Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 121

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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 121
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The moment my words left my lips, a crack appeared in Master’s icy mask. It was like watching thin ice fracture just before shattering completely. I realized for the first time that he was capable of such a human expression.
“Now I understand. Master’s name is Isidore Visconti.”
As I spoke with certainty while observing the shaken Isidore, I swiftly snatched the coin lying near his hand.
The moment I flipped the gold coin that Master had always tossed with such confidence, I thought it truly fit him. No matter how fortunate one might be, it was strange that heads appeared every single time he threw it.
“The coin had the same face on both sides from the beginning.”
“….”
“I didn’t know.”
In truth, they were the same person. No one would ever imagine Master to be a high-ranking nobleman.
Master had always used respectful formal speech with me, and possessed financial acumen paired with cunning that knew no bounds. Isidore, on the other hand, was a nobleman with an air more refined than anyone else.
Even their appearance and voice contrasted like light and darkness. The gap was so vast that I had never entertained the assumption they were the same person.
‘I did speculate that Master might be Isidore’s associate or subordinate.’
When the marriage proposal suddenly came from Philaf’s side, I felt something off about how eagerly Master offered to give me Philaf’s weakness for free.
But it was merely speculation. It wasn’t until the day I watched the play that I began to view the relationship between Isidore and Master from an entirely different angle.
A thought suddenly occurred to me. Perhaps no matter how one changes their appearance or alters their voice, the aura a person radiates, their subtle lingering presence, and their unique essence cannot be hidden.
On the night the play ended, I glimpsed a strangely familiar shadow cast over Isidore’s shoulder beneath the pale moonlight.
It could have been because of his restless hands, or perhaps his manner of speaking. I couldn’t say exactly why. But if I had to pinpoint the reason I recalled Master’s shadow from Isidore’s figure….
Perhaps it was because my feelings had changed.
After leaving that strange space, I had undoubtedly begun to notice Isidore more than before. I unconsciously observed his movements and gestures deeply. Moreover, I could perceive the nuances in his voice and the emotions in his eyes more vividly than ever.
‘Perhaps Isidore revealed himself to me more defenseless than before.’
Was it because of the déjà vu that suddenly brushed the nape of my neck? When Isidore asked what I thought of the Grand Duke with his many secrets, I suddenly recalled what he had said on the night I was drunk.
“The stronger the light, the deeper the shadow, they say.”
Those meaningful words Isidore had spoken to me when I said he was too perfect and therefore suspicious.
“Where in this world does a perfect person exist? They must be hiding their flaws or pretending to be flawless.”
Did he have secrets he couldn’t tell me?
Was that why he showed me this play and tested my reaction? The thought suddenly struck me.
‘And what if that secret is….’
Recalling how noticeably pale Isidore’s complexion had become when I openly criticized the Grand Duke, I tossed and turned throughout the night.
‘I never once considered the possibility that he might be playing a dual role, like in that play.’
Master and Isidore had completely different voices and auras….
But my intuition insisted otherwise. When I thought about it, if he were Master, it would actually explain quite plausibly why Isidore—who never appeared in the novel—suddenly manifested before me.
Not long after I began suspecting, Isidore sent me a letter containing romantic verses through Muffin. And as I read the poem he had quoted, I couldn’t help but feel bewildered.
At first glance, it appeared to be a poem expressing the awakening of love, but the final verse was far too explicit.
‘This is too similar to the incantation I had to memorize when I lost my spatial magic pouch.’
The one I had vowed never to speak aloud because it was so cringeworthy.
Moreover, Master had always sealed our contracts with a swan-shaped stamp over black wax.
‘The black earth mentioned in the verses. The swan. It fits too perfectly to be coincidence.’
Muffin. Cookie. The fact that both pet names were dessert names began to nag at me as well.
“I simply want to see your face. …Without any pretense between us.”
‘A discount. A word the Master favors….’
Moreover, only when he pronounced “discount” did his voice grow faint, and without thinking, I narrowed my eyes. Once I shifted my perspective, every action of Isidore’s began to appear as nothing but profound inner conflict and endless hesitation.
‘The decisive moment was in front of the fountain.’
When making a wish before the Goddess Fountain, Isidore whispered something like that to me. His voice was taut, like a string drawn to its limit.
“Since it’s you, I’ll tell you for 99 gold.”
A play on words exploiting human psychology—the tendency to perceive an amount slightly short of a round figure like 10 gold or 100 gold as cheaper. It was a joke the Master and I often exchanged with knowing smiles.
Even with that distinctive hand gesture of flicking a coin being identical, watching Isidore maintain a frozen expression and hesitate to speak, I became certain he was the Master.
‘Of course, if I hadn’t shifted my perspective… if I hadn’t changed, I would never have been able to see the reverse side of the coin.’
“Deborah Simour.”
As I was reminiscing about the past few days, I snapped back to attention at his call.
The Master, who had been tense from the moment I appeared and whose throat had been trembling the entire time, rose from his seat. Seeing him move from across the large office table—a place he had never left even a single step from before—made me flinch involuntarily.
I knew intellectually that the Master was Isidore, but facing him in reality, I couldn’t quite adjust.
“I’m sorry.”
Suddenly the Master dropped to one knee before me, and I nearly leaped from my seat without thinking.
“I kept thinking about it. That to build the bond you spoke of, I had to reveal who I am.”
“….”
“But at the same time, I wished you would never find out. Because you would be disappointed in me.”
“…For someone saying that, you gave quite a lot of hints. Couldn’t you have predicted that I’d figure it out soon?”
Though I couldn’t claim to be particularly perceptive.
“Even after steeling myself, I couldn’t predict it.”
“….”
“Your thoughts and feelings, my lady.”
“….”
I gazed down silently at him, waiting for his judgment. Then I descended from my chair and met his eyes.
“What was the prayer the Master made before the goddess statue?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“Commonplace.”
“That commonplace wish—I can grant it, can’t I?”
“…Yes.”
“Then shouldn’t you have asked me instead of praying to the goddess?”
The Master blinked slowly, then opened his mouth gradually.
“Even after learning my secret, I hoped you would forgive me like the heroine of that play.”
“I can’t forgive you.”
“….”
Over his doll-like pupils, which reflected my image like a mirror, a chill of despair descended.
“I wasn’t angry, and I couldn’t feel betrayed.”
“Are you saying you were disappointed to the point of feeling nothing at all?”
“No.”
I can understand him. Like the heroine in the play, I’m not an unblemished person, so I cannot forgive.
“Having many secrets means… ultimately, there’s darkness you want to hide, doesn’t it?”
“….”
“It could be the past, like the Grand Duke in a play, or it could be your true nature.”
In my case, I hide a timid nature beneath a cold exterior. Tired of being swayed by others, I deliberately practiced the frigid, domineering expression that Deborah Simour possessed, and spoke with such arrogance that I seemed utterly uncontrollable.
‘I’m probably the only person who finds it comfortable to live this way.’
I laughed bitterly.
“Who doesn’t have secrets? Even a full moon untouched by shadow cannot reveal its far side.”
It would not be easy for me to bare my entire story to him either.
‘Especially not the possession.’
The Master’s eyes trembled, glistening with moisture. It felt strange that I had found him so impossibly difficult to understand until now, when he was so easily seen through.

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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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