was no way he could afford the embarrassment of being thrown from his horse. Drawing on every last ounce of strength, Lark gripped the reins firmly.
‘This is killing me.’
The sound of his horse’s hooves gradually faded.
A moment of silence hung over the Tournament Ground, and then a deafening roar erupted from the stands.
“Wooooooh!”
“Long live the Second Prince!”
“Magnificent!”
His Lance had broken cleanly once more. Well, he’d been struck even harder than the previous round, so it was only natural.
Slowly removing his Helmet, Lark pulled on his horse’s reins and turned to look back.
“In the second round, Second Prince Nathan van Rashmah Dekard struck his opponent’s Helmet and has been awarded three Points!”
The scoreboard flipped. 6:0.
“The honored victor of the first Jousting match has been determined!”
The referee knight declared it, and both Lark and Nathan, removing their Helmets, approached each other.
When a victor was decided, it was customary for both competitors to meet in the center of the Tournament Ground, exchange salutes, and accept the result with grace.
“Lark, I was fortunate enough to win despite my inadequate skill.”
Nathan, shaking his sweat-dampened hair with an easy smile, spoke graciously.
He had clearly prepared for this Jousting Tournament with meticulous care; even his customary long hair had been boldly trimmed.
Facing him, Lark let out a light chuckle.
“How could luck alone bring victory? Your skill, honed all this time, is what shone through. Well done.”
“Yes, thank you. You worked hard as well.”
After shaking hands, Lark returned to the Waiting Room, his mind turning inward.
‘Ah, my Tiara…….’
The Apante Tiara, the grand prize.
He’d expected it wouldn’t end up in his hands, but now that he’d been eliminated, the taste in his mouth was bitter.
“Brother, brother, brother!”
As he was begrudgingly removing his Armor, Aristana burst into the Waiting Room.
“What is it? Why are you here?”
The organizer leaving her post right before the next match made no sense.
Bewildered, Aristana thrust her hand out abruptly.
“I’m taking back the Pocket Watch I gave you before the match.”
“Huh?”
Ah, right. Lark remembered and unfastened the Pocket Watch hanging around his neck, handing it over.
“But why did you need this—”
“I’m busy; I’ll explain later. Don’t take off your Armor yet and wait here.”
Aristana disappeared without another word.
‘What is she up to?’
Tilting his head in confusion, Lark proceeded to unbuckle his Gauntlets, working the stiffness from his neck.
Then.
Tap, tap. The sound of heeled footsteps echoed in the quiet Waiting Room.
Turning, he saw a silver-haired figure in a Mask.
Rubetria Diolus.
“Ahem, hem, ahem!”
Flustered, Lark straightened up with an awkward cough. He then forced an easy smile and waved.
“Hello.”
“…….”
Though the Mask obscured her expression, she clearly looked disappointed.
“Didn’t I tell you? That I wasn’t confident?”
“…….”
“Mm.”
Lark fidgeted, glancing this way and that, until he pulled out the Handkerchief she’d given him and produced it from his breast.
Then, carefully gauging her reaction, he spoke.
“Should I…… return this?”
“Yes.”
“Mm.”
As Lark extended the Handkerchief, Rubetria Diolus moved to snatch it quickly.
But, reluctant to let it go, Lark tightened his grip and held firm.
“Please give it back. I was planning to give my Handkerchief to the champion.”
“Come on, really? Seriously? You’re going to give it and then take it back?”
“Hurry up!”
Rubetria Diolus’s irritated reaction stung more than it should have. Lark’s hand went slack.
“Heh.”
Finally receiving the Handkerchief, Rubetria Diolus burst into laughter.
“……?”
She stepped closer and, taking the Handkerchief she’d retrieved, tied it around Lark’s wrist again.
“What?”
“Madam Ruby, the Goddess of Victory, embroidered this Handkerchief with her own hands!”
“……?”
“Only the champion may possess this Handkerchief. So it’s yours.”
“What?”
“You worked hard. Keep working hard in the remaining matches.”
As Lark stood bewildered, Aristana’s voice drifted in from outside the Tournament Ground.
“Dear citizens of the Empire, the next match will resume in approximately two hours. We appreciate your understanding during this judging interval for the sake of fair competition.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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