Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 103

-"There goes the witch!"

-"Acting all high and mighty under Belmiere's protection..."

-"Shh! She'll hear you!"

Elente walked gracefully down the corridor.

The gathering in the main hall had concluded, and she now ascended the central staircase of Belmiere Manor to receive her final sentencing in the Family Head's office.

Every senior retainer, servant, and squire she passed began whispering.

Some senior retainers who had been her loyal followers now regretted their years of service and began revising their plans, the head maid averted her eyes with tightly shut lids, and visiting distant relatives looked at her with contemptuous gazes.

Had she simply walked the straight and narrow path of power, none would dare envy her position—yet now the girl who chose the wrong path faced nothing but condemnation.

The girl walking through this storm remained as elegant as ever.

Accepting even the vilest malice and slander, she walked on and on until—

Before she knew it, she stood before the grand office entrance.

As the escorting squire opened the door, she saw Border Count Belmiere sitting with a complicated expression.

Gathering her lace-trimmed dress, she entered to hear him say:

"Over thirty retainers entered Belmiere Manor solely for you, taking on the dirtiest tasks. Nine squires were being groomed as your personal knights, and more than twenty servants were assigned to your residence. Did you meet any on your way here?"

The Border Count's voice, usually dripping with honeyed affection for his beloved daughter, was unnaturally cold today.

Elente hesitated before nodding.

The retainers had swallowed curses upon meeting her gaze, the knights glared with disdain, and her former servants wiped away tears of betrayal.

They had already branded her a witch.

"Some devoted over a decade to you."

"..."

"Yet now, not a soul remains at your side."

Elente looked up at the Border Count again.

His face, weighed down by responsibility, betrayed deep sorrow. No one had loved Elente more than this lord.

When Ryner left the main house and Leonard abandoned his post, Elente had stayed as heir to shoulder that burden.

Understanding that sorrow's weight, Elente quietly held her breath.

"Baron Derek Raidof Ravenclaw brought two letters."

"...What?"

In the retainer-less office, Elente calmly produced two letters from her dress and placed them on the table.

"What is this...?"

"One is from House Duplein—Prince Valerian's sworn statement denying any necromancy research. The other announces that Countess Rodea of House Renuel is coming to investigate the necromantic traces in our manor."

As Elente spoke, the Border Count's eyes widened before scanning the letters.

Their contents were brief. Though he finished quickly, his sharp gaze soon clouded with renewed suspicion.

"..."

"Have you finished reading?"

At first glance, they seemed to prove Elente's innocence. If Valerian never practiced necromancy, the letter found in her room must be forged.

But the Renuel letter was different.

Though expertly crafted, the Border Count—having verified House Renuel's seal on countless official documents—instantly saw through it.

"This is a forgery."

No crude fake could deceive him.

His gaze grew even colder.

"What brings Young Master Leonard to this basement?"

"Sister Elente has confessed to all charges. With her authority revoked, this laboratory will soon be restored."

The chilly basement air clung to them as the two men faced each other.

Leonard felt uneasy seeing Derek's eerie expression.

He'd assumed Derek was successfully recruited, but now doubted that conviction.

Yet perhaps he was just being paranoid—with Elente's confession, what could possibly go wrong?

Still, the unease persisted.

"I came for a final check. In case Sister left any... disturbing traces."

"How thorough."

"And you, Sir Derek? What brings you here?"

"Same as you. One last inspection before this place is cleared."

Sheathing his sword, Derek stood.

A cold sweat trickled down Leonard's neck. Some instinct screamed danger.

-'Young Master Leonard, you're heaven-sent! What a relief!'

He remembered Derek's bright smile during their handshake.

The devout believer who trusted Leonard completely—that same man now glared with predator's eyes in the dark.

"Snakes and doves. An interesting metaphor. Understood."

When Derek gave this dismissive reply and moved toward the stairs—

Leonard suddenly whipped his head around sharply.

Derek paused mid-step at the odd reaction.

"Something wrong?"

"Is this your first time hearing that phrase?"

"...?"

"Leuron's Sacred Texts, Chapter 7:'Behold, I send you forth as sheep among wolves—be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.'"

"..."

"The very first verse every Leuron follower memorizes."

Leonard stepped back as he spoke.

-'Aren't you one of Lord Leuron's lambs? I too am devout.'

Derek's exact words when gaining Leonard's trust.

Yet now, Derek tilted his head at the faith's most famous verse.

"—You were never a believer."

- Creak

- Slam!

The heavy wooden door shut behind Derek as he turned with a predator's glare.

"Sharp as ever, aren't you?"

Leonard lunged for the exit—

Only for Derek's boot to crush into his solar plexus.

- Crash! Thud!

"Gahhh!"

Leonard slammed into a bookshelf, sending dust swirling through the dark laboratory.

-'Derek. Tomorrow when Father questions my crimes, I'll confess everything publicly.'

-'...'

-'Aren't you going to ask why?'

After explaining the situation, just before leaving...

In Belmiere Manor's rain-lashed darkness, Elente whispered to Derek.

Sitting side by side on the bed, the night's shadows felt less terrifying.

Having someone beside her made the endless void feel almost familiar.

-'It'll make Leonard panic when he realizes something's off. Easier for you to catch that slippery snake.'

-'...You'd take the blame just for that?'

-'Well... that's just the excuse. Taking the blame is the real goal.'

Derek stared blankly as Elente continued.

No longer did she wear that haggard, cornered expression.

-'They say only true allies remain when you hit rock bottom. I don't disagree—but it's not exactly wisdom.'

-'What do you mean?'

-'Of course my entourage disappears when I lose power. That's natural. The fact they surrounded me at my peak proves my influence was real.'

Her luminous eyes locked onto Derek's.

-'If I'm to rule through power, I'll use even this loneliness.'

Having lived half her life as Belmiere's heir and four years as Evelstain's social queen, something had crystallized within her.

-'If I must fall, I'll crash straight through rock bottom.'

-'...'

-'You'll stay with me, won't you?'

Elente smiled faintly.

-'I'll let them slander me, throw garbage, laugh in contempt. Make them curse, resent, hate me. If this is how it must be, I'll plunge to the absolute depths.'

Then she clenched her fist and extended it—just as Aiselin had done at Elfontaine Hall.

-'Because only by falling completely can one rise again in glory.'

-'...'

-'My direct retainers, opposition factions, even senior retainers—they'll unite in condemning me. I'll plant guilt in their hearts. Make them regret vilifying an innocent noble flower... then forgive them.'

Emerging from despair, her mind spun faster than ever.

The art of commanding, bending, and claiming people.

The scheme she envisioned dwarfed Leonard's—using his plot to cement her position further.

Forgiveness was the key.

By forgiving those who condemned Belmiere's flower, she'd turn even skeptical retainers into loyalists.

-'Derek.'

She studied his bloodied hand—wounded while disarming her dagger.

Though now bandaged, the injury was her fault.

With a pained expression, she touched the wound before looking up.

-'Once this resolves, everyone will scramble for my favor. Even senior retainers who abandoned me—they'll fight to fill that void. Power intoxicates people.'

-'Indeed. And you, Lady Elente, are power incarnate.'

-'Yes. Gaining my favor means gaining Belmiere itself. But Derek—one thing's certain.'

She squeezed his bandaged hand, mustering a smile.

-'My protection is Belmiere's protection. And if asked who holds Belmiere's highest trust... the answer is decided.'

-'...'

-'You can be proud. When the world turned away, you believed in me. Even if the whole world abandons me someday, I'll never abandon you.'

Clutching his wounded arm, she whispered:

-'Derek, you're my most trusted person.'

- Crash! Thud!

Leonard staggered up amidst the dust, glaring viciously.

The veteran mercenary's kick was too brutal for a pampered noble—one strike left him wheezing.

"Huff... huff... You think... you can get away with this...?!"

All pretense of respect was gone.

Leonard gritted his teeth, swaying unsteadily—clearly no physical fighter.

"Sister Elente's finished! Do you really think assaulting me now will help?! You're just some backwater baron, while I'll become Belmiere's next heir—!"

"Well said. Does Belmiere's glorious prestige make you stab-proof?"

Derek drew his sword with a steely rasp.

Seeing the blade gleam in darkness, Leonard stumbled back.

"Hah... haha... You'll kill me? Bluffing."

"..."

"In Belmiere Manor's heart? Even if I'm guilty, you'd never escape consequences. You can't kill me."

Coughing violently, Leonard leaned on a desk with a ghastly smile.

"Fine. Beat me all you want. But don't think my family will believe you. You'll just be the arrogant minor noble who assaulted Belmiere's kind third son."

"..."

"Kehehe... Funny situation. So... those letters Sister brought this morning... you procured them."

Leonard laughed hoarsely, his confidence returning.

Having turned Elente's servants, he knew about both letters—anticipating every move.

Exactly as Derek hoped.

"The forgery is obvious. Did you really think fake documents would overturn this? How naive. You underestimate my father."

Derek and Leonard stood frozen—one gripping a sword, the other grinning madly.

Tension thickened between them.

"Countess Rodea isn't coming. You fabricated that letter to panic me—make me flee and reveal myself as a necromancer. Right?"

"Why would I forge it?"

"To... make me panic... and run..."

"Wrong. I forged it for the opposite reason."

Now Derek grinned savagely.

His smile in shadows bore no resemblance to their first meeting's warmth.

This was the real Derek.

"To stop you from running."

The tides of fate shift endlessly.

On the road to Belmiere Manor—

A dozen horses galloped through the damp Ratman Canyon, led by Countess Rodea—lifelong hunter of necromancers and legendary hero.

Behind her rode Lady Trisha and House Renuel's soldiers.

Hero Rodea.

No one alive knew more about Rodentz Island's necromancy than her.

In Evelstain's gambling dens—

A red-haired, bearded man chuckled at his card table, joking with fellow gamblers:

"Know the surest way to trick a snake like me?"

"Make'em think they're the ones doing the tricking."

Tossing coins onto the table, the wastrel grinned—none other than Ryner, Belmiere's former heir.

In the Border Count's office—

Elente spoke confidently as her father's expression hardened.

Though reluctant to doubt his daughter, the Border Count began listening carefully.

And in the basement where it all began—

Leonard's composure finally shattered as he scrambled up.

"M-move aside...!"

His voice trembled.

But Derek, blocking the exit, stared down coldly.

"No."

"Fuck...! Get lost!"

Crimson magic erupted from Leonard as residual necromantic energy reacted—

1-Star necromancy:'Restless Spirit Summoning.'

Just as the spirits converged, Derek's boot crushed his ribs again.

- Crash!

Leonard collapsed, choking on dust and defeat.