Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 7

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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 7
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The weekend evening I’d promised to go out with Duke Simour.
Since I was venturing outside for the first time in ages, the servants were in quite a frenzy. After carefully combing my long hair and applying fragrant oils, they helped me into an elegant evening dress that Helen had poured her soul into designing.
‘I can actually pull this off….’
I couldn’t tear my gaze from the mirror. Thanks to my striking features, the dress with its generous flare suited me beautifully.
“You look absolutely radiant, Miss.”
“Like a rose in full bloom. It’s dazzling.”
The servants chose their words with utmost care, afraid of misspeaking, and lavished compliments upon me.
“Your skin is so fair.”
“Your lips are like cherries.”
“Hmph.”
I knew better than anyone how captivating and thrilling this face was. But I suppressed the urge to gush along with them and let out a light scoff instead.
As one of the Empire’s most notorious villains and an employer, I constantly practiced maintaining a cold expression to preserve my dignity.
‘I won’t let my character break.’
“Miss, the Duke should arrive shortly.”
Soon, the mansion’s steward—whom I rarely saw—appeared and spoke.
For accessories, I carried a deep purple fan that matched the lavender dress. Already tall, I’d put on high heels, so my perspective had shifted considerably upward.
Shortly after, Duke Simour entered the lobby in a dark formal suit, exuding the mature charm unique to men in their prime.
‘Now that’s what I call perfection.’
I stood beside him while silently giving a standing ovation for the Asteia Empire’s visual welfare.
I was glad I’d practiced my expression daily. Otherwise, I might have stood there gaping like a fan meeting a celebrity.
“That dress certainly lives up to its price.”
Duke Simour regarded me with a quiet gaze before speaking coldly. His frigid tone was just as difficult to adapt to as his handsome appearance.
‘The men in this household certainly live up to their looks too.’
I swallowed the words I couldn’t say and barely managed to lift my lips in response.
“My parents gave me such a beautiful appearance, so I believe such a fine dress suits me well.”
Silence made me more anxious, so I kept trying to continue his curt remarks, and flattery kept slipping out.
“So take care of yourself. If you do something like that again, it won’t end with mere confinement.”
Pointing out the self-harm incident where I’d scratched both my cheeks mercilessly, Duke Simour extended his hand in front of the carriage bearing the twin-headed serpent seal.
‘My first outing.’
I accepted his blunt escort and boarded the carriage, marveling at the rapidly passing scenery outside the window. The main gate of the Duke’s Mansion Town House still wasn’t visible.
‘How can it take this long just to reach the front gate?’
Glimpsing wealth from fragmented memories was entirely different from actually experiencing it.
What astonished me wasn’t merely the mansion’s grand scale.
‘Why are there no customers at this prime hour?’
I glanced around the restaurant with puzzlement. The two-story wooden dining hall was completely empty except for the table where Duke Simour and I sat.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was wondering if this place isn’t doing well.”
“Is it because I resemble you? That joke wasn’t very amusing. Still, your intention to lighten the mood is commendable. You seem to be maturing lately.”
‘What on earth is he saying?’
I sensed our conversation was veering off course, but the waiter arrived at precisely the right moment with an aperitif and bread.
‘This looks absolutely delicious.’
Just from the aroma of rich butter and the fluffy texture of the bread, I could tell this was undoubtedly an exceptional establishment. The absence of other patrons made no sense whatsoever.
‘Ah, now I understand. He’s rented out the entire Restaurant.’
As someone of modest means, I felt both impressed by such extravagant spending and somewhat uncomfortable by it, yet I continued my meal quietly.
The banquets favored by the Empire’s upper echelon resembled French haute cuisine most closely. With such diverse ingredients, the array of utensils was extensive, and wielding each one flawlessly proved deceptively challenging—I found myself tensing with each new course. I could vividly imagine how contemptuous Duke Simour would find me if I committed even a basic error.
Fortunately, the aristocratic habits ingrained in my very being made navigating the silverware far less daunting.
“Deborah, have you brought another letter today?”
Duke Simour asked suddenly as I carefully tackled the crustacean before me.
“I’m not pressing you. The fact that you deliver them one at a time has filled me with anticipation, and I find it quite delightful. Was this intentional on your part?”
My decision to distribute the letters individually rather than present them all at once stemmed from painful experience. Humans are ungrateful and deceitful—resentment lingers eternally, yet gratitude is forgotten in an instant.
‘A truth I learned bitterly across twenty-four years of being a fool….’
To think I only grasped this principle—that one must draw out one’s favors while constantly reminding others of their debt—after death, inhabiting another’s body.
Of course, there remained the difficulty of presenting one’s generosity in a refined manner to someone whose regard I sought.
“I’m simply delighted that it brings you joy.”
My evasive response drew a soft chuckle from Duke Simour, his expression noticeably gentler than before. Observing his softened gaze, I ventured a careful suggestion.
“Father. Today, I’d like to present the letter in a different manner than usual….”
“A different manner?”
“Yes, could you spare some time after we finish dining?”
Duke Simour nodded while sipping his white wine.
“Of course. These days, my time with you takes absolute priority. Everyone around me only drones on about business—I’m utterly sick of it. My sons are nothing but taciturn….”
He trailed off abruptly mid-complaint.
“Here I am, spouting such nonsense before you.”
“Please, speak freely.”
At my response, Duke Simour’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“That pink diamond—I heard it’s going up for auction at the end of this month. Do you absolutely must have it to satisfy yourself?”
As if testing me, he persistently asked throughout the meal whether I wanted something in return for the letters, even gently coaxing me to ask for anything I desired as his way of reciprocating.
‘I never intended to gain anything through the letters….’
Yet continuing to refuse when he was being so generous seemed rather odd.
I shook my head. Perhaps Duke Simour wanted to say something like, “Deborah, I knew you’d be like this.” Given all the effort I’d invested, I couldn’t afford to have it rendered meaningless, so I maintained my cautious demeanor throughout.
After consuming the multi-course meal that stretched across two hours, we emerged from the Restaurant to find heavy snow falling. The increasingly thick flakes suggested it wouldn’t cease anytime soon.
As I walked toward the carriage positioned across the way, my foot slipped on the icy ground.
“Oh.”
Duke Simour clicked his tongue and extended his hand toward the ground. At his gesture, all the accumulated snow in the vicinity melted away in an instant.
Having spent twenty-four years in a world of scientific civilization, I couldn’t help but feel awe at the supernatural spectacle unfolding before my eyes. There was no comparison between CGI magic in films and witnessing genuine magic with my own eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s impressive.”
I murmured honestly, and Duke Simour scratched his chin.
“My, you’re being rather frivolous today. Get in the carriage.”
The Duke’s hand, which escorted me, was warmer than before—a lingering effect from the flame magic I’d just cast.
Within the carriage, insulated by a sound-dampening spell, Duke Simour’s platinum-white carriage cut through the snow and darkness, arriving at the mansion.
“There’s a new tea that arrived yesterday. They say the aroma is quite pleasant.”
Recalling my request for time after dinner, the Duke brought me directly to his private office.
“Bring two cups of tea brewed with fresh leaves and some refreshments.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The Aide approached with a tray bearing fragrant tea and pastries. He no longer regarded me with suspicion as I frequented the Duke’s office.
The moment the refreshments were placed on the table, I withdrew the Duchess’s letter from my clutch.
“Didn’t you say at dinner that you’d deliver the letter through a different method?”
The Duke spoke with a deflated expression, though curiosity and anticipation gleamed in his eyes. I unfolded the Duchess’s letter.
“Today, I’ll recite the letter aloud for you.”
“Recite it? Don’t tell me you’re planning to perform a theatrical piece now?”
He suddenly lifted his lips into a smile.
‘That’s unexpected.’
Seeing him smile so broadly—this cold, taciturn man—I nearly dropped the letter in my hands.
“It’s certainly a method I never imagined. I didn’t know you had such an amusing side.”
“First, please close your eyes. You need to concentrate.”
“Very well.”
The Duke closed his eyes with a slight smirk, his arms crossed. He looked like an adult reluctantly indulging a child’s game, utterly devoid of seriousness.
Before the Duke, who reclined leisurely against his chair, I began to recite the poem titled “My Heart Is a White Flower.”
This nature poem, written by a renowned poet of the Empire, employs the formal similarity between white blossoms and heavy snow to express the ambivalent emotions of love.
“…When your absence makes the cold pierce my heart, I sing within that fragrance.”
After finishing the recitation, my throat parched, I took a sip of tea. Even as the poem ended, the Duke remained motionless with his eyes closed, nodding as if recalling something.
“It’s certainly the sort of poem Marion would love. It suits a day like this perfectly.”
Rising from his seat, he gazed silently at the heavy snow falling endlessly through his deepened eyes.
The man of indifferent nature, who had never known loneliness, felt a profound joy upon discovering love—as if the entire world were filled with white flowers.
When the woman disappeared, the white flowers approached coldly, as if they had been snowflakes all along, yet he realizes that the fragrance she left behind forever lingers at his side.
Such was the poem’s meaning.
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Duke Simour, slowly savoring the implications woven into the poem, picked up his wife’s letter folded upon the table after I departed.
“…!”
The moment he unfolded it, he doubted his own eyes.

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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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