Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 194

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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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Side Story 11
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-Damn it. Where am I now? Why does this keep happening to me?!
Though I hadn’t spoken the words aloud, my thoughts echoed through the space as if amplified.
-Is this the realm of the unconscious?
Like setting the echo function in a karaoke booth, my thoughts reverberated through the void once more.
-Rosary, weren’t you supposed to be on my side? You’re packed with the power of my previous life!
While I was reeling from the absurdity of it all, the sight of Rocke Visconti entering my field of vision made me clamp my mouth shut and hold my breath. Seeing something in a dream felt entirely different from experiencing it with such vivid, four-dimensional clarity.
-…He really does look identical to Isidore. Though his personality seems a bit more prickly.
It felt like I was getting a preview of Isidore’s thirties.
-This is practically premium content.
I found myself following him like a moth to a flame as he strode down the corridor. He came to an abrupt halt, gripping the doorknob with a clenched fist. After squeezing his eyes shut and taking a long, deliberate breath, he slowly opened the door.
His jaw was clenched so tightly his chin jutted forward. It looked as though he were holding back tears. Inside the room lay Naila, whose time in this world was running desperately short.
On that fateful night when the crimson moon hung in the sky, the Great Demon descended to the surface leading his legion, and countless lives were lost and wounded. Amid the chaos, Naila barely managed to vanquish the demon, though it was hardly a true victory. She had used her body, brimming with potent divine power, as a vessel to absorb and neutralize the demon’s essence.
And as a consequence of that sacrifice, Naila was now living a life with an expiration date. The demonic energy that had entered her body had begun corrupting even her organs.
“You came.”
Naila smiled toward the man with a pallid face. The emotion behind that smile was so poignant that had I possessed tear ducts in this form, I surely would have wept without thinking.
“It snowed today. Bitterly cold, too.”
Rocke Visconti spoke matter-of-factly as he brushed the snow from his shoulders.
“Still, hang in there.”
He placed a flower folded from lavender-colored paper into her frail hand. As if to say: be strong.
“It’s lavender. Your favorite.”
“Thank you.”
Her fingertips, stained black by the demonic energy, trembled faintly.
“Don’t say that habitual phrase of yours. Say that one that starts with ‘I’—the one that sounds best coming from you. Honestly, I can’t bear to hear anything else.”
“You know.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“…Do you remember?”
“What.”
“What we talked about. The next life.”
Naila held firm in her belief that there would be a next life. It was also a kind of premonition possessed by the saint most intimately connected to the divine.
“I remember. You said you’d live as a bad woman next time. Do your best. I’ll be right there beside you, cheering you on. At least I won’t have to deal with flies buzzing around anymore.”
“…Hehe.”
“Even your foolish laughter is cute. It’s infuriating.”
“…I love you.”
“I do too.”
Rocke Visconti’s voice deepened into a low murmur. The two clung to each other’s presence, breathing slowly in unison.
How much time had passed? The man’s breath grew rough with sorrow, while the woman’s gentle exhalations became increasingly thin, like silk thread. And eventually, that delicate, fragile breath became so faint that I could no longer sense its presence.
Then came profound darkness. An abyss devoid of even a glimmer of light. Though this was surely the end I remembered, I remained silent, buried beneath a suffocating weight of emotion.
That was when it happened.
—Deborah Simour….
—Ah, that voice from before!
The wet, resonant voice that had flowed from the rosary moments ago illuminated the darkness, rippling outward like concentric waves. Thump, thump—my blood vessels contracted, and a sensation as though my entire body was vibrating shook my consciousness once more.
—What exactly are you? Though I suspect you won’t simply tell me.
The mysterious voice answered my question.
—I know you well. Currently you are Deborah Simour, once you were Yoon Do-hee, and in the past you were Naila.
—How on earth did you…?
—Because I’ve been watching.
—Watching? Could you possibly be an ancestral spirit?
—A-an ancestral spirit?! If I must define myself in human language, I am a ‘thought-form.’ I don’t truly exist, but rather I am a manifestation born from accumulated desires and wishes.
The entity seemed deeply displeased with the title of ancestral spirit, hastening to introduce itself.
—Wishes?
—Yes. In your past life, you poured your sacred power into a pure white rosary, imbuing it with your longing to share the next life with the person you loved.
—I remember that.
—Rocke Visconti felt the same way. The white bead hanging from the rosary was crafted from a fang of the Golden Dragon that Rocke treasured, carefully polished into a sphere.
—My goodness. It truly was precious.
The bones of dragons that existed only in ancient times remained in extremely limited quantities now. A treasure beyond price.
—Yes. That man, who knew nothing but you, carved his sole family heirloom with his own hands and gave it to you as a gift. He infused it with his wish to share a long future with you.
—Then you’re saying you are a thought-form born from the meeting of both their wishes…?
—That’s right. I’ve always dwelled within that rosary.
—So that’s why your voice felt so familiar.
Though neutral in tone, the voice carried a gentleness reminiscent of Naila. Perhaps that’s why my hand reached out instinctively the moment the rosary called to me.
—Yes. I have much to show you.
Once again, memories of the past unfolded vividly before my eyes. Against the backdrop of a blood-red full moon, a malevolent voice rang out through the space, and a chilling dread washed over me.
—Naila! You insolent wretch, worthless insect! Do you truly believe this is the end? You will not die peacefully! You will writhe in excruciating agony as your organs rot within you, gasping your last breath! In the Abyss, you will thrash eternally in the chains of torment!
The voice of Lucifer, now long since annihilated. The demon poured forth his curse with all his might upon Naila, who used her own body as a vessel to absorb the demonic energy.
—That… that bastard…. True to form for a demon.
The thought-form resonated with my words, sending out rough ripples of agreement.
—Because of Lucifer’s curse, clinging like a malevolent spirit, your soul fell into the Abyss beyond the reach of the divine. And so, after drifting through profound darkness for a time, you were reborn not in your originally appointed place, but in a different dimension.
—….
—Under unfortunate circumstances.
—That was Yoon Do-hee, then.
—Yes….
The thought-form’s voice sank into melancholy.
—And your original soul’s destined vessel, the body of Deborah Simour, was instead claimed by a malevolent spirit.
—That malevolent spirit was the Deborah Simour who committed all manner of atrocities before I possessed her, wasn’t it…?
—Yes. A malevolent spirit born from beneath Lucifer, selfish and violent, unable to bear seeing others surpass her, always committing wickedness.
The thought-form spoke in a cold tone.
—And she was drawn to Philaf, who possessed a similar color of soul.
—Where is that malevolent spirit now?
It bounced away when you, the original owner of this body, returned.
It’s still here?
Since the memories from when it was human shattered into pieces, it lost its sense of self and reverted to its form as a lingering resentment. It probably dissipated along with its master Lucifer when he was destroyed.
It was a blessing in disguise that the malevolent spirit left behind fragments of memory as it bounced away. At least the adaptation time when possessing me was relatively short.
You need to be precise with your words! You didn’t possess a character from a novel—you returned to your rightful place. To the position originally assigned to you.
The thought-form created continuous ripples of energy.
Now everything has finally returned to its proper place. That journey was anything but smooth… but you managed it brilliantly.
It murmured softly.
I can’t tell you how anxious I was when that cursed malevolent spirit clashed with Mirju Simour’s soul.
Indeed, at the time of possession, Deborah Simour was on the verge of being erased from the family registry entirely.
Ah, by the way—Mirju Simour is the previous life of your father, Georgius Simour. Mirju was the founder of House Simour and was a great archmage who cherished you like a daughter. He was notorious for having a terrible personality, so you hoped that if you had a next life, you wouldn’t resemble that serpentine man.
Ah. I remember that now….
Hmm, it was the worst possible situation, yet you destroyed Lucifer with holy magic. That’s truly remarkable.
Someone had been watching me struggle all this time, and they even sympathized with me, calling me remarkable. It felt strange. Not bad, though—just a little embarrassing.
When my wish was fulfilled, I wanted to meet you like this. Since I’m a thought-form created by your soul, I could always watch over you.
Ah. So that’s why you pretended there was a problem. To summon me to the Grand Temple.
I was worried when I heard the sacred object had changed color, but it turned out this creature had orchestrated it all.
Hmm! Since I’m mixed with Rocke Visconti’s thoughts too, I’m not as purely good as you.
It spoke as if making an excuse.
Purely good? I’ve moved past being a pushover. You’ve been watching long enough—you should know.
That doesn’t mean the fundamental nature of your soul has changed… but honestly, I’m relieved.
The thought-form seemed genuinely relieved. If someone was too good-natured, it was truly difficult to survive in this harsh world.
Anyway, this dragon’s prophecy is quite something. Do you remember what Rocke Visconti said, Deborah?
“Sigh. You’d need to be reborn about twice more before you’d develop any real backbone.”
In response to the thought-form’s question, I recalled those words he’d spoken in the past and answered with a soft yes.
Thanks to that prophecy, you didn’t disappear into the Abyss—instead, you were reborn in a dimension near it.
It added in admiration.
He said half-seriously, half-jokingly that you’d need to be reborn about twice to develop some backbone. I never expected it to actually happen—that you’d be reborn twice and your gentle nature would harden this much.
Yoon Do-hee’s life was so harsh that I couldn’t help but wake up.
Naila bore the cruel fate of being a savior in a dystopian world ravaged by demons, yet she still had a passionate romance with the world’s most beautiful man. Yoon Do-hee, on the other hand….
She seemed to have spent her time only dealing with her family’s affairs, working part-time jobs, studying for the college entrance exam, and preparing for job hunting.
But… aren’t you curious?
About what?
What happened after Yoon Do-hee, your previous life, departed.
…!
I flinched in surprise. Suddenly, the previous life that the thought-form had been watching began to rewind before my eyes like fast-forwarding film, flowing past in a blur.

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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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