Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better?

‘What are you up to, all of a sudden? No way, are you trying to get my attention like this?'

When Deborah did not act according to what he expected, Philap was confused.

She is a woman who does not lose to anyone with her desire to show off and vanity.

It is a good time to be boastful, so why is she so quiet?

Philap, who was looking at Deborah's back without realizing it, turned his head, frowning.

Because somehow, he felt like he was stopping himself.

"Wow."

At that time, Mia, who was standing next to him, suddenly exclaimed.

"What?"

"That girl with purple hair is really beautiful. There really are many elegant and sophisticated ladies in the capital."

Elegant?

If you know Deborah's personality, that word will never come out of your mouth.

Perhaps she really doesn't know anything about the world, since she is from a poor family.

Well, it was true that Deborah was sophisticated just by looking at her appearance. Perhaps because of the clothes that matched her hair color, there was something about her that caught your attention.

Her white and long neck was more prominent due to the black pearl necklace, and her body was clearly…

‘Damn it. What are you thinking? Are you crazy?'

No matter how weak a man is to what he sees, Philap, feeling like poking himself in the eyes, hurriedly turned to Mia and spoke.

"Mia, you are much more beautiful and elegant. You can't even be compared to a woman like that."

"Please don't say that."

Mia shook her hands, flustered.

"You are even more humble than anyone else."

Philap deliberately burst out laughing, in an ostentatious way.

***

‘Time is really slow. I'll get a stiff neck like this.'

When I looked outside the window, my trapezius muscle was stiff.

‘They must have lost interest in me by now, right?'

As I briefly glanced sideways after a reasonable amount of time, Philap and Mia were chatting in their own world.

‘They're so lovey-dovey.'

May the two of them live happily ever after. And then I gazed at the professor in front of the pulpit, praying that he would not be an inconvenience to me.

The first class is politics.

I took out a quill pen and a book called "The Understanding of Politics" from my bag.

‘What is this princess-style quill pen?'

A pink quill with jewels embedded on it.

I wondered why she bought such pretty school supplies even though she didn't even study.

‘Oh? But this is awesome.'

Is it because it's an expensive quill? The feeling of sliding through the paper is awesome.

Unlike the quill pens in the study, it was light and had an appropriate length, so the feeling as you wrapped your hand around it was also excellent.

As a writing instrument that fits my hand appeared after a long time, the doodles I used to do in my past college days popped out; and I happened to find one more thing Deborah was good at.

‘I'm a golden hand.'

I could clearly feel Deborah's dexterity because I was hopelessly untalented in my previous life.

I used this hand to portray the academy building I saw in the distance, through the window, with more precision than when I was a college student.

If I had such an amazing talent in my previous life, I might have been able to go to the architecture department.

After completing a masterpiece in the corner of the book, I, who had left my body to a train of thought, rubbed my dry eyes.

‘I'm sleepy…'

The letters in the book split into three or four, perhaps because I couldn't sleep well last night before the classes started.

The teacher's voice was monotonous so it sounded like a lullaby, and the sunlight in the place I was sitting was too good.

‘Ah, whatever. I'm a character who doesn't study anyway.'

My thoughts were only that far.

Falling asleep lying face down, I had a dream of my previous life.

Even in my dream, I was sitting in the classroom.

Now that I think of it, most of my 24 years of life were in a classroom. 12 years in elementary, middle, and high school, and 4 years in college. And in this world, academy right before graduation.

It's not some kind of never-ending story.

While I was lamenting if a ghost were attached to me because I couldn't study, I heard the doorknob of the classroom turning.

"Yoon Do-Hee."

I gritted my teeth.

The person who opened the door and appeared was Kim Han-Joon.

He is a good-looking bastard, but he's a bully.

"Han-Joon. Is something wrong?"

I should have started by spitting out curse words that I hadn't said, but in my dream, I was saying stupid things in a kind voice like a person possessed by something,

"Have you eaten?"

"Ah, not yet."

"Let's go eat together. I'll buy this time."

"Thank you. I just happened to be hungry."

Hey! You've been getting expensive things from me all the time, don't take me to the student cafeteria as if you're being generous.

And why am I impressed by getting a 5,000 won pork cutlet there?

"Do-Hee. After eating, I want to have coffee."

"Oppa. I'll buy the coffee!"

Shut up! Stop it.

"Can I try the new Starbucks menu?"

"Of course."

"By the way, if I collect two more stamps, I can get a diary."

"Ah, then I will give you all the stamps."

Did I even give him the stamps? What an eyesore.

As I watched the agonizing memories flashing through my mind, ashamed, a slight tap on my shoulder made me jump up.

‘What is this. Am I still dreaming?'

As soon as I opened my eyes, a handsome blond-haired man came into sight.

Looking at the man's face, I frowned.

I wondered how anyone could be so unbelievably handsome.

I'm sure it's an angel who appeared out of pity because I was pathetic for having nightmares with Kim Han-Joon.

I watched the angel who suddenly intruded into my dream, with an obviously grateful feeling.

The scene of the sunlight shattering over the blonde hair, which seemed to be made of melted gold, was divine.

If his hair was like the sun, his clear eyes were like an emerald-colored sea.

The smoothly raised nose seemed to have been carved by a craftsman, and the soft lips were beautiful as if the goddess had carefully crafted them for three days and nights.

His facial line was sharp yet delicate, and his long neckline and protruding Adam's apple were masculine.

It was a beauty that I couldn't take my eyes off. I had the illusion that time was flowing slowly around that man.

Suddenly.

The angel-like man came closer to me and opened his mouth.

"Class is over, Lady Deborah."

I suddenly came to my senses at the low voice ringing in my ears.

‘It wasn't a dream?'

Even after rubbing my dry eyes once, the unreal-looking man was still standing in front of me.

"… Who are you?"

I mumbled in a sleepy voice.

"Do you not know me?"

Embarrassment passed through his emerald-like eyes.

"Should I know you?"

I answered like this, but the truth is, I was also embarrassed.

How can Deborah not remember such a handsome guy? That's really impolite.

Only strong impressions remained in the fragments of Deborah's memories, and that blonde man seems to have had no impact on her.

‘Is that possible?'

I think we should acknowledge Deborah's true love for Philap.

How much did she like him, that she didn't even look at a man like this?

While I was dwelling on it, the handsome man in front of me regained his composure and smiled.

As a soft smile appeared on his well-shaped lips, I was barely keeping calm and felt a sense of crisis.

‘Is this… Is he attacking me?'

"Haha, maybe you don't know. Isidor Visconti. That's my name."

The man who quickly regained his composure gave me his name in a cool manner.

Isidor Visconti.

I thought I had heard it somewhere, and I remembered it; it was the name that was mentioned the most in the conversation of the young ladies I encountered at the Maisond.

‘He was everyone's favorite.'

Looking at his face, I fully understood.

If he was in Korea, he would have raised several buildings just by breathing in front of the camera.

"But, did something happen?"

At my question, the man held out something with his hand in leather gloves.

"This…"

What he handed over was a handout related to politics.

‘Did he get mine separately?'

It seems like he took a handout and waited until I woke up.

But that's weird.

Just from listening, he would know I'm the crazy woman around here; so why is he suddenly talking and taking care of me?

I suspiciously looked at the blonde handsome man.

I was already suspicious, but because of the dream I had with Kim Han-Joon, I immediately remembered the first time I met him.

Kim Han-Joon also waited for me to wake up, while I was sleeping on my face like now, and gave me a handout that the teaching assistant handed around.

After that, I pretended to take care of this and that and worked hard like a greedy person.

"I don't need this kind of thing."

I coldly returned the handout he gave me.

The academy's politics class was easy enough to yawn, anyways.

Compared to the level of difficulty of books of a 4th year major in college, it was like a piece of cake.

The handout seemed to be a summary of the first part of the book, so memorizing the book was enough.

"But there's nothing wrong with keeping it, right?"

"… Why are you so nosy?"

"You just had a nightmare, didn't you?"

"What?"

"Seeing you sleeping with that expression made me want to be nosy. Ah, are you perhaps hungry? It's lunch time now."

I was secretly taken aback by the natural change of topic.

What the hell is this punk?

"I'm not hungry."

"That's good. Actually, I'm not very hungry either. I'm simply going to drink tea."

"I don't have time. Then."

After firmly rejecting him with a few words, I quickly moved away from him.

I could feel an absurd gaze stuck in the back of my head, but I hurried my steps as if I were being chased by something.

Because there has been a beeping sound ringing in my head since earlier.

‘That's dangerous.'

If I keep looking at that face, I may want to give it all without asking or figuring out his intentions.

Simply speaking, the blonde man was the one who awakened the pushover instincts that were sleeping inside of me.

Like the idiot I am, I was hopelessly weak to men who suited my tastes, like Kim Han-Joon.

However, that Isi-what's-his-name had an inhumane face that lightly crushes the wall of taste.

‘There are a lot of people here and there to watch out for.'

Thinking that I couldn't slack off because this was a tragedy novel, I bit my nails.

***

His master, who confidently approached Princess Deborah saying he would use his face, mercilessly came back alone.

Is it just his feeling? That face, which was always relaxed, looked somewhat depressed.

For some reason, he has an inkling that he is interested in Princess Deborah.

As he struggled to hold back a big smile that kept trying to appear, Miguel asked with his most innocent eyes.

"Lord. Didn't you tell me that you would have an appointment for lunch today and that I could go back first?"

Isidor narrowed his eyes at Miguel's sly question.

"Are you asking because you know or because you don't know? Whatever it is, that's the problem. My right-hand vassal is impudent or half-witted. It means one of the two."

"Prince. Maybe the handsome guy strategy didn't work. You seem to have become a little sensitive?"

"I see there's nothing you can't say."

As Isidor kicked his shin violently, Miguel jumped, letting out a grumble.

After venting his anger on an innocent person, he secretly glanced at his face on the window and was apprehensive.

"There is no way this face doesn't work. I don't understand."

"I guess it's not to Lady Deborah's preference."

"It's not a face divided between liking or disliking. The golden ratio. Don't you know?"

"Exceptions exist everywhere. In the eyes of Princess Deborah, it seems she has more preference towards Mr. Philap than the Lord."

When Philap's name came out, Isidor frowned lightly.

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