Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 122

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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 122
Certainly, when I first came to Blanche seeking him out with an anxious heart, the Master I encountered was like an empty, inorganic doll. His glassy eyes had been shrouded in an eerie emptiness. But now, even as he suppressed something overflowing within him, he was revealing emotions he couldn’t quite contain.
So without thinking, I slowly brushed away the coolness from his gaze. My fingertips grew faintly damp. His pale cheek, warm against my palm, burned with unusual heat.
“…I’m simply saying that I think I might be able to understand you.”
It wasn’t such a grand statement as to move him to tears. Perhaps, unlike the heroines in theatrical plays, because I hadn’t trusted him completely, the betrayal cut less deeply.
“That’s enough.”
His voice trembled faintly.
“….”
“It’s more than enough. Overwhelmingly so. Undeservedly so.”
He finished speaking in a dampened, subdued tone. The Master, holding my hand against his cheek, gazed at me with glistening eyes. Through my palm, I felt the full weight of his tense, labored breathing.
“….”
Watching this man cling to my warmth, I felt as though I were soothing and comforting some great beast. My mind understood, but I hadn’t yet adapted to the fact that they were the same person, so the Master’s emotional display felt strangely unfamiliar.
“Now that you mention it, you do seem rather like Knight Isidore….”
“….”
“When you were Knight Isidore, there were moments you seemed very much like the Master.”
At my quiet murmur, he exhaled softly.
“You so easily, so effortlessly dismantle the clear boundaries I had established, my lady.”
His words suggested that except for me, he had grown accustomed to strictly separating and alternating between the Master and Knight Isidore.
“…And all my shallow predictions fall short.”
“….”
“Even today….”
His masculine throat bobbed several times.
“It’s been this way since we first met. You’ve been the greatest variable in my life.”
So I couldn’t look away, he added quietly—I couldn’t help but circle endlessly around you.
“Only you, my lady, continue to create endless exceptions for me.”
“….”
“Perhaps that’s why I thought I couldn’t hide it from the beginning.”
“….”
“I was prepared to kneel if ordered, to beg if asked… I even prepared pathetic excuses, but instead it only drives me further to madness.”
“….”
“My leash is already in your hands.”
He drew my hand downward from his cheek, guiding it along the long, firm line of his neck. As my palm touched his delicate throat, he slowly released my hand, as if returning a loosened leash.
“Master. I don’t want a one-sided relationship where one of us is dragged along….”
I clenched and unclenched my hand, now warm from his heat, as I spoke.
“You said we should come to know each other, didn’t you, my lady?”
“Yes.”
“I want to know more about you too. What that bond you speak of truly is….”
“Isn’t it something that builds gradually—sitting face to face, sharing good meals, staying in touch, exchanging experiences?”
People with secrets find it difficult to build bonds. It’s hard even to express emotions honestly. So perhaps he and I could understand each other better than most.
Knight Isidore’s gaze and mine remained locked for a long moment.
“Deborah Simour.”
“Yes?”
“When you said you dislike one-sided relationships… may I interpret that favorably?”
He asked in a cautious tone.
“How did you interpret it?”
“That you’re giving me a chance to make amends.”
“….”
“Just as you have these past few days, could you spare time for me to build your trust going forward?”
He made the request delicately, as though asking me to be his escort to the Spring Flower Ball, his senses attuned to every shift in my expression.
“….”
I deliberately delayed my answer, narrowing my eyes before swiftly extending my hand. He flinched, his large hand trembling with surprise.
“Let’s decide with this.”
What I offered was the defective coin that Master had always confidently flipped before me.
“If heads comes up, I’ll seriously consider going to see that opera Master mentioned.”
* * *
Naturally, the moment heads appeared, Master gifted me the defective coin.
“Everything you touch turns to success anyway. You have better business acumen than I do, my lady.”
He was offering a rare item, so I didn’t refuse.
In truth, I adored this defective coin that always showed heads—a symbol of fortune. Though I’d been deceived, every time Master confidently revealed heads, money and success flowed endlessly before me.
‘Still, does Isidore live as two different people simply because he runs a secret organization?’
Why would Visconti’s only prince need to operate such an organization? Though his identity had been revealed, my curiosity about Isidore only deepened.
“Oh!”
I’d carelessly tossed the coin too high without controlling my strength, and as I caught it hastily with both hands, I turned my head at the sound of tapping against the window. The letter Isidore had sent with Muffin contained a single white bouvardia bloom.
‘This isn’t a common variety, so I’ll need to dry it carefully.’
As I retrieved the letter attached to the bird’s leg and began untying the golden thread, Enrique came to find me.
“Sister!”
The boy who came rushing toward me discovered Muffin diligently pecking at cake crumbs on the desk.
“Where did this white bird come from?”
Enrique’s large eyes sparkled.
“A close friend sent it… well, someone I’m close to. His name is Muffin. Isn’t he adorable, Enrique?”
“A close friend?”
“The prince of Visconti House. He’s famous, so you might know of him?”
“…A prince?”
Enrique’s expression suddenly turned serious. The boy slightly furrowed his brow, his lips moving.
“Sister. Is the Prince of Visconti taller than me?”
“Much taller.”
“Taller than Father?”
“In height? He might be a bit taller.”
Isidore was simply taller; Duke Simour himself stood somewhere in the early-to-mid 180-centimeter range. Genetically, the men of Simour had exceptionally impressive builds.
“Ugh….”
Enrique, wearing a sullen expression, suddenly jumped to his feet, declaring he would drink his milk and go to bed early. The child’s eyes had taken on a sharp, pointed look.
“Enrique, you’re going to bed already? You came all this way—shouldn’t you play with your sister?”
As if my words hadn’t reached him at all, Enrique fixed his gaze on Muffin like a cat stalking prey, muttering softly to himself.
“If I use the Fire Arrow spell….”
“Huh? You can’t bother the bird, Enrique.”
“I was only going to burn the letter tied to its feet. I wasn’t going to bother the bird. I’m not a bad person, sister.”
“Our Enrique’s magical skills are impressive, aren’t they? My little brother really is a genius.”
No, wait—this wasn’t right.
“If you burn the letter… ah… you can’t do that.”
“I see.”
Seeing Enrique’s ears droop as if in disappointment, I clutched at my chest.
“Enrique, shall we read a book together? Or how about a card game? Today I’ll teach you how to play poker.”
I gently coaxed and soothed the pouting Enrique, then placed him on my lap and opened a fairy tale book. Enrique’s expression softened slightly as he swung his legs back and forth, gazing up at me.
‘He’s so adorable I might lose my mind.’
As Enrique listened intently to my voice, he suddenly let out a soft murmur at the scene where the last princess and prince were getting married.
“I don’t like princes.”
“Okay, I understand.”
Because Enrique was even more endearing, I quickly abandoned my shallow sense of loyalty to Isidore.
* * *
The next day, when I arrived at the Academy, I narrowed my eyes in surprise.
“Hello, Deborah.”
“…Rozard, older brother?”
I hadn’t expected Rozard Simour to show up at the Academy to attend my lecture.
“Oh my, it’s Knight Rozard!”
“He’s far more impressive than the rumors suggested. No wonder the young ladies linger around the Magic Tower just to catch a glimpse of him.”
“Knight Rozard is truly the ideal role model for combat mages.”
The moment Rozard, an alumnus, suddenly appeared, the entire School of Magic erupted into commotion.
And for good reason—Rozard’s reputation in the Capital had been skyrocketing lately. The Crown Prince’s faction and the Magic Tower’s combat mages were promoting him like a hero, orchestrating public opinion in his favor. I’d even heard that theatrical productions were being staged based on his exploits.
With the Simour family’s characteristic striking beauty, an imposing physique, and exceptional eloquence, he was a figure practically radiating star quality.
‘But wasn’t this originally Miya Binoshu’s role…?’
In my memory, the original protagonist had made significant contributions around the time of the Goddess’s birthday celebration.
‘What is Miya Binoshu even doing these days?’
The thought of letting someone as morally corrupt as Rozard play the righteous hero troubled me. I studied him with curiosity as he suddenly appeared before me.
“Older brother, you’re quite popular.”
Even students who clearly weren’t from the School of Magic had gathered nearby.
“Thanks to you.”
“But you really came to listen to my lecture, right? If you have another purpose, tell me now.”
“During combat, there’s no time to study theory in detail. Honestly, I’m interested in the new formulas you’ve added, and I thought we could have lunch together as well.”
“Hmm.”
“At the same time, I came to boost your morale. You do enjoy being the center of attention, after all.”
Rozard drew up his thin lips in a slight smile.

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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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