Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 187

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Side Story Episode 4
“Thank you for inviting me to such a wonderful place, Duke.”
“Mm.”
If I were being honest, the entire family had gathered unexpectedly because of Isidore, so Duke Simour inwardly smacked his lips with displeasure at how Visconti seemed delighted to be included in what was essentially a family gathering.
“…You must be hungry. Come, eat up, Duke Visconti.”
“Yes, Duke Simour.”
Soon, appetizers and rosé-tinted champagne were placed on the long table, and the meal began in a quiet atmosphere.
“The ingredients are so fresh, and the seasoning is truly excellent.”
In the midst of the silence, Isidore spoke while creating deep dimples in his cheeks. He ate with such obvious relish that it was pleasant to watch, yet his table manners were impeccable and aristocratic without a single flaw.
‘Ugh.’
Enrique gazed at Isidore with an inexplicably frustrated expression.
‘Why does that person have shiny hair and face, and such a good personality on top of it all?’
“Enrique, I hear you’ve been learning swordplay?”
Perhaps having heard recently that I was studying swordsmanship, he presented me with a blessed sword embedded with a mana stone as a New Year’s gift today.
“It’s good to see you again. You’ve grown quite a bit.”
‘How did he know I grew 1.3 centimeters?’
Most people wouldn’t have noticed.
Honestly… Duke Visconti seemed like a good person. Staring at him so intently wasn’t polite, but just by looking at his eyes meeting mine with such kindness, I could tell. If only Isidore were incompetent like Philaf, I could throw a tantrum and refuse to marry him. But no, he’s terrible!
“Enrique.”
“Yes?”
Suddenly called by Isidore, Enrique flinched and his shoulders trembled.
“I noticed earlier—you have talent for swordplay.”
“…Me?”
“Yes. Your bone structure is excellent, and from your posture, I can see you have no bad habits at all.”
When the Demon Swordmaster, who had accomplished great feats against terrifying demons and monsters, praised my posture, I felt a little embarrassed and curled my toes. As I was at a loss for what to say, my lips fumbling, the enormous crêpe I had been wanting to eat finally appeared. Deborah let out a short exclamation.
“It’s really huge.”
The giant crêpe, filling the entire large table, displayed an overwhelming presence.
“But where do we start eating it, and how?”
The crêpe hadn’t been cut at all, as it was characteristic of this dish to be served while preserving its original full-moon-like round shape.
“Should we call the head chef?”
As Beleck muttered in exasperation, Isidore rose from his seat.
“I’ll cut it.”
“You?”
“Yes. I’ve practiced cutting steaks cleanly, so I should be able to cut this well too.”
“Why would you practice such a thing? Is it part of your swordplay training?”
“By using aura, I can retain the juices to the maximum, allowing one to fully enjoy the meat’s natural flavor.”
“Huh. So you’re a gourmet.”
It was no joke that he had practiced—the precious ingredients abundantly packed inside the crêpe were sliced cleanly without a single drop spilling. Moreover, he even used teleportation magic to place each portion on everyone’s individual plates.
“That’s quite a useful skill.”
“Indeed.”
Enrique’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Thank you for the meal. Thank you for cutting it for me.”
“Eat plenty, Enrique.”
The youngest child, experiencing a New Year celebration straight out of a fairy tale with the entire family gathered and sharing crepes together, looked thoroughly delighted. Duke Simour smiled gently as he watched his youngest son bite into the crepe with a flushed face, while Isidore carefully cut smaller pieces for Deborah to make it easier for her to eat.
However, there was one person who couldn’t blend into this warm, harmonious atmosphere. Rozard narrowed his eyes as he observed the faint aura gathered on the knife Isidore held.
‘That skill of cutting food cleanly without even scratching the plate. It looks quite useful for dating women.’
Seeing how delicate and precise his mana control was, it didn’t seem like the work of someone who’d only practiced a time or two. A master recognizes another master. There was something about him that smelled like a fellow expert.
‘Yes, I should definitely probe him properly.’
As dinner drew to a close and bedtime approached, Enrique stifled a yawn but ended up shedding a few tears. Duke Simour stood up to take his sleepy youngest to the Annex Building.
“Bring that.”
The moment the two disappeared, Rozard gestured to a servant. Immediately, a pitch-black barrel of such intimidating size appeared that it was dizzying just to look at.
“Deborah, you go upstairs. I have some important matters to discuss with Duke Visconti, man to man.”
“What are you talking about? Are you already drunk?”
Deborah didn’t even snort in response.
“Stop being coy. After all, he’s the husband you’ll be seeing every day once you’re married anyway. We won’t have many opportunities to gather like this in the future, so lend me your fiancé for tonight.”
Beleck chimed in as well.
“Brother-in-law, what do you think? Shall we have a drink together, speaking our minds freely?”
Rozard asked with a casual tone.
“….”
Brother-in-law. That word struck Isidore’s heart heavily. To have his relationship acknowledged by the iron-willed Simour twins. Watching the emerald eyes waver helplessly, Deborah swallowed a sigh.
“Don’t overfeed him. Don’t torment him. Don’t corrupt him.”
“Corrupt him? Are we demons?”
“That’s why I’m telling you to be reasonable.”
After glaring with eyes sharp as a veil, Beleck watched his departing younger sister’s back and asked again.
“Knight Isidore, you were coerced into dating her at first, right?”
“No, sir. I liked her far more from the beginning, and I confessed first.”
“As expected, the only way to get the truth is to make someone drink first.”
* * *
The brandy Rozard brought out was so potent that Beleck, who normally didn’t drink much, became completely intoxicated first.
“Duke Visconti…! If my sister sheds even one tear, it won’t just be tears of blood from your eyes. You should know that our Simour would gouge out your eyes entirely so you can’t even shed tears of blood.”
He launched into a fierce warning toward Isidore,
“…But still, among your peers, you’re the best. Those Magic Tower fellows are all pathetic and way too sensitive… the more I think about it, there’s no one quite like you.”
He rambled on while offering praise.
“But Knight Isidore, you really weren’t coerced, right? I’m not saying this because I’m coerced, but objectively speaking, your character is far superior.”
“Not at all. The lady is too good for me.”
“Did Deborah teach you to say that? She’s my sister, but she’s really meticulous and terrifying. How is she supposed to be a saint, huh?!”
“The lady is kinder, more virtuous, more lovely, and more adorable than Saint Naila.”
“Ugh, am I so drunk that I keep hearing nonsense?”
Beleck shuddered like a chicken, then finally surrendered, raising both arms before stumbling back to his quarters.
‘That fellow who was spouting nothing but drivel is gone, and now we’re finally alone.’
Lord Rozard exhaled sharply and watched Isidore sipping his drink.
“Knight Isidore, are you naturally this good with alcohol?”
“I wouldn’t say I particularly enjoy it.”
“You’re drinking quite well for someone who doesn’t. It’s nice to finally meet someone with a matching capacity. I’m enjoying this.”
“I was a bit nervous. I’m also pleased to share drinks with you, Lord Rozard.”
They continued exchanging drinks, and as time passed, Isidore’s eyes grew increasingly hazy. With deft sleight of hand, Lord Rozard was secretly discarding his own drinks, causing Isidore to drink far more than his share.
‘Let’s see if anything spills out when he’s truly loosened up.’
Lord Rozard’s eyes gleamed like a viper’s as he continuously refilled the empty glass.
* * *
The next morning, Deborah clicked her tongue at the sight of Lord Rozard, hollow-eyed from his hangover.
Isidore, who had spent the entire night drinking, was sleeping soundly in the guest room, while the eldest son of the household—who always presented himself as stubborn and impeccable—had been reduced to this pathetic state.
“Why did you suddenly corner Isidore and have such a serious drinking match? You must have had some ulterior motive.”
“Deborah.”
“What.”
“Treat Isidore well.”
Instead of answering, he said something entirely unexpected.
“…Suddenly?”
“Just treat him well. There’s no one quite like Duke Visconti. You’re blessed. If you’re a saint, then Isidore is a saint too.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just something I thought. I was worried you were wasting yourself for a moment, but you two suit each other well. You’re a match made in heaven.”
Lord Rozard, having said his piece, turned away abruptly and clicked his tongue as he recalled last night’s drinking session with Isidore.
The previous night, he had taken the moderately intoxicated Isidore and employed one of his specialties: leading interrogation.
“Isidore, honestly, isn’t this gathering uncomfortable for you? Father, I, and Beleck aren’t exactly easy people to be around. Deborah’s the same. Your previous… well, your previous situation must have been more comfortable.”
“Yes. Truth be told, it’s not comfortable.”
“Now you’re finally being honest.”
“I want to make a good impression on Deborah’s family. That’s why I get nervous every time we meet, but today, when you called me brother-in-law, I was truly delighted.”
At Isidore’s innocent-sounding response, Lord Rozard felt an uncharacteristic awkwardness.
“Well then! You should call me brother from now on.”
“I like that. …Oh, but, brother.”
“Yes?”
“Who was your previous… partner?”
“I asked you that, didn’t I? You must have had someone before Deborah.”
Lord Rozard, who had been trying to get Isidore to naturally reveal information about his past relationships, was inwardly flustered by his direct question.
“I’ve never been in a relationship before.”
“With no one?”
“No one.”
Isidore nodded emphatically.
“Why?”
“I’m a perfectionist. I can’t be with anyone but Deborah.”
“Really? Deborah is your first?”
“Yes. You were the first person who made me feel like a genius, and while your humor isn’t amusing, you’re adorable, and also….”
What is this man saying?
There’s a saying about drunken truths. I prided myself on extracting confessions through interrogation, but no matter how intently I observed Isidore’s tone, his gaze, his gestures—nothing suggested he was lying.
Moreover, I had to endure an entire night of lectures from a thoroughly intoxicated Isidore about how remarkable my sister was.
‘What kind of drunken nonsense is this? Spouting such drivel.’
Alcohol had unlocked Duke Visconti’s heart, but it felt like I’d opened a door I shouldn’t have. I rubbed my dry eyes and swallowed a sigh.
‘Testing someone as pure as freshly fallen snow. I feel oddly sorry now.’
My conscience, which had been little more than a vestigial organ, suddenly began to ache. Reflecting anew on the dissolute years behind me, I resolved to genuinely bless my sister’s marriage.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————