The Slave Is Too Handsome - Chapter 70

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

The slave is far too handsome!
070.
“What? It wasn’t Monica?”
Monica’s head lifted slowly at the deflated tone in his voice. Lucian, who had been inches away, had stepped back again.
“Well, I suppose not.”
The young ladies around them showed signs of disappointment. Monica’s face, so full of anticipation moments before, flushed with shame.
…….
As Lucian surveyed the crowd, searching, his aide’s voice cut through the noise.
“Your Highness!”
Lucian’s gaze snapped toward the voice. Every spectator seated nearby pointed in the same direction.
His aide stood at the Tournament Grounds entrance, waving both arms frantically. Beside him stood Eloïse, looking thoroughly embarrassed.
To anyone watching, she looked like she’d been caught trying to slip away. She had no idea how much that very attitude provoked him.
Lucian smiled coldly and hurried out of the stands. He strode toward the entrance, then broke into a run.
“That’s incredible!!!”
The young men shouted after him. Lucian came to a halt directly in front of Eloïse, having sprinted at full speed.
She started at his approach and deliberately looked away.
‘Of course he’d come after me.’
He removed the Flower Crown from his own head and placed it upon hers. Only then did she turn to meet his eyes—and she was the crown’s true owner all along.
The fresh, verdant scent of living flowers enveloped them both.
“I shall share the glory of Victory with you.”
He announced it as fact, then took her hand and drew her up. She said nothing in return.
The longer her silence stretched, the more it ate at him. He burned to know what she was thinking.
As he gazed into her clear eyes, he slowly brought his lips to the back of her hand. The skin beneath his lips felt warm.
“Ahhhhh!!!”
Applause and cheers erupted at the scene, like something from a painting—but neither of them heard a thing.
Even as he kissed her hand, Lucian’s gaze remained fixed on Eloïse with an intensity that wouldn’t relent.
‘Am I imagining this?’
There was something different about the way he looked at her now, Eloïse thought. Something unlike before.
His eyes seemed angry, yet they also carried something else—a fierce determination to act on whatever his heart was commanding.
***
That evening’s ball was raucous in a way the first one had not been.
Young ladies and gentlemen who shared common interests clustered together, too busy discussing the Jousting Tournament from that morning to notice much else.
Eloïse, having just arrived at the Banquet Hall, found herself drawn into a circle of young ladies.
“My goodness, Lady Eloïse. Where on earth did you find that dress? The color is simply exquisite.”
At Rose’s remark—she had arrived early and was already seated—all eyes turned to Eloïse’s gown.
She wore the Green Dress that Lucian had given her. Mary had insisted she put it on.
“Oh, that… I had it custom-made at Dalia’s atelier.”
Eloïse threw out a vague answer. To admit Lucian had given it to her would be suicide in this moment. As it was, they were all sharpening their claws, eager to interrogate her about the hand-kiss at the tournament.
“I see. You do have impeccable taste, don’t you?”
“Thank you, Rose.”
Eloïse rose from her seat with a deliberately bright smile.
“I’m rather tired, so I think I’ll—”
A sudden force pulled her back down. The young lady beside her had grabbed her arm.
“What are you saying? We’ve only just started talking!”
“Yes, you can’t leave the moment you arrive. We’ve been waiting for you, Lady Eloïse. Please, let’s talk more.”
Their words sounded reluctant, but their eyes regarded Eloïse as though she were an enemy of their house.
They looked ready to pounce on any slip of her tongue. It seemed they’d come prepared to tear into her without restraint, rank be damned.
‘Good grief.’
Eloïse sighed inwardly and steeled herself. She had done nothing wrong. She met their eyes with the same composure as always, shifting into battle stance.
“Fine. Let’s talk.”
…….
The moment her eyes sharpened, the young ladies who had been bearing down on her with vicious momentum flinched and retreated slightly.
Caught up in their excitement, they had briefly forgotten: Eloïse was still a daughter of the distinguished La Croix house, not someone to challenge lightly.
“So what shall we discuss?”
…….
“Well, now that you’ve offered… talking becomes rather difficult…”
“You said you and Valensio weren’t involved like that!”
Monica cried out, her voice sharp with resentment. Everyone stared at her in shock—they had never seen her like this.
“Sob, ah… hic…”
Fat tears streamed down Monica’s cheeks. Her crying became the signal for a full-fledged assault on Eloïse.
“Monica’s right. Your story from the Tea Party doesn’t match what happened today!”
Another young lady wrapped her arms protectively around weeping Monica and leveled a subtle accusation at Eloïse.
“Lady Eloïse. Please explain—or rather, justify—what happened at the Jousting Tournament.”
“Poor Monica… Even for a lady of standing, toying with someone’s heart crosses a line.”
“So you do have feelings for His Highness after all? That’s it, isn’t it?”
The young ladies pressed Eloïse relentlessly, their insinuations growing bolder.
These women. Eloïse didn’t flinch from their piercing stares.
Particularly Monica, cradled in another young lady’s arms, glared at her with eyes so bloodshot they looked murderous.
Eloïse wanted to turn it back on Monica—ask what she was doing, failing to secure even one man’s affection.
‘But I’m a civilized person. I won’t become like them.’
Eloïse composed herself and answered calmly.
“I’ve never lied to you, nor have I deceived any of you.”
“What did you just say?”
“Let me be clear: I have no intention of becoming involved with His Highness. And as for today’s hand-kiss—I didn’t expect that either.”
The young ladies gasped at her boldness. Monica looked seconds away from fainting.
“So… His Highness is pursuing you alone, then?”
Eloïse merely shrugged. The other young ladies’ eyes widened in alarm.
“Say, is there a quarrel breaking out over there?”
One of the young men sipping Fruit Wine pointed toward the commotion with obvious amusement. Lucian and the gentlemen gathered around him followed his gaze.
Eloïse and the other young ladies were engaged in heated argument.
“What’s happening?”
“Obvious, isn’t it? A lovers’ quarrel, wouldn’t you say? A fierce battle for the affections of one man?”
Someone chuckled, and the others joined in. The squabbling among the young ladies was entertainment to them.
“I envy you, Your Highness. To have captured every lady’s heart.”
“…Don’t jest.”
Lucian drained his cup with a weary expression. His gaze fixed on the one person who seemed determined never to give him her heart—Eloïse.
“Jest? I’m quite serious, Your Highness. I’m genuinely envious.”
The young man beside him pantomimed weeping, setting off fresh laughter from the others. But Lucian didn’t smile at all.
“By the way, Your Highness, why did you kiss her hand?”
“Hmm?”
“I too have been curious, Your Highness.”
Only then did Lucian turn his gaze from Eloïse to the Marquis’s Eldest Son.
“What do you mean?”
“Conventionally, doesn’t the victor of a Jousting Tournament properly kiss the lady he admires?”
As the Marquis’s Eldest Son explained calmly, Lucian blinked rapidly, several times over.
“You mean… you didn’t know?”
Lucian stood frozen like a broken statue, then let out a hollow laugh.
“Ha, haha.”
“Goodness. Your aide must have given you incorrect information.”
The Duke’s Second Son said this with sympathy. The others echoed his regret on Lucian’s behalf.
Lucian knew it wasn’t his aide’s fault at all.
‘The victor of the Jousting Tournament has a custom of kissing the hand of the lady he holds dear.’
Eloïse had laid down a smokescreen, anticipating this very situation.
…….
Lucian bit down on his lip.
To have missed his chance at kissing the most beloved woman in society. The Duke’s Second Son, understanding his anguish, refilled his glass.
***
Lucian stood leaning against the Balcony railing, cool night air washing over him. His face was blank, dulled by drink.
He hadn’t meant to drink this much.
After the Jousting Tournament, numerous young men had begun following him like disciples. Lucian, who had defeated Camilo in adverse circumstances with such confidence, had become something of a hero among them.
They urged him to drink, pressing cup after cup upon him. Normally he would have refused, but tonight he didn’t want to be clearheaded. So he drank everything they offered without protest.
“Sigh.”
Lucian withdrew a Button from his pocket. He had taken it deliberately that day at George’s birthday party, just before he fled from Eloïse’s Annex Building.
Whenever his mind grew troubled, he had fallen into the habit of tossing it lightly and catching it. He didn’t know why, but somehow it made him feel better.
He had tossed and caught the Button a few times when—
“There, Your Highness! What will people think if they see you?”
At that familiar voice, Lucian lowered his head to look down.
‘Camilo?’
Below, he could see the crown of golden hair. Camilo was dragging a blonde-haired woman across the Back Garden, hurrying toward somewhere in a panic.
‘Eloïse?!’
Lucian’s half-closed eyes snapped wide open. The drunkenness evaporated in an instant.

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