The Perks of Being a Villainess

I stared at him intently and forcefully turned over the luxurious leather bag.

"Money. Does this explain it?"

The man saw my hidden weapon roll out of the bag and started laughing again.

"What do you think?"

"That's definitely something only a noble lady could get her hands on."

What I took out was a high-grade mana stone that shimmered with a bluish light.

In the Empire, high-grade mana stones are always funneled into the Magic Tower first. So a blue mana stone was practically a symbol of my backing—my father, the Master of the Magic Tower.

'Good thing I secretly stole one just in case.'

I had more than just wealth—I had Duke Seymour behind me.

"Now it's your turn to show some creativity."

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled out a red pouch from the drawer. Unusually, the string tying the pouch was adorned with three small high-grade mana stones.

"I hope it's to your liking, my lady."

"What is this pouch?"

"It's a pouch that combines space expansion magic, weight-reduction magic, and summoning magic."

No matter how deeply I searched Deborah's memories, there was no item with such incredible features.

Was this one of those rare artifacts I'd only heard about in stories?

"This pouch can hold an amount of gold coins equal to what would fill around fifty large vaults. There's no risk of losing it, either. Just set your palm as the coordinate, and you can summon it back. Even when packed full, it only weighs about one pound."

"Don't tell me… you made this yourself?"

"That's right."

I was genuinely amazed by how convenient this pouch was. With this alone, it was practically like owning a small bank.

"This pouch. I want you to give it to me."

I meant every word.

"I'll make one for you."

The master began drafting a contract for the slush fund pouch.

But in the contract, there was a clause forbidding any disclosure of the pouch to outsiders. It seemed he didn't want the idea of using magic to manage off-the-books funds spreading around.

'Aha. So this pouch is being used as a tax evasion portal.'

The Master was clearly hiding illicit funds—dirty money made through illegal deals—inside that magic pouch. That's why he wanted me to keep things confidential.

"But… is there any particular reason it has to be a pouch?"

I muttered without thinking, and the Master tilted his head slightly.

"Because it's convenient."

"It is convenient, sure, but the amount of gold it can hide is limited, so it doesn't seem very efficient…"

The moment those words left my mouth, the Master's lips stiffened. Just like when we first met, a cold air surrounded him, and I immediately regretted it.

'Damn. By saying "hide," I basically hinted that I know he's committing tax evasion.'

I should've pretended not to notice. But the words were already out, so I forced a neutral expression and kept talking.

"If I had spatial magic skills like you, instead of using a pouch like this, I'd buy an island in a country with the lowest tax rates and establish a shell company there."

I spoke as if my purpose for acquiring the slush fund pouch was also tax evasion. Acting like an accomplice would lower his guard.

"With teleportation, I could travel back and forth easily, manage gold bars on a remote island, and use a fake company to make the money trail more complicated. Since tax audits rarely target such islands, wouldn't that be a win-win?"

If teleportation magic was involved, it could create a tax haven that even 21st-century conglomerates would envy.

The Master's eyes glinted at my words. He began tapping the table with a thoughtful look on his face.

"It's an impressive idea, but teleporting long distances across the sea is currently impossible. You'd need to be at least a 9th-class mage."

"I see."

Even Duke Seymour, the most powerful mage in the Empire, hadn't broken through the 7th class. A 9th-class mage? That was practically the stuff of legends—something only a dragon might achieve.

"But still, very creative. Far more than this pouch I made."

Suddenly, the Master declared he wouldn't take a single coin for making the slush fund pouch. It was his way of rewarding the "creativity" I'd shown.

'Oh yes. Total score.'

I realized that the shallow but broad knowledge I'd accumulated in my past life from doing all the group projects in liberal arts courses had become a high-value bargaining chip with Master Blanche. The heart-stopping price of the magic pouch was instantly waived, thanks to the concept of a "tax haven."

From the pink diamond that practically dropped into my hands, to this unexpected deal with Master Blanche—luck had been raining down on me like a jackpot. Confidence, something that rarely visited me, was suddenly overflowing.

"A client like me, with wealth, power, and creativity, must be rare to come by."

At my boast, he gave a faint smile.

"And humor too. Looks like you've got all four… or is it five? Because…"

He murmured something under his breath, and I tilted my head, trying to catch what he'd said.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

After placing the contracts for the three requests into an envelope, the man melted a stick of black sealing wax using the flame at his fingertip. Then he picked one of the dozens of stamps lined up on the table, pressed it firmly into the molten wax, and pulled it away.

The seal bore the image of a swan.

'What does that mean?'

My mind tangled with thoughts. The fact that he didn't use the stamp with the raised-tailed cat meant he wasn't completely satisfied with our transaction.

'Should I take this as a good sign or a bad one?'

It might mean I got the better end of the deal. Or it could imply he didn't intend to do business with me again.

'If he cuts off the deal, I'll have no way to find this place again.'

Since it's connected by teleportation, I can't even guess its location.

"My lady."

Just as I was growing anxious, he called out to me.

"...Yes?"

"If you're curious about the progress of your requests, don't come to the Atra District. Instead, go to the informant located in the Yones District."

He then handed me the address of a shop located within a district where high-ranking nobles reside.

'Wait, this is Maison Deux.'

I flinched in surprise at the familiar name. Maison Deux was the hottest dessert shop in the Yones District these days—one that Deborah frequently visited. Nobles' servants lined up there from as early as 3 a.m. to buy luxurious desserts, each crafted by a royal-born pastry master.

Deborah couldn't start her tea time without eating one of the shop's exclusive desserts, of which only 77 were made daily. Thanks to that, I had benefitted greatly too.

But to think Maison Deux—just like Diana—was another shop run by Master Blanche.

'I thought he was just an informant… turns out he's a hidden tycoon.'

His business sense was clearly far from ordinary. I clicked my tongue inwardly and rose from my seat, grabbing the now-empty bag that only held the contracts.

"If I want to request something again, can I come back anytime?"

As I walked toward the arched door, I asked with a tinge of uncertainty. That swan-shaped stamp still nagged at me.

In response, he narrowed his eyes into crescent moons.

"Clients with money are always welcome."

Only then did I feel the tension drain from my body.

The crown prince's ultimate cheat... No, I'd just gained a brilliant strategist. For someone like me—an outsider with no one to trust—having the Master on my side was nothing short of reassuring.

My carefully maintained dignified expression was starting to crack, so I quickly turned around and walked briskly toward the exit.

***

"If I want to make another request, I can come back anytime, right?"

Isidore quietly looked into Deborah's beautiful eyes, reminiscent of rubies, then opened his mouth.

"Clients with money are always welcome."

For a brief moment, it seemed like a faint smile formed on her crimson lips, which had been frozen in a cold line until now. But since she quickly turned around and walked toward the exit, almost as if to hide that gentle expression, he couldn't be sure if she had truly smiled.

Soon, the sharp click of the door's hinges echoed as the lady disappeared from sight. Isidore stared at the firmly shut door, then let his body sink into the backrest of the chair.

'Now only my questions remain.'

He absentmindedly traced the swan stamped on the black sealing wax with his fingertips and muttered.

A black swan.

An entirely unexpected presence—yet one he had no choice but to accept now that it had appeared before him.

When the noble lady looked at him with gleaming red eyes while gently stroking a cookie, the shock hit him like the first time he'd seen a black swan—startling him to his core.

'…She's different from the rumors I've heard.'

Deborah Seymour… since when did she carry such an enigmatic aura?

Up until now, based on the intel Isidore had gathered, the daughter of House Seymour was violent, vain, and incompetent. Crippled by inferiority, her reputation in high society was rock bottom.

But the Deborah standing before him felt completely different from the woman he had envisioned through rumors and reports.

'Must just be my imagination. Cookie's never shown interest in anyone else before…'

But the longer the conversation went on, the more Isidore realized he had misjudged her.

Of course, she wasn't exactly sweet. Her icy gaze could cut, and whenever a deal didn't satisfy her, she'd glare at him with deadly seriousness. She even put a price on how to tame Cookie, then sarcastically said she'd sell the info for 99 gold—a one-gold discount.

An absurd chuckle slipped out. He hadn't expected to get hit with the same cheap jokes he usually threw at his own clients.

'But that's part of the charm.'

She was unpredictable—never boring.

What truly caught him off guard was her final request. It was practically asking for one of his trade secrets. Just when he hesitated, a mana stone popped out from her bag.

Intelligence, wealth, creativity, and power.

The noble lady who countered so cleverly intrigued him—enough that he impulsively taught her how to manage a slush fund. And that wasn't the end.

"Buying an island in a low-tax country to set up a shell company…"

That… sounded exactly like something a top-tier villain of the Empire would do.

The tax evasion method she proposed was not only creative—it was downright vicious. And above all, its potential applications were vast. Even without purchasing an island, she could establish dozens of phantom firms in the autonomous region of Helleia, ruled by temples, then funnel profits into them and manipulate the books. That way, even the Asteian Emperor would struggle to track the taxes.

It was a far grander and more intelligent method than simply hiding gold using spatial magic.

This was the first time Isidore had ever felt a strange sense of defeat during a negotiation. And simultaneously, it was the first time his curiosity about a client had grown this much.

Every other client he'd dealt with acted predictably, like chess pieces moving according to plan. But Lady Deborah had suddenly barged into the board without warning—then left behind only a trail of questions.

How had she found him? How did she tame the timid Cookie so quickly? Why was she selling a pink diamond to build a slush fund? There were too many things he wanted to know.

And even though his curiosity burned, as an informant, he couldn't just go around asking…

"I really can't stand not knowing things."

As Isidore muttered to himself, the mist that filled his office began to clear, and a man who had been lurking in the shadows slowly stepped forward.

"Young Master. Shall I investigate Deborah Seymour myself?"

Miguel Draine, one of the Visconti family's loyal vassals, posed the question, and Isidore shook his head.

"This finally looks like fun. Why should you get all the entertainment?"

"…Don't tell me you're going to investigate her yourself?"

"The academy term is starting soon. Like it or not, we'll be seeing each other often."

His master, who always claimed there was nothing to learn at the academy, had handed out bribes left and right last semester, essentially paying his way out of attendance.

"…You're really going to the academy? After spending all that money?"

"There's no harm in building a connection with Duke Seymour's beloved daughter."

"Didn't you say you'd already formed all the necessary connections? You even said you were planning to focus solely on your relationship with the Crown Prince for a while…"

Isidore ignored him entirely and gently stroked Cookie's head with a soft hand.

"I'm going to find out how she managed to tame my adorable Cookie without spending even a single cooper. This is a matter of pride—as an informant."

Watching Isidore still holding a subtle grudge, Miguel had to swallow his disbelief.

He had OCD (Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder) and an extreme aversion to women—he hated even brushing against them—so why on earth was he suddenly trying to build a relationship with Lady Deborah?

Something felt suspicious, but in the end, she was just a noble lady. She didn't seem like someone important enough for his master to personally get involved with and waste his precious time on.

'He really is unpredictable sometimes.'

Isidore could be terrifyingly calculating, but also impulsive and completely self-serving at times. He was a man Miguel could never truly grasp.

Convinced there must be a greater reason behind his master's actions, Miguel finally asked,

"So, how exactly do you plan to approach her?"

Isidore simply shrugged and took off the bracelet enchanted with polymorph magic.

In an instant, his ash-brown hair turned into golden blond, as if melted from sunlight, and his plain, wax-like features transformed into the face of a stunningly handsome man—one you'd never forget after a single glance.