The Slave Is Too Handsome - Chapter 69

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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 too handsome!
069.
“The Final Match will commence shortly, so we ask that all distinguished guests please take their seats!”
The Spectator Stands were in uproar. Everyone was engaged in heated debate about whether Valensio or Camilo would emerge as the ultimate victor.
The imperial court was little different.
“Both your sons have advanced to the finals side by side—you must feel quite assured, Your Majesty.”
“Your Majesty was himself skilled in martial arts during his crown prince days. It seems blood truly cannot be deceived.”
At his closest advisor’s words, the Emperor let out a hearty laugh.
“Ha, naturally any prince of the realm should be capable of at least this much, shouldn’t he? Camilo, the boy, has always been bold and fond of physical exertion since childhood. But I confess I had no idea Valensio had cultivated such prowess.”
Despite his relaxed tone, the Emperor found Valensio deeply impressive. The boy had grown up outside the Imperial Palace, working only at the merchant house—when had he developed such skill?
Yet at the same time, a fresh pang of regret struck him: he had missed witnessing this exceptional son’s formative years.
“Ahem, which of them would Your Majesty prefer to see claim the Championship Victory?”
“That’s quite the difficult question.”
The elders seated nearby all perked up their ears, but the Emperor offered no answer.
‘Well, though he says nothing, he surely wishes for the eldest son’s victory.’
Everyone waited for the Final Match with that same unspoken understanding.
“My, such an unusual choice?”
Simon, who had just returned to his seat, clicked his tongue. Eloïse, seated beside him, immediately turned her gaze toward the Arena.
“Goodness, just look at Prince Valensio!”
“Why did he change his mount? And to such a wretched-looking beast at that…….”
The noblewomen seated nearby sighed. With this choice, victory might as well have already gone to Camilo.
‘Lucian…….’
Eloïse’s confusion matched theirs.
Lucian had led out not the White Horse he’d ridden in the previous match, but a shabby Brown Horse—visibly small and aged, a sorry sight indeed.
Before entering the match, the two princes rode side by side around the Arena, waving to the distinguished guests.
Because of this, Lucian’s chosen mount appeared all the more pitiful when compared to Camilo’s.
Camilo’s Black Horse, after all, boasted the finest bloodline—a renowned steed that had been fed only the best since childhood and trained by the prince himself.
“Lost your nerve, have you? Well, you’re about to make a fool of yourself before everyone—better to have an excuse ready with the horse, I’d say. That’s right, that’s right.”
Camilo waved to the ladies with a sneer. Lucian, who had been waving as well, simply nodded in acknowledgment.
“Even I have to admit that choosing this mount was a mistake. For your own dignity, I should have picked something more respectable.”
“What?”
Camilo’s brow darkened as he glared at Lucian, who wore a perfectly composed expression.
“If you lose to such a worthless horse, what do you think people will say about you?”
“You bastard!”
Camilo’s eyes blazed as he grabbed Lucian by the collar, yet Lucian showed not a flicker of alarm—only smiled.
“I could even let you win in a manner that looks respectable, for your sake. How does that sound? Would you prefer it?”
“I’ll beat you to a pulp, you son of a bitch!”
The crowd gasped in shock, and the Imperial Guard Knight overseeing the match hurried toward the two men, attempting to separate them.
“Sigh.”
The Emperor, watching his two sons’ confrontation, brought his fist down against his own knee with a sharp bang.
Both boys had made a spectacle of themselves before all assembled—his fury at them for staining his dignity burned hot.
“I shall have a stern word with Valensio.”
The Empress, who had remained silent until now, spoke calmly, and the Emperor’s gaze turned toward her.
“The problem is not Valensio! ……Forget it.”
Mindful of the onlookers’ eyes, the Emperor pressed his lips together and turned his attention back to the Arena.
The two princes, who had finally been separated, were returning to their positions and preparing for the Jousting match.
“He clearly provoked Camilo. This one is no ordinary man either.”
Simon, watching the situation unfold with interest, glanced toward Eloïse. Contrary to his expectation, she observed the scene with remarkable composure.
‘Camilo. Foolishly subtracting points from himself.’
A great trumpet blast split the air. The Final Match had begun.
Mounted on their horses with lances in one hand and shields in the other, the two men faced each other.
Camilo’s eyes blazed with fury, as though he meant to tear his opponent apart, while Lucian’s gaze was infinitely cold.
It was Camilo who moved first.
“Hyah!”
Crouching low in his saddle, he spurred his horse forward with force, determined to finish cleanly in a single pass just as Lucian had done.
As Camilo closed to within arm’s reach, the elderly horse beneath Lucian suddenly startled and reared up, eyes rolling.
“Whoa, whoa!”
Seizing the moment, Camilo drove his lance directly at Lucian.
Lucian barely deflected the blow, but his own lance snapped under Camilo’s force and flew far away, planting itself deep in the grass.
Simply remaining mounted on such a panicked horse was a feat in itself.
The spectators gasped. It seemed the match would be decided without further contest—Camilo’s victory appeared certain.
“Ha, it’s almost embarrassing how easy this is.”
While Lucian worked to calm his horse, Camilo circled him laughing, even twirling his lance with casual confidence.
What followed was Camilo’s complete dominance. He pressed the attack with his shield rather than his lance, and with each impact—his shield, his horse striking hard—Lucian’s mount staggered.
“Why don’t you just surrender now?”
At Camilo’s words, Lucian, who had been purely defensive, turned his horse toward where his fallen lance lay.
“Right, you want one last attack before we end this.”
Camilo positioned himself before the fallen lance, blocking Lucian’s path with a sneer. Lucian, showing no particular reaction or expression, hefted his shield and began charging directly toward him.
Camilo braced his shield to meet the frontal assault. Lucian’s intent was transparent to him.
‘So he plans to come straight at me, then feint toward the flank just before impact? Let’s see if he can manage it.’
As the distance between them closed, Camilo smoothly shifted his angle to defend against the anticipated side attack.
‘……Wait?’
But Lucian came on straight, undeviating. And as Camilo opened his flank to block what he expected, Lucian crashed his shield full force into that unguarded side.
The startled horse was driven sideways, rearing and thrashing. Just as Camilo crouched low to steady his mount, Lucian slammed into him again with brutal force.
His choice had been right. The horse Lucian had selected, shabby as it appeared, was remarkably experienced, and its smaller frame made it perfectly suited to exploit the gaps.
Everything proceeded exactly as Lucian had planned. Though to all observers, it would seem a spectacular reversal—a dramatic comeback.
In this way, Lucian achieved not only victory against Camilo despite the odds, but also that narrative arc.
It shouldn’t have been possible. Camilo lost his grip on the reins and tumbled from his horse. In that moment, time seemed to slow.
‘Did he aim for this from the very start?’
As he fell toward the ground, Camilo looked at Lucian. Seated easily upon his horse, he wore an expression of perfect composure—as if he had always known this would come to pass.
From the beginning, Lucian had never intended to make a desperate flank strike, nor to retrieve the fallen lance.
“…….”
Lucian’s victory was absolute.
“The Championship Victory of this year’s Harvest Festival Jousting goes to…… Prince Valensio!”
Thunderous cheering erupted, though Camilo heard none of it.
Lying sprawled on the ground, he could only blink repeatedly, unable to comprehend what had just occurred.
“Your Highness!”
An aide rushed over and helped Camilo to his feet. His face remained stunned.
The Spectator Stands roared with celebration. All except those who had backed Camilo were caught up in festive spirits.
Even Simon, who had leaned toward Camilo’s faction, could not deny Lucian’s victory.
“Well, the boy has more of a gambler’s instinct than I gave him credit for. Don’t you think, Elo…….”
He turned, but the seat beside him was empty.
“Eloïse?”
As Simon looked around for her, the Emperor descended into the Arena with an aide’s assistance to place the Wreath upon the champion’s head.
Lucian, waiting in the center of the Arena, bowed respectfully to the Emperor.
“You gave us an edge-of-your-seat contest. Congratulations on your victory.”
“I dedicate this honor to Your Majesty.”
As the Emperor placed the Wreath directly upon Lucian’s head, gasps of admiration rose from the ladies behind. The brilliant flowers only made his fine features shine more brilliantly.
“Ha, no, no—you must share the honor with the ladies as well.”
At the Emperor’s words, Lucian nodded and turned his gaze toward the Spectator Stands. The noblewomen seated there looked toward him with eyes full of expectation.
Without hesitation, he walked toward them. All watched his progress with fascination. This moment was truly the pinnacle of the Jousting competition.
“Oh, goodness!”
The noblewomen seated near Monica gasped with excitement. Lucian was approaching their section.
Monica, her eyes squeezed shut, bent her head low. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears. Time seemed to stop.

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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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