Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 117

'Lately, Lady Phee and Derek seem awfully close, don't they...?'

Aiselin thought this as she exited the classroom building with an armful of materials on court etiquette.

Having been engrossed in her duties, she suddenly realized autumn had fully arrived—the sky was blue and the weather quite pleasant.

After the recent opening of the academy, Ravenclaw Barony had been bustling with activity, but now the weekly schedule had stabilized, and a sense of leisure began to spread among the noble ladies attending classes.

As the week's schedule concluded and the weekend approached, Ravenclaw Barony's central garden was filled with noble ladies enjoying tea and conversation in the refreshing breeze.

Some were boarding carriages to visit Evelstein's streets during the holiday, while diligent students practiced magic in the training grounds even on their day off.

Before she knew it, Ravenclaw Barony had grown considerably.

Given that their daughters attended here, many noble families spared no expense in support. Beyond tuition fees, numerous houses invested personal funds to build additional facilities—conveniences, cultural spaces, and extra academic buildings for the students.

Head Butler Delbritton oversaw these additions, and what was once a single manor had expanded to seven substantial buildings and over eleven auxiliary academic facilities, becoming a proper hub for high society interactions.

If anyone deserved the most credit for this, it was undoubtedly Aiselin.

Completely unaware that she was becoming the de facto authority of Ravenclaw Academy, she walked down the manor's main corridor with a blank expression.

'Derek is only human—he can't treat all noble ladies equally. Among them, there must be those he feels more affection for, cares more about, or wants to teach something special to. That's only natural for a person...'

Lately, private conversations between Derek and Phee had noticeably increased.

Most were about magic lessons or discussions on the liberal arts classes held in the annex. The kind of talks typical between mentor and student—Aiselin tried not to pay it much mind.

But no matter how you looked at it, they were getting too close.

After meals, she'd often see Phee scurrying out of Derek's office. She'd spot them having serious magical discussions in a corner of the training grounds. Once, she even found Phee visiting Derek's office late at night.

At this point, even Aiselin couldn't help feeling conflicted.

Just in case—though the possibility was slim—couldn't Derek and Phee develop something beyond mentor and student?

She herself couldn't even articulate what she wanted to say, lost in tangled thoughts until she eventually buried her face in her desk.

"Goodness, what am I doing? So, so undignified."

Snapping her head up, Aiselin smoothed her jet-black hair.

Twirling a lock around her finger, she sighed deeply and thought: Phee did have an oddly captivating aura about her.

'Should I confirm with Derek as a colleague? If, by any chance, their relationship becomes inappropriate... who knows what might happen...'

But the more she thought, the stranger it felt.

'Inappropriate... how so? What does it matter if Derek and Phee develop any kind of relationship? They're both young nobles—wouldn't it be odd to call their mutual attraction"inappropriate"? Both come from baronial families, so they'd naturally relate well... there'd be no awkwardness in their interactions...'

Meanwhile, Aiselin was the golden daughter of House Duplein—a high-ranking noble far above Derek's station.

Though Duplein's influence had waned recently, the saying"a noble family's prestige lasts three generations even in ruin"existed for a reason.

Placing Derek and Aiselin side by side, the disparity was glaringly obvious. Noble hierarchy was that merciless.

"...What in the world am I doing?"

A sudden emptiness washed over her, and she jerked her head up.

Peering into the ornate full-length mirror in the corner of her office, she saw no trace of Evelstein's jewel—the queen who reigned over Rosea Salon. Instead, a flushed girl with an awkward expression stared back.

Aiselin Eleanor Duplein. Herself.

"Right... instead of making absurd excuses that don't suit me, I should be honest. Beating around the bush isn't my style anyway."

Gripping the mirror, Aiselin panted slightly before steadying herself.

In the treacherous world of high society, she might put on airs, but there was no need for pretense when talking to herself in an empty room.

If she couldn't be honest with herself, who could she be honest with?

And so, Aiselin began an inexplicable soliloquy.

"What... am I so worried about?"

After a pause, she continued questioning herself.

"It's not like it matters what Phee and Derek do—it's their business. For a third party to meddle would be ridiculous... So why am I so anxious and dissatisfied that I'm stomping my feet like this...?"

"..."

After a prolonged silence, Aiselin stared blankly at the mirror.

Inside it, a girl with beet-red cheeks fiddled awkwardly with her own hands.

".........I-I have no choice but to admit it. I'm... jealous. Ugh..."

Stumbling backward, Aiselin collapsed onto a chair and covered her face. Her fingertips burned with an inexplicable heat.

All problems must first be acknowledged before they can be solved.

Being more mature than her years, Aiselin saw no point in lying to herself or making convoluted excuses.

That said, admitting the truth didn't magically resolve anything.

"It's embarrassing... but I'll admit it...! I'm... jealous...! I'm envious...!"

As the flower of House Duplein and reigning queen of Rosea Salon, jealousy was an unfamiliar emotion to her.

If anything, Elente—who'd always lived in her shadow—was the one accustomed to such bitter feelings.

Only now did Aiselin begin to understand the seething resentment in Elente's eyes.

Frankly, she envied Phee!

Without doing anything extraordinary, Phee monopolized Derek's attention. Aiselin wanted that attention too.

Once she admitted it outright, a refreshing clarity washed over her.

Human emotions... once fully acknowledged and vented, leave behind a cool, liberating sensation.

"...Am I an incredibly troublesome woman?"

Of course, the ensuing self-loathing was hers alone to bear.

"Or am I just naive...? Trying to attract attention like this... I'm not some brat throwing a tantrum... How far must I debase myself...?"

Aiselin took deep breaths while smoothing her hair.

Once somewhat composed, she repositioned her hair ornaments and sat primly before the mirror.

The poised noble lady who dominated Rosea Salon had returned.

"Goodness... I need to get a grip."

This was no time for petty complaints.

Aiselin was a core member of Ravenclaw Academy. Every minute counted, and before she knew it, seasons had changed. Each day brimmed with novelty, filling her life with purpose.

For a fallen noblewoman, wasn't this happiness enough?

Feeling ridiculous for whining about attention and jealousy, she suddenly felt pathetic. At this very moment, her family's servants, Diela, and Raeg were working tirelessly for their house.

"Right. I should work harder."

She'd been sleeping only two or three hours a night due to piled-up work—maintaining this grueling pace for months.

Having much to do was a blessing. Grateful for her fortunate circumstances, she resolved to diligently fulfill her duties.

Just as Aiselin steeled herself—

- Drip

"Huh...?"

Blood trickled down Aiselin's nose.

Startled, she grabbed a handkerchief from her desk and pressed it to her face.

Beyond careless—this was downright disgraceful. Had this happened in public, her dignity would've suffered greatly.

Feeling lightheaded, she tried to staunch the bleeding when—

"Oh... oh dear..."

Her vision suddenly clouded, and before she knew it, Aiselin collapsed backward.

- Crash! Bang!

A loud noise echoed from her office. Head Butler Delbritton, sensing something amiss, rushed in swiftly.

A"Guide Fairy"—summoned through 1-Star Conjuration Magic—flickered faintly at Derek's fingertips.

Among conjuration spells divided into living and non-living categories, this fairy summoning was oddly classified as non-living.

Perhaps because these fairies couldn't communicate, lacked self-awareness, and merely followed orders mechanically. They performed tasks robotically without independent judgment.

Guide Fairies could retrace paths or detect environmental dangers—nothing more.

Their danger detection mostly amounted to sensing magical beasts.

'Limited utility, no combat application. They helped during labyrinth explorations, but... I should definitely learn 2-Star or higher conjuration spells.'

As the week's schedule concluded, Derek sat alone in a garden corner, quietly observing the glowing fairy.

"My, Baron Ravenclaw seems quite interested in conjuration magic."

A sly voice chuckled behind him—Phee had approached unnoticed.

Her grinning demeanor as she addressed Derek so casually was a far cry from the sharp-eyed necromancer who coldly observed the world by night.

"Finished with the liberal arts class?"

"Of course. As I said, it's quite entertaining—regardless of historical accuracy."

Coming from Phee, this carried weight. She'd personally witnessed several historical events now considered legends.

"Someone might overhear."

"That's why I'm being so respectful, no? You are my exalted mentor, after all."

"...You seem to be enjoying yourself."

"Roleplay is fun at any age. So? Any progress breaching the 4-Star wall?"

"..."

Frankly, Derek hadn't fully grasped it yet.

Pure-blooded nobles with full backing still struggled to reach this level—he couldn't expect to achieve it overnight.

Clearly, theoretical study alone wouldn't suffice.

He needed a breakthrough.

'If only I could consult a conjuration expert... but the southwestern continent lacks prominent conjurers...'

Derek pondered deeply.

'Famous southwestern conjurers... Rophgale of Drest Academy, Pablo of Krem Guild, Viscount Blythe... Wait, there's one more...'

One name stood out—Grand Duke Beltus.

A 5-Star conjurer capable of summoning sacred mountain spirits or vast magical libraries at will.

'...None of whom are easily accessible.'

"To think you'd eye other mentors while such a lofty one stands before you?"

"...Would you maintain formal speech? It's broad daylight—we might be seen."

"Honestly, men can be so timid."

Necromancers were walking bombs capable of erasing entire families. Derek saw no reason to relent.

Understanding his caution, Phee smiled leisurely and nodded.

"I originally had three other mentors."

"I knew you were popular with women, but mentors too? Though none could match my magical expertise."

"Who knows."

"...You're joking, right?"

Even if his first two mentors were slum beggars or Katia, Derek's third mentor was a legendary archmage who could rival Phee.

This explained why Derek's detection magic surpassed typical mages'.

Phee studied his reaction before frowning slightly.

"My pride's wounded."

"..."

"Who exactly was this person?"

As Phee prepared to flash her bewitching smile—

- Tap, tap!

Delbritton—who always prioritized dignity with measured steps—suddenly rushed over in alarm.

His antique monocle swung wildly from its chain as he sprinted to Derek, panting heavily.

"Gasp, gasp... So you were in the garden, my lord."

"What's the matter?"

"Lady Aiselin has collapsed."

Even the unflappable Derek's pupils dilated at this.

- Gasp, gasp.

- Thud!

Aiselin lay unconscious on the bed, her face flushed as she breathed heavily.

A servant doubling as medical staff checked her condition before bowing deeply upon Derek's abrupt entrance.

"My lord."

"Report."

"The head butler found her collapsed in her room. I've administered basic treatment."

Derek strode to the bedside, examining Aiselin.

She showed no immediate danger—just pale with slight sweat.

"Exhaustion. Those overly immersed in work often fail to recognize their limits."

"No life-threatening symptoms or severe aftereffects, I presume."

"Correct. Once her fever breaks, she should awaken."

The servant stepped aside deferentially.

"..."

Derek studied the unconscious Aiselin before sighing deeply.

He sat heavily on a wooden chair beside the bed, pressing his knees pensively.

Reflecting, Aiselin's schedule was absurdly grueling—it'd be stranger if she hadn't collapsed.

But her sheer resilience had deceived him into thinking she could handle it.

Despite the impossible workload, her constant cheerful efficiency made it seem effortless. She'd even seek extra tasks when idle.

But one truth remained: human stamina and willpower are finite resources.

He'd forgotten this, mistaking Aiselin for an exception.

Sacrifice and devotion, when taken for granted, inevitably break organizations.

As a leader, Derek realized he'd made a fundamental error.

"..."

Derek was sparing with emotional displays.

Yet his silent, knee-gripping posture radiated solemn intensity.

The servants could only bow their heads before his grave demeanor.