Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 54

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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 54
“Where are you planning to invest?”
“First, location.”
“The most critical factor, I see.”
“Even if it costs more, I want to establish the flagship store at Horun District Square, where foot traffic is heaviest. I’m also considering Fountain Plaza near the Magic Tower.”
“You mean the location near the Academy’s East Gate, where the Founder Emperor’s fountain stands?”
“What do you think of that place?”
“It’s not quite as ideal as the West Gate, but it’s a respectable location. The main drawback would be that mages don’t frequent dessert shops as often.”
“I have a separate plan for that. Look into the real estate in that area for me.”
“Understood.”
“Second, I’m investing heavily in the building’s exterior and interior design.”
I pulled out the building sketches and interior blueprints I’d drawn over the past several weeks and showed them to him. A single image would surely convey my vision far better than a hundred words. The sketches captured the atmosphere of the café I envisioned.
‘Architecture was my true major, after all—the one I poured money and countless hours into.’
The irony was that these current sketches looked far more polished than the final projects I’d labored over all-nighters to complete during my undergraduate years, desperate to win scholarships. It felt like acquiring high-performance hardware. Aside from lacking mana sensitivity, Deborah’s body performed most physical tasks remarkably well.
“This is magnificent. I’d love to have this drawing.”
Master gazed at the sketch for a long moment, his tone taking on a pleading quality.
“This is just a draft. I’ll continue refining it.”
“But what is this?”
Master pointed to another sketch beside the building design.
“Ah, I was planning to suggest we donate that under the name of the Leticia Merchant Guild.”
For reference, Leticia was the merchant guild I’d established.
‘Strictly speaking, it wasn’t entirely my sole property.’
Since Master and I shared ownership, the Leticia Merchant Guild operated as a joint venture with two directors. The Empire’s nobility considered direct involvement in commerce unseemly, so they typically fronted their operations through merchant guilds while conducting business from behind the scenes.
I needed such a guild to obscure my identity even more, given my notorious reputation.
Master tapped his fingers lightly against the sketch.
“If we donate something like this, there will certainly be tax reduction benefits. It would be wise to file an advance application with the Horun District administrative office.”
Whenever I offered an idea, Master immediately provided concrete implementation details. As I’d anticipated, having a business partner skilled in practical matters made our efficiency extraordinary.
‘Now that the location is confirmed and the direction is set, it’s time to put pressure on Beleck.’
I thought of my slave number two lounging about carelessly and smirked inwardly.
* * *
Philaf’s reddish-brown eyes gleamed with fury.
“If they said they wouldn’t sell, you should have taken it by force. Do you think my orders are so easily dismissed?”
The subordinate who’d received a brutal kick to the abdomen collapsed to the ground, coughing blood.
“I am truly sorry, Philaf. Please, show mercy….”
“Do you think mere apologies will suffice? If you want to save your worthless life, then find the jewel the princess lost, no matter what it takes.”
Philaf, gripping the servant’s hair, cursed under his breath at his father’s sudden summons.
Duke Montes had recently returned from his territory and had been summoning his only son constantly for lectures. As the sole heir of three generations, the expectations placed upon him were immense, and his father’s interference was equally severe.
“Damn it, that old bastard’s calling again to nag. How irritating.”
As expected, his father launched into a sermon the moment they faced each other.
“Philaf, regardless of how much Miya is your benefactor, show some restraint! Isn’t it embarrassing that your name and women’s jewelry keep rising and falling together in the same breath?”
“….”
“The Eldest Son of Simour is gaining prestige through his exploits in the war against the barbarians, yet what exactly are you doing?!”
At the mention of Simour, Philaf’s expression twisted savagely.
“If you’re going to make such a fuss, then at least obtain that jewel! You’re even losing to Deborah Simour and inviting ridicule upon yourself.”
His clenched fist began to tremble faintly.
“You’re rotten food that’s past its expiration date and inedible.”
The princess had dared to describe me as rotten food. After following me around relentlessly, she had turned her face away and gazed coldly with those crimson eyes, her lips curling in contempt. Each time I recalled that frigid gaze, a filthy sensation crawled across my skin as if someone were scratching my insides, making it unbearable. The Duke paid no heed to his son trembling with humiliation.
The Duke remained indifferent to his son’s quivering shame.
“Philaf. You’re only broadcasting your incompetence to all corners, so abandon your lingering attachment to that jewel and stop pestering your retainers. How many times must I tell you that reputation matters? You’ve already created more than ten half-dead subordinates with your own hands!”
“….”
“You’ve done enough for that pink-haired girl. If you give her more, she’ll lose all sense of propriety and crawl toward you. Stop this now.”
Philaf’s lips moved rapidly before he clamped them shut.
Suddenly, confusion swept over me. In truth, I wasn’t trampling my retainers and raging madly because of Miya. I was obsessing over the jewel that the princess had lost, desperate to recover even a fragment of my wounded pride.
I wanted to hold it before her and mock her thoroughly. That pink diamond was never suited to you from the beginning, and it was never meant to be yours.
What expression would she wear if I told her I was giving it to Miya? The rumors said she had taken to her bed after losing it—such a treasured possession that she could never maintain her composed, arrogant facade as she had at the ball.
“Philaf! Do you understand?!”
Duke Montes demanded a response from his son, who stood silently with vacant eyes. As Philaf continued to refuse to speak, the enraged Duke finally raised his hand.
Crack—!
With a sound like tearing fabric, both my cheeks snapped back repeatedly.
“Foolish wretch. If you wish to remain shackled and imprisoned in the Underground Prison, continue doing as you please.”
At the mention of the Underground Prison, blue-tinged blood vessels surfaced on Philaf’s knuckles. There was no more effective threat against him than this.
“…I apologize.”
“Don’t cause any more trouble. For now, you’ll remain confined at home and focus only on training. Understood?”
I had wanted to mock Deborah, but reality was a cesspool. Wiping away the blood trickling from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, I swallowed my helplessness and defeat, bowing my head.
* * *
“The results are far from satisfactory. Miss Miya. He will surely be furious!”
Madam Ophelia gnawed at her nails with anxious agitation.
‘How could things have gone so catastrophically wrong….’
Despite securing Philaf Montes as a partner, Miya Binoshu had failed to stand out at the ball and thus could not become this year’s flower. Though she had been briefly discussed in High Society thanks to her pure sacred power and consistent charitable works, all trace of her had been buried by Deborah Simour’s outrageous conduct.
‘A patent on formulas, and the attention of the Fifth Princess!’
The plan had unraveled further because of the young master of Visconti House, who appeared in unconventionally colored formal wear. Everyone had endlessly gossiped about what Deborah Simour had done to him, leaving no room for Miya to interject.
That alone would have been fortunate. There was a reason Ophelia had used alchemy to change Miya’s hair pink. She had intended for the pink hair to evoke the image of Saint Naila, yet now High Society associated pink with the Visconti young master instead.
To make matters worse, Philaf had been placed under house confinement. The support of one who had elevated Miya’s standing and spared no expense in financial patronage had suddenly ceased.
“We’ve lost so much and gained nothing at all.”
Watching Ophelia savagely bite her nails until blood flowed, Miya frowned.
“Madam Ophelia. Still, we succeeded in having the High Priest acknowledge that my sacred power is exceptional.”
At Miya’s murmur, Ophelia ground her teeth sharply.
“Haven’t I told you repeatedly? The nobility loves sensational stories.”
“….”
“Exceptional sacred power? Of course it might seem impressive. But how you display that excellence to others is far more important. Do you understand?”
Madam Ophelia’s voice grew increasingly sharp.
“What good does it do if the High Priest admires you? Deborah Simour is far more captivating and entertaining, so High Society has absolutely no interest in a pathetic, wretched fallen noblewoman’s daughter like you.”
“….”
“Did my words about becoming the Flower of the Season by any means necessary sound like a joke to you? You haven’t made any effort at all, Miya. There’s no way you can ever surpass someone like Deborah Simour, who stands out from birth itself.”
Madam Ophelia seized my fragile shoulders, squeezing them with brutal force.
Because I failed to become the Flower of the Season, she couldn’t execute her next plan. The special privileges granted only to the Flower of the Season had vanished. It was an opportunity to gain priority in designating a prestigious noblewoman as a chaperone—a chance I had squandered so pathetically.
“Do you have any idea how much sacrifice and effort it takes to create a Holy Blood?”
Her eyes gleamed with an icy light.
“I made so many sacrifices to make you the Flower of the Season, and this is the result—you truly should be ashamed.”
Madam Ophelia’s long nails dug into my tender skin. Blood from the gouged wounds stained my white collar. The metallic stench was absolutely unbearable. It made me want to retch.
‘I’m going to be sick. I want to kill them all.’
Murderous intent bloomed within me. I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails bit into my palms.
Especially that Simour woman. As I recalled Deborah’s blood-red eyes, I swallowed back the nausea and bit my lips hard.

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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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