The Slave Is Too Handsome - Chapter 25

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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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The slave is far too handsome!
025.
“Tell me. Go on.”
Eloïse turned toward Lucian, her dress rustling softly as the fabric brushed his knee before falling away.
“You attended the party, didn’t you, Master?”
The mask she’d been wearing flashed through his mind—her entire ensemble bore the unmistakable traces of someone fresh from a soiree.
She said nothing, but Lucian was quick to read the signs.
Silence itself was an answer. She was definitely hiding something.
As the quiet stretched on, a lively melody drifted from somewhere distant—from the Main House.
“I was certain until yesterday you wouldn’t attend.”
Lucian tilted his head with an innocent expression, mustering courage from nowhere. Now that he’d come this far, he wanted to glimpse even a fraction of what lay beneath her surface.
“Why does that concern you?”
Her gaze pierced straight through his intentions, and Lucian swallowed hard. He chose honesty.
“I’m simply curious about you, Master.”
“About me?”
“If George’s birthday party is this grand, I wonder how magnificent yours must be.”
……
He guided the conversation with surprising natural ease.
“In truth, I don’t even know when my birthday is.”
“Why?”
Eloïse’s eyes glimmered with curiosity.
“I was abandoned as a child, too young to remember. I don’t know my parents’ faces, let alone their names. I have no childhood memories, and of course, no knowledge of my birthday.”
He spoke of it as though recounting someone else’s story, his tone so detached that it was Eloïse who seemed shocked. Her expression grew quite serious.
“So I’ve never celebrated a birthday. It doesn’t pain me, though. Honestly, I’ve never had the luxury to do so.”
The air between them grew heavy. The music from the Main House had shifted to something more subdued.
Had he spoken out of turn? He hadn’t meant to bare so much of himself.
This was the first time he’d ever revealed anything of his own story. He scrambled to recover.
“What I meant to say was, I find myself looking forward to your birthday……”
“I don’t have one either.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ve never celebrated a birthday either.”
The question—why—dissolved naturally in his throat before he could ask it. He didn’t need to. The connection to whatever tragedy haunted her family was plain enough.
“So don’t expect any birthday celebration from me.”
Eloïse turned away. The back of her small head seemed suddenly, strangely forlorn.
Though her unspoken message was clear—this subject was closed—Lucian pressed on. He seemed almost intoxicated by the strange intimacy of the moment.
“What if I wanted to?”
“Hmm?”
“I’d like to arrange one for you. Is there anything you’d want? You need only ask.”
Eloïse’s lips twisted into a smile that communicated everything: *A slave daring to offer such things to an Imperial Princess?*
“How amusing—mocking genuine sincerity.”
“I’m simply bewildered. So tell me—what could I possibly do?”
“Anything. Truly, just name it.”
His audacious composure dissolved the tension that had gathered between them, and soon their words flew back and forth like thrust and parry.
“Then improve your Piano. At least that much, I couldn’t overlook.”
Her barb struck precisely where it stung, and Lucian’s mouth fell open. Of all things, why that?
“Any other wish, and I’d be delighted.”
“Just wait. I’ll practice like a man possessed and astound you completely.”
Without realizing it, he’d pushed all thoughts of Brick from his mind and made a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.
“Very well. I’m looking forward to it.”
Eloïse’s eyes curved into crescents. Whatever sort of day she’d had, her spirits seemed remarkably elevated now.
“While we’re at it, may I ask one more thing?”
“Go ahead.”
“Are you perhaps… intoxicated?”
“What?”
“It’s just, you seem unusually cheerful tonight.”
Eloïse’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Lucian instinctively retreated.
“N-no, I was joking! What I meant was—ah, I just remembered. The day you encountered George.”
His eyes flickered with barely concealed intention.
“Why did you insist on getting an apology from him?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, if you hadn’t demanded that apology, this absurd party would never have happened in the first place.”
……
Had he overstepped? He wasn’t trying to suggest he knew the details of her family’s pain.
“Listen. I despise what that fool does to my people far more than I care about some ridiculous party.”
……
“And you—don’t just accept such treatment elsewhere. That would only make me look the fool as well.”
“I’m… your person?”
Had she said such a thing to him right after they’d first met, Lucian would have bristled with indignation.
But now it felt different. Not unpleasant, exactly—more like standing unsteady beneath shifting ground.
“Does that make you George’s, then?”
Eloïse fixed him with a stare.
“I’m not his. Though I suppose in the end, I’m just a slave anyway.”
“How bold you were, slipping into my Bedroom uninvited.”
Well, there was Brick’s incident, and besides, I infiltrated that same Bedroom again today to escape.
Rather than confess this, Lucian only let his lip twitch. Then he curved his mouth into a slow smile.
“So if it were just the two of us, could I speak to you as I used to… No! Forgive me, that was thoughtless!”
A small fist closed around his collar as easily as ever.
He had no idea what he was supposed to say anymore. He offered apologies quickly and sincerely.
“That’s enough. Just stay as you are.”
“Master?”
Eloïse released his collar and shifted close beside him. The nearness made Lucian’s breath catch.
“I’m tired. I need some sleep.”
She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
Where their bodies touched, a dull warmth bloomed. An unnamed floral fragrance drifted up and struck him like a wave.
……
The moment her eyes shut, sleep claimed her. Her breathing deepened, growing louder than the distant music.
‘What am I supposed to do now?’
Lucian felt heat creeping up the bridge of his nose as he contemplated the future. Yet all his awareness had contracted to that single point of contact—his shoulder.
‘If I can’t find Brick, maybe I should head straight to the Harbor. Or perhaps…’
Why had he ever set out to find Eloïse in the first place?
If she were as resolute as usual, she could have easily evaded George’s shallow schemes.
He couldn’t explain to himself why his resolve to leave this place had begun to crumble.
In the end, surrendering to fate, Lucian too drifted into a fitful doze.
Frederick found them just before dawn.
“Young Lady! Are you there? Young Lady!”
Bang, bang, bang!
The door shuddered violently. Lucian’s eyes snapped open first. Eloïse slept on, undisturbed.
“Young Lady!”
Crack! The heavy door burst inward, and in the pale pre-dawn light, a broad-shouldered man stepped through. Frederick.
His hair stood wild from a night of searching, and exhaustion clung to every line of his face.
“You there!”
Relief flooded his features at the sight of Eloïse—then his expression twisted instantly as he caught sight of Lucian. Wrapping Eloïse in his Cloak, Lucian drew her gently toward him.
“Lower your voice.”
“What in blazes are you doing? You’re supposed to be protecting her, not—”
“You’re returning later than expected. I thought you’d be back sooner.”
Their argument roused Eloïse from sleep. She furrowed her brow.
A faint groan escaped her, and both men’s attention snapped immediately to their mistress.
“Frederick?”
Frederick’s expression shifted, and he extended his arms as if to receive her, but Eloïse simply rose and stepped out of the Cottage without taking them.
As they emerged into the Garden, the landscape opened before them, growing steadily brighter with the approaching dawn. She stopped and breathed it in.
The scene was peaceful, though scattered across the grounds lay nobles sleeping off their indulgence—hardly a flaw, but a flaw nonetheless.
“Master.”
“Mm?”
Lucian stepped to her side and whispered something into her ear. Eloïse’s sleepy face brightened instantly.
Together, they turned their footsteps toward the Main House.
“Those people should be waking soon.”
“They ought to be.”
Moments later, Eloïse and Lucian dusted off their hands and exchanged a conspiratorial grin. George and Baron Graham remained blissfully unaware, deep in slumber.
“Come now. Let’s go. You should get some proper rest too.”
Eloïse stretched and departed, accepting Frederick’s escort. Lucian turned to follow—
“Excuse me.”
A man wearing a peculiar Mask quietly called out, stopping him in his tracks.
Ah.
Lucian turned to face him.
Eloïse had already receded into the distance. This was his chance.
Two hours later.
“Eek! Heavens above!!!”
A maid stepping into the Banquet Hall shrieked in absolute shock.
Guests scattered throughout the chamber began to stir, their drowsy eyes snapping suddenly wide.
“What in—?! What is that?!”
“Ugh! My eyes!!!”
The commotion roused even those sleeping in the Guest Rooms, and they flooded into the Banquet Hall.
“How absolutely dreadful.”
“Good heavens—what on earth happened last night?”
“Now this is the true highlight of the birthday celebration! Ha ha ha!”
As guests offered their various reactions to the spectacle, the butler Jeffrey appeared, moving with urgent formality through the press of bodies toward the center of the commotion.
“Y-Young Master!”
The guest of honor, George, and his dear friend Baron Graham lay entwined in each other’s arms, clad in nothing but undergarments and sleep.
“Perhaps La Croix should marry Baron Graham instead.”
“Oh, what an excellent notion.”
The cluster of Young Ladies watching the scene dissolved into giggles.
“Young Master, wake up! George, wake up!”
Unable to bear it any longer, Jeffrey shook George awake.
“What—why is everyone—”
George rose first, his puffy face turning as he took in the crowd, then Baron Graham, then his own bare form. In an instant, his skin burned crimson.
“Eloïse!”
George’s thunderous bellow shook the Main House, but the Young Lady he sought had long since vanished without a trace.

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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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