Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 80

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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 80
* * *
Enrique’s Nanny was erased from the Simour Mansion as though carved away—without a trace, without a whisper. To the outside world, it would appear she had simply left due to unavoidable circumstances.
Had I been my former self, I would have interpreted it as a cold but necessary measure for the family’s honor. But after witnessing Duke Simour’s anguished expression, I understood it differently.
‘He must be hoping Enrique won’t suffer any further from this.’
The annual birthday celebration was foregone, and I heard that Enrique spent his birthday alone with Duke Simour.
I didn’t know exactly what the two of them discussed.
‘He must have cried.’
The day after his birthday, when only the immediate family gathered for dinner—excluding Rozard—Enrique’s eyes were swollen like a goldfish’s. His face was a wreck, but he emptied his plate of meat with admirable vigor, and after the meal, his father gently stroked his head. From this, I gathered their conversation had gone well.
‘Thank goodness.’
“Sister!”
After dinner ended, Enrique hurried after me as I returned to the Annex Building. I matched his quick little steps and gently tidied the silver hair that had fallen across his forehead.
“Enrique, did you chase after me because you’re upset I didn’t give you a gift?”
“That’s not it!”
At my teasing remark, Enrique flailed his arms and bounced excitedly. His reaction was so adorable that I felt myself growing fond of this kind of mischief.
‘My personality is getting worse, I think.’
I suppressed my laughter and gently stroked Enrique’s head.
“Sure it wasn’t. You definitely showed your disappointment when my gift was the only one missing from the gift table.”
“…That’s not true.”
Yet he seemed somewhat hurt, pouting his lips like a chick.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t prepare a gift for my prized student? You know the best gifts always appear with a flourish at the very end, right?”
At my bold declaration, curiosity sparkled in his large eyes.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
I firmly grasped Enrique’s fidgeting hand and walked into the Study, handing him a large gift box.
“Here, your gift.”
Enrique pulled out a toy wizard holding a staff, unable to hide his bewilderment.
Because it was a gift that had already been thoroughly exhausted. The staff came with a glowing orb, and when struck, it even produced thunder sounds—a premium toy that Enrique had received no fewer than three of today.
‘As the youngest of the Mage Family, everyone just gave him wizard toys.’
Everyone’s gift-selecting taste, myself included, was truly lamentable.
“Thank you.”
After offering a polite greeting, Enrique examined the toy intently with a serious expression, and only then discovered the notebook hidden in the box, illuminated by the wizard’s staff.
“What is this?”
The child lifted a pale purple notebook.
“My mother’s diary.”
Strictly speaking, it was more of a sketchbook than a diary.
It contained not only passages from memorable poems and novels, but also drawings of flowers and birds and other natural things, and even crossword puzzles.
I had originally planned to negotiate fiercely with Duke Simour one more time over this item, but I decided to yield it to Enrique.
‘I really can’t bring myself to be harsh with a child. And Enrique is far too precious.’
His very existence is love incarnate—how could I possibly refuse?
“….”
Enrique’s eyes widened in surprise, as though he hadn’t expected such a gift.
“I found it by chance years ago while taking a walk through the Rose Garden.”
This journal had been used during the time the Duchess was pregnant with Enrique, so it contained quite a bit about the child. I hoped he would read the passages filled with the Duchess’s affection for this unexpected late blessing who had arrived like a gift.
Enrique turned the pages with trembling hands.
He read and reread the sentences containing his own name as though etching them into his eyes.
“Really… Mother… wrote this?”
Enrique’s voice broke as he barely managed to speak.
“If you’re doubtful, ask Father to show you Mother’s letters. When you compare them, the handwriting will be identical.”
“Is it really all right for you to give me something so precious?”
Enrique’s voice trembled delicately.
“It’s a diary written about how much Mother loves you and how precious a child you are—of course it’s all right.”
Transparent tears welled up in his reddened eyes. His pale cheeks soon glistened with tears.
“Read it without Father knowing. If he finds out, he might take it from you. I’m not as strong as he is, after all.”
Even as I threw out a joke, Enrique showed no sign of stopping his tears. After wiping his damp cheeks several times, I gently pulled the child, whose shoulders shook with sobs, into an embrace.
“I’m sorry.”
The sound of his stifled weeping stung my heart. I couldn’t even imagine how much he’d been suffering alone all this time.
“I’m truly sorry. For being so late.”
Enrique shook his head vigorously against my chest.
“Enrique, at times like this, you’re supposed to get angry and say, ‘Why were you so late?’ and ‘Sister is such an oblivious fool.'”
“Sister isn’t a fool!”
Enrique looked up at me with glistening eyes and cried out.
“That’s right. From now on, you can just follow your own feelings. Understood?”
These words were also meant for my past self—the one who always shrank back because I lacked the courage to be disliked.
“I’m always on your side, no matter what.”
My words seemed to ignite something within him, and Enrique grasped my sleeve and began to cry even louder.
“If anyone ever bullies you, tell me everything. Next time, I won’t just give them a bald patch—I’ll make sure it’s permanent.”
I spoke with the menacing tone of a villain while gently stroking Enrique’s hair.
* * *
The rain that had poured relentlessly for days stopped as if it had been a lie, and clear skies returned. After that, the temperature dropped noticeably, and when the wind blew, it carried a distinctly crisp chill.
The Rose Garden, which had been devastated by the sudden downpour, was being diligently restored by the gardeners. As I gazed at their work from the window, my eyes soon drifted to the brilliant blue sky.
‘The sky here seems even bluer than where I lived in my previous life.’
Perhaps it was because the air was cleaner. There was no fine dust here.
They called it the season of azure skies and fat horses. Seeing the deepening heavens, I felt autumn drawing near. Since blue represented the Emperor and was the supreme color of the Empire, the nation held many official events during the particularly blue autumn season, along with various private gatherings.
‘Now that I think about it, today is when the autumn seasonal menu launches.’
Should I go check the response?
I donned a robe thicker than usual and boarded a carriage heading to Armand.
* * *
“Young Master, is that real?”
Miguel, passing through the plaza near the East Gate with Isidore, asked while looking at the poster advertising Armand’s autumn seasonal menu.
“There’s no outright lie in it.”
Isidore gave a light shrug of his shoulders.
There was certainly someone among the orchard farmers who had worked for around forty years, and every farm had their own cultivation expertise. Since he had conscientiously used only apples with large, unblemished fruit rather than bruised ones, he could certainly tout it as a premium product.
‘One percent of it is exaggerated, but there’s no way to verify it.’
“It seems the Flori Region is famous for apples. I didn’t know that until now.”
“That region produces a lot of high-quality apples. The temperature differential is large, and it’s a basin terrain.”
The Visconti House’s Territory was located in the fertile southern lands, so he had considerable knowledge about various regional specialties.
‘Origin labeling to emphasize quality is typically reserved for wine, yet she’s employing such promotional tactics for a simple fruit beverage.’
Deborah Simour’s business acumen never ceased to exceed expectations. She possessed a keen understanding of people’s psychology regarding rare things, and Isidore admired that sharp insight of hers.
Whenever her crimson eyes gleamed with that piercing brilliance, his gaze was utterly captivated.
“These are exceptional apples, but unfortunately the sales period is quite short.”
Miguel stared intently at the illustration of apple mulled wine, one of the seasonal menu items, and murmured with a wistful expression.
“Have some before you go. We still have thirty minutes left.”
“But two men sharing dessert is rather…”
In truth, the excuse about being the same gender was merely a pretext; Miguel found it uncomfortable to sit across from his temperamental superior during teatime. The man had been so harsh about him laughing during work.
‘Not even laughing is considered disloyalty?’
“If it bothers you, drink it alone. While you’re at it, I’ll sell you a dessert too.”
“My lord, where are you going so suddenly?”
His master suddenly began rushing off somewhere with an urgent expression.
‘What is this?’

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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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