Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 156

"Given your long mercenary career, I assume you prefer drinking alone. And having spent years with the Elvester Count's family, you likely had few opportunities to drink as much as you wanted. We should prepare quality liquor and premium cuts of meat."

"Our Ravenclaw Territory's wines are renowned as the finest in the southwestern continent. When the villagers hear the Baron's most honored guest is visiting, they'll gladly bring out their best vintages from storage."

"Wine is good, but prepare rum and stronger distilled spirits too. And since she dislikes extravagant welcomes, simple good food and drink should suffice."

Derek maintained his usual impassive expression, but his slightly quicker steps and elevated tone betrayed his excitement.

Skilled butler Delbritton could read his lord's subtle mood shifts. Seeing Derek in high spirits lifted his own mood as well.

"However... given the nature of the visit, she might bring the Elvester Count's young lady along..."

"Hmm... That would change matters. If the young lady of House Elvester—the most influential family in the eastern continent—visits, mere strong liquor and good food would be insufficient hospitality."

If Katia visited alone as a fallen noblewoman, mercenary-style hearty fare would suffice. But if a high-ranking noblewoman accompanied her, proper aristocratic protocol demanded more refined treatment.

"Hmm..."

Katia's letter hadn't mentioned any such arrangement.

Yet the visit clearly involved magic instruction observation—it would be strange if she didn't bring her apprentice.

She was either coming alone or planning to conceal her companion's identity.

'She must think an official House Elvester visit would burden me.'

Derek's deduction proved accurate.

Though years had passed since they last met, Derek knew Katia's temperament best.

"Since there's been no prior notice, we needn't worry excessively. But we should prepare just in case the Count's daughter accompanies her."

"A prudent suggestion. I'll inform the head maid."

"Good. Seek approval for anything else needed."

"Understood."

Derek waved Delbritton off toward his office, signaling he'd handle matters from here. The butler bowed with a pleased smile.

'If they're coming via the central region through Count Renuel and Duke Beltus'highways... accounting for distance, they'll likely arrive a few days after the holiday.'

Already calculating Katia's arrival date showed Derek's anticipation.

"You're grinning ear to ear."

"...?"

Though Derek rarely showed emotion, Phee saw through his barely-contained excitement and pouted.

Officially staying at Ravenclaw Territory for magic training, she'd actually been mentoring Derek's magic. Two seasons had passed since their master-disciple relationship began, developing genuine affection—yet lately Phee scowled whenever watching Derek.

"I don't care how remarkable this Katia woman is—here I am, a legendary 4-Star mage personally tutoring you, yet you smirk thinking of another master? My pride stings. You know my worth better than anyone."

"..."

"And that bored look in your eyes when watching me—displeasing. Men's attention always scatters everywhere. Hardly worth the effort."

Lounge sprawled across the office sofa while nibbling Mont Blanc, Phee sighed dramatically.

"I helped you reach 4-Star rank and refine your magic. Fine, this Katia may have taught you much earlier—but I contributed most to your current abilities. If anyone asks, declare yourself my disciple!"

"That's absolutely correct. I'm deeply grateful."

"Such silver-tongued flattery! I know you've had many fine teachers, but remember—I'm your proper master!"

Her tone suggested jealousy over Derek acknowledging another mentor, though Katia had taught him first.

Pouting while nibbling a financier cake, Phee radiated mentor's jealousy.

"You were destined for 3 or 4-Star rank regardless—a street urchin learning magic from beggars would've succeeded anyway. What matters is who helped you reach the summit—me!"

"Naturally."

"Ugh! Even hearing what I want, I'm still furious! Your words lack sincerity!"

Phee sprang from the sofa, hands on hips, huffing.

"I'm running away!"

"...?"

"Why teach someone who doesn't appreciate me? Go learn from that Katia woman! I'm returning to Tigris Territory to recuperate!"

"...Did your family request your presence?"

"...Too sharp by half."

Phee narrowed her eyes and sighed in defeat.

Though long settled at Ravenclaw, she remained Tigris Baroness'daughter. While indifferent to family ties, she couldn't ignore summons forever.

"Time to visit home and wrap up personal research."

"..."

"Yes. That corpse Happy found last time should prove useful. I'm nearing completion of my long-cherished project."

Advanced Corpse Resurrection.

She approached the forbidden art used to revive 6-Star mage Kalimford.

Resting her chin on hand, Phee smiled wistfully.

"My rest nears. What a fleeting life."

"..."

"Oh? The man who ignored my whining now looks solemn. Men never behave as expected."

Her youthful appearance belied her nature—an ageless wanderer cycling through lifetimes.

Beneath her playful demeanor lurked existential weariness Derek had long sensed.

-'So. Winter again.'

That first snowfall day.

Gazing blankly through windows at the sky, her contemplative moments revealed her true longing—to depart this world. Eternal life felt more curse than blessing.

"If I leave this world... continue calling yourself my disciple."

Straightening her dress to depart for Tigris, Phee added:

"Leaving one proof I existed wouldn't be bad."

"Master."

Setting down his pen, Derek met her gaze.

"We'll meet again, won't we?"

Phee smiled from the doorway.

"Perhaps."

Her enigmatic farewell preceded preparations to leave.

Derek knew Phee would perfect Advanced Corpse Resurrection yet never attain her desired rest—instead attempting to consume Tigris Territory before being imprisoned beneath Gremfort Palace by Melberot.

The timing remained uncertain, but the event felt imminent.

Yet Derek could do nothing—he understood the weight of her resolve too well to interfere.

Her wish transcended moral judgment. No one commands a 6-Star necromancer.

Silent acknowledgment was his utmost consideration.

Tricia had died.

At least that's how she felt.

Her first lessons as Ravenclaw Baron's apprentice shattered expectations. Instead of refined magic instruction, Derek immediately declared:

-'First prioritize stamina.'

-'...Pardon?'

-'Without physical endurance to sustain learning, nothing can be mastered. Stamina is paramount.'

Visions of elegant magic lessons in Count Renuel's mansion—meditating on mana sensitivity, elemental manifestations—collapsed into reality: changing into exercise clothes upon arrival.

The ensuing three-day hellscape defied description.

-'Inhale... exhale...! Rhythmic breathing sustains endurance!'

- *Gasp* *Wheeze*

Garden runs, push-ups, sit-ups, stair climbs, jumping jacks...

'This... is magic training...? *Pant* *Wheeze*'

Befuddled yet compliant, Tricia soon lost feeling in her arms and thighs.

After three straight days of this"agility training", she finally scheduled her return home.

That evening, muscles screaming, realization struck—this explained why all Derek's disciples maintained such toned figures.

-'Lady Tricia. You took lessons this holiday?'

-'Lady Elente... Greetings... Have you been well...?'

On departure day, Elente spotted Tricia's half-corpse state hobbling toward the carriage and sighed knowingly.

Derek's initial training was notoriously brutal. As his first victim, Elente regarded Tricia with profound sympathy.

An unprecedented hell only survivors understood—especially torturous for hothouse noble flowers.

Yet Tricia's stubbornness had impressed even Diela and Elente. She wouldn't surrender—making her plight more pitiable.

-'When life's trials overwhelm you... recall your achievements... Endure the storm, and meaning will emerge...'

-'Why... does everyone speak poetically when seeing me...?'

-'Nevermind... Do ask if you need anything...'

Elente's goodwill—priceless in noble society—usually thrilled Tricia's vanity. Yet today, it stirred melancholy.

An oddly complex emotion.

- *Clatter clatter*

Hence Tricia's pained groans during the carriage ride home, worrying the coachman.

Though longing to scream over this unexpected ordeal... tangible benefits existed.

'Still... noblewomen at Rosea Salon regard me differently now... Hehe...'

Human nature proved predictable.

Since becoming Derek's official apprentice, noble girls'attitudes shifted noticeably.

-'Hello.'

Sirine—normally aloof—casually greeting her in the noble district...

-'Your injuries seem healed.'

Diela—who despised everyone—indifferently examining her wounds...

Outsiders might call this cold, but knowing their usual behavior made it astonishing. Other nobles gaped at the interactions, further inflating Tricia's ego.

"Heheh... Kehkeh..."

Moments ago groaning in pain, now cackling disturbingly—the coachman sweated nervously.

'Heheh... So what if I suffered?... I'm networking with Ravenclaw's elite and gaining social influence! I'm Tricia of House Renuel—finally attaining proper dignity.'

'Heh... hehe... Yes, this is life's flavor. This is living!'

Her battered self-esteem resurged.

Laughing haughtily as if owning the world.

Tricia of House Renuel.

At last receiving due reverence—

Ecstasy amplified her laughter.

'Why feel inferior? I've earned this pride! Yes...!!'

- *Jolt*

As Tricia's arrogance fully resurrected, the carriage lurched violently.

"What now?"

The startled coachman answered through the front window:

"Apologies, Lady Tricia. We've entered Renuel Territory, but highway gate congestion forced a stop."

"The gate?"

Tricia pursed her lips.

Entering Renuel Territory meant her absolute domain—here, villagers bowed and gulped upon seeing her.

Countess Rodea's daughter commanded universal deference, allowing Tricia's pride to soar unchecked. This was her undisputed home ground.

"Someone's arguing at the gate."

"Ugh... Exhausted as I am, they dare waste my time? Show yourself."

The coachman paled at Tricia's villainous expression.

No one in Renuel Territory could oppose an angry Tricia.

Knowing this, she glared outside, face flushed with irritation.

A shabby, unremarkable carriage.

Before it, a plainly-dressed mercenary woman argued with gate guards.

'Who's that lowborn woman...? Blocking my path when I'm dead tired...!'

Venom rising, Tricia declared:

"I'll handle this."

"My lady, the guards will be shocked—"

"Enough. Anything annoying me must be removed."

Tricia haughtily flung the carriage door open.

The coachman swallowed hard.

After her battered pride from Ravenclaw's training, Tricia needed to reassert dominance here.

Striding toward the gate, she assessed the shabby carriage again.

'Probably carrying worthless junk.'

Gathering her dress, Tricia marched forward.

"What's happening here?"

"Stand back...! Oh, Lady Tricia! Why come to this outer area...?"

"Enough. I'm busy—who dares block the way?"

At Tricia's sharp tone, the cloaked older woman stepped forward.

Her mercenary attire remained humble, but the intelligent eyes beneath her robe's hood stood out impressively.

Youthful for her age, upright posture, clear eyes—she exuded vitality despite being decades past typical mercenary prime.

"My apologies for the inconvenience."

"Ha..."

Tricia laughed incredulously.

After endless suffering, this was perfect—a chance to vent.

At Ravenclaw Manor, she constantly swallowed her pride. Here, she could finally stand tall.