Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 163

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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 163
* * *
Rumors swept through High Society that Deborah Simour had received an unprecedented number of suitors. The scandal was delicious.
‘The Queen of the Harvest has always been a title held by young ladies of broad connections and abundant virtue… can this really be allowed?’
‘Come to think of it, one cannot say the young lady lacks influence. Each of her connections is a jewel. Quality over quantity, surely? One dragon is worth a hundred lizards.’
‘Visconti, Duchess Orgo, the Crown Prince… truly, there is nothing to fault.’
Following her triumphant debut, Deborah Simour’s coronation as Queen of the Hunt meant that everywhere in the Imperial City, conversations centered on her—and most were glowing with praise. This drove the Fourth Empress to the edge of madness.
“What is it that you actually do well?”
Crack—!
A harsh fracture split across Francois Marquis’s flawless face, maintained by black magic. The Fourth Empress, unable to contain her rage, had struck his cheek.
“Why are all my subordinates so incompetent! The Temple and the Senate both push Miya as a saint, yet making her the debutante’s star is somehow impossible?!”
Francois Marquis trembled, his body bowing low. Among Black Mages, hierarchy was absolute, determined by the rank of the contracted demon, and they obeyed those with higher demons out of instinctive terror.
“I am truly sorry.”
“Stop your excuses and give me solutions. You haven’t forgotten Madam Ophelia’s end, have you?”
Francois Marquis stared at the blood-stained altar with a terrified expression, his mind racing desperately.
‘What am I to do?’
The Harvest Festival was already halfway through with nothing to show for it. If Miya, who had shone like a saint, failed to meet the Central Social Circle’s expectations and was buried in Deborah Simour’s shadow, it would be disastrous.
‘Damn it, that Simour lady is an obstacle at every turn. Chilling, even….’
The marquis, who had been sweating profusely, suddenly lifted his head and spoke.
“Still… Miya possesses a weapon that Deborah Simour lacks.”
“What is it?”
“The support of the common people.”
“And?”
“The voices of the lowborn, when amplified, become difficult to ignore. Though they deny it, even the Crown Prince is swayed by rumors of her good fortune.”
The marquis’s eyes gleamed with cunning.
“A humble and approachable saint, entirely unlike the aristocratic yet ruthless young lady… what do you think of this narrative?”
Crude and transparent though it was, creating a dichotomy that planted both belonging and enmity would cause the foolish masses to empathize and follow blindly. And since the young lady was famous for her extravagance, manipulation would be all the easier.
“Moreover, the timing is perfect. The Harvest Festival is when high officials descend to inspect the people’s welfare. We can publicize Miya’s dedication and service to the common folk.”
If public opinion elevated her and high officials gave positive assessments, it would be ideal.
“This is your last chance. You must succeed this time. My patience is not infinite.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Francois Marquis believed this task simple. All he needed do was perform service aligned with the movements of his superiors, just as he had demonstrated holy power before the Bishop.
But his plan struck a reef before he could even draw the first line. The cause was Deborah Simour’s utterly unpredictable actions.
“Damn it! What is the Armand Foundation?!”
* * *
“What are those people doing?”
The Prime Minister, who had come to inspect the people’s welfare alongside his retainers, asked upon seeing villagers gathered in throngs.
“I shall investigate at once, Your Excellency.”
Shortly after, the retainer returned with his report.
“It appears the Armand Foundation is distributing high-quality tea leaves.”
“Armand? Isn’t that the dessert shop near the West Gate? Whenever I grew tired during my duties, I’d stop by there occasionally for a cup of coffee.”
The Prime Minister would occasionally visit Armand with his Aide during quieter hours, both to take a walk and to relax.
“You made donations there?”
“Yes. The staff has been distributing envelopes of tea leaves, and the townspeople are delighted to be able to enjoy fragrant tea.”
While the state often distributed grain as relief aid, it was virtually unheard of for luxury items like tea leaves to be given away.
Yet tea was a commodity everyone preferred, and since it was beautifully wrapped with ribbons, the residents seemed to feel as though they’d received a harvest festival gift. During patrols, many districts had exuded a gloomy atmosphere, but this place was brimming with vitality.
“What admirable work. Charitable activities, no less.”
It was precisely when the Prime Minister wore a pleased expression that a man came rushing from afar. The Administrator from the Administrative Office, who had been managing the tea leaf donations for Armand, appeared in a flurry upon hearing that the Prime Minister had arrived.
“Your Excellency, the great Prime Minister. I am honored by your presence.”
“I was observing with satisfaction the meaningful sharing being done for the people. Who is the owner of the Trading Company operating Armand? I wish to commend their efforts.”
Just as I was thinking the owner of Armand must surely be a dignified, middle-aged merchant of considerable wealth, the Administrator opened his mouth.
“It is Deborah Simour.”
“Pardon?”
He, who had been consumed by various duties throughout the harvest festival, knew nothing of what had transpired on the debutante day.
One second later, his eyes widened dramatically.
“The… lady of Simour? Did I hear that correctly?”
The Prime Minister barely swallowed the word “reckless” and asked again repeatedly, while the Administrator drove the point home once more.
“Yes, Your Excellency. Deborah Simour operates Armand.”
“Isn’t Deborah Simour the esteemed daughter of Duke Simour? The Simour bloodline operates a Trading Company?”
“Everyone was astonished. It seems even Duke Simour himself only learned of it later. The more one considers it, the more remarkable this young lady truly is. It’s already surprising that someone so young is the owner of such a large Trading Company, and now she accomplishes such admirable deeds. Last summer, when Marquis Devion actively promoted the establishment of the East Gate Clock Tower, it was because he had already secured a promise from the lady to donate public facilities.”
“Remarkable. So that’s how it is. The child of a dragon is a dragon, after all. Simour remains Simour, it seems….”
Bewildered by this unexpected twist, the Prime Minister clicked his tongue in amazement.
And thereafter, the Prime Minister encountered the Armand Foundation conducting charitable events no fewer than three times.
“How much gold coin could there possibly be to sustain such an abundance of donated goods? Truly remarkable.”
“I was moved. Deborah Simour is a true patriot. She has become a model for young nobles. I wish many more people knew of her deeds.”
The Prime Minister spoke with a deeply moved expression.
During the harvest festival season, there were numerous gatherings and events, so many people spread various news. Moreover, with the Prime Minister’s orders to publicize the lady’s virtuous deeds, the charitable activities of the Armand Foundation spread faster than wildfire.
* * *
I was diligently practicing the truth that when one does something well, one must frequently show it, and one must maintain the credit for a long time.
‘My image rehabilitation is progressing splendidly.’
From the reckless daughter of a ducal house to a wealthy CEO practicing noblesse oblige.
‘Not bad at all.’
I had chosen the debutante day as the moment to reveal that I was the owner of Armand partly because I wanted to draw in Countess Devion, but more importantly because the debutante and harvest festival occurred consecutively.
“Do high-ranking officials personally tour the people’s livelihoods during the harvest festival?”
“It’s the perfect time to publicize good deeds to those in power.”
Isidore spoke matter-of-factly.
Since I had decided to step into the spotlight as the Trading Company’s owner, I invested considerable funds in this charitable campaign to cultivate an image of running a virtuous enterprise that contributed to the community.
‘And I’ve instructed them to conduct charitable activities at every step the Prime Minister takes.’
Trusting they would handle things well and setting aside my worries, I was playing a game with Enrique in my room when—
Knock, knock. Servants appeared and piled letters upon my table like mountains. Since the letters I’d received until now had mostly been invitations to lecture on mathematics, I was inwardly taken aback.
“Are these all letters for you, sister?”
“…It seems so.”
“As expected, you’re the most amazing person in the world, sister!”
Enrique’s eyes sparkled as he gazed at the stack of invitations piled before me. I selected one and tore it open.
After reading through all the normal gathering invitations, I set the stationery down on the table.
‘It seems Isidore has spread word about his donation to the Academy scholarship fund.’
It was favorable gossip that elevated my status and solidified my position. Still, I was astonished at how swiftly the rumors had circulated through High Society, when the Harvest Festival celebration hadn’t even concluded.
‘He’s being rather ostentatious about it.’
“Sister, I should go now.”
Enrique rose from his seat, apparently thinking I would be busy reading all the letters and composing responses. I gently tousled his silver hair.
“I wanted to eat cake and play a game with you, Enrique.”
“…Actually, I want to eat cake with you too, sister.”
Enrique shyly sat back down, and our chess game resumed. Ever since my debut ball, certain thoughts had been lingering in my mind. I found myself unable to concentrate on the game, lost in contemplation as I held a pristine white bishop.
‘The connection between Miya Binoshu and the rifts has been confirmed through the attack on Duchess Orgo….’
I moved my bishop and knocked over the knight-shaped piece.
‘If there’s purpose behind it, then there must be an entity creating these rifts.’
This wasn’t some rigged game—so what was the reason for orchestrating rifts just to make Miya Binoshu the protagonist of this stage?
‘Could it be that the Black Mages kidnapped the child with divine power because having two saintesses would be problematic?’
If my suspicion was correct, the entity causing the rifts had to be the Black Mages, but I couldn’t fathom why they would create a saintess who stood in opposition to demons.
As I furrowed my brow, unable to see the next move clearly, Enrique scooped up a piece of cake with his small hand and offered it to me. My heart had grown heavy with swirling suspicions, but as the sweet cream melted on my tongue, my mood lifted slightly.
‘For now, let me just finish the Harvest Festival celebration properly.’
The Harvest Festival would essentially conclude with tomorrow’s Imperial Ball. And as promised, the following day, Isidore arrived at the Simour Town House to serve as my escort.
“Family members can serve as escorts for the Harvest Festival too….”
Leaving behind the disgruntled murmurs of the Simour men, I set out for the Imperial Palace.

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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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