Isn't Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? Side Story Chapter 17
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***
“I didn't expect you to get your diploma so soon.”
What a summer semester graduation!
The dean of the Academy's Faculty of Magic, my uncle, the Marquis of Wert, puts down his teacup and grinned.
He seems cold and cynical at first glance, but seeing the same face often, he knew he wasn't in a bad mood today.
“To be honest, the picture is strange for a single magician to teach the saint who saved the empire. ”
“But it is true that graduating too early according to the school rules… I thought the dean would be against it.”
“Do I not look so inflexible like your father?”
Addition adds more, but it doesn't look less.
I swallowed the hard words that came to my throat.
“Honestly, I didn't want to make an exception either, but I can't help it. Because of you, my work is almost paralyzed.”
“.....”
“I’m going to see you, and even the graduates come to the undergraduate building from time to time, and I feel like I’m going to die.”
He shakes his head with a rather troubled face.
In fact, when the academy started, it was much more serious than it is now. The formula lectures I was giving were like taking a break.
“I respect you! Lady! Sign it!”
“Call my name just once!”
“Lady! Just say one word that you will pass your graduation thesis!”
“I feel like I will be able to pass the matriculation exam after receiving the saint from afar!”
There were people who didn't listen to lectures telling me to listen, and treated me as a totem of ups and downs.
'Of course, even if you only open your eyes wildly, you close your mouth right away.'
In the past, when I appeared, everyone was busy bowing their heads and politely giving way... .
‘I don’t really want to go back to the days of a villainess, but there were definitely things I was comfortable with.'
Still, it seems that some polarizing fans were in school, It seems that he was finally able to escape from the space called the school thanks to the trouble he made to the dean and president of the Academy.
The long compulsory education period, 5 years of undergraduate life, and hard work at the academy passed like a lantern.
“… It’s too long.”
While relieving, Marquis Berthe suddenly murmured.
“What?”
“I thought you were good at teaching. If possible, I was thinking of making a teaching assistant. Because that's the fastest way to become a professor.”
'Hey, it's not too harsh, oh!'
With the creepy remark that he wanted to pamper me like a grad student, he casually pushed the cake in front of me. with a small box.
“This… .”
When I opened the box, it contained a rose-shaped brooch, and his scar trembled for a moment.
“When I see you, I think of Marien. She was the junior she wore. She was a good lecturer, so she was going to be a teaching assistant, but I don't think my younger brother would run away with her.”
“...?”
Surely, not a love triangle, but a favorite graduate student No. 1?
Having written several chijeong novels in my head, I erased the questions that came to mind. Sometimes it's better to just leave it unaware.
“Your mother was a beautiful bride to match May. Marriage, congratulations.”
“Thank you, dean.”
“What dean when you get your diploma? Call me uncle.”
Uncle...
At the name that came out a little awkwardly, he smiled softly, incomparably with the previous one.
“I’ll see you at the wedding, Deborah.”
***
Upon hearing the news of Isidor's marriage, the Marquis of Jaba Slein hurried up to the capital with her family. It was to help her nephew's wedding preparations.
In the Empire, instead of the bride bringing the dowry, the groom prepared the wedding preparations, so Isidor would have a lot to worry about.
“Originally, this kind of preparation has to be led by an adult in the family… ”
In the mind of the Marquis, the childhood image of Isidore, who was like an angel from the past, was etched in her mind. Perhaps that's why his nephew, who had to carry out all the preparations alone, felt pity for him.
But after a while, instead of sticking her tongue out in pity, she sticks it out in exasperation.
To put it bluntly, perfectionism is a long one... … .'
He is a person with a reputation for being meticulous, but his nephew is a bit more sophisticated.
'I don't think there's a way to skip something.'
Isidor, who visited the wedding venue in advance, not only looked at the seating arrangement, but also the banquet room curtain decorations, candle holders, wine glasses, carpets, and even cutlery used by guests.
“This tableware is a trendy style?”
The vassal quickly responded to Isidor's point.
“Yes. There are a lot of nobles in the capital who prefer this kind of tableware these days, so I prepared it.”
“But it’s a formal place, but you don’t feel too heavy. Also, it’s not a flower pattern that suits the season, is it?”
“I will change it right now.”
The Marquis of Vaslein approached Isidor, watching closely the number placed on the tablecloth.
“May I give you a heartfelt message to the Duke of Visconti?”
Isidor, who had even taken off his gloves and checked the texture of the tablecloth, lifted his head at his aunt's call.
“Speak at ease, Auntie.”
“Yeah, don’t be shy. It would be a headache just to sort out the guest list, but if you look at every little thing like this, your nerves won't be left behind.”
“As soon as this place, which you rented for a dinner party, became known, the empire was turned upside down. If it had been this way, Seymour's first headmaster would have been satisfied.”
“The little things make the best quality. Visconti’s invitation.”
“… The invitation left such a saying?”
“Yes, I remember.”
Seeing his nephew, who said he was only following the laws of the Visconti, to stop nagging, the Duchess of Vaslain shook her head as if she couldn't do it.
“You really remember everything.”
“aunt also has a good memory. I want you to forget about my immature childhood... .”
She often glorified Isidore as a child. Little Isidor, with rosy cheeks, dazzling blonde hair, and big eyes, was as real as her face, like an angel who had just descended from the earth.
“Isidor, when have you been immature? You grew up too early for needlessly because of your rude father.”
“I did the exact opposite because my father didn’t like it, but I look like I’m mature.”
“… Well, on the other hand, he was a perfect guy to be a teacher.”
I say it lightly now, but what the former Visconti owner, Albert Visconti did, was beyond my imagination.
As the only son was a mess, the former family's affection for the genius grandson grew and the conflict between the father and son deepened.
'It was terrible... .'
As she recalled the past, her eyes fell deeply.
***
In the long past, the Visconti Castle was always noisy due to the clamor of Bardo Visconti, the former headmaster. Even the sound of the rough waves crashing into the Alea Strait could not sweep away his shouts of force.
“There are drug dealers in the castle. Albert, are you crazy!?”
“Ah, father… !”
“Aren’t you ashamed to look at Isidor!? While you marred Visconti's impeccable prestige and defiled the stature of a noble bloodline, your son has awakened the talent of a magic swordsman! whopping! At the age of eight when you hid in an underground warehouse and stole alcohol!”
When Bardo Visconti provoked Isidor, Albert Visconti, who was trembling, suddenly bubbled like a mad dog.
“father! Where the hell is my son?”
“What?”
“I know it all. Isidore is actually my younger brother, so I'm wearing it like my own son, right?”
“this… this guy! What nonsense are you talking about now?”
“Also. If you are stabbed, you are revolting.”
Albert rubbed his eyes like a madman and teasing his tongue.
“Anyway, Olga, I’ll have to pull the girl’s hair out and let Chidogon go. I'm playing with my sister-in-law, how dare I take a sip of my behavior on the topic of an affair?! The person who will receive the huge alimony is me!! dare! Dirty bitch!”
Olga, a victim of an arranged marriage, was fed up with Albert's Visconti's chaos and divorced after giving birth to Isidor.
After the divorce, the news that she died of an illness had been heard five years ago, and Bardo Visconti could not overcome his anger and drew a decorative sword, seeing his son tarnishing the honor of the deceased.
“After hanging out with the backstreets, every time I open my mouth, the smell of stinking vibrates! I will rip off your tongue today.”
“Hey, hey!”
Albert, who drank too much and couldn't even use his sword properly, was frozen by the blood of his father, the sword master.
“You poor bastard! The spirit is not as strong as that of a ten-year-old Isidor. I don't know if you are really my son!”
Just as Bardo Visconti was fed up and was about to cut his tongue with a knife, Agat broke in and stopped them.
After staying in the Bar Slaine estate, she stopped by the Visconti Castle after a long time and had no choice but to become a flagship at the sight unfolding before her eyes.
“Agat, go away!”
“father! Isidor is watching!”
Why is it that the father slaps his brother so loudly at the place where the child sees it? Isn't it too harsh to show that young child the cruel sight of his grandfather cutting off Jea's tongue?
“Ugh! Huh”
“Albert, you just owe your sister a tongue.”
The sharp blade that had dug into his shabby lips slowly fell away.
“ugh… uh... ”
Blood cascades from Albert Visconti's long slit lips and chin.
”.....“
“Isidor! Don't stand here and go to your room.“
“Agat, you are the older sister who only looks at that child too young. My grandchildren don't even blink an eye at this. He's a bold guy like a Visconti.”
Little Isidor, who was standing loudly beyond the chaotic door, thought as he watched his father's tears, runny noses, and blood.
it's dirty.
The thick bloody smell and the smell of man's dung pee mixed together, and his nasal passages throbbed. It was tens of times more disgusting than the smell from the barn.
“Ugh...”
When I met my father's hazy eyes, I suddenly felt an insect crawling all over my body. Goosebumps rose from the forearms and the nape of the neck.
No matter how many times I wiped and wiped, the unpleasant sensation never went away. Bardo Visconti sighed briefly as he watched Isidor wiping his hands all day with an expressionless face.
“You are truly a Visconti even in this respect.”
Most of the Visconti's who ran away had a chronic tuberculosis. So Bardo Visconti was rather happy to see the child's fingertips that had been split and had blood on them.
A natural perfectionist temperament, the talent of a magic swordsman, a superhuman memory, and even the habit of raking gold by any means. Even if it was called the reincarnation of the invitation, it was not strange.
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