Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 123

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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 123
Rozard was right that Deborah Simour was someone brimming with vanity, but I suffered from attention anxiety….
“It’s not exactly a compelling proposal.”
As I felt bewildered by his confident demeanor that didn’t even consider rejection, Rozard’s brows furrowed slightly.
“True, something at this level wouldn’t satisfy you. Your standards and expectations must have risen now that you’re keeping company with Prince Visconti.”
“Huh?”
“Once classes end, let’s go shopping in the Commercial District of Yones. How about that?”
“…Are you buying?”
I asked with suspicion.
“What exactly are you trying to buy, and how much? Or are you mocking my sudden change in attitude?”
He muttered with a confused expression.
“I’ll cover whatever it takes to satisfy you.”
Even as he said this, he subtly revealed his intention to flaunt his wealth like a high-ranking nobleman.
“Shopping is a better proposal than lunch, but I have a prior engagement, so I can’t.”
“With whom?”
“Knight Isidore.”
‘Strictly speaking, it’s with the Master.’
Ever since I was caught in the mana surge from the ancient artifact’s rampage, my condition hadn’t been particularly good for several days.
‘My sleep remains unsettled.’
As a result, I’d accumulated a lot of work while resting at home, and I needed to go to Blanche to handle the backlog.
“You’re already drowning in the envy of High Society’s young ladies without me even lifting a finger to boost your standing.”
Rozard clicked his tongue.
“Since you have a prior engagement, we should go shopping another time. It’ll be much more fun spending time with me than with Beleck Simour, who’s always cooped up in the Magic Tower.”
The moment Beleck Simour’s name came up, I immediately understood why Rozard was acting so friendly.
He was trying to preemptively butter me up because he was worried I might transfer the patent rights to Slave Number Two. The fact that the normally proud Rozard was being this proactive meant the formula was quite useful to him.
‘I should threaten to cancel his monthly subscription if he displeases me.’
When I looked at him meaningfully, Rozard rubbed his sharp jawline.
“Do I have something on my face?”
“No. By the way, did you uncover who was behind those barbarians you captured last time?”
I changed the subject, and he answered readily.
“His endurance was weaker than expected, so he died quickly.”
“…Even though it happened within my territory, it’s difficult to find who was behind it?”
“Dark mages are as skilled at hiding as rats. They’re also adept at concealing traces of black magic.”
Black magic, called the Forbidden Art, had been strictly prohibited since the Empire’s founding because practitioners pledge their souls to demons. Those caught in contracts with demons face execution by fire, yet the desire to defy nature’s laws continuously drove people to pursue it, showing no signs of disappearing.
What was more frightening was that no one knew the scale of those who had fallen into the Forbidden Art.
Dark mages continuously retreated into the shadows. Having been oppressed for so long, their skills at evading the Imperial military’s surveillance had only grown more sophisticated.
“…Something is happening beneath the surface. For now, only ripples are showing.”
Rozard spoke ominously with a cold expression. I recalled Isidore’s words about how no sound emerges from beneath the water, no matter how much one struggles.
‘What you see isn’t everything.’
I turned the word “beneath the surface” over in my mind, then picked up my lecture materials and climbed onto the podium.
‘He really is popular.’
Rozard’s classroom observation had filled the lecture hall with auditors. It seemed there were more people there to catch a glimpse of Rozard’s face than to actually listen to the lesson.
Despite the intense attention, Rozard was surprisingly pretending to listen intently to the lecture. His promise to boost my spirits appeared genuine. Regardless of the truth behind it, onlookers would assume that Duke Simour and even my eldest brother acknowledged and cherished me.
“By the way, why do you keep following me? I have an appointment.”
As the class ended, I felt Rozard’s weary gaze upon me.
“Honestly, I was impressed. You explain things so clearly. I wondered why you suddenly became the Academy’s top student, but now I see you have such talent.”
“I’ve given lectures several times at various places.”
“When I heard about it from the distant Eastern Region, I was half-doubtful it was actually your thesis, but I’ll have to revise my assessment of you upward.”
“I just revised my assessment of my eldest brother downward.”
Though only marginally, I had adjusted Beleck Simour’s evaluation down.
“What?”
“What do you mean ‘what’? Since my eldest brother kept evaluating me, I simply returned the favor with a comparative assessment.”
Rozard chuckled with amusement. Watching him seem entertained rather than offended, I suddenly recalled something from the novel. He was the type who became more interested the less compliant his opponent was—a contrarian at heart.
‘I thought that only applied to the heroine.’
“What could Beleck possibly have over me? He lacks tact, doesn’t he? Isn’t the ruby I gave him better than that crude artifact?”
“Jewels are always better in greater quantities, but offensive artifacts are rare.”
Beleck Simour’s gift showed more sincerity.
“I didn’t know you’d give more points to the rare option. I’ll have to make more effort.”
‘There’s really no need for you to make any effort.’
As I felt a vague unease at his counterfeit affection, Knight Isidore appeared in the distance.
“It’s been a while, Knight Isidore.”
Rozard suddenly addressed Isidore.
“I’ve heard much of your recent accomplishments, Rozard.”
“You used to stay mostly in the Southern Territory, but it seems you’ve settled in the Capital now?”
“It’s time for me to be active in the Capital’s High Society.”
They exchanged pleasantries as old acquaintances.
With not one but two of the Capital’s most celebrated handsome men standing on either side of me, I found myself receiving even more attention than I had at the ball—an awkward sensation I could have done without.
‘I’m going to develop a phobia of being noticed.’
In the midst of this, Rozard suddenly said something strange.
“Knight Isidore, I’d appreciate it if you could time your visits better in the future. Or perhaps exercise a bit more restraint. I have much to discuss with my sister.”
“I have nothing to discuss with my eldest brother.”
At my words, Rozard whispered softly.
“Deborah Simour, in situations like this, it’s best to stay quiet.”
“But why….”
“According to Father, this is the time you should focus on your studies and thesis. The more I see you, the more I think you’re wasting your potential.”
Rozard narrowed his eyes slightly and gave my shoulder a light pat before slowly walking away.
“Deborah Simour.”
Isidore suddenly called me in a darkened voice.
“Yes?”
“Do you happen to have any close relatives?”
“No. I’ve never been particularly close with the collateral branches of the family.”
He exhaled a short sigh.
“Why do you ask?”
“I just wanted to get a sense of how many there are. Not that I have any particular solution in mind.”
He made an incomprehensible sound, and I moved my steps toward Armand alongside him, who seemed somewhat melancholic.
“I was planning to head straight to Blanche anyway, so there was no need for you to come pick me up.”
“I wanted to see your face a little longer.”
“You’re not usually so—no, never mind.”
Isidore was the person least inclined toward honesty, yet the fact that he spoke so directly to me sent a peculiar tickle through my chest.
Before entering Blanche through the back door of Armand, Isidore retrieved a robe from his spatial magic pouch and draped it over himself. As he fastened the bracelet around his wrist, the face revealed beneath the hood slowly transformed—into the Master’s visage I knew.
“Is that an ancient artifact?”
“Yes. I’ve heard it’s something a dragon once used when indulging in amusement.”
“So that’s why his face sometimes looked unnaturally doll-like. His voice had that scratchy quality too.”
“Should I refrain from using the transformation artifact in front of the Lady?”
The moment we entered the office, he asked while removing the bracelet.
“….”
I found myself suddenly caught in an unnecessary dilemma—whether it was better for my eye’s sake to work facing a handsome visage, or whether efficiency demanded I endure the doll-like countenance.
“On second thought, there’s no need to change your appearance.”
Isidore smiled like a fox before shuffling through documents. The dim light bleeding from the candelabra slid across his sharp features, as if I were gazing upon a masterfully painted oil portrait.
‘Why haven’t I grown accustomed to that face yet?’
How could anyone refuse a wish made so earnestly before the Fountain by a face like that?
“Lady. These are the documents you need to review.”
Already slipping into work mode, he called me in a crisp tone and showed me sales receipts while explaining the sales trends for each menu item.
‘I’m the only one being swayed here.’
I deliberately averted my gaze from his refined features and turned my eyes to the receipts filled with numbers.
“Coffee sales have increased significantly compared to last month.”
We had expanded the menu from café mocha to espresso, and word of mouth had spread, resulting in noticeably higher coffee sales than the previous month.
“It’s thanks to our regular customers. The mages from the Magic Tower have discovered the effects of coffee and seem to be drinking it constantly.”
It was gratifying that I had deliberately chosen the East Gate location for Branch 1.
“Branch 2 is thriving with the Goddess’s birthday celebration next month, so we should capitalize on this momentum to firmly establish ourselves in people’s minds.”
It was a matter of striking while the iron was hot.
“It’s about time we put to use what Beleck Simour created.”
What Beleck had claimed was a magical device that secretly dispersed toxic gas from poison heated by flames was actually a cotton candy machine that utilized centrifugal force.

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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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