Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 101

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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 101
‘I thought I was reading some idol’s promotional post.’
The information I’d purchased from the Information Guild was far more effusive in its praise of Isidore than the Master’s own research materials.
‘The Master was surprisingly restrained, it seems.’
The documents were plastered with praise that looked as though his agency had paid for every word.
‘Selling information everyone already knows for 500 gold? I should have opened my own Information Guild instead.’
There was even a red underline beneath the claim that he’d never once caused a scandal regarding his private life in High Society.
‘Was he truly light incarnate?’
I was reeling at the existence of someone so flawless—no unicorn could compare—when I froze at the latter half of the document.
Obsessive-compulsive disorder?
In that moment, I realized I’d never once seen Isidore’s bare hands.
‘He wore thin cotton gloves even in summer.’
The image of him playing piano while wearing gloves also flickered through my mind.
I could understand a knight wearing gloves in summer to hide calluses earned through rigorous training. But playing piano while gloved—that struck me as peculiar.
‘If it were me, I’d have removed them out of sheer frustration.’
As several details coalesced, the Information Guild’s claims suddenly seemed far more credible.
‘The Master wouldn’t overlook information that even ordinary guilds possess…’
Either he’d deliberately omitted it, or he’d dismissed it as mere rumor. One or the other.
‘If the former, did he hope I wouldn’t learn of it? But why?’
Of course, it could be the latter. The Information Guild might have merely speculated based on circumstantial evidence and hearsay, not confirmed facts.
‘To verify the truth, would I have no choice but to remove Isidore’s gloves? …But touching someone without permission is a crime.’
Obsessive-compulsive disorder manifests in various ways. Some people abhor physical contact with others; some recoil from exposure to filthy environments.
‘I’m sinking deeper into a labyrinth.’
I drifted into thought again until the Master flicked a coin lightly upward, snapping me back to focus on my work.
“Where should I source this tea? It seems like it would sell well.”
“The unit cost of these leaves is too high to move profitably.”
He set the gold coin—heads facing up—on the table as he spoke.
“That’s all? How much are we talking?”
“…The price changes every year.”
No fixed market price meant the supply was that scarce, that precious.
‘So Knight Isidore gave me rare tea as a gift.’
I kept receiving things from him, again and again.
‘The more I learn about him, the more admirable he becomes—yet here I am, actually considering undressing and touching him (?) just to verify my hypothesis.’
I swallowed a sigh and tucked the glass jar of tea leaves back into my hood’s pocket. Whenever an appropriate opportunity arose, I felt I ought to repay him for such a precious gift.
“Master, do you happen to know what Knight Isidore likes? You seem to have extensive information about high-ranking nobility.”
“…Why not ask him directly?”
“If I ask beforehand, it spoils the fun for the recipient.”
“You could afford to have less fun. You’re already treading dangerously close to the line as it is.”
At his weary gaze, I fidgeted with my hands. My reckless act of casting false bait to hook Emmanuelle must have seemed foolish to him.
“There was sufficient probability of success. And I gained plenty from it. High risk, high reward. You know the saying?”
The Master, who had been watching me in silence, picked up five gold coins from the table and stacked them atop the already towering pile of gold.
“To see Deborah Simour working so fiercely despite having everything already in place—it inspires me to work even harder.”
“That’s right. My ambitions reach far higher.”
At his words about diligently supporting my ventures, I allowed myself a touch of bravado. It wasn’t entirely false—I hadn’t even reached halfway to ten billion yet.
The towering structure the Master had built with gold coins teetered precariously, as though it might collapse at any moment.
“But Master, don’t you have more wealth than you could ever count? Enough that you needn’t earn another coin.”
“No matter how much I accumulate, I never tire of it. …Until now, at least.”
“You mean you’re growing weary of it now?”
“Hardly. I adore gold immensely. Every time I see it, my spirits lift. It’s as though it’s been carved into my very nature.”
He spoke with the true conviction of a miser, his other hand gently stroking Cookie’s back as the creature slept soundly.
“Cookie seems particularly exhausted today.”
“He’s just returned from hunting outside these past few days.”
As I gazed quietly at Cookie shifting slightly, my eyes narrowed. My thoughts kept drifting back to Isidore’s hands, and suddenly the Master’s large hand stroking Cookie became vividly clear in my mind.
Now that I thought about it, I’d never seen him remove his gloves.
Of course, the Master and Isidore were different. The Master worked in darkness, so he likely concealed his fingerprints and avoided revealing his identity.
‘With hands that large, he’d probably play the piano beautifully….’
But why was I constantly entertaining such perverted thoughts?
“Ahem! I should be going.”
Feeling oddly flustered by my own musings, I abruptly rose from my seat and headed home.
* * *
The joint Academic Conference of all the various Social Clubs had concluded.
And to commemorate the successful completion of their Academic Conference, Epsilon held a grand after-party.
Members from other Social Clubs who had come as guests of acquaintances filled the Epsilon Frat House Hall with noble ladies and young gentlemen. Various finger foods were arranged around the perimeter of the hall, and they mingled in small groups, each holding a cocktail glass and exchanging pleasantries.
The person most frequently mentioned was undoubtedly Isidore, the leader of Epsilon.
Last year, Isidore had frequently been absent from the Capital due to territorial issues in the south, so this was the first time many had witnessed him presiding over an official gathering.
“Will Knight Isidore be attending this event?”
“I’m not certain. Though he’s the leader, he’s rarely seen in public.”
The anecdote of the Crown Prince semi-forcibly imposing the Epsilon leader position upon Isidore, who repeatedly refused due to his inability to attend frequently, was well-known.
Philaf, who was known to have his eye on Epsilon, had unexpectedly become the leader of Aracron instead. This was because Philaf possessed a temperament that could not tolerate serving beneath anyone.
“By the way, it seems Aracron is planning to skip the after-party entirely.”
“They can’t very well hold one. The shame would be unbearable.”
“Emmanuelle always handled the parties, so there’s no one to take charge of organizing this after-party.”
“I never imagined Deborah Simour and Emmanuelle would engage in such a sharp confrontation at an official gathering.”
“It would have been unthinkable even a year ago.”
Emmanuelle, politically astute, and Deborah Simour, the reckless troublemaker of Simour, were not even in the same category for comparison.
“Though Deborah Simour may have earned recognition at the Magic Tower, she had little presence at official events—but it seems Emmanuelle inadvertently elevated her standing.”
“She made a hasty move and overextended her hand.”
Emmanuelle, who had always manipulated public opinion subtly without stepping forward herself, had been swept along by Deborah Simour’s momentum and revealed her true nature. Epsilon’s atmosphere was one of satisfaction, while Aracron was belatedly claiming that Deborah Simour had laid a trap and that Emmanuelle had gone too far at an official event.
But the Central Social Circle was a place where honeyed words concealed daggers and schemes ran rampant. Falling into a trap was proof of foolishness, and the nobility showed little mercy to the defeated.
Still, the atmosphere that one must not carelessly provoke Deborah Simour had become even more pronounced than before.
‘I’ve become even more terrifying.’
In the past, many had subtly dismissed her as Simour’s wayward daughter, and there was an atmosphere where people gathered in small groups to curse her as a public enemy. But nowadays, even that had become cautious.
‘It’s suffocating.’
“Um, over there.”
“Gasp.”
The moment the subject of the rumors appeared, the interior of the Frat House hall fell into a deafening silence.
Deborah Simour wore a sleek dress made of deep purple luxury silk. The asymmetrically shirred fabric accentuated her distinctive aura in a way that was terrifying, yet made it nearly impossible to look away.
With her hair pulled up high, emphasizing her unusually sharp impression, the princess crossed the hall alone at a leisurely pace toward the window and folded her arms. Soon, as she narrowed her brows and fluttered her fan, the wide sleeve cuff slipped down to reveal a tattoo, and an even deeper silence descended.
In Asteia, tattoos are favored by monks with strong convictions or bellicose mercenaries. No one knew what beliefs Deborah Simour held, but everyone found themselves speechless, thinking that whatever her convictions were, they were remarkably unconventional—very much like her.
* * *
Suddenly, so many gazes poured down on me that I felt a prickle, and sweat began to bead on my skin. I fluttered my fan back and forth to cool myself down.
‘I came with such high hopes for my first party….’
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a single person I knew inside the hall.
‘I arrived far too early.’
At least Margaret was here, for which I was grateful.
To calm my nerves, I hastily downed the champagne Margaret handed me in one shot. As the alcohol began to take effect, the tight sensation that had been constricting my chest eased slightly.
My true self opened my fan and waited for the Fifth Princess to appear, surveying my surroundings, when my eyes met those of a certain young noblewoman.

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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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