Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 166

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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 166
Isidore listened gravely to my words—absurd as they might sound to others—that there was a correlation between the virtuous young lady and the terrifying rifts.
“The timing always aligned perfectly. After each rift occurred, circumstances arose that elevated Miya’s position.”
At my words, he lightly rubbed his sharp jawline.
“You’re saying it was no coincidence that a rift appeared when Philaf Montes visited Bisk Temple last winter.”
“Exactly.”
Philaf was the third-generation only son of a prestigious family with considerable influence, and unlike Isidore, he actively participated in Central Social Circle affairs. If his life were saved, he would be the person most likely to offer substantial gratitude in return.
“When the rift appeared in Sky Forest this time, if Duchess Orgo had been injured and Miya healed her, she would have shone even brighter at her debut.”
Isidore, who had been silent, finally spoke.
“The timing is certainly too coincidental to dismiss as mere chance, but Lord Rozard, the young lady’s brother, was also able to become a war hero because of the rift. It’s difficult to claim that only Miya benefited from these events.”
“….”
In the original story, Rozard had no weapon called Sunsik and instead suffered a leg injury, becoming indebted to Miya. As I compared the current situation—altered by my intervention—with the original novel, I gained certainty. But to Isidore, my words would seem like mere suspicion.
“Deborah Simour.”
As I was working my lips nervously, he called my name tenderly.
“Is there another reason you’re looking so certain?”
“….”
His sharp observation made my stomach drop. When I began speaking, I’d thought I might need to reveal everything, yet deep down I’d wanted to avoid exposing my secret.
Just as he had long hesitated before revealing that he was Master.
“….”
As I hesitated, gripping and releasing my tension-dampened hands, he brushed the corner of my eye with his thumb.
“I like your eyes, Deborah Simour. Whenever I meet that penetrating gaze, I wonder what you’re thinking. I’m such a selfish man that I never cared what others thought, but….”
He continued slowly.
“At first, I was curious about what you were thinking, what secrets you held. I prided myself as a capable intelligence source, but the young lady I actually met was so different from the information I had that my pride was wounded.”
“….”
“But now, satisfying my curiosity doesn’t matter. Your feelings and happiness are more important than whatever secret you’re keeping. Even if your true identity were a demon, I would trust you as I do now, support you, and love you passionately.”
“…Even so, a demon? That’s too extreme.”
It was so extreme that I let out a soft laugh despite myself.
“If the young lady’s goal is to eternally possess my soul because you’re a demon, that’s quite appealing. Even better if you take my heart too.”
He brought my hand to his chest as he spoke, and I swallowed a sigh.
How should I tell Isidore my secret? If I simply explained that this place was once a novel world I had read, it would feel like saying he was merely a character in a book, so I hesitated for a long time.
‘But the warmth of his touch is so real, his affection so palpable—he cannot be merely words on a page.’
And I had long ago accepted this place with Isidore as my world, rather than my lonely past life.
I pressed my lips together briefly, then parted them.
“I… have Naila’s memories. It’s only recently that ancient memories have begun surfacing in my sleep.”
Isidore didn’t look as surprised as when I’d called him “darling.” Perhaps it was because I had revived him with holy power when he was gravely wounded.
“…The incarnation of the Saint.”
He murmured softly.
“Not quite. People revere Naila as a great saint and goddess, but she was simply an ordinary person with strong holy power.”
In fact, she was as foolish and oblivious as Yoon Do-hee, constantly swayed by a man who looked identical to Isidore.
“And I… have glimpsed not only the Empire’s beginning but also its future. …I’ll tell you more about that later.”
His words were absurd, yet his gaze remained serious. Perhaps because Isidore had given me absolute trust and faith all this time, I found myself gradually unveiling the secrets I harbored to him.
“In the future I witnessed, Miya Binoshu was called the incarnation of a saint, became the flower of the year, and chose Countess Basslein as her chaperone. The rift occurred not in Sky Forest, but elsewhere.”
“….”
“Perhaps to place Visconti and Basslein in her debt. Just as she did with Montes.”
“You mean someone’s will can manipulate the rifts.”
Isidore’s expression grew grave as he tapped his fingers thoughtfully before speaking.
“The Black Mages were so desperate to find the saint that they impersonated a priest to kidnap a child, yet they never once harmed Miya Binoshu.”
“That’s true.”
“So I suspected there was something sinister connected to the Black Mages lurking behind Miya Binoshu. But to think they could actually cause rifts….”
Until now, the priests had believed the rifts occurred due to the weakening of the barrier the goddess had established, and they had worked to repair it. They had been completely mistaken.
“…But I still can’t see what the Black Mages’ purpose is in making Miya a saint. The truth is, I couldn’t see the entire future.”
The author had to go and drop the series midway….
I cursed the author once more and pressed my temples firmly.
Suddenly, Isidore, who had been tapping his fingers, twisted his lips into a wry smile.
“People’s actions are always the same. Whoever benefits most when Miya Binoshu becomes a saint—that’s who’s behind this.”
* * *
The Empire’s greatest holiday, the Harvest Festival, had ended, and winter arrived in full force with biting cold.
‘I’m sick of the cold.’
Miya frowned, recalling the drafty, dilapidated Binoshu Family Residence.
Though she longed to wear a fur coat made of silver fox fur, she had no choice but to don a shabby robe to appear humble and unassuming as she returned to the orphanage she had visited before, accompanied by an attendant provided by Marquis Francois.
‘I’m trying so hard, so why do these nobles still suspect me?’
After receiving suspicious glances from several nobles and the Crown Prince at the ball, Miya compulsively sought to display her charitable deeds.
“Indeed, you must be Miya. I would believe you are the incarnation of a saint.”
A priest who visited the orphanage praised her devoted attitude, yet no satisfaction welled up within her. What pleased her was not the praise from lowly, insignificant people, but the envious gazes cast by those haughty nobles.
“If you perform good deeds, you can turn public suspicion of you into evil itself.”
Recalling Marquis Francois’s words, she forced a compassionate smile and handed the jewels she had received from a noble to the Orphanage Director.
“It’s small, but I hope it helps the children.”
“Oh my! Miya, your kindness is deeply appreciated, but such gifts are unnecessary.”
The Orphanage Director waved his hand in protest.
“The Armand Foundation provides us with substantial donations regularly. Our operating expenses are not lacking, so I would prefer you keep such beautiful jewels for yourself.”
“Armand? Isn’t that the shop run by Deborah Simour?”
“Indeed. Deborah Simour has consistently sent a portion of her shop’s profits as donations each month, beginning with the top scholarship she received from the Academy.”
Miya’s expression hardened at the mention of Deborah Simour’s name in such a place.
Again, Deborah Simour.
“In fact, she sent the donations through a trading company, so we had no idea Deborah Simour had been bestowing such great kindness upon us.”
The Assistant Director, who had been organizing items nearby, added his words.
“The rumors that she loves to show off were lies.”
“Not only financial support, but she even sent toys and books—rare finds in a small village like this—as Harvest Festival gifts. With young ladies like you and her, the future of the Empire is bright. Hehe.”
At the director’s words, Miya felt a strange sense of betrayal and bit her trembling lips. They had gossiped so readily about Deborah Simour being the villain and rogue of House Simour, yet they changed their tune over a few coins scattered about.
Miya, who had basked in the virtuous image that contrasted with hers and felt a peculiar superiority, now felt a wave of nausea as her character was compared on equal footing. The existence of Deborah Simour—who seemed to emerge like an awl whenever Miya thought she might escape the mire of her fallen noble status—had become utterly unbearable.
“Miss Miya, allow me to escort you to the carriage….”
The Orphanage Director trailed off, his words dying in his throat as he witnessed the glacial expression that had never graced Miya’s face before.
Upon returning to the Marquis Francois Estate, Miya discovered the Marquis Francois venting his fury before the luggage carriage.
“Damn it all! Everything continues to unravel. Because Miya carelessly released her grip in the Sky Forest, more and more nobles are beginning to suspect her!”
The Marquis Francois clawed at his smooth face with trembling fingers, his expression frantic. His lord was not a patient man, and the Marquis found himself unable to bear the dread, resorting to self-recrimination.
“Public opinion refuses to bend to our will, the Senate wishes to witness the power that Miss Miya Binoshu displayed in Hyanghwa, and it is one obstacle after another!”
“Miya Binoshu’s image is already favorable. What matters more is finding the true Saint who appeared during the Hyanghwa ceremony.”
‘What did he just say?’
So it wasn’t something the Fourth Empress had orchestrated—there truly exists a real Saint….
Miya’s breath caught as shock washed over her face.

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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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