Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 39

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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 39
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“Oh no… what do I do!”
I clutched at my shoulder where Deborah Simour’s hand had touched me, my face flushing crimson as I began to stomp my feet like a madwoman.
‘She’s so cool! So incredibly cool!’
This garment blessed by the Princess’s sacred touch could never be washed—I had to preserve it as a family heirloom for all eternity.
‘But I barely have any clothes.’
My father’s gambling addiction and failed business ventures had driven our household to the brink of ruin.
I tapped the worn toe of my shoe with a dejected expression, then rallied my spirits as I recalled the fourth clause of the contract the Princess had brought.
A temporary vacancy had opened in the Simour Library’s Librarian position, and starting next week, I would be working there as a temporary staff member.
‘I’m going to be the Princess’s retainer!’
“Kyaaah!”
A shriek of pure joy escaped my lips unbidden.
The Princess was an extraordinarily merciful master. The Librarian position allowed me to read books freely while balancing my undergraduate coursework, and the salary was generous enough that I could buy new clothes immediately.
More than anything, simply breathing the same air as the Princess was itself a glory for my family.
‘I’m so happy. This feels like a dream.’
To be honest, I was terrified at first….
My first impression of Deborah Simour, whom I’d only heard rumors about, was pure terror. With dark circles under her eyes from sleeplessness and the whites of her eyes bloodshot from stifled yawns, the Princess looked especially menacing that day.
She appeared with bloodshot eyes and an ominous aura, her expression displeased as she immediately unleashed brutal honesty on George, calling him ugly.
‘Gasp….’
She could really go that far.
My shock was short-lived.
Though Deborah Simour, notorious for her terrible personality, certainly hadn’t stepped in to help me out of kindness, the result was that I escaped George’s harassment thanks to her.
Just as I was steeling myself to thank her despite my fear, the Princess began punishing George right before my eyes.
That night, I couldn’t sleep properly—the Princess’s image kept replaying in my mind.
“That absurd hypothesis you claim to be fact.”
‘Why couldn’t I have refuted him with such confidence like the Princess does?’
My father and older brother’s habitually contemptuous remarks had been gradually eroding my confidence.
My father, Count Oslot, shared George’s prejudice that women lacked innate talent for magic, and he invested far more resources in my brother. From childhood, my brother monopolized all quality education while I received only the basics.
But I loved reading and was clever enough to pass the Gifted Program operated by the Magic Tower on my own merit. While my family’s fortunes declined due to my father’s gambling and successive failed business ventures, magic was my only hope.
Recently, even that hope had been dimming. My constitution made it difficult to accumulate mana, and the habitual contempt of those around me combined with my family’s cut-off support made things worse.
Amid such hardship, watching George—who constantly picked fights with me whenever he got the chance—get thoroughly beaten felt exhilarating. Moreover, Deborah Simour, with her tall frame and cold, elegant features, had something that made my heart flutter.
My infatuation didn’t take long to bloom.
After that day, I began crafting a gift to repay Deborah Simour.
Regardless of her intentions, since the Princess had stepped in and George’s harassment disappeared, giving her a gift was ostensibly gratitude, but truly it was my desire to offer tribute as a fan.
‘It’s such a trivial gift, she can throw it away if she wants….’
I fidgeted with the gift I’d crafted through magic as I approached her sitting in the Courtyard behind the Magic Tower. The moment I saw the brilliant jewels and luxurious one-piece dress the Princess wore, I felt my courage waver, but unexpectedly, she spoke to me first.
“Hey, you. Do you have something to say to me?”
“Oh! Um, th-this. I, I wanted to thank you from before.”
Meeting those blood-red eyes made my hands and feet tremble uncontrollably. I felt like I might vomit from nervousness. I squeezed my eyes shut and suddenly thrust forward the gift I’d spent days preparing, and Deborah Simour tilted her head.
“What is that?”
“This is a violet enchanted with preservation magic and a spell that amplifies fragrance. The scent lasts a long time, and it remains in the same form for over a month, so it would be lovely as a table decoration.”
“You mean you cast attribute magic on the flower?”
“Yes.”
“How charming.”
A faint smile graced Deborah Simour’s lips.
With her pale hand, she lightly plucked the violet from Arin’s grasp and opened her mouth.
“What’s your name?”
“Arin Oslot.”
After exchanging names with Deborah Simour, Arin spent the entire night in bed, kicking her legs with unbridled joy.
‘She accepted my gift.’
And the very next day, something even more thrilling happened. Deborah Simour came to find Arin in secret, contract in hand.
“Would you be interested in working as my retainer?”
“What? Me, me as your retainer?”
How could someone as lowly as I ever dare.
“There’s no need to be afraid or hesitant. I have something I want you to create with your abilities.”
At Deborah Simour’s words that her meager talents were needed, Arin’s face flushed once more. Her hands and feet trembled with such overwhelming joy.
“You need money anyway, don’t you? As you know, I have nothing but money, so we’ll suit each other perfectly.”
As if demanding she sign immediately, she waved the paper pinched between her index and middle fingers with a wicked smile.
‘I think I’m about to have a nosebleed….’
Arin Oslot, who harbored the deplorable taste of preferring wicked men, clamped her mouth shut and signed the slave contract without a single second of hesitation.
And from that moment on, she never once regretted that choice.
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Meanwhile, there was another person who wished to grow closer to Deborah Simour.
The Fifth Princess. Vivienne Hystech.
The only sister of Crown Prince Behonic Hystech, she was also counted among the Empire’s most formidable flame mages.
On the day of the fact-finding conference, the Fifth Princess reluctantly attended at Knight Isidore’s request. She had no choice—it was a request from her brother’s most cherished man.
‘It seems that ruffian from Simour has caused another incident.’
Thinking so indifferently, the princess leaned against the wall with an annoyed expression, arms crossed.
But the fact-finding conference unfolded in a completely unexpected direction, and her lackadaisical posture gradually shifted.
‘She solved that formula that quickly?’
From the midpoint onward, she began to concentrate, even clenching her fists.
“I… fell for her.”
The Fifth Princess, who had been watching Deborah Simour’s formula, suddenly spoke while rubbing her flushed cheeks, which had grown hot with fervor. For someone as typically expressionless and taciturn as the Fifth Princess, her reaction was remarkably intense, startling Thierry who stood beside her.
“Your Highness, what exactly have you fallen for?”
“That new approach. She completely shattered the framework established by the Archmage.”
“Honestly, I don’t understand a word of what the lady is saying. What are x and y? Are they in love, or are they enemies? Why are they suddenly clinging together and separating like that, causing such a fuss?”
“Be quiet.”
Looking at Thierry spouting nonsense, the Fifth Princess wore an expression of contempt. In fact, executives as ignorant of magic as Thierry wore confused expressions while watching Deborah Simour’s formulas.
“And these are supposed to be executives.”
The Fifth Princess rubbed her eyes and clicked her tongue repeatedly.
After the truth-finding conference that had caused such a stir concluded, Isidore smiled with a somewhat wistful expression.
“Didn’t I tell you it would be entertaining, Your Highness?”
“I couldn’t make heads or tails of most of it, but I did gather that Deborah Simour isn’t from Simour, at least. The Fifth Princess was so astonished by it all.”
Thierry muttered with a dazed expression.
“That was truly magnificent performance.”
The Fifth Princess exclaimed with admiration, even raising her thumb.
The improved design Deborah Simour presented was shocking in its very conception, and her unwavering composure despite standing alone—the way she pressed both the Academy and Lemon—left a striking impression.
She was the most coveted talent I’d seen in recent times.
“Since you’ve made my heart race like this, Isidore, you shall take responsibility and bring Deborah Simour to Epsilon.”
When the Fifth Princess suddenly insisted with a resolute expression, Thierry was taken aback.
“Wouldn’t Deborah Simour inevitably go to Aracron? There are many vacancies, and above all, there’s Philaf Montes.”
At Thierry’s words, the Fifth Princess’s blank expression crumpled slightly.
“Why would someone from the orthodox imperial faction of Simour go to such a rootless place?”
Aracron was primarily a club dominated by Senate forces that opposed imperial authority, which made her all the more displeased.
“It’s because Philaf Montes is….”
“Knight Isidore can use his charm. You can do it.”
The Fifth Princess cut off Thierry’s words and stared intently at Isidore’s beautiful face.
“Hmm. Now that I think about it, it might very well be possible. Our Epsilon’s leader is far more handsome than Aracron’s. That’s my pride.”
Thierry nodded in agreement, bobbing his head.
“Yes, exactly. It’s definitely possible.”
Isidore’s expression, having exhausted himself with charm tactics countless times before, turned ashen.
“Knight Isidore, stay strong.”
“By all means, to Epsilon.”
The Fifth Princess spoke with a forceful tone and then swept out of the Grand Hall.

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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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