Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 46

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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 46
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The day of the Spring Festival.
The Horun District Square, where the festival was being held, brimmed with an atmosphere far more lively and bustling than usual. Each time the wind blew, pink cherry blossoms scattered like fine snow, settling upon the heads and shoulders of the gathered crowds.
The Dress Shop in the heart of Horun District was packed with young ladies placing orders, while flower shops and gift shops were doing brisk business with servants running errands for the nobility.
‘Look there.’
‘Wow.’
A large ebony carriage bearing the seal of the Four Great Spirits entered the crowded square and came to a halt before the Dress Shop.
It was the seal of the Montes House.
Soon the carriage door opened, and as a handsome man with distinctly masculine features stepped out, the crowd began whispering the name Philaf Montes.
He extended his hand to help a beautiful young lady with pink hair descend from the carriage.
‘Who is that fortunate young lady being escorted by Knight Philaf?’
‘It’s Miya Binoshu, whom we’ve only heard rumors about. For the heir of the Montes House to personally escort her to the Dress Shop…’
Like a real-life Cinderella, everyone gazed upon her with envious eyes.
‘But where exactly is the Binoshu Family from? I’ve never heard of them before.’
‘I’ve heard the family may be obscure, but they possess remarkable divine power. Even the High Priests speak highly of it.’
During the Spring Festival period, the Academy Theology Department had summoned a High Priest to assess the students’ divine power, and Miya’s test results were exceptional.
‘In terms of divine power purity alone, she would rank within the top three in Academy history.’
Not only had her exceptional divine power been revealed, but her accumulated good deeds had earned her admission to Arachron, an organization that places great emphasis on bloodline. Miya’s unique and brilliant trajectory had become frequent topics of conversation among the nobility of late.
Drawing the interested gazes of the crowd, Philaf and Miya entered the Dress Shop.
“Welcome, Philaf Montes.”
The shop owner came out personally, rubbing their hands together eagerly as they guided the two to the VIP room.
In the specially prepared room, a pink dress awaited Miya. It was an adorable design adorned with elaborate ribbon decorations and white corsages.
Miya took the dress and entered the fitting room to prepare for the upcoming ball, emerging some time later.
“You really didn’t need to go to such lengths, but I’m truly grateful. Thank you, Philaf.”
Watching Miya fidget with the hem of her skirt, as if wearing such an elaborate dress for the first time, Philaf smiled faintly.
“I knew that dress would suit you perfectly. They say the goddess Naila also possessed pink hair like yours.”
“How could I ever be mentioned in the same breath as the goddess?”
Miya hastily waved her hands in protest.
“You perform far more good deeds than even the High Priests, yet your humility is excessive. You’re far too rigid.”
“That’s not true.”
“Now that I think about it, the goddess’s birth flower is also the cherry blossom, and the corsages most young ladies wear at the festival are cherry blossoms as well. With pink being the dominant color of the Spring Festival, I doubt there’s a young lady more suited to it than you.”
Philaf crossed his long legs and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied expression.
Clothes truly make the person—in the elaborate dress, her face seemed to come alive. Since she typically wore modest attire, even this simple styling created a dramatic transformation.
Once her hair was arranged and her makeup applied, when she appeared at the ball beside him, Miya would undoubtedly draw considerable attention.
‘Meanwhile, Deborah, who usually dresses well, will likely make less of an impact at the ball in comparison.’
Philaf, who had been subtly preoccupied with Deborah Simour, looked Miya up and down once more.
‘That’s strange, though.’
Around this time every year, a letter would arrive from Deborah asking him to escort her to the ball, yet this year there had been nothing but silence. Out of curiosity, I had asked the Head Steward if any letters had been misplaced, but he reacted with such indignation at the very suggestion that it seemed impossible.
‘…What do I know about it.’
He already had a partner, and unless Deborah Simour was a fool, she would know this fact as well.
‘At least I’ve saved myself the trouble of destroying the letter.’
Though he tried to convince himself it was convenient, the nagging unease wouldn’t dissipate, so Philaf Montes scratched his chin.
‘But I wonder if there’s even a Young-sik out there willing to be Deborah Simour’s partner.’
Not long ago, he’d heard that some naive country bumpkin had shown up at Deborah Simour’s door with a bouquet of flowers to confess his feelings, only to turn tail and flee.
‘Her temperament is truly something else.’
Her behavior was enough to make anyone frown in displeasure. Yet on the other hand, he sometimes wondered—how much must she care for him to treat other suitors so coldly?
‘But why am I even worrying about such pointless things?’
It wasn’t as though Deborah Simour had rejected him just once or twice—it had been six years.
He was thoroughly sick of it.
‘Well, she’ll probably drag along some easy mark like she always does.’
Lately, among the magicians obsessed with their studies or whatever, she was apparently doing rather well, so someone might fall into her clutches. The image of her dragging around some scrawny, diminutive magician smaller than himself made him let out a bitter laugh.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes, Philaf Montes.”
Miya, whom the servants of Montes House had carefully adorned, looked particularly radiant today.
‘Perhaps Miya might become this year’s flower.’
It was entirely possible. Even the High Priest had marveled at her holy power. He could already picture the envious faces of the other men.
Philaf Montes headed toward the ballroom with supreme confidence.
Indeed, the moment the two of them appeared in the Imperial Palace’s ballroom, a murmur rippled through the crowd, and all eyes turned toward them. The striking masculine beauty of Philaf Montes and the delicate yet pristine aura of Miya created a striking contrast.
To anyone’s eye, they were a perfectly matched couple. Yet within mere minutes, they were utterly eclipsed.
When a man and woman of overwhelming presence appeared in the distance, the ballroom fell silent as a tomb. Whether by good timing or bad, even the musicians paused their performance, leaving the air inside feeling desolate.
‘What… what is this?’
Philaf Montes was aghast. Why on earth were those two together?
An inexplicable, intense sensation suddenly gripped his chest so forcefully that Philaf Montes bit down hard on the tender flesh inside his mouth.
He wasn’t the only one caught off guard. Everyone was in a state of panic.
‘Why is Knight Isidore coming with Lady Deborah Simour?’
‘Please tell me this is a dream.’
‘Even though I’m seeing it with my own eyes, I can’t believe it.’
It was a surreal sight—as though a demon and an angel were standing side by side.
Of course, Deborah Simour was the demon. With her reddish eye makeup and scarlet lips, she exuded an even more dangerous aura than usual today.
‘And isn’t that pink diamond necklace that Deborah Simour is wearing the one we’ve only heard rumors about?!’
‘She must have kept it hidden all this time to reveal it here.’
‘She’s wearing no other adornments besides the necklace.’
Her lustrous violet satin gown bore not a single corsage or frill. With no other jewelry adorning her, the pink jewel beneath her long, deer-like neck stood out all the more prominently.
Yet with no other embellishments, with only that single pink diamond, she dominated the entire assembly.
‘What remarkable confidence.’
‘It’s only natural.’
A symbol of Duke Simour’s affection for his daughter. The only one of its kind in the Empire, its value exceeding the price of an entire townhouse in the Capital.
Even if she wore the full set—earrings, necklace, and bracelet—none of it would compare to the value of that single pink diamond necklace.
‘…They really do suit each other.’
Someone murmured in a dazed voice.
“Yes, Knight Isidore suits it so well…”
* * *
Of course. Pink is a man’s color!
I glanced sideways at Isidore and felt a surge of satisfaction.
The lovely heart-shaped necklace that didn’t suit me at all was being perfectly complemented by Isidore standing beside me in an indigo pink formal suit.
That wasn’t all.
The pink diamond was serving as a bridge between Isidore and me—whose atmospheres were fundamentally at odds—allowing us to blend naturally and stand out effortlessly.
‘The jewel is drawing incredible attention, just as I intended.’
Which meant I could resell it at a much higher price.
‘Still, does pink really suit Isidore that well?’
Well, with that face, what wouldn’t suit him?
Beneath the blonde hair swept back neatly with pomade, his clean, pale skin seemed as though it would accept any color without reservation.
A beauty that effortlessly transcends personal color theory.
‘Today I’d give him a perfect ten out of ten.’
If I had to describe Isidore’s appearance today, he looked like Cupid from mythology. Beautiful and lovely as an angel, yet with a subtle charm that suggested he might play some mischievous prank.
Not just I, but everyone seemed to think the same, their faces entranced as they gazed at Isidore regardless of gender.
‘It’s certainly bold.’
He had shattered the preconceived notions about men’s formal wear—limited to white, black, and at most dull, low-saturation colors—and displayed for the first time a refined sense of wearing an outfit with a similar feel to his partner’s accent jewelry.
It would certainly look like the work of this world’s fashion icon.
‘I never thought Isidore would actually agree to my request.’
Feeling both apologetic and grateful, I fidgeted slightly with my hand resting on his arm.
A few days ago, I had made an audacious proposal to Isidore—if he would coordinate his attire to match my desired dress code, I would grant him the honor of escorting me at the ball.
I thought a pink formal suit would suit his clear, refined features perfectly.

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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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