The Fake Wife of the Strongest Husband Wants to Survive - Chapter 48

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

Chapter 48
Confusion flickered across her face, but she nodded slowly.
“Yes… I planted them. There are some herbs and flowers mixed in, but most are medicinal plants.”
She stepped closer and lifted her skirts slightly, crouching before the flower beds as she explained each plant one by one.
“This is Jeol, and over there—see the rough leaves? That’s Illibold. Excellent for colds. And this Kidson here looks like a weed, but it’s effective for bruises.”
Owen listened with genuine attention, and she felt an odd mixture of embarrassment and pride at his earnest interest.
Perhaps that was why words she might not have ordinarily shared with him flowed out naturally.
“People often ask why I bother planting these—they’re not flowers to look at or fragrant herbs. But I love these plants. It fascinated me how what seemed like worthless weeds at first became useful in different ways as I learned about them.”
Pesha’s voice grew distant and wistful.
Owen watched her lost in thought, then spoke in a low, careful tone.
“The Duke doesn’t seem particularly fond of your herbalist studies.”
Pesha gave a bitter smile and nodded.
“That’s right. He always says, ‘Don’t waste your time on useless pursuits—focus on your reputation in society.’ But I didn’t want to give up what I loved just to please gossips and their idle eyes.”
As she spoke with that self-mocking edge, she suddenly grabbed Owen’s arm, as if struck by a thought.
“Wait—the gossips! The Manor is in absolute chaos right now. Did you really accept to participate in the Joust? It has to be Jeremy’s trap! You need to refuse immediately!”
Owen looked down at her clutching his arm, gripping it tightly as she cried out, and he seemed far calmer than she expected.
“I can guess what the young lord intends.”
“Then why did you agree? Jeremy wants to humiliate you!”
His lips curved into a faint smile.
“That doesn’t mean I have to lose, does it?”
Pesha’s voice rose as anxiety gripped her.
“How can you be so confident? It’s not that I doubt your skill, but… the Joust has complicated rules and requires so much preparation. You’ll be going in completely unprepared.”
Owen studied her worried face intently, then made an unexpected proposal.
“Shall we make a wager?”
Pesha blinked in surprise.
“A wager?”
“I’ll wager that I come through unscathed.”
“No, this isn’t the time for wagers. How can you be so sure of yourself?”
Owen laughed softly.
It was a gentle smile, as if he found it genuinely pleasant that she worried for him.
“Don’t worry. I’ll master the rules quickly enough.”
* * *
On the morning of the tournament, the Joust Arena was packed with crowds.
The ornately decorated noble stands held high-ranking aristocrats, while the arena perimeter was so densely packed with commoners eager to see Owen that there was barely room to stand.
“Is Owen Namoi really competing in this Joust?”
“The Mercenary King showing off his skills before the Capital’s nobility? We absolutely can’t miss this!”
“But isn’t he facing the young lord Jeremy? I’ve heard he’s quite skilled too… there’s talk he’s a genuinely talented prodigy.”
“Really? Now I’m curious who’ll win.”
Though the annual Joust had always drawn crowds, this year—with Owen’s unexpected entry—it drew unprecedented attention.
Even the Imperial Palace announced its intention to observe the event, and the scale of the tournament grew steadily larger.
As things spiraled beyond his control, Jeremy began to feel a creeping unease.
What he’d wanted was to mock Owen Namoi for cowering and backing down—not to face him formally on a grand stage with the Imperial Palace watching.
“Hey, Jeremy. You’re still sure about this, right? We didn’t expect it to blow up like this. What if we end up looking like fools?”
His friends began voicing their concerns more openly.
Yet Jeremy, clinging stubbornly to his pride, shot back a rebuttal.
“Don’t be ridiculous. So what if that bastard’s been through countless real fights? The Joust is different. I was raised nobility from childhood and trained properly. He’s nothing but a mangy mercenary dog who rolled around in the Borderlands. I have an overwhelming advantage here!”
His boasts were confident enough, but when alone, he bit his nails, unable to hide his anxiety.
“Damn it… it’ll be fine, won’t it? Besides, whatever heroic tales people tell are probably exaggerated anyway. Actually, this is my chance. A chance to crush him and make my name known to His Majesty!”
Then the opening fanfare of the tournament blazed forth, and the arena erupted in cheers.
The crowd’s fervor rippled through the stadium as the knights who would be the day’s main attraction filed out in procession.
The stands were already completely full, and latecomers shuffled restlessly, eager to catch the matches.
The early rounds belonged to the newly enlisted, fresh knights.
These inexperienced warriors charged forward with eyes burning with ambition.
“Ooh! Nice! Dodge left and strike!”
“Not bad for a greenhorn!”
As applause and cheers rang out, whenever a knight lost control of his horse and tumbled or fumbled his lance, delighted laughter erupted from the stands.
Even as the early matches unfolded in this light-hearted atmosphere, the stands buzzed with whispers about the day’s true draw—the Joust between Owen and Jeremy.
As time passed, increasingly skilled knights took the arena, and the crowd’s excitement intensified.
Then a large-framed figure emerged into the center of the arena.
Mounted on a horse with lustrous reddish-brown coat and clad in armor, the massive knight was Owen himself.
“Yaaaaaah!”
Owen’s warhorse, Wolfram, struck the arena floor with heavy, deliberate hoofbeats.
Gripping his lance from the saddle, Owen’s face showed no trace of nervousness or hesitation.
The dark Armor beneath his blood-red Cloak billowed as he rode, and the crowd erupted—it was as though they were witnessing the legendary warrior from the tales of war itself.
Yet he drove his mount forward with calm composure, unmoved by the roaring heat around him.
“There he is! It’s Owen!”
“Win! Win for us!”
The spectators’ eyes fixed entirely on Owen, their cheers filling the arena as they called out his name.
In the thick of the uproar, something shifted.
A second horse emerged from the opposite side of the arena.
It was Jeremy, mounted on a brilliant white steed.
Rigid with tension, Jeremy appeared to be straining to project confidence, though his drawn expression was plain even from a distance.
Pesha, watching from the stands, allowed herself a thin smile.
‘The fool. For all his bluster, look at him now.’
Conscious of the gaze upon him, Jeremy straightened his posture and urged his horse forward.
Facing Owen across the arena, he raised his voice deliberately.
“Count Owen! I look forward to a worthy match.”
Owen merely inclined his head without reply.
The referee lifted his flag high.
The entire arena fell silent, breath held.
Even Pesha clenched her hands and stopped breathing.
Then the referee’s voice rang out across the field.
“Begin!”

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