Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 97

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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 97
I had heard that when Cesco eliminates a troublesome ant colony, they simply sprinkle poisoned bait in the customer’s home and leave. The poison bait scattered through Margaret—in other words, the false evidence—was now being held up by Emmanuelle Serig.
A perfect catch.
‘A perfect catch.’
Emmanuelle, interpreting my quiet reaction as she pleased, wore a triumphant expression, and the Academic Conference Hall grew increasingly restless.
“So the paper being presented today wasn’t written by Deborah after all.”
“That’s quite a dangerous accusation.”
“If there are suspicions, wouldn’t it be cleaner to clarify them definitively?”
When Philaf stepped forward, the Aracron members followed suit.
“Emmanuelle would never make baseless claims.”
“There’s even a noblewoman who compared her to a magnolia, always maintaining such grace.”
Some even took veiled jabs at me, who bore the sinister nickname of viper. As the atmosphere shifted in my favor, Emmanuelle rose from her seat with confident composure and spoke.
“I do not speak without certainty.”
“There should be no falsehood whatsoever.”
Isidore had merely granted her the floor as I had indicated, yet Philaf looked at me with an arrogant smile, as if to say, “See?”
Soon, Emmanuelle walked forward slowly and addressed the audience naturally.
“Haven’t you all noticed how frequently Deborah has been presenting formulas? Including this presentation, it’s already the fourth time.”
Just as Emmanuelle said, I had been extracting every last drop from my formulas like bone broth, even launching “Premium Plus.” I opened my mouth with a scornful expression.
“Emmanuelle, are you attacking my formulas that received patents from the Imperial Judicial Department? You are insulting the Imperial Court itself.”
As if she had been waiting for precisely these words, Emmanuelle countered smoothly.
“I am not attacking existing formulas. I am raising objections to a new paper that has not yet received patent approval, and I am speaking to how obsessed the lady is with presenting formulas.”
….
“You’ve all surely heard that Deborah is under pressure due to public criticism that she is unfit for the position of Academy Valedictorian.”
Since I had often been seen sharply rebuking Margaret about whether she would take responsibility if grades fell, it was understandable that others thought this way.
“Yes, I heard there are external opinions deliberately undermining me….”
I cracked my neck and muttered ominously, and she flinched momentarily before clenching her fists tightly.
“You must have been anxious, Deborah. You hadn’t made much of an impression until recently, and only now have you begun receiving praise at the Academy. If you fail to present a good paper at this group academic conference, everyone’s attention will scatter quickly.”
True to her talent for manipulation, Emmanuelle smoothly continued, making people understand my psychology.
“Above all, since you cannot wield mana, your obsession with formulas is entirely understandable. But no matter how much that’s the case, coercing your retainers to produce results and then presenting their work as your own at a prestigious academic conference—that’s going too far!”
Everyone held their breath, staring at Emmanuelle.
“And I have evidence to support my claims. I did not summon the witness for protection purposes.”
She produced the evidence I had given her.
Two days ago.
A mercenary mage I had hired with money made contact with Emmanuelle’s associates. They firmly believed the rumor that I had many enemies within my family and an unstable position.
‘Philaf spouted nonsense right in front of me too. Thanks to that, I could confirm whether the rumors spread well.’
Additionally, I had spread rumors that I, having grown greedy for achievements, was harshly pressuring my retainers, so the festering pus would soon burst.
In truth, I had only four retainers—no, slaves—but Emmanuelle, thinking that a lady of equal standing would not be in such a pathetic state, found it easier to deceive.
Emmanuelle pulled out a piece of paper covered in complex formulas and waved it.
“This is the formula that a retainer wrote under Deborah’s coercion. As you can see, the handwriting is different.”
“Is it real?”
“As expected, there was evidence!”
The Aracron bastards pour oil onto the flames.
“Now, we simply need to verify whether the thesis the lady is about to present matches this content. Please proceed.”
“Hmm. Understood.”
Isidore, responding with a meaningful tone, called over the attendants who had been waiting behind me as I’d requested, and they began walking forward carrying a large blackboard oriented vertically rather than horizontally.
As a large object suddenly shrouded in cloth appeared in the tent, the audience stirred with murmurs.
In truth, setting up the grid-patterned blackboard beforehand as if I were about to solve mathematics was a sleight of hand.
“What… what is that?”
“I will now reveal my academic conference thesis.”
I pulled the cloth downward smoothly.
My thesis’s true form was exposed, and gasps of astonishment erupted from all corners. Even my father, who had been watching me from the guest seats with a composed expression, appeared deeply flustered.
“What on earth… what is that?”
“Good heavens.”
“Is such a horrifying diagram truly this year’s thesis?”
“…Could it be a torture device? Does electricity flow through it?”
“How sinister. With something like that, anyone would be forced to confess.”
‘They’re all being ridiculous.’
Faced with the atmosphere of the academic conference audience condemning my blueprint as a torture instrument, I felt both bitter and utterly exasperated.
‘Why is everyone reacting like Beleck?’
It was a massage chair. A massage chair!
Inwardly clicking my tongue, I fixed Emmanuelle with a stern gaze.
“Who exactly told you that I was presenting mathematical formulas at this academic conference?”
As I stepped forward, she flinched and retreated.
“To slander me as a petty person obsessed with formulas and fixated on achievements! Emmanuelle has damaged my honor.”
Emmanuelle’s face went pale with bewilderment at this unexpected turn of events.
“B-but to reveal such a horrifying torture device in a public setting…”
Emmanuelle began spouting nonsense as if her ammunition had run dry.
“A torture device? Can you take responsibility for those words?”
Rip!
As I tore the large paper forcefully, the sheet explaining the massage device’s functions was revealed behind it.
“This device is a fatigue-recovery magical artifact I designed for my father, who works tirelessly day and night. Here, the spheres beneath the cloth move to massage the stiff neck and shoulders.”
A massage chair was not something with a simple structure, so I couldn’t draw a perfect blueprint. However, if anyone criticized this device, it would feel as though they were attacking my filial devotion toward the Magic Tower Master.
‘It’s like a cheat code thesis that appeals to emotion.’
“Wow, wow! What a magnificent magical artifact!”
“Ahem! I never said torture device. I said refined device.”
My father suddenly produced a handkerchief and lightly wiped his eyes. As many people shifted their stance as if flipping their palms, Emmanuelle, like William Lemong, gradually lost her composure and began attacking me.
“I have never heard a single rumor that Lady Deborah is a magical artifact designer. You may have even coerced the attendants to make this presentation!”
“…Can you take responsibility for those words?”
I withdrew several patent certificates stamped with the Imperial Palace’s blue dragon seal from my shawl’s pocket.
“I have been collaborating with my brother Beleck to create magical artifacts. And within these, there is evidence that I am an artifact designer.”
When I pulled out the paper and showed her my name, Emmanuelle’s legs gave way beneath her and she staggered.
“Surely you’re not claiming that Beleck Simour—the heir to Simour and one of the Magic Tower’s most celebrated geniuses—is someone who moves at your blackmail?”
“That… that is…”
“Just now, Emmanuelle has tarnished not only her own honor but also that of Beleck Simour. It seems Simour appears quite easy to push around.”
I immediately picked up a piece of chalk and drew the left schematic of the massage chair on the board. There was nothing more convincing than showing it drawn directly. And the audience gasped in admiration at my remarkable craftsmanship.
“This diagram is the left deployment schematic of a fatigue-recovery magical device. The structure involves inserting a mana stone into the slot at the bottom.”
Clap, clap, clap.
“This is an invention of the century!”
Suddenly, Count Almare, who had been sitting to the left of my father, began to rise and applaud.
“I’m moved! Bravo!”
The elder on the right had a particularly distinctive clapping sound.
Soon a thunderous wave of applause swept through the Academic Conference Hall. I snatched the paper from the bewildered Emmanuelle’s hands and pretended to examine it.
“This material is the Premium Plus formula I published not long ago. It’s drawn out long and made to look complex with various symbols, but it appears different on the surface.”
Since we had made contact two days ago, there wouldn’t have been enough time to properly verify the authenticity of the formula. At best, they would have compared it against the visible patent documents.
‘In fact, they probably didn’t even do that. Margaret is such a skilled actress.’
“Let me see.”
The Fifth Princess, who stepped forward to examine the false evidence Emmanuelle held in her hands, froze her expression cold.
“It’s indeed a modified version of an existing formula.”
That’s when it happened. Emmanuelle suddenly cried out.
“B-Bridget! What is the meaning of this? You said this was reliable information!”
She began to shift blame onto others. A classic case of cutting off the tail.
“This was information that Solin brought to me… She said it was definitely reliable!”
“I am Valentin…”
“Linae brought…”
Following the tail-cutting, those Aracron bastards began playing hot potato with the blame.
Philaf closed his eyes tightly at the sight of their ugly display.

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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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