The Sub Male Lead is Burning with Jealousy - Chapter 9 Part 13
According to Rodrigo’s latest report, they had pinpointed the dragon’s palace somewhere deep within a northern mountain range and were now tracking its movements. The dragon had used three consecutive warps, with the most recent location placing it somewhere in the Empire’s east.
‘This guy couldn’t be him, right?’
If the dragon had any sense, it wouldn’t dare appear here. After all, Rahil had defeated it once before in a one-on-one confrontation. Should the creature reveal itself now, Rahil was certain he could kill it.
“…We should let him advance.”
“Do you really think so?”
“He came in first in the final trial. If we disqualify him, Duke Noer’s household will certainly protest. We can’t afford that.”
They could, of course, come up with other excuses, but if this candidate truly was the dragon, angering him by disqualifying him could be even more dangerous. He might lash out in rage.
After weighing Rahil’s advice, Anais chose her finalists. Those who had beheaded clearly recognizable, formidable monsters—like wyverns, wargs, chimeras, or trolls—were chosen first. The remaining candidates were judged based on their answers to Anais’s questions, delivered discreetly through a chamberlain.
The candidates who failed were immediately ushered out of the arena, while those who qualified for the tournament gathered at one spot, facing the arena’s entrance.
Music played as the four chosen Maiden of Abundance candidates entered. Gone were their hay-covered, disheveled appearances from earlier trials. Now they appeared elegantly dressed in reds and golds, perfectly suited to the autumn theme.
It was now time for one of the most popular events of the festival’s eve. In order of the Empress’s selections, each participant would step forward.
Before the eight knights took part in the tournament, they had to declare which young lady they would fight for and receive her handkerchief. Since the young lady could refuse, the audience watched with bated breath as the first young nobleman prepared to choose.
The first candidate was one recommended by the Latrazzi Dukedom. Since it wasn’t mandatory to choose a lady from the Maiden of Abundance candidates, the other noble ladies seated in the stands also watched with anticipation.
The first young man was Karel Decart, a count’s son from a provincial noble family. He seemed hesitant, and for some reason, he kept staring intently up at the imperial seating area.
‘What’s his problem? Why does he keep looking this way?’
Rahil wondered. He was certain that Karel’s gaze was fixed on the Empress, not on him, which instantly soured Rahil’s mood.
“I… I want to fight for the one who chose me.”
As if he had made up his mind, he looked toward the Emperor and Empress’s seats and spoke, his voice ringing clearly throughout the arena. In truth, it wasn’t unusual for young noblemen to declare their intent to fight for the Empress. It was just that the current Empress, Anais, appeared to be his age, which earned him a few curious and bemused looks from the nobles.
“Should I just kill him…”
Rahil muttered, unable to fully suppress the murderous intent in his voice. Anais flinched and turned to look at him. The moment their eyes met, Rahil tried to rein in his killing intent, forcing an awkward smile onto his face.
Meanwhile, a chamberlain had already begun climbing the steps to fetch the Empress’s handkerchief. Just as Rahil, his face contorted in anger, started to rise from his seat, Anais swiftly grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
Her strength was slight, but for Rahil, even that was enough to make him lean toward her. Anais urgently whispered into his ear.
“If you don’t get angry. I-I’ll do whatever His Majesty wants tonight.”
His face, which had been livid a moment ago, instantly relaxed—though he stiffened again when he noticed the chamberlain, who was now right in front of the imperial family seating area, waiting for the handkerchief.
The ladies-in-waiting nervously eyed the Emperor’s darkening mood. Meanwhile, Anais let go of Rahil and nodded to them, trying to appear calm.
“It’s all right. Mary, give the chamberlain my handkerchief.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Mary, looking anxious, pulled out the Empress’s handkerchief and approached the chamberlain. Meanwhile, Rahil couldn’t stand it anymore and jumped to his feet.
“Give it here. I’ll deliver it myself!”
“P-Pardon?”
Startled, Mary found the handkerchief snatched right from her hand, and Anais, alarmed, also stood up and clutched Rahil’s arm.
“What are you doing… You promised you wouldn’t get angry.”
“I’m not angry. Really.”
Rahil forced a grin and picked up a silver goblet from the table in front of them. He quickly poured out its water and then wrapped the Empress’s handkerchief around it.
‘What in the world is His Majesty doing…?’
While all the nobles, even Sion, looked bewildered, unable to grasp the Emperor’s intent, Rahil turned his gaze toward Karel, who stood far in the distance.
“What the…?”
Then in the blink of an eye, Rahil smoothly extricated himself from Anais’s grasp and hurled the goblet straight at Karel.
Thwack!
Under everyone’s astonished gaze, the goblet struck Karel squarely, knocking him backward. He wasn’t knocked unconscious, thankfully, and quickly scrambled back to his feet, but a vivid blue bruise was already forming around his eye.
“Tch.”
At the sound of Rahil clicking his tongue, Anais shouted, her face flushed bright red.
“Your Majesty!”
‘Good grief. Is he insane…?’
It was an act beyond recovery. Theodore could only avert his gaze helplessly, while Angelica, seated beside him, turned her head, struggling to stifle her laughter.
Farther back, Kirthalros—who was two turns away—broke into a cold sweat at the realization that if he had spoken first, he might have suffered the same fate.
‘Does that lunatic have no sense of decorum?’
Fortunately, the event official quickly stepped in to smooth things over and moved on to the next candidate. Thankfully, this one chose to name his betrothed instead of Anais.
Now it was Kirthalros’s turn. As he glanced furtively at the Emperor’s and Empress’s seats… Rahil sat there, arms crossed, shooting him a terrifying glare.
