Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 26

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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 26
Miya was called the incarnation of a goddess, blessed with such pure divine power that she could heal nearly anything—yet ironically, she could not heal herself. A tragic character indeed.
‘It’s not as if a monk can’t cut his own hair. Should I help her or not?’
In that instant, I concluded that helping was the lesser evil compared to ignoring her now that we’d already locked eyes. After all, earning the heroine’s resentment would do me no favors.
I was just stretching out my arm when—
“Miss Miya!”
At this awkward moment, Philaf came rushing over at full speed, and I froze mid-gesture like a stone statue.
No, wait. This looks exactly like I knocked her down!
“P-Philaf, sir.”
Philaf scooped Miya up like a princess, then glared down at me with savage contempt.
“You’ve been so quiet lately, I wondered what you were up to—and here you are doing this behind everyone’s back?”
His harsh rebuke sent ice through my veins, my heart hammering violently. The visceral fear responses embedded in Deborah’s body surged far more intensely than usual, my mind going white with panic.
Philaf snorted derisively at my frozen form.
“Right. You’d have nothing to say even with ten mouths. No matter how obsessed you are with me, pushing Miss Miya when no one’s watching? That’s cowardly.”
I’d expected our noble heroine to defend me with at least one word, but instead she only called his name softly, her voice trembling—nothing more.
‘Is she trying to stop him or egg him on?’
Her ambiguous expression snapped some sense back into me. I quickly pointed at Miya.
“She tripped over a tree root on her own. I was just trying to help her up. Don’t misunderstand. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes….”
Miya’s eyelashes trembled pitifully, her complexion growing even paler. Somehow it felt as though I were forcing her answer.
“You expect me to believe that? Miss Miya, you don’t need to defend this woman out of fear.”
Damn it, there’s no VAR here, is there? Call the referee! Referee!
“Deborah. Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you’ve been relentlessly tormenting the young ladies who admired me? If you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.”
Philaf unleashed a sharp, hostile aura as if facing an enemy. The pressure crushed my breath, but refusing to show weakness, I clenched my fists with all my might and opened my mouth.
“I said it wasn’t a lie. Do I need to repeat it a hundred times before your thick skull understands?”
Blood vessels bulged on his forehead at my words. I met his gaze head-on, my eyes blazing with defiance.
“Deborah, you keep insisting—do you think I’ll just let this slide? Does the heir of Montes, chosen by the spirits of water and fire, seem so easy to you? Denying your misdeeds only makes you look ridiculous. Apologize to Miss Miya.”
As his aura intensified, my body felt crushed beneath its weight. I was on the verge of shamefully collapsing, but I gritted my teeth and held firm.
“Apologize.”
“Why should I apologize for something I didn’t do?”
“Now!”
I was stubbornly resisting when the invisible pressure vanished, and a massive silhouette filled my vision.
“That’s enough.”
Sunlight filtering through the leaves reflected brilliantly off the man’s lustrous golden hair. I looked up at this unexpected figure, my eyes narrowing.
…Isidore Visconti?
“Crushing a lady with brute force? I didn’t realize you were such a barbarian.”
Isidore removed his round wire-rimmed glasses and carelessly shoved them into his pocket, completely shielding me behind his back. The moment his presence blocked Philaf’s killing intent, I could finally breathe steadily again.
“Stay out of this, Isidore.”
Philaf’s voice dropped to a bestial growl, accompanied by the sickening sound of him grinding his teeth.
“Keep that up and you’ll lose all your molars. Unless you want to live on gruel in your old age, I’d ease off if I were you.”
“Move aside while I’m asking nicely!”
“I won’t move even if you ask rudely.”
“Why are you suddenly butting in and making me even angrier? This isn’t something you should be meddling with.”
“No true knight would stand idle while watching a lady being subdued by force.”
When Isidore invoked chivalry—the virtue most prized among noble youths—Philaf faltered.
“From when did you start watching?”
“From the moment you subtly boasted about being chosen by both water and fire spirits simultaneously.”
“Don’t play word games with me!”
“Why are you angry? I thought you were trying to be funny.”
“You bastard!”
Philaf erupted in fury and summoned a fire spirit. Even standing behind Isidore, who served as a shield, I felt the oppressive heat washing across my skin.
“Using force now? Seems I won the battle of words.”
Isidore spoke in a light tone as though on a leisurely outing, yet his back muscles tensed like a predator before the hunt as his hand slowly moved toward the sword at his waist.
One spark away from explosion.
Between them stretched a taut tension like a bowstring drawn to its limit.
“P-Philaf, please….”
But the precarious tension snapped helplessly at the sound of Miya’s voice. She shook Philaf’s arm in supplication, unable to bear the flames pouring from the spirit.
“Sigh.”
Philaf slowly drew a deep breath as though suppressing his rage before continuing.
“How utterly unsatisfying. Isidore, you defend Deborah as though she’s a lady who needs protecting, yet there are ladies who torment weak young mistresses from behind. I absolutely must receive an apology.”
Isidore shrugged and opened his mouth.
“The culprit herself remains silent, yet you’re the one throwing a fit. Pink-haired one, did the Deborah Simour actually commit any act worthy of an apology to you?”
“N-No….”
“Fortunate then. At least you know your place.”
“What are you saying now——!”
“If a daughter of some nameless house dared to force Simour—who stands shoulder to shoulder with my house—to kneel and beg for an apology, that would be the height of ignorance. Wouldn’t it?”
At his words, Miya Binoshu’s face drained of all color. Meanwhile, Isidore displayed the pride only the highest nobility could possess, a faint smirk playing at his lips.
So he was simply crushing the very notion that I would apologize to someone like Miya Binoshu beneath the weight of his authority.
I was learning something valuable here.
Wait, but I didn’t even do anything that warranted an apology in the first place.
“Isidore!”
Even as Philaf’s shout rang out loud enough to pierce eardrums, the man before him didn’t so much as flinch.
“Everyone knows my name is Isidore now, so stop calling it so desperately. If you have nothing more to say, stop forcing the issue and each go your separate ways. You don’t even care about your princess’s knees, do you?”
As Isidore gestured toward Miya’s bloodstained dress, Philaf’s expression crumpled further. Muttering irritably, he hoisted Miya into his arms and reluctantly turned away.
“Isidore, you’ll regret standing against me today.”
“Hmm. The way you speak, one would think we were once enemies facing each other.”
“Even if you drown, only your mouth will float to the surface, you wretched dog!”
“Unfortunately, I have much to discuss with the fish, so I doubt my mouth will ever float.”
At Isidore’s endless wordplay, Philaf let out a roar like a fire-breathing dragon. As if venting his frustration, he kicked a nearby tree several times before striding away with long steps.
“He has energy to spare.”
Isidore glanced toward where I stood, offering a brief observation about the tree whose base had become frayed and splintered.
“Are you alright?”
“…I’m fine.”
There was nothing to be unwell about. The situation had simply spiraled into absurdity, making it seem as though I had orchestrated some lovers’ quarrel.
Yet it was Philaf who had set the entire spectacle in motion.
“Your complexion looks quite pallid.”
“I’ve always had a naturally fair complexion, like white jade, even without any cosmetics…wait!”
I had spoken with casual bravado, but the moment I took a step forward, my long, model-like legs betrayed their master’s will and swayed ungracefully like a newborn giraffe. It seemed Philaf’s murderous aura had drained all strength from my limbs.
“You’re quite terrible at lying.”
Thanks to Isidore catching my arm, I managed to avoid crashing to the ground.
“We should return and compose ourselves. I’ll support you to the carriage.”
His demeanor was distinctly different from when he had faced Philaf. It had felt effortlessly light before, but now it carried a cold edge. He seemed somewhat…angry?
Perhaps it was simply because his features naturally appeared cold when he wasn’t smiling.
“Don’t be stubborn and crawl to the carriage. Let me help you.”
Overwhelmed by his commanding presence, I hesitated briefly before leaning on Isidore’s solid frame. Unexpectedly, he supported me with meticulous care, as though handling a delicate glass sculpture.
“…Why are you helping me?”
I looked up at his chiseled profile, carved as if by a master craftsman, and asked.
Whenever I had glimpsed Isidore in passing, he was always surrounded by people. Surely he couldn’t be unaware of the countless rumors about me, so I couldn’t fathom why he had taken my side just now.
“Let’s say it’s for chivalry’s sake.”
“….”
“What you called meddling—that’s what a noblewoman does.”

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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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