Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 112

"At Ravenclaw Training Institute, we provide the finest learning conditions for our distinguished guests. I am Aiselin Eleanor Duplein, eldest daughter of House Duplein, headmistress of Ravenclaw Training Institute, and your companion in studying noble etiquette. It's truly an honor to greet you all."

After exchanging greetings with Derek, the director of Ravenclaw Training Institute, Baroness Phee Rafaela Tigris moved to the auditorium serving as a dueling ground to attend the simple opening ceremony.

The circular tables arranged throughout the hall were exquisitely set, the lavish feast upon them bordering on extravagant. The tablecloths and tableware were mostly high-end items, making one wonder how a rural frontier baron could afford such luxury.

Though called an opening ceremony, the peculiar event more closely resembled a tea party. At the front, Aiselin stood with her hands demurely clasped, smiling brightly as she spoke.

"Let us strive together at Ravenclaw Training Institute to understand both noble refinement and the profundity of magic, becoming ever more valuable companions to one another."

Considerable time had passed since Duplein's tragedy. Even frontier low-ranking nobles had heard the news, so most were well aware of Aiselin's desperate circumstances.

Yet most noble ladies gazed at Aiselin with admiration. From her early days in Evelstein's social circles, she'd never been someone who relied solely on family prestige for her worth. That figures like Tricia or Elente envied her proved the compelling charisma she possessed.

Even indifferent personalities like Sirine or Denise had to acknowledge Aiselin as someone countless noble ladies aspired to emulate. For some young ladies, merely seeing Aiselin in person provided significant motivation. Learning etiquette directly from her would be invaluable.

However, even Aiselin couldn't handle all classes alone.

"I'll be responsible for court etiquette, language and literature, rhetoric, tea ceremony and similar subjects, but we have many other instructors contributing their expertise."

As she gestured toward a large table at one side of the banquet hall, the assembled faculty Aiselin and Delbritton had gathered from across the continent came into view.

Natural applause flowed from the audience. Derek, seated to one side, observed them carefully.

He'd already met each individually and reviewed their documents multiple times.

Adelan, Puddle, Isabella, Craig, Lilia, Lady Vivian, Marcel, Silverden, Helena...

While teaching assistants were mostly commoners, the primary instructors were largely noble-born. With Aiselin guaranteeing decent prospects and salaries, plus personal ambitions driving them, quite capable talents had gathered.

'Their ages and dispositions vary so much—I wonder if we can manage them all.'

Derek crossed his arms, quietly assessing them. He'd memorized all their profiles after pulling an all-nighter. As the institute's director, he needed complete familiarity with his staff.

'Adelan. Combat mage. Short silver hair, golden eyes. Strict and disciplined, but surprisingly compassionate. Doesn't show it much though...'

'Puddle. Confusion mage. Long purple hair, dreamy expression, loves flashy robes... Eccentric and unpredictable, but quite insightful.'

'Isabella. Green hair, green eyes. Always smiling vacantly, but as a transformation mage has unfathomable aspects. Need to monitor her closely to prevent mischief.'

'Craig. Elderly summoning mage. Black hair heavily streaked with gray, deep wrinkles. Quiet and cautious. From a fallen noble house—his past is obscure.'

'Lilia. Young detection mage. Brown curly hair with a friendly smile. Always carrying notebooks... Passionate and diligent—seems the least troublesome.'

The assistant instructors Delbritton recruited were generally satisfactory, though Adelan and Isabella's social standing slightly exceeded Director Derek's, making them somewhat burdensome.

In contrast, the faculty Aiselin gathered from Evelstein and the northwestern continent were relatively easier to handle.

'Lady Vivian was recruited from a private academy in Lokus, the northwestern city. Surprisingly not noble despite being a court etiquette expert. Dance instructor Marcel, musician Helena, chef Clara... Mostly commoners.'

While magic instruction often emphasized social status, commoners could readily teach basic etiquette and culture. Such specialists typically made careers of educating nobles. True to form, most cultural instructors were commoners.

After applauding each faculty member, Ravenclaw's owner and director Baron Derek finally took the stage.

While most had heard rumors about Baron Ravenclaw, few had spoken with him directly. Those who knew Derek would unanimously agree he wasn't one to dominate such ceremonial occasions.

Yet when Derek smiled softly on the podium, even Elente and Denise in the VIP seats startled.

"Thank you for coming this long distance. Despite various upheavals, I'm delighted we've prepared an environment where our distinguished guests can pursue serious studies."

Under the audience's gaze, Derek set aside his usual cold-blooded, detached demeanor, adopting the relaxed smile typical of nobility as he spoke smoothly.

Elente held her breath at the sight, while Denise propped her chin thoughtfully.

'He can make that expression yet taught like an automaton?'

Even those unfamiliar with Derek often described him as cold, emotionless and businesslike. Yet Derek disregarded such perceptions, speaking with gentle warmth.

"There may still be shortcomings, but House Ravenclaw has worked tirelessly to create truly optimal conditions. Our faculty are all highly capable, I've accumulated extensive experience in Evelstein's social circles, and Lady Aiselin needs no introduction."

Presentation is half the battle.

Derek's proper noble attire and composed demeanor before these young ladies unfamiliar with worldly affairs seemed to heighten the audience's focus.

Evelstein's most renowned magic tutor. A rags-to-riches story of a slum commoner becoming a landed noble. Wrapped in plausible packaging and delivered with confident poise, credibility came naturally.

Beyond this, revealing Derek's unexpectedly kind, gentle nature beneath his cold exterior sparked peculiar interest.

'I heard he was some fussy rural frontier baron, but he doesn't seem that strict? Rather benevolent-looking... Seems like he'd patiently explain anything asked...'

'I assumed the institute would be all stern focus on studies, but seeing the director makes me think otherwise.'

'Could... could I master 1st Grade Magic before my coming-of-age ceremony if I work hard...?'

As numerous noble ladies harbored such thoughts while observing Derek—

'...Who is that?'

—Phee sat to one side with a dumbfounded expression.

The Derek onstage bore no resemblance to the man she'd met privately in the office.

"Veronica of Viscount Lointele's family."

"The Lointele family's detection magic is truly renowned. An honor to meet you, Lady Veronica."

After the opening ceremony concluded, servants guided attendees to their assigned dormitories. Derek stood by the exit, greeting each noble lady.

"Baron Ravenclaw is truly remarkable. I feel like I've arrived in a land of learning—my academic zeal is overflowing. I look forward to learning much from you."

"If anything, I believe I'll learn more from Lady Veronica's passion and scholarly enthusiasm. We'll meet again tomorrow in the classrooms."

When Derek bowed politely, the girl introducing herself as Veronica lifted her skirt slightly in an elegant curtsy.

Young ladies from more influential families often maintained basic etiquette even before debutante training. Derek treated them with thoroughly noble manners.

Others differed.

"Uh, hello. From Viscount Sidmer's house... um, that is..."

"No need to be so nervous."

"I, um... sorry... I'm just... timid..."

"No apologies necessary. Reserved, cautious dispositions sometimes help mages avoid crises. You already possess excellent magical qualities."

To clearly overwhelmed Lady Esmeralda of Viscount Sidmer's house, he offered appropriate encouragement.

"You must be Derek! I'm Amelin of Viscount Bleton's house!"

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Amelin. I'm well acquainted with Viscount Bleton's prestige, but unfortunately mutual respect is our institute's principle."

"Oh...? Right, with other ladies observing decorum, I can't rely solely on authority. Understood. I'll mind my manners."

He handled potentially rude remarks with similar finesse.

Despite his mercenary background in the slums, teaching numerous noble ladies had acclimated him to aristocratic social culture. He'd witnessed their rivalries and intrigues, learning that human decency brought only benefits in noble circles.

Thus Derek left each noble lady with favorable impressions through masterful social navigation.

For Ravenclaw Training Institute to endure, its representative must be beyond reproach.

As noble ladies departed the banquet hall for dormitories, all wore pleased expressions. Initial anxieties eased upon seeing figures like Aiselin, queen of Evelstein's social scene, and Derek, the renowned magic tutor—all trustworthy individuals.

Their long journey for education might prove wise. With such hopeful thoughts, they proceeded to private rooms meticulously prepared by Head Butler Delbritton.

Last to leave was Baroness Phee of House Tigris.

"An excellent speech, Sir Derek. I was deeply moved. May we achieve great things at Ravenclaw Training Institute."

"The honor is mine, Lady Phee."

Phee smiled sweetly again. Meeting Derek's gaze, she blinked her mesmerizing eyes. The mysterious purple irises beneath lovely lashes seemed to envelop Derek.

Few confusion mages could counter those captivating eyes that enthralled minds—most remained oblivious to their effect. Phee's innate charm made this supernatural allure seem natural.

Locking eyes, Phee whispered:

"My earlier behavior in the office was improper. Being young and inexperienced, I make many mistakes."

Like a serpent's tongue, her voice slithered into the mind.

The bewitching aura seemed impossible from a young girl. None who encountered reborn Phee resisted her charm.

Her slow mental infiltration left victims feeling dazed, wandering through fog.

"Sir Derek is so kind and understanding—truly admirable. Please extend that benevolence to this girl needing guidance."

"Of... course..."

"Ahaha..."

At Derek's reply, Phee smiled contentedly.

"Then... if hardships arise during my stay at Ravenclaw Training Institute... please grant my requests..."

"Certainly. If truly necessary."

"..."

Phee was speechless.

Never before had someone under her Charm Eye interrupted her.

Startled, trembling fingers rose as she studied Derek's face—now wearing the same tiger-like expression from their office meeting.

"However, didn't I mention earlier? Struggles in youth are worth seeking..."

"..."

"I observed Lady Phee's posture earlier. You lean slightly—whether from spinal misalignment or habit, it harms lumbar health. Sit properly."

"Wh-what...? That's..."

"Childhood habits persist. Basic things shape impressions. A Tigris noblewoman slouching is shameful. But no need for excessive shame—you're here to learn."

As Derek lectured relentlessly, Phee could only gape.

While her Charm Eye's failure was one thing, Derek's uniquely harsh treatment stood out. Yet he wasn't being spiteful—just brutally honest.

"This worries me greatly, Lady Phee."

"Huh?"

"Physical health is academic foundation. Poor posture and frail physique hinder proper learning. Unacceptable. I'll lose sleep worrying."

"Wh-what are you..."

"Starting tomorrow, join my dawn runs. Surely beneficial."

Derek crouched, grasping Phee's hands with earnest eyes.

"Mind your health, Lady Phee."

'Why me...?!'

Phee broke into cold sweat.

The man who treated other nobles with perfect diplomacy became an insufferable nag around her.

"After tomorrow's basic classes, the weekend arrives. Are you familiar with Ravenclaw's Flonterix Forest?"

"N-no... Maybe seen on maps..."

"Tsk... Missing out. The broadleaf-covered ridges relieve weekly stress. Let's hike there this weekend. Delbritton will join."

"H-hiking?! But..."

"Objections?"

"N-no... My condition..."

"Condition worsening?!"

Derek's louder exclamation made Phee shudder and hastily shake her head—who knew what he'd do if she claimed illness?

"Good. If you're well, we'll hike this weekend! The view is incredible. Sharing alpine black tea at the summit, despite the climb... That's achievement. Youthful struggles are blessings."

As Derek passionately described, Phee began sweating profusely.

Ravenclaw Barony's manor was visible below.

Noble ladies bonding in dorms were practicing social networking before entering Evelstein's circles—dining together, weekend outings. Building connections early proved crucial.

'With the eastern continent's social hub being Earl Elvester's manor, Ravenclaw may assume similar status.'

Where nobles gathered became society.

Eastern Earl Elvester had constructed cultural halls, banquet venues, and social facilities recognizing this. Now, debuting in eastern social circles without passing through Elvester was nearly impossible.

Eastern society's headquarters—Elvester County.

Its origins likely resembled present-day Ravenclaw Barony.

Phee's assessment.

Yet she alone grimaced.

As a supreme mage, the institute's magic lessons were laughable—barely worth suppressing yawns. Etiquette classes were tolerable, but trivial given her centuries of experience.

But one thing was unbearable—Director Derek's nagging.

Worst was his selective strictness—perfectly pleasant to others yet harsh only with her.

Most noble ladies respected Derek as honorable and reliable—some even blushing. A paragon.

But Phee experienced the opposite.

'Why... why only me...! Only me he's strict with...!'

"Whew! Fresh air! Invigorating, no? Breathe deep, Lady Tigris! Excellent for health! Health! Health! Health above all!"

Thus, on a holiday dawn.

Phee lay sprawled on a mountainside boulder, drenched in sweat.

Oblivious or indifferent, Derek spread his arms atop the peak, inhaling crisp morning air.

Even an archmage's reincarnated body had physical limits.

Trembling with exhaustion, Phee realized:

'I can't leave him be.'

She concluded Derek must be dealt with.

The young man's audacity had become unbearable.

Ironically, Phee was centuries older than Derek.

'She'll make her move soon. Must control the situation.'

While cheerfully inhaling mountain air, Derek also steeled himself.

Criticizing a 6-Star necromancer required nerves of steel.

Phee avoided revealing her identity, hiding necromantic traces to evade imperial pursuit.

And Derek knew this.

That knowledge was his greatest weapon.

Maintaining balance was key.

Keeping her frustrated enough to act but not enough to retaliate—walking that fine line was crucial.

Alternating between hot and cold to destabilize her mentally.

'I can't stay passive...'

As those who knew understood—Derek was stubbornness incarnate.

Against overwhelming power, he'd exploit social authority and hierarchy.

He was a man who spared no means.