Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 1

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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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Chapter 1
Prologue
Deborah Simour.
As the illustrious daughter of Duke Simour, a powerful magnate who held the continent in his grasp, she had earned a notorious reputation for committing every conceivable act of depravity under the protection of her magnificent lineage. The moment the villainess Deborah Simour appeared at the Party Venue, the warm atmosphere shattered into an oppressive silence.
‘What is that vulgar makeup?’
‘She’s even worse than the rumors.’
The noblewoman had materialized as a perfect embodiment of the witch from storybooks—a figure people had only imagined in their minds.
Sharp, piercing eyes accentuated with pointed eyeshadow, crimson lips, pallid skin, and cascading violet hair left unadorned and unkempt—if the witch who had once drowned the world in chaos had truly existed, she would have looked precisely like this.
Her attire only amplified the effect. The ladies attending the spring-themed party wore pastel fabrics adorned with corsages, but Deborah had brazenly disregarded the occasion entirely, appearing in a dress of audacious, unconventional design.
Several matrons, uncertain where to begin their criticism, concealed their rigid expressions behind their fans and released short, stifled sighs.
Yet the most bewildering truth was that this vulgar appearance suited Deborah far too perfectly. She possessed an alluring quality—like a luminous, poisonous mushroom—that captivated all who beheld her, only deepening the impression that she was indeed a witch.
That was when Deborah produced a scarlet fan and planted herself directly before Baron Marco.
*Crack!*
She then struck his right cheek with vicious force.
The sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh reverberated through the venue with chilling clarity. The violence of her blow dislodged the toupee that had been clinging to the baron’s head, sending it tumbling ignominiously to the floor.
“Oh my….”
“Good heavens.”
The tender-hearted ladies reeled from the shocking spectacle. Baron Marco’s face, struck unexpectedly by the fan, registered bewilderment before contorting into undisguised humiliation.
“D-Deborah. What on earth is the meaning of this….”
“My hand slipped.”
With an expressionless face, she raised her arm again and struck his left cheek with a casual swat, as though brushing away a fly.
“This time my wrist twisted.”
At her indifferent tone, the man’s goat-like whiskers trembled violently.
“W-why are you committing such barbarous acts? Lady Deborah.”
In response to his question, she twisted her lips into a sneer.
“Your face is covered in grease, so my hand naturally slipped. Perhaps you should wash yourself more carefully.”
Deborah smirked and tossed a handkerchief before turning away without hesitation. The handkerchief landed upon the pathetic toupee scattered on the floor. A suffocating silence followed.
‘Heavens above.’
‘Who on earth invited that terrifying woman to this party?’
Though all present had been plunged into shock by the reckless noblewoman’s conduct, no one dared step forward to rebuke her; they merely whispered among themselves.
She was the daughter of Duke Simour, a man said to bring down even flying birds. Fear of repercussions left them with no choice but to tolerate whatever she did.
Whether by good fortune or ill, a waltz began to drift through the tense atmosphere. Deborah Simour, having received no dance invitations, walked toward the table lined with champagne flutes. There, she drank the sparkling wine with the unrefined gulping of a street ruffian.
Having emptied three glasses in rapid succession, she folded her arms across her chest with an arrogant expression—a gesture that made clear her disdain for the nobility present.
At last, Countess Ripples, a woman of unbending character, could no longer tolerate Deborah’s behavior and stepped forward. She carefully composed an appropriate reproach in her mind as she walked slowly toward the noblewoman.
“Miss Deborah. I have something important to say to you.”
Countess Ripples called out to Deborah Simour while elegantly opening her fan. The noblewoman responded in kind, waving her scarlet fan with a cold expression.
A grotesque image of two serpents devouring each other unfurled before Countess Ripples’ eyes.
‘How repulsive…!’
Countess Ripples barely managed to suppress the cry of revulsion that had risen to her throat.
Most ladies embroidered flowers or birds upon their fans, yet Deborah carried one adorned with serpents. Now that she thought of it, the crest of House of Simour featured a two-headed snake. Was this perhaps a warning to those who dared climb too high?
“Speak.”
Deborah Simour’s voice was so cold it sent a chill down the spine.
“Madam.”
The moment Countess Ripples met those blood-red eyes head-on, goosebumps erupted across her skin, and she found herself swallowing hard.
“M-My Lady. E-Excessive drinking is not good for you.”
“….”
“I’m simply concerned for your health. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you? W-Well then. Do enjoy yourself.”
Countess Ripples stammered through the awkward conversation and hastily retreated, walking backward.
‘…What was that? She startled me by speaking so suddenly.’
The moment Countess Ripples disappeared, I released the sigh I’d been holding back. My hand, which gripped the fan, was slick with cold sweat.
‘I got spooked for nothing.’
To suppress the tension that had risen to my throat, I drained another glass of champagne.
In truth, despite my notorious reputation, I was rather timid by nature. More precisely, Yoon Do-hee, who inhabited Deborah Simour’s body, was timid.
‘I shouldn’t shrink back. I won’t live virtuously like I did in the past.’
I bit down hard on my crimson lips.
‘I don’t need to feel guilty. Baron Marco deserves far worse than what he got.’
The Baron Marco I’d struck with my fan was a despicable man—not only had he been unfaithful with a maidservant, but he’d pushed his pregnant wife down the stairs and broken her leg. Yet the crowd, captivated only by my savage appearance and actions, would never concern themselves with such sordid details.
‘Good. Everything is proceeding as planned.’
Observing the surrounding reactions—whispers and sidelong glances cast my way—it seemed I had successfully maintained my fearsome reputation today.
‘I’ll continue living as a villainess and reap the benefits.’
I mustn’t let anyone discover that I’m a pushover. I clenched my fist as if steeling my resolve.
1. I Expose My Shameful Past
Just how much of a pushover was I?
“Do-hee. Your oppa needs 100,000 won right now. An aunt suddenly passed away. She always looked after me since I was young. I’m so sad right now.”
“What do I do?”
Until the day I died, I pitied my senior Kim Han-jun, whose relatives seemed to pass away every week. I was so completely smitten that I fell for his transparent lies.
“I’m really sorry, Do-hee. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get the money.”
I transferred 100,000 won to Kim Han-jun and even added words of encouragement.
So what if my account was empty? I liked him, didn’t I? I could just skip a few meals and coffees—my part-time job wages would come in soon anyway.
Engaging in extreme mental gymnastics, I hoisted my heavy, clunky laptop bag and headed into the Library next to the Engineering Building.
“Ugh, I’m so tired.”
Before I could even begin tackling the mountain of assignments, exhaustion crashed over me. I desperately needed a sweet latte, but with no money, reality hit hard. With a clearer head, I calculated that the money Han-jun had borrowed under the guise of condolence gifts was nearly 500,000 won.
Couldn’t he pay me back a little faster?
But I felt guilty pressing him for money when he was drowning in sorrow from one tragedy after another. I bit my nails nervously before opening my laptop.
Everyone, please send me the materials you’ve organized by today.
Since our major group project presentation was happening this week, I left a message in our group chat. The number next to my message kept decreasing, but no one replied for a while.
Noona Do-hee, I’m sorry. I came down with a cold.
I have reserve military training today. Could you push the deadline to tomorrow? Sorry.
It was a blessing if people even bothered to reply late. Some just read my messages and ignored them. Perhaps because I’d experienced this so often, I felt nothing despite their lack of cooperation. I told myself once more that tuition was expensive and studying a bit more was worth it, then organized the presentation materials.
I worked on the assignment late into the night until hunger drove me to leave the library. As I dragged my exhausted body toward the Convenience Store, I froze at the sound of a familiar voice mixed with the acrid smell of cigarette smoke.
“Damn it, it’s new. Don’t step on it.”
Kim Han-jun, who should be at a funeral right now, exhales a thick curse along with cigarette smoke. His conversation partner was a senior from the same cohort who had mentioned needing to attend reserve military training today.
“Isn’t this an N-brand limited edition shoe? How did you get it? It sold out in one second.”
“I barely managed to get it through resale. Damn it. So don’t shove your feet at it.”
“Getting this through resale costs a fortune. Where did you get the money?”
“I found a sucker.”
At Kim Han-jun’s smug answer, I felt a sharp sting, as if the back of my head had been struck.
Sucker, sucker, sucker. The two syllables echoed endlessly in my mind.
“What kind of idiot would give you money?”
“Yoon Do-hee.”
“Ah, Yoon Do-hee.”
The senior nods with an expression of understanding.
Wow, just hearing those three syllables and he immediately gets it—am I really such a supreme sucker?
“Having her in the same cohort is so convenient. But if you ask for money, she just gives it to you?”
“I made an excuse about needing to go to a funeral, but I didn’t realize she’d keep falling for it every time.”
“Wow, Kim Han-jun. You’re a complete bastard.”
“I’m not the bad one. Yoon Do-hee is just stupid for being fooled by a little kindness.”
I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. Like an idiot, I couldn’t even confront him and demand the money back. Instead, I fled that place like a coward. I should have at least stolen those sneakers and trampled them.
“Do-hee. I really like how kind you are.”
Kim Han-jun’s honeyed words kept circling in my head. Strangely, I didn’t cry. It felt like I’d been punched—a hot, throbbing ache in my chest.
“Do-hee. You came at just the right time. Do the dishes.”
As I dragged my trembling legs home, Mom immediately pointed at the sink overflowing with plates. My younger brother had eaten dinner, yet somehow the dishes had naturally become my responsibility. The question suddenly struck me anew.
‘I’m hungry too….’
I listlessly rummaged through the empty refrigerator when I overheard a conversation between my younger brother and Mom.
“Mom, can you get me a tutor? All my friends are preparing for early admission now—they’re all taking group or private lessons. I’m the only one just going to a cram academy.”
“Okay. I’ll look into finding a tutor.”
At Mom’s unhesitating response, the milk carton I was holding slipped from my fingers. My stomach churned. These were the same people who had scolded me for how expensive even a few online lectures were, let alone a cram academy.
I had thought our family’s finances were desperately tight. Dad was an incompetent office worker stuck at the rank of manager, and we had three children after all. But it wasn’t that we had no money—it was that they had absolutely no intention of investing in me.
“Yoon Do-hee! Where are you going? Did you do the dishes?”
Leaving the house without a word was the greatest rebellion I could manage, and somehow that made it feel even more pathetic.
I should have at least screamed. Why are you treating me differently? Do I look invisible because I stay quiet?
The sorrow came like a delayed tide, and I stood alone on the street, my nose tingling as I sniffled.
“Miss. I need to get home, but I’ve lost my transit card. Could you lend me three thousand won? Please?”
I wiped my wet eyes and let out a hollow sigh. Even now, someone was trying to take advantage of me.
I think I’ve been tricked by this grandmother and given her bus fare about three times.
‘And she even kindly walked me to the bus stop.’
Kim Han-jun extracts condolence money from me every week, and this grandmother extracts bus fare every week.
Damn it. They both seem to enjoy having found such a perfect sucker.
‘I’m quite something, only learning after being fooled multiple times.’
By this point, there’s no denying it. I’m such a gullible fool that I can even recognize homeless people on the street. Kim Han-jun was right—I’m not kind. I’m just stupid.
“Our Do-hee is truly kind-hearted.”
“I’ve always appreciated how kind Do-hee is.”
I should have interpreted this as ‘Do-hee is such a pushover that life has been incredibly convenient for me,’ but why do such crucial revelations only arrive at the moment of death?
“Miss, just give me three thousand won!”
The homeless woman seized my arm, her voice sharp with anger. They say that when kindness continues, people begin to see it as their right—and watching this grandmother’s shameless audacity, I felt a surge of fury rising in my chest.
“I don’t have a single won. Let go of me!”
“Then just two thousand. Even one thousand!”
As I struggled with the grandmother who kept pushing me toward the road, a motorcycle came barreling toward me at tremendous speed, and I threw myself directly into its path.
And so I died, pathetically and without fanfare, only to be reborn.
Inside the body of a villainess in an adult reverse harem novel—a story of utter depravity.

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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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