Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 201

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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 18
“Isidore.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
Isidore answered, clenching his parched, stinging hands into fists.
“I heard that last year you suggested purchasing iron in advance and selling it to the Marquis of the Marne Territory’s border for substantial profit.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m told that not long ago, you sold that iron at double the price and amassed considerable gold. Is that correct?”
“It is.”
“How did you know the price of iron would rise this year?”
“For two reasons. First, the year before last, iron was mined excessively compared to previous years, causing its price to fall far below its true value. Since no new mines had been discovered, it was an abnormal price.”
“And second?”
“The barbarians near the Marne region have been steadily increasing in numbers, so I anticipated the Marquis would soon expand his armory. Since weapons require iron, the price would naturally rise.”
Bardo Visconti laughed heartily at the answer from a mere eight-year-old child.
“Haha! You’re like the very incarnation of gold—the reincarnation of our founder himself. I assure you, you’ll become a family head to rival the first generation.”
“I shall strive to surpass the founder.”
“What ambition! Completely opposite to that pathetic wretch Albert.”
“….”
“I have great expectations for you.”
Young Isidore arranged his hair with an annoyed expression as his grandfather ruffled it roughly.
Truthfully, the child found his grandfather’s excessive expectations burdensome and exhausting. Simultaneously, the inferiority complex and suspicion his father directed toward him were equally tedious and irritating.
“Isidore, you are a perfect child.”
Contrary to his grandfather’s assertion, I was not perfect—merely….
* * *
“Isidore?”
Beneath the torrent of sunlight streaming through the enormous windows, Isidore, who had been standing as still as a plaster statue, suddenly snapped back to awareness at his aunt’s call.
“….”
Perhaps because his aunt had brought up old memories, I had been submerged in sediments of the distant past.
“Yes, Aunt.”
He answered in a subdued voice.
“…Just now, I heard that Deborah Simour has arrived nearby. It seems her destination is here.”
The servants, who feared Isidore standing expressionlessly, pleaded with Countess Basslein to deliver the news of the young lady’s arrival. Yet even Agate found it difficult to address her nephew, who was shrouded in such a heavy atmosphere. Sometimes, like now, her nephew felt impossibly distant. With his expression hardened, Isidore appeared as cold and impenetrable as if not even a needle could pass through.
“What?! The young lady?”
The moment Deborah Simour’s name was mentioned, bewilderment flashed across his ice-cold eyes. He walked toward the main entrance with hurried strides.
“Damn it, she hasn’t already entered, has she?”
Isidore had wanted to show her this venue, which he had painstakingly prepared, on the wedding day itself.
“This sort of thing should be revealed as a surprise! A surprise! Don’t you know?”
“Fortunately, she has not yet entered. She is waiting at the inner gate.”
“Damn, you startled me!”
“My apologies.”
I’m sorry.
Watching her nephew suddenly turn childish in an instant, Countess Basslein felt a moment of bewilderment. She had stiffened briefly, but now she suppressed the laugh that threatened to escape and approached Isidore, who was roughly running his hand through his hair.
“I came to help you, but it seems there’s nothing for me to do. I’ll greet Deborah Simour and then head home.”
“Thank you for coming on the survey with me, Aunt.”
“It’s not as if I did anything.”
“Your presence alone is a great help.”
“If you ever find yourself in difficulty, tell me.”
“Yes.”
He always answered that way, but she knew well that Isidore would never ask her for help. Even as a small child, he had never once shown weakness to her.
“Ah, there’s Deborah Simour.”
A platinum carriage bearing the Simour seal appeared near the ceremonial hall’s inner gate. Deborah Simour descended from the carriage and approached with quick steps to exchange greetings.
“I hope you’ve been well, Agate?”
“Thanks to the brilliant radiance you’ve shown, I’ve been doing wonderfully.”
Countess Basslein spoke with a peculiar feeling.
When she first saw her, she had thought her cold and stern, and even now, because of that appearance, it was difficult for her to truly accept in her heart that this woman was the saint who had vanquished the Demon.
“Thank you so much for helping us prepare for the wedding.”
But when Deborah said “us,” Agate felt a warmth bloom in a corner of her heart. Now, truly, her nephew was no longer alone.
“You really are a true saint.”
“…Pardon?”
“Seeing how you’ve melted even this ice block, including me—you’re definitely a true saint.”
“I’m really not such a warm person at all.”
“My eyes see it clearly.”
“…”
“I’ll see you at the wedding. I’m looking forward to seeing you in your wedding dress, Deborah Simour.”
Agate smiled gently, bid her farewell, and lightly climbed into her carriage. The moment she departed, Isidore asked with a puzzled expression.
“What brought you here so suddenly? Did something happen?”
Deborah Simour hesitated for a moment before speaking.
“The reason I came was…”
* * *
“My friend said that couples fight the most during wedding preparations.”
“My cousin had to cancel the venue the day before the wedding because of a gift dispute, got a refund on the dowry, and it was absolute chaos. Instead of a bridal shower, she got a soju shower.”
Because of various stories I’d picked up from my previous life, I was somewhat nervous as the wedding approached.
‘I must not fight.’
But contrary to my worries, until now, with the wedding imminent, I hadn’t truly quarreled with Isidore even once.
‘Come to think of it, I’ve heard that most couples fight over financial matters.’
Simour and Visconti had no friction in that regard whatsoever. Rather, it felt like a competition to see who could flaunt their wealth better.
“My daughter must never feel inferior anywhere she goes.”
The dowry my father gave me was none other than a Mana Stone Mine.
The world stirred with discussion at this.
“The fact that he handed over a Mana Stone Mine means Duke Simour, who wanted a sorcerer son-in-law, has acknowledged Duke Visconti’s magical talent.”
“Is this the first time House Visconti, which primarily produced swordsmen, has been recognized by the Magic Tower?!”
Meanwhile, Isidore countered by renting the Ancient Castle—a place where entry was permitted only once a year—as the ceremony venue, and transferred a grand villa built with golden pillars on the Southern Coast to Simour.
“A gift of the Golden Villa standing before the golden sandy beach!”
“Is that really so surprising?”
“Gold symbolizes economic cooperation at any time, and handing over a coastal villa means the Southern Region is always open to us. The exchange between the two houses will become far more active.”
“Ah, I see….”
Once word of the dowry and ceremony details spread through the Capital, outsiders exaggerated and expanded their interpretation, claiming the alliance between Simour and Visconti had grown even stronger.
‘It was merely a matter of pride and extravagance among the great nobility.’
In any case, regarding the dowry….
‘After economic matters, the next most common source of conflict is….’
“My friend cried so much, saying she felt like she was preparing for the wedding alone. Honestly, taking a single day off is apparently so difficult that she ended up choosing everything herself—the bedding, the dishes, everything! I’d be frustrated enough to cry too.”
There were indeed cases where only one side—either bride or groom—handled the wedding preparations.
‘This hits far too close to home.’
In truth, I had done absolutely nothing.
‘In the Empire, it’s customary for the groom’s side to handle the wedding preparations… Is this really how it’s supposed to be?’
All I had done thus far was look at pictures in the catalogs Isidore showed me and give thumbs up or exclamations of admiration. With nothing to actually do, the reality of an impending marriage felt distant and unreal.
Feeling uneasy about simply sitting idle, I eventually went to find Isidore, who had gone to survey the ceremony venue. Perhaps he might need my help.
“What brings you here so suddenly? Has something gone wrong?”
Isidore regarded me with a puzzled expression as I appeared before him.
“Not exactly a problem… but since this is a wedding we’re preparing together, I thought you might be struggling alone.”
At my words, Isidore’s eyes softened with warmth.
“How thoughtful of you. I’m grateful for your concern.”
He gently tousled my hair.
“From selecting the betrothal gifts to choosing the flowers for the venue, every step of this process brings me joy. I wouldn’t call it suffering.”
Looking into those eyes, he didn’t seem to be lying.
“But why do you look tired today? Are you pushing yourself too hard?”
“…Does it show?”
“My eyes don’t deceive me. When you lack energy or grow weary, you become… no, never mind! Anyway, it’s obvious. If something’s troubling you, tell me at once. We promised not to keep secrets from each other.”
“I’ve rarely experienced joy like this in my entire life….”
“Yes.”
It seemed there was more he wanted to say, so I fixed my gaze upon him, and after a long pause, he finally confessed.
“I haven’t been able to sleep well.”
Insomnia, suddenly? Something about this struck a chord, and I furrowed my brow.
“Could it be that you’re feeling pressure unconsciously? The Imperial Court is paying such close attention to this marriage….”
“I can say with certainty that’s not it. I’ve never cared about the Imperial Court’s opinion.”
He spoke casually. Well, he was the sort who would deceive the Crown Prince with a false face.
“Then what is it?”
“The reason is obvious enough.”
“I don’t seem to understand this obvious answer.”
“I’m excited. My heart has been racing like it’s broken for the past few days.”
He pressed my hand firmly against his left chest. Beneath my palm, I felt the frantic, thundering pulse, and I gasped in surprise.
“Has it been like this the whole time?”
He nodded vigorously.
“I can’t sleep, like I’ve had too much coffee.”
His quiet murmuring was both endearing and pitiful. I, on the other hand, had been sleeping quite well all this time.

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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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