Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 172

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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 172
* * *
On the day of the incident, the Imperial Court assembled an investigative team to identify the arsonist who had set fire to the Royal Library, and they summoned those who had been at the scene one by one for questioning. Among them were elderly scholars who had escaped alongside Deborah Simour, following a man disguised as a guide.
“You say your lives were saved thanks to Deborah Simour?”
“Yes. When we were nearly suffocating from the smoke, the young lady lent us a damp handkerchief, and when attackers presumed to be the arsonists appeared, she repelled them with white light.”
“You say she repelled the attackers—does that mean she used magic?”
“…I cannot say whether it was magic, as we are unfamiliar with handling mana. We merely reported what we witnessed.”
“Now that I think of it, we saw a turtle-shaped holy water that the young lady brought with her from Hyanghwa.”
One of the scholars added this detail.
“And after that, Duke Visconti appeared to offer assistance, so you fled in safety?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
With only somewhat abstract testimony in hand, the investigative team discovered traces of alchemy at the Tower Peak of the Library, and deduced that the terrorist was a Black Mage. Some had witnessed white light flashing like lightning nearby, and unexpectedly, controversy erupted regarding Deborah Simour’s true identity.
‘If she confronted a Black Mage with white light… could Deborah Simour be that person who appeared in Hyanghwa?’
‘Then what of Miya Binoshu? I’ve never heard rumors that Deborah Simour possesses sacred power.’
‘The holy water creature she carries is said to be remarkably efficacious—perhaps a saint naturally attracts such auspicious animals?’
‘If she possessed sacred power, it would have been known long ago. Could Simour have developed a new artifact?’
‘Weapons and magical artifacts are prohibited from being brought into Imperial facilities on principle, are they not?’
‘I cannot make sense of any of this.’
Those who had heard of the incident secondhand gossiped about her abilities, yet Simour—the very center of the controversy—remained silent.
The silence was so profound it felt like the calm before a storm.
* * *
The day after the attack, I found myself confined to bed despite it being a weekday.
‘The men of Simour are far too overprotective of me.’
My father, who had rushed to the Royal Library in a state of worry, his face gaunt with concern, hoped that I would rest thoroughly and regain my emotional equilibrium.
‘…Something feels strange.’
More than the harrowing brush with death or the horrifying sight of a person transforming into a spider, it was Isidore’s trembling body as he held me that clung persistently to my mind. Perhaps his heart, pounding against my ear with such violent force it seemed it might burst, had made his entire frame seem to quiver with such intensity.
Along with this, I recalled the delicate trembling hands of a man resembling Isidore in my dream, as he pushed Naila away.
“I despise women as virtuous as you.”
“….”
“You’re not my type.”
The man who had spoken with such irritation also had reddened eyes. For some reason, I found myself longing to see Isidore.
After sending a letter via bird announcing my visit, I was about to summon a carriage to the Visconti Town House when my father suddenly approached me at the stairs of the Annex Building.
“Rest more—why are you preparing to go out?”
“That is….”
Before I could speak, my father opened his mouth first.
“The person you seek is coming here anyway. I have invited Duke Visconti today. Ahem! Yesterday was too chaotic for me to properly thank him….”
After clearing his throat several times, he gave my shoulder a light pat.
“So, rest more.”
“….”
“Simour repays grudges twofold without fail, but we do not forget kindness either. Do not look at me as though this is something strange or sudden.”
“…Yes, Father.”
That evening, a tense formal dinner commenced in the Simour dining hall.
“…I trust you’ve heard much. Duke Visconti.”
“Yes. Duke Simour.”
‘I’ve never held a job, but I think I finally understand how a new employee feels eating between a department head and a deputy director.’
I stirred my soup absently, my eyes darting about the room. When Isidore had stayed briefly at the Simour Town House, the Aide and retainers had attended the dinners, making the atmosphere far less awkward than this.
‘Is this how one treats their daughter’s savior?’
Yet after the meal concluded, Isidore leaned toward me with what appeared to be genuine delight, whispering softly.
“Today, the… well, the Duke has been remarkably kind to me. It seems he’s opened his heart considerably.”
‘…Where exactly did he find kindness in that?’
Father had brought out premium wine that money alone couldn’t buy, but I couldn’t detect even a trace of warmth in his tone or gestures. I couldn’t shake the suspicion that Isidore was being excessively optimistic.
In any case, the meal ended in silence, and Isidore and I took a stroll through the Rose Garden, where a crisp chill had settled over the grounds.
I rose onto my toes and pressed my lips to his lightly, and he smiled while dimpling his cheek. The faint scent of wine clung to him—Father had pressed glass after glass upon him throughout dinner.
“But how did you manage to arrive at exactly the right moment yesterday?”
“I had a bad feeling, so I came as quickly as I could.”
“A feeling….”
Telepathy between lovers? Premonition? Something like that?
“They’ve been opening rifts in places where significant casualties would occur, but this one appeared in a region where many people had relocated due to hot spring development—there were barely any victims. The moment I sensed it was a hastily constructed device meant to send me to the Southern Region, I rushed back.”
He operated an Information Organization with numerous teleportation circles scattered throughout the Empire. Moreover, he’d layered multiple seventh-circle medium-distance teleportation spells repeatedly to return as swiftly as possible.
“Well… since you’re always in the Capital anyway, I wanted to see you sooner, so I even modified the magic circles.”
“Half intuition, half rational judgment then. Thank you. I’m impressed.”
“Haha.”
When I reached out my hand, he naturally lowered his head. I stroked his soft hair, thinking how lovely it felt, and after a while of playful banter, I gazed toward the crescent moon buried in the darkness we’d once looked up at together.
“…That Black Mage said the darker the shadow, the brighter the light.”
“Don’t concern yourself with such nonsense.”
Naila believed the Lord granted her such formidable divine power precisely because her shadow ran so deep. That’s why she felt a sense of mission.
“….”
“But not me. I won’t die until I’ve spent every last coin I’ve earned. My boyfriend is far too handsome for that to be fair. Who would benefit from that?”
Before I’d even finished speaking, Isidore’s broad shoulders shook with laughter, and I swung his hand gently.
“However, I do owe a debt of vengeance to whoever touched me. If I appear weak, those damned fools will think they can target me again.”
“….”
“Simour may not always repay kindness, but we certainly repay enmity.”
“That’s a family motto I rather like.”
“What’s the Visconti family motto?”
“The sooner you negotiate and confess, the better.”
“…I see.”
I found it quintessentially golden Visconti while somehow remaining romantic, and I carefully broached the subject.
“Isidore… who do you think is behind this?”
He gazed long at the crescent moon buried in darkness, as though searching for something veiled. After a cold wind swept between us, he brushed back his disheveled golden hair and spoke slowly.
“At minimum, they’d need to be at least the rank of the Imperial Throne itself to attempt something this insane.”
“So the swarm of spiders that appeared at the Crown Prince’s charity event and the spiders the Black Mage wielded yesterday were connected after all!”
“The Emperor deliberately refrained from stemming the deteriorating public opinion toward the Crown Prince following the rift that occurred in Hyanghwa. If the Crown Prince doesn’t serve as a shield, the people’s discontent would turn toward the Emperor himself.”
“How selfish.”
“The Crown Prince bears the blue hair that symbolizes the Histech Royal Family, but he isn’t the son the Emperor cherishes in his heart. It’s also why certain princes with questionable legitimacy haven’t abandoned their lingering attachments to the throne.”
‘Yes, the throne….’
And the lacking legitimacy.
Suddenly, something flickered at the edge of my vision, almost within grasp.
* * *
That night, I searched for oracles related to the Saint.
‘The one chosen by the Saint.’
Reading this passage again, I clenched my fists.
If one received the Saint’s blessing, even questionable legitimacy could provide sufficient justification to ascend the throne. It was divine revelation—who would dare object?
Now I understood the connection between the Black Mages’ attempt to make Miya a Saint and the throne.
As I tossed restlessly in bed, consumed by grave thoughts, a knock sounded at my door.
“Enrique? What brings you here?”
Unexpectedly, the child’s small hand held the Duchess’s diary I had gifted him.
“Sister, I found something strange in Mother’s diary….”
The boy’s pupils trembled with fear, dilated wide.
“Something strange? What is it?”
What the child produced was a crossword puzzle that had been tucked inside the diary.
“There’s a person’s name hidden in this puzzle.”

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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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