Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 122

The commotion caused by Aiselin collapsing from overwork had settled down, and it was time for the noble ladies who had come from various places to visit her to return home.

After confirming it was just a temporary condition with no serious aftereffects, everyone wore relieved expressions.

Elennte and Denise were no exception. Having seen Aiselin's condition in the reception room, they promised to reassure the noble ladies of Rosea Salon.

"Don't forget the Belmierd family has always been favorably disposed toward Ravenclaw Barony. Should any issues arise, feel free to send correspondence anytime."

"Thank you for your concern, Lady Elente."

Though Elente made a thoroughly displeased expression upon seeing Aiselin, she seemed preoccupied with family matters and quickly boarded her carriage.

The sheer size of her entourage and accompanying servants was extraordinary. After all, she was destined to become the next head of House Belmierd.

Thus Elente departed Ravenclaw Barony early the next morning.

'Staying much longer would seem strange—I should prepare to leave too.'

Meanwhile, Denise only woke when the sun was high in the sky, strolling leisurely through the barony's gardens while lost in thought.

Her restless mind had prevented proper sleep. Above all, Derek clearly anticipated that Denise might betray him.

This meant whatever schemes Denise might attempt would likely fall within Derek's expectations.

'...Saying it wouldn't matter even if I stabbed him in the back... What exactly do you mean by that, Derek...?'

Derek's seemingly magnanimous attitude only complicated Denise's thoughts further.

As a member of House Beltus, she could never betray her family. Yet blatantly betraying Derek didn't sit right with her either.

His attitude suggested he'd already seen through her internal conflict, leaving her utterly confused about how to proceed.

Denise wiped her face and exhaled deeply.

Upon returning to Beltus Manor, the Duke would immediately summon her for debriefing.

And she had more than enough material to report. This newly established rural barony presented countless vulnerabilities House Beltus could exploit.

Even if House Belmierd supported Ravenclaw Barony, their territory directly bordered Beltus lands—making Beltus influence ultimately stronger.

'If only Derek would bow his head to Beltus schemes... but he's not that type of man...'

Derek wasn't the sort to serve a lord through blind loyalty.

Thus conflict between Houses Beltus and Ravenclaw seemed inevitable. The Duke systematically eliminated any perceived threats to his authority.

"You seem troubled, Lady Denise."

As Denise sighed deeply, someone addressed her.

Looking up in surprise, she saw a strikingly beautiful young noblewoman holding her skirt in greeting.

Her hair shimmered with an indescribable mystical aura between lavender and silver. Though her dress suggested modest origins, she exuded an ineffable allure.

Denise donned her noblewoman's mask and responded with a light smile.

"Oh my, thank you for your concern."

The mysterious girl grinned impishly.

"It's truly kind of you to worry about me, though I must humbly apologize for not recalling your name, lovely as you are."

"No need. Someone of my standing hardly merits remembrance by a Beltus noblewoman. I'm merely a girl from a minor baronial family in the southeastern countryside. My name is Phee Rafaela Tigris."

"Indeed, Lady Phee. I'm touched by your concern despite our first meeting."

Lower nobles typically hesitated to address someone of Denise's status so casually.

Occasionally ambitious types sought connections, but such relationships remained one-sided—high nobles rarely considered them meaningful.

Yet Phee continued undaunted, maintaining perfect decorum.

"Normally someone as lowly as myself shouldn't address a Beltus noblewoman so freely, but I wished to speak regardless."

"No need for such humility. You're clearly beautiful and noble yourself."

"Thank you. But House Tigris owes Duke Beltus a great debt we wish to acknowledge."

Phee smiled slyly, producing a fist-sized box from her sleeve.

The elegant wrapping and ribbon suggested careful preparation.

"A... debt?"

"The Duke likely doesn't recall, but when my father inherited the Tigris barony, His Grace sent congratulatory letters and flowers."

"Oh my, how forgetful of me."

"Perfectly understandable. The Beltus household has staff handling such formalities. With countless events to manage, who could remember every courtesy to minor baronies?"

Phee stepped closer with a knowing smile.

"But for remote baronies like ours, such gestures carry weight. Without His Grace's recognition, my father might never have been accepted as Tigris's rightful ruler during those troubled times."

"I see. The Baron must have endured much."

"Not at all. Thanks to Duke Beltus's authority. As his daughter, I couldn't leave this gratitude unexpressed."

In truth, no such congratulatory letter existed.

But noble households handled so many formalities daily that such claims were easily accepted—who could remember every minor courtesy?

Having lived as nobility longer than most, Phee knew every bureaucratic loophole.

"This small token represents our gratitude—Tigris's finest jewels set in a ring and tie pin."

"Should I really accept this?"

"The honor is mine. I only hope His Grace will appreciate our sincerity. Please show him this gift."

As Phee presented the box with a radiant smile, Denise returned the customary noble smile.

Such encounters were inevitable when belonging to a great house.

Peace gradually returned to Ravenclaw Training Institute after the noble ladies departed.

Having caught up on delayed schedules while preparing countermeasures against Beltus, Derek finally allowed himself some respite.

"Lady Ravenclaw... has arrived..."

But Delbritton's announcement threw the institute into fresh turmoil.

Who was Lady Ravenclaw?

Rumors about her swirled among the noble students.

Derek Raidof Ravenclaw himself was relatively well-known—teaching classes and frequently appearing in official capacities.

Handsome appearance, reliable work ethic, typically composed yet capable of warmth when appropriate—his reputation attracted admiration from several noble ladies.

So who could have captured this paragon?

Despite being surrounded by nobility's finest flowers, Derek remained strictly professional. Who possibly entranced this iron-walled man?

The only confirmed details: she was a commoner, a delicate girl. But how beautiful? How cultured? How elegant?

During late-night dormitory chats in frilly pajamas, the imagined Baroness became a favorite topic.

"They say she radiates freesia fragrance, her gentle voice lingers like sunshine, and conversing with her brightens entire days."

A freckled viscount's daughter hugged her pillow dreamily.

"Servants say she's demure yet determined—knowing when to act. I've never met her but... I admire her already."

"Have you read the anonymous romance novel?"

"Oh yes! I saw a sample copy at Largo Books in Evelstain recently."

"My! Lady Seedmer knows it too! They say she resembles the heroine Tracy—vivacious yet refined. Simply marvelous."

"R-really? I thought she was fictional... But if she's truly that fairy-like, she'd suit Baron Ravenclaw perfectly..."

Even the timid Lady Seedmer, slow at magic studies, sparkled imagining romantic tales—proof that girls everywhere adored such stories.

"A-any woman who won Baron Ravenclaw must be extraordinary..."

"We must study hard to debut as proper ladies too."

"I-if only we could meet the Baroness... for inspiration... They say she's visiting... Might we converse...?"

"Indeed... I wonder—who's more elegant between Lady Aiselin and the Baroness...?"

"Well... comparisons are improper... but I've yet to meet anyone as admirable as Lady Aiselin..."

Thus the girls'night deepened.

Gathered around a candle sharing romantic tales, their innocent rebellion brought guilty pleasure.

Imagining the perfect noblewoman, they dreamed of becoming elegant ladies themselves someday.

"*Hurk*"

"If you must belch, at least suppress it."

"Ugh... Hangover... Riding a carriage at dawn is torture... This place is too far from Evelstain..."

Pellin arrived at dawn covered in blood.

Delbritton, who'd come to greet her, broke into cold sweat seeing her descend.

The tense coachman clearly feared for his life after witnessing the bloodstained girl.

"Listen, Derek. Last night at Beldern's Tear, some shady bastards attacked me out of nowhere!"

"The bloodstains tell the story."

"Pure self-defense! Grabbing me from behind in a tavern? They deserved worse. *Hurk*... *Gag*..."

Her mercenary outfit revealed minor scratches but no serious wounds.

If Pellin bore scratches, her attackers'fate needed no explanation—though survival confirmation was necessary.

"What happened to them?"

"Lucky if they lived. Sorry for Jayden—cleaning that mess won't be easy..."

She took a huge bite of the provided snacks before continuing.

"They attacked first—no obligation to spare them. Right?"

"..."

"Anyway, something felt off. Too organized for random perverts, too clean-cut for rival mercs. Seemed fishy, so I came straight here instead of going home. Mmm... this is good. Expensive?"

"...No idea. Locals provided it."

"This region's fruits are exceptional—especially grapes. But... sudden hydration... stomach... *Hurk*... *Gag*..."

"I told you to drink moderately."

Nearby servants fidgeted anxiously, dreading cleanup duty.

"If you're sick, stop eating."

"No way! Free food? I'll eat till I puke!"

Though officially Baroness Ravenclaw, Pellin detested nobility and rarely visited.

Her insistence on remaining a common mercenary explained her rough manners.

"Should've interrogated one before beating them all."

"They're alive?"

"Depends on their toughness. Half-assed threats invite reckless moves. Total annihilation breeds fear. Right?"

This echoed Derek's old mercenary mantra.

Unable to refute, Derek simply rested his chin with a bored expression.

Regardless, Pellin needed briefing on current affairs—including likely attackers.

"House Beltus, huh? Even I've heard that name despite avoiding noble nonsense. You're playing in the big leagues, Derek."

"Unfortunately, I've become the noble you despise."

"Whatever. I know you're just using the title for magic studies."

Having fought alongside him, Pellin understood Derek wasn't like other nobles.

"But... lending my name as your'baroness'only to get dragged into this... feels unfair."

"I... have no defense. My apologies."

"Wow. Noble life made Derek apologize? End times indeed."

Derek acknowledged Pellin's valid point—she'd been unjustly implicated.

Yet Pellin simply laughed it off.

"So those creeps were noble lackeys? Good riddance."

"Don't underestimate this. They might send stronger operatives."

"So what? I acted in self-defense. Now I can legally beat nobles senseless."

Her hangover fading, Pellin gulped cold water refreshed.

Nearby servants relaxed slightly, no longer fearing imminent cleanup.

Delbritton's prepared wooden bucket deserved applause.

"Anyone touches me, I'll sever their limbs."

No exaggeration.

Though usually slovenly yet endearing, her mercenary switch flipped transformed her completely.

Perhaps she resembled Derek most among Velderun's mercenaries.

"Justification..."

Derek gave Pellin a sympathetic look—she'd need protection for now.

"Noble conflicts ultimately boil down to justification battles."

That evening, Phee flashed an alluring smile while demonstrating magic theories to Derek.

Crickets chirped through Ravenclaw Manor's quiet night.

Moonlight abandoned the darkened reception room where candlelight cast eerie shadows.

Phee licked her fingertip after stroking her chin, legs crossed on the sofa.

"I like that girl. True to her roots—instinctively understands justification's importance. I'd love to recruit her. Excellent, truly excellent."

"You observed Pellin?"

"Naturally. When my precious student faces trouble with some duke, how could this magnificent mentor remain idle? This crisis presents a perfect teaching moment."

Leaning back, she placed bare feet on the table and continued chirping.

"After centuries as nobility, I'll teach you properly."

"...What are you planning?"

"I told you—I can teach anything. Though magically gifted, your summoning lags behind. Let's remedy that."

Derek rose from his desk, sitting opposite her with narrowed eyes.

"Such distrust! Is that any way to regard your glorious mentor?"

"If you're scheming something, enlighten me."

"My my, that suspicion delights me! Healthy distrust is vital. But you should trust me completely—this benefits you."

Phee remained unfazed by Derek's suspicion.

"Know the fastest way to master summoning? Fighting a high-tier summoner."

"...What?"

"Who cares about Beltus? Let's crush them instead of waiting like frightened girls."

As Derek frowned, Phee cackled.

"Worried about justification?"

"..."

"Relax. Creating justification is my specialty. I'll arrange legal grounds for you to pummel Duke Beltus."

"House Beltus dominates the southwestern continent. You know this better than I."

"True. Yet even mighty Duplein trembled before one'justification,'remember?"

Derek fell silent—Phee's plan became clear.

"The mightiest powers crumble when necromancy accusations arise—forced to prove their innocence."

"..."

"And before you sits the source of all necromancy."

Phee Rafaela Tigris—the continent's sole 6-Star necromancer—crossed her legs and dropped her bombshell.

"Send word to that Rodea girl. Suggest Beltus has necromantic connections."

"False accusations risk backlash."

"Worry not—I'll make it true. My student must learn properly."

This girl embodied a living curse.

She seemed determined to prove it.