The Slave Is Too Handsome - Chapter 41

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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!
041.
“I shall carry out your command, Your Majesty.”
At the Emperor’s decision, the Advisor standing beside him bowed deeply.
“Don’t worry yourself overmuch. Someone like you will pass through the procedures with ease.”
As the Emperor smiled and patted Lucian’s shoulder, a discomfort settled in his chest.
‘It’s unsettling how smoothly everything is falling into place.’
More than anything, the Emperor before him now was quite different from what he’d heard through Eloïse.
The Emperor he’d imagined was colder, more distant—yet here he stood, smiling so readily, his manner so gentle.
‘Of course, that’s because he believes me to be his son.’
The Emperor turned his gaze toward Eloïse.
“Once all the procedures are complete, I believe we ought to bestow a reward upon the Young Noble Lady as well.”
“It would be my greatest honor, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor, brimming with conviction, rose with a hearty laugh, and the Empress followed in his wake.
“For now, let the both of you enjoy the remainder of the banquet to your heart’s content.”
While the Emperor’s mood had lifted considerably, the Empress uttered not a single word to Lucian until the gathering dissolved.
After the imperial couple departed, the two of them remained, their eyes meeting across the emptying hall.
“We’re off to a promising start.”
Unlike the delighted Eloïse, Lucian’s ease was tempered by doubt.
“Why? Is it because of Her Majesty the Empress?”
Perceptive as always, Eloïse read the concern etched across his features.
“No, it’s just… everything seems to be progressing too smoothly.”
“Don’t worry. No matter what comes, I’ll protect you.”
At her confident tone, Lucian couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. She was saying what he should have said to her.
“Eloïse, I think you’ve forgotten—I’m a notorious mercenary from Kallaum, after all.”
The mood between them had grown warm, and they made their way back to the guest quarters prepared for them.
Perhaps the true obstacle was not the Emperor, but the Empress.
Yet contrary to this thought, Eloïse drifted to sleep with a peaceful heart.
***
On the second day of Prince Camillo’s birthday celebration, Eloïse was summoned to the Princess Palace at dawn.
The Young Noble Ladies were to take tea in the gardens, while the Young Noble Men would spend their time at Camillo’s residence.
Lucian too had finished his preparations and set out early for the Prince’s palace.
‘It should be fine for me to go alone.’
The sight of his departing figure reminded her of a young animal being led to the slaughter….
Though she longed to follow him, fearing it would seem like fussing, Eloïse made herself turn toward the Princess Palace.
“Lady Eloïse!”
As she entered the Princess Palace gardens, a Young Noble Lady from a marquess house whom she recognized called out warmly from afar, waving.
Eloïse returned the greeting with a smile and walked leisurely forward.
The seat beside the First Princess, who was hosting the tea party, lay empty—apparently reserved for her.
“Thank you for the invitation, Your Highness.”
Eloïse offered a respectful greeting and took the seat beside the First Princess. As expected, every eye in the garden turned toward her.
‘They must be dying to talk about it.’
Eloïse could read their thoughts plainly—all of them preoccupied with Lucian. Yet outwardly, she remained composed, savoring the fragrance of her tea with unhurried grace.
“Lady Eloïse, how fortunate that you’ve returned to the Capital safely.”
The First Princess opened the conversation first, and Eloïse offered a light bow of gratitude.
“Indeed, it is a mercy. When I heard of what the Young Noble Man Georges had done, I nearly fainted on the spot.”
“I understand Lord Astneur rescued you. I would dearly love to hear the details of that story.”
“As would I!”
Once the dam of conversation had broken, the current ran swift. All that followed was talk of Lucian.
Eloïse was well satisfied. As expected, Lucian had become the most popular figure among all the Young Noble Ladies, capturing every heart.
Meanwhile, the situation at the residence of the Second Prince was scarcely different.
Who wasn’t talking about him?
Whether it was his imagination or not, Lucian felt an itch in his ears, and he forced his lips into a smile.
Several Young Noble Men stood gathered before him. They were planning a hunting excursion with the Second Prince.
Hunting, of all things. He’d never cared much for the barbaric act of killing animals.
‘I’m already exhausted.’
Lucian approached them and offered a light bow.
“We have been awaiting you, Lord Astneur.”
“Good morning to you all.”
Beneath their courteous greetings lay unveiled discomfort as their eyes swept over him from head to toe, making no attempt to hide their displeasure.
“I had hoped to speak with you yesterday, but unfortunately the opportunity did not arise.”
To Lucian’s ear, their words carried a different message: ‘You’re no nobleman, yet here you are playing one. What exactly are you claiming?’
“Is that so?”
“Yesterday was quite the surprise, was it not? His Majesty mistaking you for the First Prince—such a thing shouldn’t be possible, should it?”
The man with freckles scattered across his face spoke with scorn, and the other Young Noble Men laughed in agreement.
“You think the same, don’t you?”
“Of course, why ask? There’s no way the First Prince could still be alive!”
“No, I mean, there have been cases before. Frauds who dared claim to the royal family that they were the First Prince….”
Their gazes at Lucian brimmed with mockery. The smile he’d held aloft began to fade.
“Of course, those were just low-born merchants and swindlers, but you, Lord Astneur, are supposedly a merchant of considerable standing—one who’s won the favor of Lady la Croix, no less~.”
Lucian read them easily. Behind their mocking tone lay a transparent attempt at intimidation.
Everyone at last night’s ball must have sensed that the Emperor’s reaction was far from ordinary.
“You’re quite right. The notion that I could be the First Prince Valencio is preposterous, of course.”
Lucian’s eyes curved into an easy smile. Only then did the tension drain from their faces.
“Indeed, I myself was quite startled when I beheld His Majesty’s portrait from his youth. The resemblance was uncannily close. Surely mere coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?”
Lucian borrowed a remark he’d overheard from a nobleman the night before.
……
A sudden silence fell. Not one of them rushed to respond to his innocent-seeming question.
“O-of course it’s mere coincidence!”
“Ahem! Let’s speak no more of such trifles. But there is something I’m curious about….”
A Young Noble Man standing in the corner suddenly flushed red.
What strange thing is he about to say now? Lucian, already worn, forced an expression of polite interest onto his face.
“That is, well… are you quite close with Lady la Croix?”
What? Who? Caught off guard, Lucian’s eyes widened.
“If I may ask without impertinence, could you tell me what the Lady enjoys? I heard you stayed at the la Croix ducal residence before coming to the palace.”
Though they feigned disinterest, the other Young Noble Men were clearly waiting for his answer.
Ha. Lucian inwardly clicked his tongue.
The arrogance they’d displayed moments before had vanished without trace. The men before him now wore the faces of lovesick fools—repugnantly so.
“Or perhaps what she dislikes…!”
“Hmm. I’ve spoken with the Lady quite a bit, but the question comes so suddenly that nothing springs to mind immediately. Let me think for a moment……”
Before his sentence had even finished, someone had slung an arm around his shoulder in false familiarity.
“Do you partake of spirits? I collect rare wines as a hobby, and I’d be delighted to offer you a taste.”
“Do pay a visit to my estate sometime! It’s famous for its hot springs!”
Words tumbled forth, each aimed at winning his favor. One of them even signaled a servant to carry the hunting rifle slung across Lucian’s back.
How simple they all were. Lucian inwardly scoffed at their sudden change of tactics.
But where was Camillo?
He glanced around, but the Second Prince was nowhere to be seen. They were well past the appointed time.
‘Does royal blood grant one the right to keep people waiting like this?’ Lucian rolled his stiff shoulders slightly.
Then it happened.
Crack-slap!
“Ahhhhh!!!”
A sharp report was followed by a cry that tore through the air. All eyes turned toward the source of the sound.
A maidservant lay crumpled on the steps at the entrance to the Second Prince’s residence, her hand pressed to her cheek. Above her stood Camillo, his face flushed with rage and his breath coming in heavy snorts.
“Damn wench! How dare you prepare a red hat? Don’t you know red is forbidden for hunting!?”
His voice rang out harshly through the courtyard.
“Here we go again.”
Someone murmured low, as though this were a familiar scene. The Young Noble Men turned their heads away as though they saw nothing. Only Lucian continued to watch.
“I-I’m so sorry. I’ve only just entered service and didn’t know the rules……”
“You weren’t trying to make a fool of me on purpose?”
The Second Prince descended the steps toward the trembling maidservant.
“Your Highness!”
The Advisor, emerging belatedly from the residence, rushed after him to stop him, but Camillo’s eyes had already begun to roll back.
Unable to bear it, Lucian moved toward the Second Prince, only to have a hand grip his shoulder.
“Please, stay back. I say this for your own good.”
“But—!”
“You understand, surely, but His Highness will be in a particularly foul mood today.”
The Young Noble Man who’d boasted of hot springs offered sincere counsel. Fear was evident in his eyes.
Lucian understood what he meant. Last night, while Camillo should have been the center of attention as the birthday celebrant, all eyes had instead fixed on Lucian. His mood could hardly be worse.
Yet he could not bear to stand idle while a prince, simply by virtue of his station, struck a servant—and a young one at that.
Lucian clenched his teeth and hurried toward the steps, but the Second Prince was faster.
The moment Camillo drew his blade from its sheath,
“Your Highness, you’re positively brimming with vigor this morning.”
A brown-haired man smoothly stepped in front of the maidservant.

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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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