Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 120

"Derek seems to have become more dependable since receiving his title."

Denise, naturally quick-witted, had noticed that Elente and Aiselin harbored personal feelings for Baron Ravenclaw.

The thought of Duplein and Belmierd's golden jade leaves—noble ladies of such stature—vying for one man was both a headache-inducing spectacle and an incredibly intriguing affair.

As far as she knew, she was the only one aware of this fact. That's why she deliberately brought up topics about Derek whenever she met Aiselin or Elente.

As someone deeply immersed in writing romance novels, Denise found the real-life drama between high-ranking nobles far more fascinating. She believed it would somehow aid her creative endeavors.

"They say people change with their position, and it seems that saying isn't just empty words."

Thus, under the pretext of visiting the convalescing Aiselin at Ravenclaw Manor, Denise made this remark to Lady Elente who had just arrived.

Elente, sweeping back her flame-like red hair, blushed faintly at Denise's words before responding:

"Y-yes, I suppose so."

Seeing the usually confident Elente act so flustered was a rare sight.

Enjoying this reaction, Denise smirked slyly with half-lidded eyes. Indeed, romantic feelings were painfully obvious to any third-party observer.

The location was Ravenclaw Manor's reception room.

Though decorated as lavishly as possible, it still seemed modest compared to the reception halls of the three great families.

Having noble ladies from Belmierd and Beltus families sitting in this remote baronial manor was an utterly surreal scene.

In any case, they'd come to check on Aiselin due to their connections from Rosea Salon. Discussions about Ravenclaw could wait.

"W-while reconnecting with Derek is important, we came today to check on Lady Aiselin's condition, didn't we? With her collapsing from overwork, many at the salon were worried."

"Indeed, Lady Elente. The head butler should be here shortly with an update."

Elente had arrived shortly after Denise. Unlike the relaxed Denise, Elente seemed oddly tense about meeting Aiselin—unsurprising given their romantic rivalry.

Denise simply watched with amusement, puffing out her cheeks. The very idea of Duplein and Belmierd's ladies fighting over one man—what could be more entertaining?

In the cutthroat world of noble society, few things were as thrilling as watching a good fight—especially a love triangle involving girls their age. Having front-row seats to such drama was irresistible.

While opinions might differ on whether Elente or Aiselin would win Derek's heart, Denise had initially leaned toward Aiselin.

No matter how accomplished Elente was as a scion of a powerful family, could she really compare to Aiselin's naturally noble elegance?

'...Now that I see them, perhaps not.'

Yet love transforms people, they say.

Even Elente—who always seemed more ruler than maiden—blushed and fidgeted when Derek was mentioned... Truly, love was a complex and mysterious thing.

Though Denise spent her days scribbling romance novels, she'd never truly experienced love's mysterious nature firsthand. Having never been in love herself, this was only natural.

Reading third-rate romance novels from Evelstain bookstores and overhearing noble girls gushing about handsome bachelors at salons couldn't convey how profoundly love could change a person.

Yet she considered herself an expert, her twisted romance perspective believing love involved white-knight princes sweeping princesses off their feet—quite juvenile for someone writing novels.

In short, Denise learned about love from books.

Unfortunately, this led her to consider herself a love expert.

'Lady Elente's feelings are sincere, but who knows how they'll play out in romance? They say the one who falls first loses, so both Elente and Aiselin are at a disadvantage against Derek!'

Such clichés were all Denise could muster.

'I'm so curious how Derek will react. Fascinating.'

As Denise smiled contentedly while pondering Derek's behavior, she suddenly recalled:

-'Find justification to control that man. Meet frequently, grow close, and identify weaknesses.'

Duke Beltus's command.

A chill ran down her spine.

It felt like being yanked from a flower garden into cold reality. The warm reception room suddenly felt wintry.

Yes—Denise had come as Beltus family's agent to stab Derek in the back, find his weaknesses, and hinder Ravenclaw Training Institute's operations.

Denise would betray Derek. This was inevitable.

She could never defy the Beltus family that had nurtured her. Her value existed solely as Beltus's favored noble lady.

"..."

Their cheerful conversations would only last so long.

Eventually, Derek would look at her with resentment and hostility.

With Duke Beltus firmly set on suppressing Derek, they could never maintain special ties.

This thorn pricked Denise's heart.

Elente and Aiselin—who could pursue Derek openly—existed in a completely different world from Denise.

They were powers within their families, while Denise was merely a Beltus chess piece.

Suddenly aware of this gulf, Denise lowered her gaze.

Elente's dignified presence seemed like a flower blooming on a cliff's edge.

Though Denise usually strolled about carefree, her eyes turned sharp when seriously thinking.

After chatting with Elente, she stepped into the garden for air.

'The buildings look luxurious but were hastily constructed—vulnerable to natural disasters.'

'That large mountain behind the manor... An artificial landslide or redirected waterway could cause major damage during heavy rains.'

Just from walking around, Denise identified the territory's vulnerabilities.

Though quick-thinking, she used to tire easily—until Derek's training improved her stamina.

Now she gracefully crossed the garden, her silver-gray hair fluttering, dress absorbing floral scents.

'Bordering Beltus Territory could be advantageous. Heavy tariffs on border trade routes would severely strain Ravenclaw's supplies.'

'But with Lord Melberot's backing, overt political pressure would be risky. Covert methods are wiser.'

Noble students gaped at Beltus's lady strolling the gardens—a privilege only possible at this academy.

Rumors already spread about Rosea Salon's elite occasionally appearing here.

Accustomed to such attention, Denise calmly surveyed the manor.

'The territory lacks manpower against magical beasts—a security flaw easily exploited.'

'Creating incidents here would make noble families withdraw their daughters, damaging the institute's reputation.'

Suddenly weary, Denise sighed deeply and sat on a bench.

She examined her slender palm, conjuring and dispersing magical energy—her skills had noticeably improved under Derek's tutelage.

'...'

Repaying kindness with betrayal.

However reluctantly, this was inevitable. The cold nobility rewarded sentimental mistakes with swift oblivion.

Yet thinking of Derek left her unsettled.

"You seem troubled."

"Eep!"

Startled, Denise looked up to see Derek dispersing magic—likely having practiced nearby.

Flustered, she struggled to respond as he sat beside her.

"You've seemed tense since this morning. Family troubles?"

"N-no, nothing like that. You're quite observant, Derek."

"Not particularly. We've known each other long enough to notice changes."

Derek then spoke candidly about his own concerns since Aiselin's collapse—how titles and lands meant nothing to him initially, but now he had retainers relying on him.

Denise realized he'd noticed her distress and was subtly offering support in his way.

'Ugh...'

That typical Derek approach—dry yet considerate. No wonder he'd captivated Elente and Aiselin.

But the source of her worries was Derek himself—something she couldn't admit.

"Actually, it's nothing serious. Just struggling with my novel's ending."

"I see. Not much I can help with there."

"Exactly, it's nothing."

Basking in the autumn sun together felt strangely comforting.

Derek was annoyingly meticulous yet paradoxically relaxing company.

"Lady Aiselin should be receiving visitors soon. You might want to head inside."

"Oh? I should chat with her then. Are you busy with academy matters?"

"Somewhat, yes. Apologies for the poor hospitality."

As they exchanged pleasantries, Derek stood.

Though she couldn't confess her true concerns, his attentiveness warmed her.

Feeling she'd successfully navigated the situation, Denise smiled in relief.

"Ah, Lady Denise. One more thing."

As Derek collected his staff and adjusted his robe, he casually added:

"If necessary, you're welcome to stab me in the back."

—Denise's breath caught.

She barely suppressed a gasp, utterly stunned by this direct hit.

She shot up, wide-eyed, but Derek showed no reaction.

"Given your position, I understand."

Before she could respond, Derek was already walking away, leather bag slung over his shoulder as he headed toward the training grounds.

Denise could only stare, dumbfounded, at his retreating figure.

'Beltus will make their move soon. About time.'

Rising powers inevitably attract opposition.

Derek walked briskly toward the main building, staff at his waist.

'The manor has too many vulnerabilities. We need more manpower—I can't counter a duke alone.'

Though Lord Melberot of Rocheste Territory supported him, the northern snowfields were too distant for subtle interventions.

He needed allies in the southwestern continent comparable to Duke Beltus.

But who would dare oppose Beltus?

Fortunately, Derek knew one such person.

- Creak

"Greetings."

Derek entered the guest room where a red-haired girl was reading alone.

Startled by his sudden appearance, she hastily straightened her disheveled appearance.

"D-Derek?!"

"Long time no see, Lady Elente."

The only southwestern power that could challenge Beltus was House Belmierd.

Some might call it presumptuous, but Derek felt certain:

Belmierd would side with Ravenclaw Barony.