The Fake Wife of the Strongest Husband Wants to Survive - Chapter 47

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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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Chapter 47
Several days had passed.
In the secluded rear garden of Raidel Duke’s Residence.
Jeremy sat beneath a towering oak with his friends, his expression grave.
In the silence, only their hushed voices fell heavy and low.
“Damn it—are you all just going to let this slide? Owen completely looks down on us. I’m already officer-ranked if I enlisted, and he treats us like raw recruits!”
“Right! That wasn’t training—that was some filthy Torture Technique he picked up gods-knows-where. He was just having a laugh at our expense!”
Jeremy’s friends erupted in complaint.
Bruised yellow and blue across their forearms and legs, they could barely sit properly, their bodies contorted as if their muscles screamed in agony.
Jeremy clenched his teeth, his fists tightening.
The pride he’d cultivated his entire life lay shredded.
He had been among the Academy’s most promising talents, and despite his war honors, he’d been humiliated by a mere Earl.
He could not let this stand.
He needed revenge to satisfy his wounded honor.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about how to get back at him.”
One of his friends leaned in with interest.
“You have a plan?”
Jeremy smiled with confidence.
It was a smile heavy with arrogance.
“There’s a Jousting Tournament this weekend, you know.”
Confusion flickered across his friends’ faces.
“You’re not seriously saying you’ll beat Owen at the tournament? The man they call the Mercenary King? The one who’s won every battle he’s fought?”
Jeremy waved a hand dismissively, unmoved by his friend’s skepticism.
“Don’t worry. Back at the Academy, I always ranked near the top in tournaments. I may have taken a break from Swordsmanship, but that skill doesn’t vanish. Besides, has that fool ever even competed in a tournament? He probably knows nothing but basic courtly dancing now that he’s been ennobled.”
“Then…”
“The tournament rules are complex—one misstep and you’re disqualified. He’ll be a complete amateur. If I challenge him suddenly, he can’t refuse without losing face. Then I’ll crush him in front of everyone. The results always become gossip in high society, so word will spread: Owen’s nothing special.”
His friends watched him with mingled tension and hope.
“He won’t have time to train, and a sudden challenge means he can’t decline—not with his pride at stake. I’ll demolish him before all those eyes, and his great reputation will shatter into pieces. The whole capital will be talking about how Owen’s just another fraud.”
“God, I’d love to see that.”
As his friends cheered him on eagerly, Jeremy grew even more assured, and he declared with grim determination.
“I’ll tear down that grand reputation of his. And when I do, I’ll become the greatest swordsman on the continent—the man who defeated Owen.”
* * *
Jeremy sought out Owen that very afternoon, brimming with overconfidence.
“Earl Owen!”
He called out deliberately loud as he approached.
His voice carried conviction—and a hint of provocation.
Owen, who had been discussing inspection schedules with his attendants, paused upon seeing Jeremy arrive so animated.
“What is it?”
“There’s a Jousting Tournament being held in the Capital this weekend. Have you heard about it from Father?”
Owen nodded slightly, his expression unchanged.
“Yes, I believe he mentioned something about it. Is there a matter?”
Jeremy’s lips curved upward in a subtle smile.
“Well, you see, practically all the decent knights in the Capital participate in it. I’m sure it must seem beneath you, Earl, but it’s rather an influential event.”
“I see.”
“So, would you perhaps consider participating? It would certainly enhance your standing in the Capital, and set a fine example for the knights. And if you perform well, His Majesty might regard you favorably as well.”
Owen looked at Jeremy without expression.
Then, without apparent hesitation, he spoke concisely.
“Very well.”
Even Jeremy, having made the proposal, faltered in disbelief.
“Truly? Then might I submit your entry form?”
“Please do. It makes no difference to me.”
Jeremy had expected Owen to ask for time to consider, to drag it out. Instead, Owen’s tone was so calm and indifferent that irritation flickered across Jeremy’s face.
“Very well. I’ll have the registration processed. Word that you’re participating will shock the whole Capital, Earl. It will be quite the occasion for you to demonstrate your prowess!”
Jeremy, laying on the theatrics with exaggerated anticipation, spread the news of Owen’s participation to his friends first.
“See? I told you. The idiot agreed without even thinking. He didn’t hesitate at all. Such arrogance.”
His friends caught the infectious excitement of Jeremy’s mood.
“Really? Earl Owen is actually participating? You’re sure? I’m going to tell everyone!”
Jeremy nodded with unbridled satisfaction.
“Of course. The fool couldn’t refuse when he had to keep up appearances in front of his men. He walked right into his own trap.”
Jeremy and his friends burst into triumphant laughter.
As they huddled together plotting how to utterly crush Owen in the Jousting Tournament, their confidence swelled as if victory were already theirs.
‘Just wait, Owen. You’ll kneel at my feet.’
* * *
Meanwhile, in the separate wing, Pesha looked up in surprise at the sound of her maidservant Bri rushing through the door.
“Madam, something terrible has happened!”
“Terrible?”
Before she could even set down the book in her hands, Bri pressed on between gasps for breath.
“The Earl is participating in the Jousting Tournament this coming weekend!”
“What?”
“Many people saw the young Duke propose it, and the Earl accepted at once. That’s all anyone’s talking about!”
What on earth was she saying?
After a moment of stunned silence, Pesha’s voice sharpened as comprehension dawned.
“Jeremy’s playing dirty again. He’s skilled at Jousting—there’s no way Owen can match that.”
“What should we do? Everyone’s so excited about it…….”
“Where is Owen now?”
“I saw him in the Garden.”
Before Bri could finish, Pesha was already rushing out.
Pesha hurried through the paths toward the Garden, breathing hard, but stopped short as she scanned the area.
Though Bri had said the Garden, there was no sign of Owen.
“Where could he be hiding in this Garden?”
As Pesha wandered through the sprawling grounds of the Duke’s estate, she suddenly realized her feet were leading her toward a familiar place.
It was the small Herb Garden she had tended in secret before her marriage.
‘Come to think of it, no one’s been maintaining it since I left after the wedding. I wonder if anything’s still there?’
Intending only to take a quick look, Pesha made her way to the Herb Garden—and found Owen there, unexpectedly.
He stood gazing at the modest flower bed.
“Owen!”
At Pesha’s call, he turned his head.
Clearly puzzled by her sudden appearance, he straightened from where he’d been crouching and got to his feet.
“Madam.”
She caught her breath, still flushed from her hurried run, and asked him.
“How did you find this place?”
Owen slowly examined the herbs in the bed before answering.
“I stumbled upon it while walking. The gardener told me you used to tend it.”
Whether the gardener had only been maintaining it occasionally, the flower bed had grown shabby and unkempt from long neglect.
She was about to deny it out of embarrassment when Owen asked.
“Did you plant all of these yourself?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“They resemble the herbs I saw at Swaf Earldom.”
Pesha’s lips parted slightly in surprise.
He’d recognized that?

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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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