Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 106

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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 106
In the past, when the marriage proposal was first broached by Simour, Duke Montes had been dismissive. He believed that Philaf, wild as a thunderbolt, required a woman who was docile and humble to support him from within the household. Even at her young age, Deborah Simour carried herself with such evident pride in her father’s backing that it was plain to see.
‘The girl showed no promise whatsoever.’
Thus, Duke Montes had postponed his response to the marriage proposal indefinitely.
‘I thought she was utterly unremarkable except for the Simour name….’
Who would have imagined that the reckless troublemaker would mend her ways?
The patent rights to the formula were certainly desirable, but what truly captivated Duke Montes was her design of magical artifacts for filial devotion. After all, wasn’t it a universal truth that a child who treats her father well would do the same for her father-in-law?
‘Moreover, Deborah Simour is quite fond of my son.’
Though her temperament was said to be difficult, the Simour bloodline had always been that way by nature, and it mattered only that she treat her own people well.
As Duke Montes watched Duke Simour, who had just salted the wounds of the family heads, he summoned Philaf—currently under house arrest—the moment the conference adjourned and he returned to his mansion.
“What is this about, Father?”
Philaf swallowed the irritation rising in his throat as he asked. Before the family head conference, his father had grown irritable, and Philaf had already endured a barrage of nagging since morning.
“Philaf, you’ve reached an age where it’s time you had a betrothed.”
He had expected his father to either hurl furniture or compare him to Rozard Simour to wound his pride, so the words that emerged were entirely unexpected.
‘As if house arrest weren’t enough, now he speaks of betrothals.’
Philaf’s crimson eyebrows twisted in displeasure.
“You once said clearly, Father, that you would respect my wishes regarding marriage.”
“Surely your grand intentions don’t involve Miya Binoshu, do they?”
Philaf hesitated before speaking.
“I’ve already settled matters with Miya.”
Duke Montes’s stern expression softened considerably.
“Why did you suddenly change your mind?”
Philaf scratched his chin. Rather than deliberately abandoning his feelings, they had simply faded on their own.
While he was under house arrest, she had grown close to Diera Orgo, and recently he’d heard she was receiving patronage from Francois Gabrieau Marquis. Once the scales fell from his eyes, he could see plainly how she flitted from one patron to another like a bat.
“It seems I was momentarily bewitched by something.”
“Good. You’ve done your part. Since you appear to have come to your senses, I have a proposal for you.”
“You said clearly that I should handle my own marriage….”
Philaf, who had been grumbling with a sullen expression, fell silent at his father’s next words.
“What do you think of Deborah Simour as a bride?”
“….”
Seeing his son’s face light with interest—so different from the past when he had thrashed about insisting he would never marry the Simour lady—Duke Montes nodded to himself in satisfaction.
“Do you remember? A letter regarding a marriage proposal came from Simour some time ago.”
“But didn’t you already refuse it?”
“No.”
For even Duke Montes, officially rejecting a marriage proposal that came first from the woman’s side was a burdensome matter. He had continually postponed his reply while using the excuse of respecting his son’s wishes.
“This will be the first time I seal a response with my personal seal.”
* * *
The Crown Prince occasionally summoned both Philaf, whose position as the next family head was assured, and Isidore to the Imperial Palace for tea time, archery, horseback riding, and the like. In the case of other influential families like Orgo or Simour, where the succession remained uncertain, it would have been risky to grow close to any single individual, but these two were only sons, making the situation different.
The three had been gathering for a full decade now. It was an arrangement the late Empress had orchestrated to forge strong connections between her son and the scions of powerful families, and though not frequent, the meetings continued to this day.
“I would be delighted if you gentlemen participated actively in the Naila Goddess’s Birthday Festival and graced the occasion with your presence.”
The Crown Prince aimed his bow at the target and spoke.
“Of course, Your Highness.”
The Crown Prince laughed at Philaf’s response.
“Ha ha. You’re always so straightforward.”
The Crown Prince’s forcefully released arrow missed the center of the target entirely, embedding itself in an odd spot.
“I’ve been signing documents so tediously lately that I’ve lost my touch.”
Listening to his grumbling, Isidore withdrew an arrow from the quiver.
‘The Goddess’s birthday celebration.’
With the unstable Barrier causing unrest in the realm, I wondered if it was truly wise for the Crown Prince to take center stage in such a grand event.
‘But it is a good opportunity to demonstrate his recognition by the Emperor.’
Since it was too early to judge, Isidore held his tongue and released his arrow toward the target.
“Playing games with you always makes my palms sweat, Isidore.”
It was natural—Isidore deliberately adjusted his scores to keep the Crown Prince entertained and thrilled, alternating between winning and losing. When Isidore set his mind to it, every arrow found the bullseye. There was only one thing Isidore couldn’t do: play the piano.
“Isidore.”
After the gathering he’d attended reluctantly at the Crown Prince’s request ended, the moment Isidore mounted his horse, Philaf suddenly blocked his path.
Isidore grasped the reins and opened his mouth indifferently.
“Move. You’ll get hoof prints on your face.”
“Everyone should know what a two-faced bastard you are.”
“Everyone already knows you’re the type to get worked up over trivial matters.”
Philaf trembled at Isidore’s tone, barely suppressing his anger before speaking.
“Don’t you dare act superior, using that handsome face of yours to rack up points with Deborah Simour.”
‘Points from my face?’
Unfortunately, I’d never had success with such tactics.
“Deborah Simour was merely seduced and deceived by your hypocritical chivalry. No matter how tenderly you act, if I commit myself, it won’t matter. Even the flower of the season only blooms for one season.”
Watching Philaf turn his back after delivering that absurd declaration, Isidore slowly pulled the reins.
‘Who exactly was deceived?’
No one viewed me with more suspicion than Deborah Simour.
‘Why is Philaf overestimating me like this?’
What on earth had Deborah Simour told him?
‘Did I actually score points based on my appearance?’
The more I reasoned through it, the better my mood became.
But then I furrowed my brow. What bothered me was how confidently Philaf carried himself, as if he had some plan. Watching him fawn over Miya Binoshu before suddenly turning his attention to the lady felt pathetic, yet it twisted something inside me.
Gripping the reins tightly, Isidore urged his horse forward toward Blanche and ordered his informants to keep watch on Philaf.
* * *
“What! How dare he bring up marriage now?”
Upon receiving a letter from Duke Montes expressing positive thoughts about the marriage proposal, my father ground his teeth.
“Duke Montes, that old fool has finally lost his mind.”
“No marriage!”
Enrique, clinging to Father’s side while reading a book, seemed to grasp the situation and his eyes glistened with tears. The office, which had been so peaceful, became chaos because of a single letter that had just arrived.
Duke Simour followed with a savage voice muttering curses. I learned today that this world possessed such diverse and creative profanities.
“…Deborah. You don’t still harbor feelings for that Montes fellow, do you?”
Duke Simour and Enrique regarded me with rough, anxious eyes.
“I despise Philaf Montes.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. I abhor him. And did I not tell you before? I intend to devote myself solely to my research for the time being.”
“Good. You’ve thought this through well.”
Duke Simour’s face relaxed with relief. It seemed he had been worried I might cast aside my pride and desperately beg to proceed with the marriage.
‘The family’s disgrace knows no bounds.’
The original Deborah would have done exactly that—therein lay the cruel irony.
Yet a troubling matter remained. Official documents bearing the family seal were not easily dismissed. Moreover, Montes possessed correspondence in which we had first proposed the marriage talks. Judging solely by the letters exchanged between our houses, it appeared as though mutual agreement had been reached.
‘This has become quite the headache.’
“Don’t concern yourself. I shall handle it.”
Perhaps noticing the worry etched across my face, Duke Simour patted my shoulder.
“My personal guard, Ouroboros, has been resting quite a bit lately.”
“I can fight too.”
Enrique began drafting a duel contract with a serious expression.
“A war between houses is rather…”
“I jest. Since Montes has evaded an official response for over three years, they cannot demand a swift answer from us. I intend to respond at my leisure.”
Truly, Duke Simour—no one rivals him in sheer disagreeableness.
“Since matters have come to this, I suppose I must spread rumors as Duke Montes has done.”
The Montes side had subtly expressed their refusal by spreading word that Philaf found me distasteful.
“Please, spread it far and wide that Philaf is not my type. I find such arrogant men utterly repugnant.”
“Understood.”
The Duke lifted his teacup with elegant grace.
“Hmm, the tea tastes particularly fine today.”
“Indeed it does.”
Amused by the reversal of circumstances, the Duke’s lips curled upward.

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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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