Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 136

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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 136
“You’ve been through so much.”
Early in the morning, Countess Basslein, Isidore’s aunt, gently embraced him as he came to pay his respects, patting his back softly.
“It was nothing to trouble myself over.”
“Well, you must be exhausted from cleaning up after that incompetent father of yours.”
She spoke with cold precision.
“It seems the retainers follow you far more readily now.”
The mansion, which had once carried an air of gloom, now felt distinctly different from before.
‘To think he’s grown so well.’
She felt both tenderness and pride. Her nephew was far too remarkable to be summed up merely as intelligent.
Every sword master agreed that Isidore possessed the makings of a Sword Master, and his tutors marveled at his exceptional intellect across every field of study. This was why Bardo Visconti, the patriarch from two generations prior, cherished his grandson Isidore far more than his own son.
Albert Visconti, who had never received a kind word from his father, harbored deep inferiority toward Isidore—one of the greatest sources of his resentment.
“That wretch must be Father’s true son.”
Albert had even suspected that Isidore was not his own child but rather a much younger half-brother. That such an upright young man could emerge from beneath such a reckless father was nothing short of a miracle.
“Still, I never thought that wretched man would leave us so… anticlimactically.”
She sipped her tea with a sigh, and I took a drink to hide my bitter smile. Father’s death was not merely anticlimactic—it was absurd. The servants’ testimonies made it even more ridiculous.
‘To think he was drinking alcohol laced with drugs.’
In truth, Albert Visconti’s sudden death was an event that never occurred in the original story. In the novel, I spent more time in the Southern Territory than in the Capital, and I swiftly eliminated any unsavory individuals who tried to enter the estate.
But because I remained in the Capital for an extended period due to my partnership with Deborah Simour, Albert Visconti became increasingly dissolute. Seeking ever greater stimulation, he brought drug-dealing ruffians into the estate itself, where he drank himself into a frenzy before suffering a fatal heart attack.
The sudden death of the former Duke of Visconti was an accidental event caused by my change in behavior. And because of my abrupt succession to the dukedom, the Third Prince’s faction—whose titles had been elevated—could not be discussed in the Central Social Circle and was simply buried and forgotten.
These days, High Society’s attention was fixed entirely on when the young and handsome Duke of Visconti would marry and what path his future would take.
“Lately, wherever one goes, it’s nothing but talk of you.”
Countess Basslein had been pestered for some time by noblewoman after noblewoman probing for details about her nephew. It was unexpected that the partner who appeared with Isidore at his first official appearance was Cyril from House Simour.
‘My nephew will surely handle it wisely.’
Though she came from a prestigious background, her poor reputation was troubling. Where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire.
‘Why of all people did he choose such a talkative young lady…’
She kept her thoughts to herself. She didn’t want to meddle with unsolicited advice when he already had so much to worry about. As I looked at her with concern, I smiled gently.
“High Society boils quickly and cools just as fast. It will settle down soon enough.”
She shook her head slowly.
“We shall see. Time will tell.”
* * *
The Academy was abuzz for days over the fact that Isidore’s partner was Deborah Simour.
The jewel he had gifted her was extraordinarily rare, and it even bore his initials engraved upon it—all the more remarkable because such work required considerable preparation time.
“He must have had Deborah Simour in mind from the start. Cyril really came up empty.”
Perhaps due to her humiliation, Cyril had not shown her face at the Academy recently.
“I heard he prepared not just jewels but various evening gowns to present as well.”
“Such devotion couldn’t be explained if this weren’t a serious relationship.”
The young ladies who had harbored feelings for Isidore fell into a despondent mood.
“But surely the Duke knows Deborah Simour’s true nature. Why would he…”
“Her family standing is excellent. For a young duke establishing his position, she’s a suitable match.”
Even amid all this, some young ladies of the nobility still refused to acknowledge their relationship. Yet as if to prove the rumors true, the subjects of gossip strolled together through the Courtyard. In truth, it was Isidore who had come seeking out the young lady because he wanted to see her face.
“Duke, please stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Staring at me.”
Isidore spoke of nearly dying from withdrawal after just two days apart, all while boring holes into the young lady’s face with his unwavering gaze.
“Wow.”
Guillaume, passing nearby, caught sight of this peculiar scene and his mouth fell open.
“You two have great chemistry. Are you dating?”
As Thierry approached with a carefree swagger like a man of leisure, leaving the stunned Guillaume behind, Deborah Simour’s eyes sharpened dangerously.
“No, forget I said anything.”
“But it’s true. Why deny it? Knight Thierry really does have the best instincts in the world.”
Meanwhile, Isidore smiled faintly and spoke with composure, causing Thierry to flinch.
“Really? Since when? Lady Deborah Simour. I may not be as proper as Knight Isidore, but I have far more charm. Reconsider.”
“That’s not charm—that’s shamelessness.”
Isidore showed slight irritation at Thierry’s provocation, whether meant as a joke or in earnest.
“And I play piano better too.”
Though she hadn’t come to listen again, Thierry grumbled while thinking her heartless.
“That piano of yours—I practice every day too, so stop advertising it, will you?”
At that moment, the young lady’s eyes crinkled slightly as she suppressed a smile, and Thierry’s mouth fell open at the sight of the ice rose beginning to thaw.
“This just breaks my heart.”
“Do you want to duel me?”
As Isidore removed his gloves halfway, Thierry laughed ruefully and retreated.
“I was joking. I meant you’re doing well. You’re not the only one who’s popular.”
“I know better than anyone that the young lady is popular.”
“Good to hear. Lady Deborah Simour, if that fellow gives you any trouble, tell me anytime.”
Thierry continued his playful teasing to the end before disappearing. Isidore muttered that he was someone you couldn’t let your guard down around. Deborah Simour seemed to treat it as mere foolish banter, and he himself didn’t take it seriously either.
“Are you really still practicing?”
“Well…”
When she gently took his hand, Isidore’s mood lifted instantly.
* * *
“Did you see them earlier?”
“The rumors about them dating seriously might actually be true.”
Despite the scripture stating that gossip should be forbidden, even students with holy power chattered so loudly about the name that Miya wanted to cover her ears.
‘How infuriating.’
Simply by being born a high-ranking noblewoman, Deborah had so easily claimed the attention of High Society that Miya had desired.
“You should be grateful that such a wonderful opportunity has been given to the daughter of a fallen noble family, yet why are you so passive about everything?”
As Francois Marquis’s words came to mind—words he spoke with a stern face whenever he found the chance—her insides churned even more turbulently.
Miya had recently been receiving patronage from Francois Marquis. A senator and nobleman, Francois Marquis possessed a sleek appearance youthful for his age and refined eloquence that earned him favor among noblewomen.
With his extensive connections, he took Miya to various events. Since it was recently the Goddess’s birthday season, there were many charity galas held by the nobility, and at such gatherings, Miya displayed her holy power while serving as a decorative figurehead.
Thinking of the young lady who adorned herself with brilliant jewels and attended parties while obtaining everything she desired, in stark contrast to herself who endured all manner of hardship while touching filthy patients, Miya’s irritation boiled over and she bit at her lip bitterly.
Crimson blood trickled from her split lip, yet the pain had dulled to numbness. She clenched her fist tighter, her torn mouth pressed firmly shut.
* * *
‘These similar dreams keep repeating themselves.’
My sleep had been restless and unsettling lately, but since there was nothing particularly wrong with my health, I deliberately ignored it and took a sip of water.
Purple, who had been curled up on an expensive cushion, opened his eyes at my presence and carefully approached me. He licked my fingers repeatedly, as if comforting me. After escaping from the ancient artifact Philaf possessed, I held the now-larger Purple before rising from my seat.
The Town House in Simour was shrouded in morning mist. Gazing at the serene garden, I decided to take a walk and stepped outside.
“You’re up early.”
Father happened to be strolling near the garden.
“You look tired. Did you not sleep well?”
“I had nightmares.”
“I see. I’ll have a soothing beverage sent to you.”
Seeing Duke Simour’s concerned expression lifted my spirits somewhat. I had come to accept him as my father. As we walked through the Rose Garden, dyed in deep teal, the Duke suddenly spoke.
“Ah, and I’m currently searching for a noblewoman to give you etiquette lessons.”
“Understood.”
Though there was still time, the Duke was already preparing for my debutante ball in advance. Since a daughter’s etiquette instruction before her social debut typically fell to her mother, the Duke’s expression carried a hint of melancholy.
“Please don’t worry.”
I took his arm, and the Duke chuckled softly, gently stroking my hair.
“Trying to comfort me—you’ve grown up. When you were digging up the Rose Garden, I couldn’t believe such a child existed.”
As Duke Simour continued our casual conversation, he mentioned that Enrique wished to go on an outing with all of us.
“Since we’re on the subject, it would be nice to venture to the Outskirts.”

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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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