Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 202

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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 Episode 19
“Suddenly I’m getting nervous too. How many days has it been since you slept?”
“About four days? But I’m not really tired.”
He spoke as though it were nothing, but I was astonished—my personal record for staying awake was only three days.
“That’s too much. The wedding is right around the corner; you need to get at least some rest.”
“….”
“I’ll put you to sleep. Let’s go right now.”
“Where to?”
“To bed.”
At my words, Isidore’s eyes widened considerably. The pulse beneath my palm quickened further.
“I can actually sleep… right?”
I eagerly dragged the suspicious Isidore along.
* * *
“Come on, lie down.”
“….”
“I’ll sing you a lullaby.”
Isidore, who had entertained a rather sinister fantasy for just a moment, chuckled softly and flopped onto the bed. The fact that he could afford to be at ease alone with me in the bedroom was because there wasn’t much time left until the wedding.
‘Yes. I must endure. I must endure.’
He marveled anew at his own patience as his eyes blinked.
“Close your eyes quickly.”
After draping the blanket over his body, Isidore, who had been staring up at me as I gently patted his chest, finally closed his eyes slowly under my continued urging and threats.
She whispers a lullaby in a low, soft voice.
In the tranquil atmosphere, he suddenly felt like a small child being cared for. Yet when he was actually young, no one had ever patted his chest like this.
‘When I was young, I hated anyone touching me anyway.’
The princess always gave me such unfamiliar feelings.
“You keep laughing while trying to sleep.”
The princess poked my cheek, and Isidore chuckled.
“It’s because I’m happy.”
“If you keep doing this, I’ll have no choice but to resort to extreme measures.”
The princess suddenly placed her hand near his eyes, and the smile fading from Isidore’s lips stiffened slightly.
“Wait! Using holy power is cheating….”
“This isn’t a game of staying awake without sleeping, so where’s the cheating?”
“Sigh….”
Here I was alone with my beloved in bed in a situation brimming with tension, yet sleep began pouring down on me like madness.
‘…If Miguel finds out, this will be something he teases me about forever.’
Though it was absurd, her tender voice and the sacred energy emanating from her palm relaxed every muscle in my body. Isidore murmured weakly with drowsy eyes.
“I’m always… such a fool in front of you.”
Always flustered, always swept along….
“That’s exactly why I’m marrying you.”
Her voice settles warmly against my ear.
“If you were truly as perfect as you appeared, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you so deeply.”
“Do I… mean so much to you?”
He posed the childlike question through the haze of drowsiness, and she whispered back that she loved him very much indeed. The moment he heard that satisfying answer, Isidore Visconti drifted into a deep sleep he hadn’t known in ages.
In his dreams, his grandfather appeared for the first time in years. The old man who had poured all the expectations he couldn’t bestow upon his disappointing son into his grandson fell gravely ill that cold winter when his pneumonia suddenly worsened.
When Isidore was fourteen—too young to inherit the family headship—his grandfather passed away suddenly.
“Isidore, the future of Visconti rests upon your shoulders.”
Bardo Visconti, who had transferred all his most valuable gold mines to his grandson through falsified ledgers, had impressed this upon Isidore many times before his death.
“You’re such a gifted child that you’re even considered the next Master of Blanche. Surely you’ll be able to care for your inadequate father as well.”
“…”
“You’re such a perfect child…”
I could not weep before my grandfather’s death. My chest merely sank heavily, as though weighted down by lead.
It was because my grandfather’s cursed talk of “perfection” had always felt like coercion to me. The demand to accomplish what my inadequate father could not. I was sick of my father’s incompetence and inferiority complex alike.
This wretch couldn’t possibly be my son!”
I felt the same way. You’re not my father. There’s nothing alike between us—how could we possibly be father and son?
I too had wanted to voice my denial of my father aloud.
Despite my stubborn nature that grew more defiant the harder I was pushed to excel, I had lived up to my grandfather’s expectations out of a childish desire not to resemble my inadequate father in any way.
And people did not change easily. As time passed, the facade of perfection grew only more rigid, and simultaneously, my obsession with flawlessness intensified.
But it mattered not. Everything flowed according to my design.
Having long been recognized for my exceptional talent in accumulating wealth, I became the next Master of Blanche, the secret organization operated by a cadet branch of Visconti. With all the Visconti retainers following me, the family was already within my grasp.
Yet when I was floundering in an inexplicable ennui that I could not escape, she appeared—shattering everything. A black swan who shook me to my very core. A person who gently took my lonely hand and loved even my immaturity…
With my eyes narrowed, I wandered briefly through the stale dreams of the past, and as I felt the warmth of her soft voice and the body heat enveloping my hand, I gradually sank into a profound slumber.
* * *
High Society spoke of the marriage between Deborah Simour and Isidore Visconti as the “wedding of the century.” And befitting that reputation, the two’s wedding ceremony was held, most exceptionally, at the Castle of Roses.
The Castle of Roses was an ancient castle that had existed before the founding of Asteia, and it was one of the Empire’s most beautiful historical treasures. Even in winter, the fragrance of roses lingered, and its interior possessed a unique structure as though rose petals were layered upon one another.
It was opened only once a year to preserve it in pristine condition, yet Duke Visconti had casually rented it as the venue for the wedding ceremony.
“He’s demonstrating that he possesses not only wealth but also connections and power.”
Having secured not only Imperial permission but also the consent of the Senate that managed the castle, everyone could only shake their heads in amazement.
“By the way, do you think Lady Deborah will choose a classical dress, or perhaps an intricate design like the late Empress Victoria?”
The young ladies of High Society were most curious about what design of wedding dress Deborah Simour had selected. It was obvious that whatever design she wore would set the fashion for that year.
“Since the Lady has never worn a pure white formal dress before, it’s difficult to imagine.”
“She’ll surely choose a magnificent dress that suits her appearance.”
“Has anyone nearby received an invitation?”
“I haven’t.”
Though the wedding drew the attention of countless gossips, only a limited number were invited, leaving everyone disappointed.
And on the day of the wedding, the ceremony hall was filled from early morning with Empire’s most renowned figures whose names were known to all. They marveled at the beautiful venue that showcased Isidore’s refined aesthetic sense.
“My goodness.”
“Truly, our eyes are being treated to such splendor…”
Moreover, the Simour twins greeting guests at the entrance of the hall captivated everyone’s attention with their striking appearance. It was remarkable that despite being twins with identical features, they possessed such different atmospheres.
While Rozard mingled with guests with an easy manner, Beleck Simour maintained an aloof air and observed only proper courtesy.
“It’s a joyous day—why the stern expression?”
Beleck let out a wistful murmur in response to Rozard’s jab.
“…Deborah Simour actually getting married. Somehow I can’t quite believe it.”
“I never dreamed Deborah Simour would marry the Empire’s most eligible bachelor, let alone before us. I thought if Philaf rejected her, the best we could hope for was that she’d avoid the Convent….”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“…?”
“Now that it’s actually happening, it feels strange. Deborah Visconti. The name doesn’t sit right on my tongue.”
“What? You were always saying you wanted to marry Deborah Simour off outside the Simour family.”
“…Don’t bring up old grievances. She’s… the most Simour of us all.”
“You’re impossible. You never adjust to anything.”
Rozard rubbed his arms, which had broken out in goosebumps, and Beleck let out a dry laugh.
“And you think I don’t know you quietly arranged a separate dowry for Deborah Simour?”
“….”
“Even invoking the ancient traditions of early Asteia. Your excuses were quite touching, weren’t they?”
Rozard pretended not to hear and quickly shook hands with a high-ranking official, while Beleck, attempting to slip away, was waylaid by senior Magic Tower researchers who had come as guests.

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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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