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Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? – Chapter 128 Bahasa Indonesia

I ran to the white bird peeking outside the window. As soon as I opened the window, Muffin, who I hadn’t seen in a while, came up on my palm, fluttering its wings.

‘Its owner shouldn’t be in the capital. How did it come here?’

The letter I had just received clearly said that he would not be able to come for a while.

The bird chirped. It was a handkerchief, not a gold thread, that wrapped around its small ankle. When I saw the letters and handwriting inside, I hurriedly picked up my robes and ran outside.

‘Why is the house so big today?’

It was nice that the mansion was as big as a resort, but I thought that it would have been nice if the house was a little smaller the whole time I ran through the garden to meet him.

‘Why is it so hard to meet in front of the house?!’

When I managed to arrive at the east gate of the mansion that didn’t have any guards, I ran around with the handkerchief he sent me.

‘I’m sure he said he was in the nearby forest.’

But how did Isidor get inside the Seymour estate?

‘Ah, movement magic was his specialty.’

Quickly convinced, I wandered around the townhouse and the surrounding woods before turning my head in amazement at the hand on my shoulder.

‘He’s really here.’

Perhaps because I was running around in a hurry, as soon as I faced him, my heart beat even faster.


As soon as I called his name, Isidor’s eyes curved and he whispered in a low voice.

“Long time no see, Deborah.”

He responded lightly, pulling out a scroll.

“It seems like it will be difficult to talk for long here.”


“It’s impossible for me to deal with your family alone, so hold on to me. Let’s move somewhere we can talk quietly.”

Explaining the situation, he immediately tore up the scroll.

The place we arrived at using magic was the top of the hill in Yones District, where we stopped by for a walk after watching the play the other day. Surrounded by silence, all I could hear was the rough breath coming out of my mouth. I was still out of breath from running around the house.

“You should have come slowly. I suddenly came here without saying anything. You must be tired.”


The moment I tried to say I was fine, I was speechless and stared at Isidor quietly. His chin became sharper because he lost weight in a short time, and the shadow around his sinking eyes was darker than usual. I saw signs of mental distress. My bewilderment at his sudden appearance was brief, and worry rushed in.

“I thought it would take longer for you to come to the capital. You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you?”

“The rest of the event was just a banquet anyway. Because of my position, I left as quickly as possible while the people below me were having fun.”

He said it as a joke, but it was hard to take his words at face value because I knew how difficult it was to shorten official schedules.

In addition, unlike the short-distance teleportation in the capital, long-distance teleportation required taking multiple gates, accumulating a lot of fatigue in the body. Isidor’s pale complexion may be due to him pushing himself to come to the capital.

“… Are you alright? I don’t think you have been eating properly.”

“Seeing that I feel relieved as soon as I see your face, I wonder if I haven’t been feeling well.”


“I think I’ll live.”

He said quietly to himself. It was as if I was his lifeline, and he was clinging to me. I reached out my hand without thinking and stroked his hair, and he slowly inhaled, resting his face against my shoulder.

“Your father probably went to a better place.”

I gave him some consolation that is usually used in situations like this and patted his broad back up and down, but suddenly he lifted his head and opened his mouth.

“It’s hard for that person to go to a better place. He committed too many sins.”

“Ah. T-That could be the case. Many parents do not act as such. You don’t have to be sad either.”

I stuttered and quickly agreed, and he smirked.

“My father was more of an instinctual beast than a human being. I hadn’t had a good relationship with my libertine father for a long time.”


“My father hated to admit that I was his son. I also didn’t like the fact that I had half of his blood mixed in me, so is it right to say we were in agreement regarding that?”


“We look like a great family to others, but I’ve been trying hard to hide that we are actually a dysfunctional family.”

There was a chill sharp as a knife embedded in his voice.

“To be honest, I’m not sad, nor am I hurting. I’m pretending to be sad for no reason. I like it when you worry about me, stand up for me affectionately, and care about me.”


“The fact that you ran like this to see me makes me happy…”

He rubbed his forehead lightly against my shoulder as if asking for comfort, and I reached out to the back of his shiny head. Soft hair scattered between my fingers.

‘He’s not at all pretending to be sad.’

For someone who was pretending to be sad, I could vividly feel how much he needed me.

Isidor was never impulsive without an appointment, or the kind of person to call someone out at night like this. The fact that he acted unexpectedly and appeared in front of me earlier than expected, pushing himself hard, meant that it would be difficult for him to fully handle this situation alone.

‘Though he seems to think it’s no big deal.’

It’s not like you have to feel the pain of loss and suffer for things to be hard. The emptiness of not feeling anything in the face of the death of a parent is probably equally as hard.

The entire time he talked about his father, Isidor was clenching his fists so hard that the bluish veins rose on the back of his hands. Like he was holding something back.

‘Besides, if he grew up under such a reckless father, he must only remember the wounds, not the memories.’

I had no talent for plausibly comforting him, so I lent him my shoulder.

Isidor leaned against me and took a slow breath. While I was sweeping his broad back up and down, he suddenly raised his head and stared at me with a mysterious light in his eyes.

Maybe because he had lost weight and the area around his eyes became darker, the unique atmosphere he was emitting became more dangerous. He also seemed to be submerged in a deep melancholy.

“… What is it?”

“My hands, do you like them?”

He suddenly spoke as he was setting the mood.


“You’ve been looking at my hands since earlier.”



“I-I wonder why I did that. I guess it was because your bare hands looked cold. I’m not cold because I’m wearing a thick robe, but you’re wearing only a shirt.”

The embarrassment only prolonged my gibberish.

“Would you like to touch them? They’re not that cold.”

He grinned like a fox and slowly clasped my hand, and I was surprised that the sensation of his fingers digging between mine did not feel unfamiliar.

‘Even when I was drunk, Isidor held my hand like this.’

His hands, pale as snow, were warmer than I thought. The part I touched was dry, maybe because he didn’t sweat much, and I could clearly feel he was a knight because his joints were firm. Just then, his thumb lightly scratched my palm, causing my toes to bend. I couldn’t shake off his strange hand gesture.

‘Maybe it’s because I’m guilty of something I’ve done before.’

“You took off my gloves when you were drunk, so I thought you would like it. I purposely took them off today.”

He was misunderstanding something. That I just liked his hands.

‘I actually prefer Isidor’s face.’

However, I couldn’t confess that I was trying to confirm he had mysophobia.

“W-When did I?”

I feigned innocence.

“Why do you keep pretending you don’t remember?”

“What if I don’t remember?!”

“You’re really bad at acting. I guess it’s something the Princess wants to forget? I liked it though.”

“What did you like?”

I was feeling guilty and suffering alone because I touched him without permission.

“It was my first time holding hands with someone I’m interested in. I couldn’t even sleep that night. I was excited.”

“Liar. The first time you held someone’s hand?”

I immediately doubted my ears.

“Why do you think I’m lying? I’ve held people’s hands while wearing my gloves a few times at balls, but it was the first time doing it with my bare hands.”

He suddenly clasped my hand so hard, to the point of hurting, that I swallowed dry.

“I hate touching people in the first place.”


“I have mysophobia.”

Despite that, he was fiddling with my hand really calmly.

“… Have you overcome it now?”


“Is it just your hands?”

“All bare skin. Someone tried to touch my face when I was a child, and they ended up with a broken hand or a broken arm.”


“I felt so bad that I think even their leg was broken.”

Raising his lips in a smile, he slowly pulled my hand toward him.

“It’s not that my symptoms have gotten better since childhood. You’re the only exception, Princess.”


“Why do you think it’s like that?”


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