Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 116

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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 116
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I had brazenly abandoned the Academy and was sprawling about at home like an unemployed layabout when a massive bouquet of roses arrived at my doorstep, accompanied by a letter.
“My goodness, Knight Isidore. How terribly romantic.”
“There could be no gift more befitting a beautiful lady than this.”
The maids gasped with genuine admiration at the lavishly blooming roses. The fact that they came from the Empire’s most handsome man made them seem all the more romantic—their cheeks were flushed with excitement. Isidore’s popularity was enough to make them momentarily forget their employer’s fearsome reputation.
‘Honestly, isn’t this a bit much?’
The symbolism of red roses was far too blatant, and I found myself genuinely flustered.
If Isidore’s intention was to vividly remind me of what had transpired in the Subspace, he had succeeded brilliantly. Scenes that had felt dreamlike and distant suddenly crystallized with startling clarity, churning violently through my mind. When I recalled the moment my lips had touched that large palm in that strange space, my face involuntarily burned with heat.
‘As if undressing and touching weren’t enough, he had to press his lips there too.’
Standing there in an awkward, conflicted daze, I opened the envelope he had sent.
‘What is this now?’
Inside was a neatly organized list of plays being held in the Capital this week. There was an absurdly presumptuous note attached stating that he had secured royal box seats for all of them and asking me to choose whichever appealed to me most.
‘Do all the high nobility here really go around boasting about how grand their scale is like this?’
I had already experienced this through Duke Simour, but as someone who had been an ordinary commoner, I could never quite adapt and always found myself taken aback. Standing there in bewilderment, I stared at the various plays listed in the letter for a while, then leisurely wrote him a reply.
* * *
“Prince Isidore, to be perfectly honest, you’re so devastatingly handsome that anything looks good on you. You said yourself that style is ultimately completed by one’s face—so why are you suddenly so indecisive about your appearance?”
Miguel muttered wearily, having endured watching his lord’s unusually fussy fashion show in preparation for his meeting with Deborah Simour.
‘How many hours has this been going on, exactly?’
His lord’s whims today were as chaotic as boiling porridge. Just moments ago, he had decisively declared that the navy frock coat was the final choice, yet now he was second-guessing himself, insisting that a more natural style was the answer, and had begun selecting cufflinks all over again.
‘Fine, it’s all well and good, but why does he keep dragging me in and asking for my opinion?’
What was even more infuriating was that every carefully considered opinion Miguel offered was summarily dismissed, and his lord simply continued trying on clothes that suited his own fancy. With a serious expression, he removed the cufflinks adorned with obsidian and replaced them with diamond-shaped platinum ones before speaking.
“Miguel. My conviction that the face completes one’s style remains unwavering.”
“….”
“However, I’m genuinely deliberating on what would be best. Even if you set the same diamond in a ring, the material and design of the band create vastly different impressions. Don’t you agree?”
As Miguel shuddered at the shameless audacity of comparing himself to a diamond, Isidore finally selected an overcoat. He appeared to have compromised due to the appointed time.
“The collar design is somewhat disappointing, but there’s no help for it.”
Thinking he would need to have several more garments tailored, Isidore habitually reached for leather gloves that would complement the outfit, but instead of putting them on, he simply placed them in his pocket.
‘Because the lady prefers it.’
It was certain that Deborah Simour had a particular fondness for his bare hands. Yet beyond that, despite operating an Information Organization, there was surprisingly little he truly understood about her.
He knew nothing of those important details—that she became incredibly endearing when drinking, even more lovely when laughing heartily, that she enjoyed piano performances, and that she often said peculiar things. Each time he discovered a new facet of Deborah, he realized how superficial the information he had gathered was.
And increasingly, he found himself desiring to be the only one who knew her many sides, to be the only one who saw them.
‘The lady said that we should get to know each other better through meetings and correspondence.’
The moment he heard those words, Isidore felt that they were quintessentially Deborah Simour. He felt caught off guard, and paradoxically, that made her all the more captivating.
“Get to know each other better….”
He opened his unguarded hand. Looking down at his bare hand—which felt strangely unfamiliar, as if it belonged to someone else—he rose from his seat to head to their meeting place.
* * *
Today, my reflection in the mirror was twice as radiant as usual. The maids had suddenly mobilized all their resources, even though I had only asked them to bring clothes that matched the Theater’s dress code.
“We cannot afford to lose on the lady’s side.”
“He may be extraordinarily powerful, but Simour still has its pride.”
They whispered among themselves with expressions that bordered on solemnity. Normally they’d tremble whenever I glanced their way, but suddenly they’d found courage from somewhere. It was peculiar.
The preparation took longer than expected, so I barely arrived just before the theater performance began. Fortunately, since the meeting place was in the Yones District, it wasn’t far from the Town House.
‘There he is.’
The moment I stepped down from the carriage, I spotted Isidore. He stood before the Theater, his expression impassive as he flipped through a pamphlet.
‘When he looks like that, he really does seem incredibly cold.’
Standing alone, he emanated an aura that made casual conversation difficult. Come to think of it, despite Isidore being popular among the young ladies at an idol-like level, not a single one of them—except the Fifth Princess—treats him with ease.
‘Just look at Tierina and Guillaume; they’re perfectly comfortable with the other young ladies in their circle.’
I realized his composed and enigmatic demeanor was precisely what drew people’s eyes to him all the more.
“Ah….”
The moment Isidore lifted his head from the pamphlet, our eyes met across the distance of five or six paces. His smile spread across his lips as naturally as watercolor bleeding into water, and I found myself unconsciously clenching my fists.
‘Oh no. He’s too handsome.’
“You came?”
He approached me with quick strides, his smile sweet and inviting.
“Yes. As you can see.”
Isidore blinked slowly, his long lashes moving deliberately as he regarded me quietly for a moment.
“Why?”
“Honestly, you look especially impressive today. Particularly with that curled bangs style.”
Well, the servants had made quite a fuss, even bringing out heated iron rods like curling irons.
“You look wonderful too.”
I’d only offered a compliment, yet his expression seemed somehow unsatisfied.
“Specifically, what appeals to you? I’d like to… keep it in mind for next time.”
“It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly.”
I pondered for a moment before speaking.
“Your broad shoulders?”
A flicker of bewilderment seemed to cross his face, though it was probably my imagination.
“…Well, shall we go in? You arrived at perfect timing. If we enter now, the performance should start immediately.”
“Yes.”
“Take my arm.”
As the Yones District’s largest commercial hub, the area around the Theater was crowded with nobility. He extended his arm as though to escort me through the throng, and after a moment’s hesitation, I linked my arm through his firm one and stepped into the Theater.
“This way.”
The play I’d chosen apparently wasn’t particularly popular—the interior was surprisingly sparse with attendees. The most expensive royal seating area especially was completely empty.
I’d honestly expected more people, given the intriguing title 【The Northern Grand Duke’s Secret】.
“…At least it’s pleasant and spacious.”
“I thought it would be.”
So he already knew the play was boring? Why didn’t he tell me sooner?
“…Still, the view should be excellent.”
Though it appeared to be a failed theatrical production, the seating was so good I could practically see the actors’ pores. Having never indulged in such luxury in my previous life, I found myself growing increasingly anticipatory.
“Deborah Simour, shall we have dinner after this? What do you think?”
“Knight Isidore, you seem to enjoy planning ahead.”
“It’s because you’re so unpredictable. There are always so many variables with you.”
“No matter how much of a troublemaker I am, I never skip dinner.”
We exchanged a few hushed words before falling silent. The orchestra had taken the stage, and the theater around us gradually darkened—the performance was about to begin.
Moments later, light flooded the center of the stage, and an actor emerged in what appeared to be the role of the Northern Grand Duke. His voice and performance were both superb, and I found myself immediately drawn into the play.
‘Oh? This is actually quite entertaining.’
Despite the sparse audience, the production was remarkably well-executed, and the story itself was captivating.
The male lead was a Northern Grand Duke who lived a double life—a courteous gentleman by day, but by night he became “Lexton,” the king of the darkness. The female lead naturally falls in love with the kind Grand Duke who cares for her.
However, the Grand Duke is actually the same person as Lexton, whom the female lead despises for his cruelty. He continues to lie because he cannot bear to lose her gentle gaze. The tension mounted as the possibility of his identity being exposed grew ever closer, and with the grand orchestral accompaniment, the play hurtled toward its climax.
I sat with my palms sweating, completely absorbed in the performance, and the moment the ending arrived, I turned to Knight Isidore with barely contained excitement.
“Knight Isidore, that was truly entertaining….”
He was already looking at me, so our eyes met immediately.

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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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