Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 129

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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 129
‘Why would you think I’m an exception?’
The thought that suddenly surfaced in my mind was too embarrassing to voice aloud. How cowardly of him to turn such a question back on me. When I failed to respond, caught off guard, Isidore dimpled with a gentle smile.
“Think about it when you have time. I’m curious what you truly believe.”
I realized only later that he was simply asking me to give his question serious consideration.
I was already thinking about it far too much. His sudden absence left a hollow ache in my chest, and since hearing the news of his father’s death, I had done nothing but worry about him and feel the weight of concern.
Until he saw me off in front of the Town House, Isidore held my hand with careful tenderness. I returned his grip lightly. Remembering that he sought warmth only from me, I could not bring myself to pull away. And in truth, his large hand was a comfort—a reassurance that he was beside me, that he had truly returned to the Capital.
My attention was so entirely consumed by our clasped hands that I scarcely remembered what we had discussed.
“I was glad to see your face today, Deborah Simour.”
“So was I.”
“Truly?”
His eyes widened with surprise at my candid response. I gave his arm a gentle shake.
“Truly. I was startled when you appeared so suddenly, but seeing you put my mind at ease. I know you’re overwhelmed and busy, so please take care of yourself.”
In truth, I struggled to find the right words to offer comfort, so I kept falling back on the same refrain about eating well and staying healthy. He seemed to sense this, letting out a soft laugh.
“I never knew you cared so much about my health. The more I see of you, the more tender-hearted you seem. Nothing like the rumors.”
“That’s only for a limited time.”
“You were kind enough before that too.”
He shook our linked arms more vigorously, but as we reached the Forest fence that led to the East Gate, he slowly unlaced his fingers with reluctance.
“I don’t want to let you go.”
His voice carried such profound longing that I found myself gently brushing his cheek. He held his breath for a moment, then suddenly pulled me close. My body was soon enveloped in his large, solid embrace.
This was not our first embrace. I had been held during the chaos of that previous incident, but I had lost consciousness so quickly that I had never truly felt what it was like to be wrapped in a man’s arms like this. His body heat was high, and his frame was so large that I felt as though I were submerged in warm water from head to toe.
As he drew me against him and slowly stroked my spine with his hand, a tingling sensation spread through my lower abdomen, causing my toes to curl slightly. My shoulders trembled without my meaning them to, and he suddenly stiffened, slowly releasing me from his embrace.
“B-be careful going inside.”
“…Yes.”
Our interlaced fingers lingered for a moment longer. His pale hand was burning hot, and the warmth he left behind lingered for a very long time.
* * *
Isidore’s inheritance of the dukedom had become the primary topic of interest in High Society. The Academy was equally consumed by the subject.
It was inevitable, given that he was now the youngest duke in the Empire. Moreover, he was not merely from a ducal house, but the head of a family of founding meritocrats with distinguished renown. Most men inherited their titles in their thirties or forties at the earliest, yet Isidore was decidedly younger than his peers among the nobility.
Yet despite his youth, rumors circulated that he had conducted a flawless funeral and now commanded the loyalty of the Visconti House’s retainers. This served as proof that Isidore’s political acumen and governing ability—previously shrouded in mystery—were in fact quite formidable.
“His appearance is so striking that his abilities were underestimated.”
“He was hiding his claws all along.”
Gossips never ceased their endless chatter about Isidore. Those who brought news of him could command the center of any conversation.
“Most importantly… he remains unmarried.”
“That is precisely why the Visconti Duke commands such attention in High Society these days.”
His reputation for virtue was impeccable, yet he had no betrothed.
Strictly speaking, Isidore was not yet of marriageable age, but unlike ordinary young men of similar years, his status as a duke meant he would need a suitable partner to accompany him to official functions. The Visconti House would have ample reason to consider marriage as a means of offsetting the weakness of having such a young duke.
“I’ve heard that noblewomen with daughters of marriageable age have been working tirelessly to cultivate connections with the Visconti House.”
“The position of Visconti Duchess is certainly attractive. The prestige alone is remarkable, and the family is renowned for its vast gold mines.”
Isidore had suddenly become the Empire’s most coveted suitor. Yet while noblewomen mobilized their networks behind the scenes, the young ladies themselves hesitated to approach him directly.
“I’ve heard that Deborah Simour and Knight Isidore have been spotted together in various places lately.”
“What exactly is the relationship between those two?”
“Aren’t they just friends? Their houses have exchanges, so they might have known each other for a long time.”
“Wasn’t she being blackmailed?”
No one could be certain of their connection. It was difficult to imagine that Knight Isidore, so devoted to chivalric principles and unfailingly courteous to everyone, could share a deep relationship with the reckless Deborah Simour.
The nobles were curious about the two of them, but they couldn’t bring themselves to ask even light questions before the princess, who always wore such a cold expression. If they touched a nerve, they might face the same fate as Emmanuel—and there was no reason she wouldn’t throw hot tea on someone if she felt like it.
Unable to bear their curiosity, they clung to the people around Isidore, who seemed more approachable.
“Knight Thierry. Would you mind asking the Duke what his relationship is with Deborah Simour? Everyone in the White Knight Order is curious.”
When Young-sik, famous for his gossip-mongering, dropped to his knees and pleaded, Thierry’s brow furrowed.
“Isidore isn’t as kind as he appears. He’ll probably find some clever way to dodge the question.”
And from Thierry’s perspective, Isidore seemed far more interested in Deborah Simour than the other way around.
‘Well, I’m not exactly uninterested in the princess myself.’
Though she’s difficult to approach, being so taciturn.
‘Honestly, she’s incredibly beautiful.’
…Should I test Isidore’s feelings?
A brilliant idea suddenly struck him, and he waited eagerly for Isidore to appear.
‘Here he comes!’
Upon returning to the Capital, Isidore stopped by the Barracks to observe Knight Order training.
‘Status truly shapes a person—being a Duke really does feel different.’
The atmosphere seemed heavier too. Thierry, who inwardly clicked his tongue at how annoyingly handsome Isidore had become, greeted him respectfully.
“Duke Visconti. Would you spare me a moment of your time?”
Isidore’s expression immediately turned irritated.
“Can’t we just be casual like usual?”
“Even so? It’s rare for someone to become a Duke as quickly as you have.”
“Just maintain proper etiquette at official events. I’m saying this for your own good.”
“Ah, right! Since you mentioned official ceremonies, the title conferment ceremony isn’t far off, is it?”
The Empire held title conferment ceremonies quarterly, where newly ennobled nobles like Isidore received official recognition before the Emperor.
And the title conferment ceremony held before the Goddess’s Birthday Festival was always the grandest. It was a practice that arose as imperial power strengthened, and it also served to check divine authority.
“And… you’ll need a partner to grace the occasion, won’t you?”
Isidore’s expression became peculiar.
“Since when have you taken an interest in my partner?”
“Honestly, is there any noble who isn’t curious about who your partner is these days?”
“Everyone will find out anyway on the day of the title conferment ceremony. It’s only next week.”
“I knew you’d dodge it that way. But I have a pretty good guess about who you’ve set your heart on. Though there’s a difference between having feelings and having the other person agree, of course.”
Thierry’s words stung a little, but Isidore forced a smile.
“Thierry.”
“What?”
“You seem to be forgetting that I’m a Duke now. With my current position, I could speak privately with your father right now and present him with three years’ worth of reports on your training attitude….”
“Isn’t that going too far every time?!”
Frightened into silence, Thierry grumbled and left, while Isidore tapped his fingers thoughtfully, lost in contemplation.
* * *
“It seems Cyril asked Knight Isidore directly.”
“About what?”
“Who he planned to attend the peerage ceremony with. Apparently, she even offered to be his partner if he didn’t have one.”
“She offered to go with him? That girl is rather brazen.”
“Still, her boldness deserves some credit. There’s a saying that the handsome prize goes to the courageous.”
“Did he give her an answer?”
“He apparently said no.”
“Then who will it be?”
“I suspect the Visconti House will curate their own candidates and recommend one to the Duke. The prominent noble ladies have likely already made their moves behind the scenes.”
I swallowed a sigh as I listened to the whispers echoing through the corridor.
‘Why is Isidore so popular?’
He was already carrying on his looks alone, and now that he’d become a duke, his status had soared even higher. Since returning to the Capital, Isidore had become less of an idol and more of a hallyu star—impossibly busy from dawn to dusk.
The timing of his father’s death was unfortunate; he’d had to attend the Emperor’s ceremony immediately after the funeral.
‘But why hasn’t he mentioned the peerage ceremony to me?’
I knew the event was coming up soon.
‘Well, he doesn’t need to report every detail to me.’
He was busy and preoccupied—he might have simply forgotten to mention it.
‘Yet he’s been sending letters consistently through Muffin.’
I scratched my chin with an odd feeling settling over me.

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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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