Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 83

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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 83
6. The Exhaustion of Thriving
The first day of autumn semester.
Two four-wheeled carriages bearing the Simour crest hung in waiting before the middle gate of the Simour Mansion. The moment Enrique spotted me approaching with measured steps, his hair tousled as he came bounding over.
“Hello.”
At my casual greeting, Enrique tapped his toes and pursed his lips.
“Good morning, Sister.”
Enrique still maintained a certain reserve. Yet unlike before, he no longer bristled defensively like a hedgehog raising its spines. Without that guarded posture, his bearing and expression carried a subtle ease.
“Enrique.”
“Yes?”
“Come visit this evening for chocolate. The Fifth Princess gave me a gift.”
Enrique’s cheeks flushed as he nodded eagerly. When I waved gently from inside the carriage, he pressed his face to the window and waved his small hand enthusiastically in return.
Soon the carriage departed toward the Academy. Crossing the exclusive road reserved for high nobility at speed, it came to rest before the Main Mansion. As I descended, I witnessed the familiar miracle—the crowd parting like the Red Sea to either side.
Just as when I first arrived at this Academy, Young-sik and the young ladies hastily averted their eyes whenever our gazes met. Yet when I looked elsewhere, I felt their blatant stares burning against my cheeks.
‘It seems I’m receiving more attention than before.’
No, before it felt less like interest and more like avoidance of something unclean.
And I soon discovered the reason.
Congratulations to Deborah Simour on achieving top honors at the Academy.
– Aracron
It was undoubtedly because of that banner hanging there.
‘I can already guess who orchestrated this.’
The Fifth Princess’s excessive favor made my stomach churn with discomfort, when Margaret suddenly let out a light exclamation.
“Just as Father said.”
“…What did he say?”
“He said that you, my lady, are such a humble person that you have not sought to display your abilities to everyone, but that before long you would blossom most brilliantly in High Society.”
‘The Aide held me in such high regard?’
It was unexpected, yet not unpleasant.
“It is an honor to serve someone so distinguished.”
She bowed with a somewhat moved expression.
‘Yes, let me think of it positively.’
Thanks to the Fifth Princess’s favor, I could appear as a capable employer to the new maid. And there’s no reason to hide top honors—they’re meant to be celebrated far and wide.
The problem is that I don’t particularly enjoy receiving attention, but fortunately this face doesn’t show tension easily, so it should be fine.
‘My mental gymnastics seem to be improving, but that’s probably just my imagination.’
I rubbed my eyes, already feeling weary.
* * *
After the Academy’s opening.
While the internal atmosphere stirred with news of my top honors, a grand tea party was held in the reception room of the Frat House of Aracron.
This tea party was actively hosted by Emmanuelle Serig, the second princess of the Serig Duke Family at the heart of the Aracron Sorority, and was quite lavish. Because it was an opulent gathering, delighted laughter erupted from all corners from the start, and compliments about the tea’s aroma and praise for Emmanuelle’s refined taste followed one after another.
The Selig Family was a distinguished house boasting exceptional wealth and martial prowess. They had frequently produced empresses and represented the Senate itself. From teacups to the smallest teaspoons, everything was arranged under Emmanuelle’s supervision, so there was nothing that lacked elegance.
The young ladies seated at the long table, exchanging stories about their recent circumstances and current trends, grew bolder in expanding their conversational topics as the atmosphere ripened.
“Have you heard? Lady Deborah Simour was apparently top of the entire Academy last semester.”
Everyone in the room reacted with displeasure. Emmanuelle Serig set down her teacup with deliberate lightness.
“The tea steeped a bit too strong.”
She subtly contorted her expression, conveying her mood through unspoken means. One of the young ladies quickly read the atmosphere and spoke up.
“The mages seem to acknowledge the lady’s abilities, but while I understand her ranking first in her field, ranking first overall is incomprehensible.”
“Exactly. It’s not as though her thesis has practical applications across disciplines, nor has she been actively involved in external activities like Lady Miya.”
“Lady Miya—the Bishop recognized her divine power, didn’t he?”
At one young lady’s question, Miya, who had been quietly sipping her tea, shyly lifted her head.
“Oh, it’s… it’s not such a remarkable thing.”
“I think excessive modesty can sometimes be unbecoming.”
“We should consider the feelings of the lady who complimented Lady Miya as well.”
“Ah, yes… I apologize.”
Her demeanor awakened protective instincts, but such clumsy displays offered little advantage in a setting like this.
Not when there was no one to shield her.
She had been admitted to the gathering because of rumors that she was a benefactor to the Montes House and favored by the Temple, yet these young ladies believed Miya Binoshu was ill-suited to stand among families of such distinguished bloodlines.
In the original story, Miya gained recognition through scholarship donations, and Emmanuelle sponsored her to improve her own image—a subplot. But the original narrative had already diverged considerably.
“Do the mages genuinely acknowledge the lady’s achievement?”
Emmanuelle Serig, sipping her tea with impeccable grace, suddenly posed the question.
“…The mage I know said the formula wasn’t particularly remarkable. She claimed its practicality is limited only to combat mages.”
“Since Lady Deborah Simour carries Simour blood and is the daughter of the Magic Tower Master, the mages have certainly embellished her accomplishments to some degree.”
“Well, she’s the esteemed daughter of the Magic Tower Master—what can the mages below her do?”
The young ladies quickly grasped Emmanuelle’s intent and chimed in agreement.
“I see. So that’s the situation.”
Emmanuelle spoke with finality, adding a spoonful of sugar to her bitter tea and exhaling a faint sigh before continuing.
“The results are somewhat disappointing. It would have been better to establish evaluation criteria from multiple angles.”
“It is disappointing. Character and refinement are certainly important factors too.”
“Lady Deborah Simour’s personality is really… goodness.”
In that moment, Miya’s hands trembled slightly, and she spilled some of her hot tea. Emmanuelle observed her with an enigmatic gaze, then clicked her tongue.
“Ah, since we keep discussing Lady Deborah Simour, Lady Miya must be feeling rather uncomfortable.”
Miya’s shoulders shrank delicately.
“Is it true that the lady tormented Lady Miya last semester? I heard blood was spilled profusely.”
She said nothing.
“How unfortunate.”
Emmanuelle murmured sympathetically and picked up her teacup.
They chimed in like a chorus, prattling on about how terrible Lady Deborah Simour’s temperament was.
‘Yet something feels off.’
Though the club’s public opinion of Lady Deborah Simour was flowing exactly as intended, Emmanuelle could not shake an uncomfortable feeling. Lady Deborah Simour had never even been a target of concern to begin with, so the very occurrence of this situation was distasteful.
A worthless wastrel from Simour, brimming with vanity.
‘She possessed not a shred of dignity.’
The figure she had once scorned and mocked was now drawing attention, becoming the subject of conversation—and like a thorn lodged in her throat, it had begun to irritate and vex her.
‘Ever since the Flower Festival, something has felt off.’
At some point, the young ladies of High Society had stopped mocking and dismissing Deborah Simour, and instead began coveting her openly. Emmanuelle had subtly remarked that imposing dress codes on one’s partner was a mark of poor breeding, yet no one heeded her words.
Most were now resolute in their determination to match their partner’s attire at the next Ball, just as Deborah Simour had done.
‘How such frivolous behavior has become fashionable.’
Emmanuelle’s brow furrowed.
She had hoped some stern matriarch would step forward to criticize and curtail the Princess’s eccentric conduct, but most seemed reluctant to entangle themselves with the ill-tempered noblewoman and merely observed from a distance.
In the meantime, Deborah Simour, backed by the Fifth Princess, had been admitted to Epsilon and even achieved top honors at the Academy, climbing to a position that could no longer be ignored.
Both Emmanuelle and Deborah were daughters of prestigious Houses with comparable standing, and as they were the same age and both approaching their debutante presentations simultaneously, the tension between them only sharpened.
She bit down on the tender flesh inside her mouth, then released it.

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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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