Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 147

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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 147
The Fourth Empress observed Miya, who was clearly under a significant misunderstanding, and fell into contemplation for a moment.
‘There’s no need to reveal the truth to a child who shows me such reverence.’
All Miya needed to do was perform the role of a saint well for her own son, the Third Prince.
“Miya. I’ve created a stage where you are the protagonist, so conduct yourself and move forward in a manner befitting that role. I have high expectations.”
Miya bowed once more, and after dismissing her, the Fourth Empress summoned her subordinate, Francois Marquis. Despite approaching his fifties, he boasted a flawless appearance as though time had frozen for him, and he was a popular figure among the ladies of High Society for his discerning eye and gentlemanly demeanor.
“Francois Marquis. Make Miya Binoshu the absolute star of this year’s debutante ball. Creating a magnificent social stage is your specialty, so I needn’t elaborate, but I trust you’ll handle it well.”
“I shall carry out your orders.”
“Good.”
Until now, Miya Binoshu had made little impression in High Society, but with this opportunity as a springboard, she would make a tremendous leap forward.
“However, my lady, what if that true saint who appeared during the Fragrant Flower Ceremony were to step forward personally? Miya has limitations in impersonating a true saint using sacred blood, does she not?”
At Francois Marquis’s concerned question, the Fourth Empress wore a cruel smile that resembled that of a demon.
“She must be eliminated.”
Whoever she is, by any means necessary.
Fortunately, Miya’s conduct thus far had been remarkably devoted. Since Miya was popular among the common folk, the Fourth Empress planned to first engage in a war of public opinion, then deploy powerful Black Mages like Albert, the Eccentric One who wielded insect-type demons, to eliminate the true saint. She would mobilize all her resources if necessary.
‘How fortunate. I’ve been troubled by my inability to locate the saint until now.’
If the true saint revealed her identity, it would actually be a blessing. As the vague search for the saint finally gained clarity, her anxiety dissipated instead.
‘It wouldn’t be bad to weave this together and frame the Crown Prince as well.’
As she began to weave her conspiracy, her eyes flashed a cold blue. The sight was so demonic that Francois Marquis trembled and prostrated himself before her.
* * *
Isidore and Duke Simour decided to keep the fact that Deborah had manifested sacred power confidential for the time being. As a result, the severe injuries Isidore sustained from the malevolent spirit also became a secret.
“Duke Visconti. Recover here at Simour for now. I’ll tell the family I’m keeping you occupied.”
Knowing that returning to the estate would immediately burden the family head with a murderous workload, Duke Simour showed consideration for Isidore’s circumstances—an uncharacteristic display of kindness from him.
Had he been merely a knight, Duke Simour wouldn’t have spared him a second glance, but as Isidore’s dual nature as both knight and mage became apparent, Duke Simour’s emotional walls crumbled somewhat. He also felt a debt of gratitude, for without Isidore’s efforts in buying time against the demon, he could not have completed his seventh-class magic.
“Thank you, Duke Simour.”
Though his body was perfectly fine, Isidore eagerly accepted Duke Simour’s proposal because he enjoyed spending time under the same roof as the young lady.
‘Time really does pass quickly.’
Thus, three days after the birthday celebration ended, he was already greeting the morning at Simour’s Town House.
“Duke Visconti. I understand you’ve taken a liking to playing son-in-law, but please return at once. I’m begging you. Documents are piling up like mountains everywhere.”
Miguel, who had come to deliver the custom-made clothes Isidore had ordered and a few personal items, pleaded desperately, but Isidore paid him no mind.
“The Magic Tower Master is keeping me here, so there’s nothing I can do. This is a matter of inter-family relations.”
“You’re the man who doesn’t even care about the Crown Prince’s opinion!”
“How could I possibly compare my future father-in-law with the Crown Prince?”
“You publicly revealed yourself as a Sword Mage during the Fragrant Flower Ceremony! This isn’t a joke—letters from outside are arriving in such quantities we could build a fortress with them. Please save me. Or at least accept my resignation!”
“I’ll leave after resting a bit longer. I’ve done an absurd amount of work since becoming the family head.”
“I’ve done an absurd amount of work too!”
“You’re right. I know your efforts well. Double your salary. How’s that?”
“…You clearly said ‘a bit longer.’ If you don’t return by tonight, I won’t be returning to Visconti either.”
After barely persuading the irrational Miguel to leave, Isidore rested his chin in his hand, thinking that being a son-in-law wasn’t so bad after all. Then, with a leisurely expression, he gazed down at the beautifully adorned Rose Garden for a while before rising to bathe.
Though his bones had been shattered to pieces, his body bore not a single scar, as if nothing had happened—a sight that amazed him every time he saw it. Even having experienced it firsthand, the level of sacred power was beyond belief.
‘Is the Lady truly the incarnation of the Saint recorded in the prophecy? Hmm. Yet she possesses such a wicked streak.’
Honestly, creating shell companies to evade taxes was hardly the sort of scheme a saint would devise.
‘Though it hardly matters….’
Isidore cared not what Deborah Simour was, nor would he have minded if she were a demon itself. From the moment she appeared in Blanche, she had been an incomprehensible black swan—an uninvited intruder into his world.
What mattered was this: I never wished to see her weeping in sorrow again. I traced my fingertips slowly across my ribs, now healed without a single scar, and found myself absently biting my lip.
‘…Not even adolescence. This is truly untimely.’
Despite injuries severe enough to brush against death, my body seemed to have grown far too robust.
Shortly after, I emerged from the bathroom with heated breath and a faint flush coloring my face. As I dressed in freshly tailored clothes, a servant informed me that the Lady had ordered tea and brunch to be prepared.
Since it was the weekend, we had decided to spend the morning together over tea. I dried my wet hair swiftly with magic and prepared to join her.
At the rumor that Duke Visconti—adorned with the epithet of the Empire’s finest beauty—was coming to enjoy teatime, the household servants busied themselves tending the Garden and polishing the Fountain sculptures, all while stealing glances at him.
Yet beyond mere handsomeness, the bewitching aura he emanated sent the servants into quite a frenzy.
“…Why do I grow less accustomed to this each day.”
Deborah Simour murmured softly as she lifted her teacup.
“Pardon?”
‘Isidore’s face seems to grow more maddening by the day—is this really happening?’
I must have saved the nation in my past life.
Wait? Now that I think about it, I actually did save it, didn’t I? In my life before last, at least.
Deborah Simour sipped her steaming tea while engaging in these absurd musings within her mind.
Isidore watched with delight as she sipped her tea, and when she slid the sugar bowl toward him, he let out a soft laugh.
“Thank you.”
“You prefer sweets.”
“That’s true. And I also like the cream cake in front of you, Lady.”
Isidore opened his mouth with feigned innocence. At his impudent expression, she held her fork as if to feed him, then smeared cream across his lips.
“Is this a declaration of war?”
Isidore quickly smeared cream on her philtrum, and her eyes sharpened.
“How can you never learn?!”
“I wanted to do this.”
Isidore gently took her upper lip, smeared with cream, between his own.
“Now do it for me….”
“We’re in the house!”
Even if the Simour Family Estate sprawled as wide as a hotel, physical affection within the house felt too conspicuous. She flushed crimson and kicked his shin.
Isidore feigned a broken leg, but when servants appeared in the distance with a three-tiered dessert tray, he seated himself at the table with dignity. Though admittedly, the cream still clinging to his lips made him look rather ridiculous.
“You have cream there. Wipe it off quickly.”
“I know. I’ll eat it when I get home.”
“Good heavens, when are you going home anyway? Won’t your retainers leave you be?”
“Would you prefer I stayed?”
Isidore licked the cream from his lips, his eyes taking on the pleading gaze of a puppy begging to be kept, and the Lady flinched before shaking her head slightly. In truth, she did not dislike spending time this physically close, lounging together.
‘But advancing further feels too conspicuous.’
The timid Lady feared someone might suddenly burst through the door, and such proximity was beyond her comfort.
“In truth, though it pains me, I must return this evening. I fear I cannot delay the accumulated work any longer.”
“I see.”
“I see her often. We sometimes meet up and practice dancing together.”
Isidore spoke warmly.
“Why practice dancing?”
“Aren’t you her debutante partner? Surely there isn’t another candidate for Young-sik as well?”
When Deborah Simour asked with a clueless expression, Isidore was genuinely shocked.
“Ah, now that I think about it, the debutante ball is coming up soon.”
Most young ladies of the nobility wanted their debutante—their first appearance in High Society—to be as splendid as possible, yet the young lady seemed utterly indifferent.
“Who will you have as your chaperone?”
Since Isidore had relinquished the privilege of being this year’s flower, Deborah Simour could designate any noblewoman as her chaperone.
“I’ve already decided.”
When the name finally left the young lady’s lips, Isidore spat out the black tea he’d been drinking and broke into a coughing fit.

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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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