The Slave Is Too Handsome - Chapter 3

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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!
003.
Eloïse emerged in an elegant sweep, dressed in a pristine white gown. Golden hair gleamed with ornate jewels adorning it in profusion, yet the effect was perfectly proportioned, not excessive.
She looked far more radiant than usual, and everyone present at the ball—nobles, servants, even the specially hired orchestra—stood frozen, at a loss for words. The silence hung like time itself had stopped.
Eloïse walked slowly through the ballroom, her gaze fixed forward, yet she assessed every figure around her with practiced ease.
From the countess’s daughter to George, who wore an unmistakable scowl in the distance, to Baron Graham, of whom she’d heard so much.
“It’s been quite some time, Young Lady.”
Prince Camilo approached with confident strides, positioning himself before Eloïse as though he alone had the right to stand in her presence.
Eloïse offered a respectful greeting, her expression composed.
“I am honored to see the Empire’s brightest jewel.”
Camilo laughed, thin and pleased. That rigid composure of hers, those calculating eyes.
‘Every time, I’m captivated.’
He was equally satisfied knowing that everyone present watched him and Eloïse—the two of them alone—as the center of the evening.
“Shall we dance, Young Lady?”
Camilo extended his hand. Eloïse gazed down at it for a moment before laying her own hand lightly across his palm.
“Of course.”
The instant her answer came, Camilo gripped her hand firmly—so firmly that his possessive desire became palpable. Eloïse’s displeasure flickered across her brow.
As their hands met, the orchestra sensed the moment and began the next piece, its bright melody filling the hall.
Under ordinary circumstances, she would have refused him entirely, but Eloïse had something she needed to confirm with Camilo.
The two danced at the very center of the ballroom, other nobility following suit to the music’s rhythm.
“I’ve scarcely glimpsed your face of late. Has something troubled you?”
“I’ve been unwell.”
“How thoughtless of me—had I known, I would have called upon you myself.”
“And how does Your Highness fare?”
Eloïse turned smoothly and cut through his pleasantries with her question.
Her interest lay not in Camilo himself, who at twenty still clung to his position as prince rather than ascend to crown prince—but in what concerned him.
“Oh, I’ve had some minor ailments of late, nothing serious.”
……
“Though I must say, His Majesty’s insistence on holding the crown still exhausts me. He seems to live entirely in the past.”
Camilo’s lip curled slightly.
“But mark me—I shall claim the Crown Prince’s seat regardless.”
As his sullenness dissolved into confident boasting, Eloïse smiled. This was precisely what she had needed to hear. Her steps grew lighter as they danced.
“Begrudging as I am to admit it, you two suit each other rather well.”
One of the young ladies seated at a nearby table observed the dancing pair.
The others nodded in agreement. The Young Lady and the Prince did make a striking couple. For someone as accomplished as Eloïse, the second prince was a worthy match.
“Already? The song has ended—surely you’ll grant me another, Young Lady?”
The moment the music ceased, Eloïse released Camilo’s hand without hesitation and withdrew. Camilo’s expression darkened at her sudden departure.
Eloïse settled onto a sofa that was conveniently vacant.
It had been a long day. Exhaustion weighed upon her after all that had transpired, yet she maintained her composure with deliberate poise.
It was then that Rose and her circle of young ladies approached.
“Is the rumor true, Eloïse?” Rose asked.
Her smile was one-sided, distinctly unfriendly. The other young ladies shared her expression. They quickly filled the seats around Eloïse.
“Which rumor might you be referring to? I pay no mind to idle gossip, I’m afraid.”
Eloïse, seated among them, took a measured sip of her tea before responding. Rose’s expression stiffened momentarily before relaxing.
Yet some of the young ladies’ eyes gleamed with interest—those who admired Eloïse’s confidence.
“My, surely you can’t dismiss this as mere gossip? The talk is that you’re to marry Baron Graham.”
“Come now, Rose. Does that sound plausible? Baron Graham is, if anything, closer to my father’s generation.”
“My, are you mocking the baron?”
The girls tittered—unmistakably mocking in turn.
Eloïse folded her arms, watching the spectacle unfold. She fixed her gaze on Rose, the center of this gossip, and watched steadily.
The laughter gradually faded to silence.
“Allow me to clarify.”
Eloïse rose slowly from her seat. All eyes fixed upon her.
“I have no intention of binding myself through marriage to Baron Graham’s house, nor to any other family. Should marriage become necessary—”
Eloïse turned her gaze toward Baron Graham, who held a wine glass in each hand. Pleased to hear himself mentioned, he grinned and raised his glass to her.
“I shall choose my own husband with my own hand.”
Her gaze then shifted toward Prince Camilo.
“Because,”
Finally, she fixed her stare on George, standing apart in a corner. His face flushed crimson as he stamped his foot and gestured wildly. She would never surrender a distinguished house to some stupid bastard.
“I, Eloïse Bel La Croix, shall become the Duke of La Croix.”
***
“Ahhh!”
A maidservant entering the Knight’s Quarters beside the La Croix manor’s annex shrieked. She had just come face to face with three men, freshly bathed and emerging naked from the bath.
Three of the four slaves Eloïse had brought laughed with amusement.
“Stop your giggling and dress at once!”
Arthur, the elderly steward watching the scene, issued the command with clear displeasure.
Arthur could not fathom the young mistress’s reasoning. She was busy enough competing for the ducal succession—why then did she insist on actions that would court danger?
Thanks to the young mistress, Arthur felt himself aging rapidly with each passing day.
“Once you’re dressed, come to dinner.”
Bread, meat stew, and salad were quickly arranged on the wooden table.
“Wow!”
“This is amazing! It’s still warm!”
Despite the modest spread, the men’s eyes widened. In the slave market, they’d eaten nothing but spoiled scraps—this was a feast beyond measure.
The slaves seized the food with their bare hands, entirely ignoring the utensils set before them.
The maidservant pouring water flinched and stepped back. Arthur frowned and began to scold.
“You brutes! Can’t you use proper eating utensils?”
The men paid no heed to Arthur’s complaints, eating ravenously. Only the fair-haired one seated at the edge used a fork, methodically pushing vegetables around his plate.
“Sigh. Show gratitude to the young mistress for her compassion toward the likes of you.”
One of the men, who had been gulping stew straight from his bowl, set it down loudly and asked,
“If I may be so bold—who is this young mistress who brought us here?”
At his question, the fair-haired one looked up from his vegetables. Arthur sighed deeply.
“You came here not even knowing where you are?”
“How would a slave know such things?”
The one with feline, slitted eyes chuckled while eating. Arthur rapped his walking stick twice against the floor before speaking.
“Listen well. Your mistress is none other than Eloïse Bel La Croix, young lady of the La Croix Duchy.”
As if on cue, the three men set down their food.
Low-born as they were, no one living in the Finestra Empire could fail to know the La Croix name.
The La Croix family was an ancient, prestigious noble house, rivaling even the imperial family in authority.
“Such a great house took us in?”
“Incredible! We hardly deserve such fortune.”
They marveled at their unexpected good luck, their faces bright with excitement. Pleased by their reaction, Arthur’s expression softened.
“Show deep gratitude for her benevolence.”
“No wonder—she was so beautiful my eyes hurt looking at her.”
“A face so fair must conceal an equally noble heart.”
As the three chattered on about Eloïse and Arthur scolded them for speaking carelessly, the fair-haired man ate in silence, occasionally glancing out the window.
***
The ball at the countess’s residence had fallen into silence several times that evening.
……
Having concluded her remarks, Eloïse cleared her throat and began to take her leave. As she did, a few other young ladies approached and spoke to her.
“Your words were truly inspiring, Eloïse.”
“Would you ever grace our tea party with your presence?”
“But of course. Do send an invitation.”
“Wonderful! We absolutely will!”
Eloïse, her smile professional and practiced, acknowledged them with a nod and made her way slowly toward the entrance. Though they lamented her early departure, her business here was concluded.
She was just stepping through the great doors when a voice intercepted her.
“A mere duchy hardly compares to the position of Empress, wouldn’t you say?”
Eloïse stopped mid-step. The mocking tone was unmistakable; she didn’t need to turn to know who spoke.
Camilo leaned against the entrance wall, arms crossed, his expression dark and petulant.
Contrary to what Camilo expected—a stern rebuke—Eloïse smiled warmly.
“Should you cede the imperial throne to me, I shall consider your position for the role of Empress.”

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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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