Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 16

A thick cloud of dust rose from the training platform as servants swarmed onto it. Now that the duel was over, it was time for cleanup.

Among them, the one who needed immediate attention was undoubtedly Diela.

That small frame had been running around the platform for quite some time, falling and getting injured, pushing her magic power beyond its limits—she was in a pitiful state.

Even as she coughed and sneezed, tears streaming down her face, the sight evoked not her usual venomous demeanor but sheer wretchedness.

Raeg stood speechless, looking down at Diela, who was now tattered like a rag.

"Ugh... sniff..."

Her sobbing, clutching her wounds, was nothing short of heartbreaking.

What had begun as a ceremonial magic duel between nobles had ended in a way even Raeg hadn't anticipated.

"Mi... Mia..."

He caught himself mid-word. Had he been about to apologize? To that notorious troublemaker Diela?

Yet the Diela he had seen during the duel was nothing like the one he knew.

Had she changed?

He couldn't pinpoint how or why, but it was clear she had genuinely tried to prove herself in this duel.

The result hadn't been favorable, but sometimes the process held more meaning.

That was why Raeg couldn't bring himself to mock or criticize Diela, who lay sprawled and weeping.

There was an indescribable sublimity in someone who had given their all. Mocking that carried an inherent sense of guilt. Raeg stood there for a long moment, unsure of what to say.

- Tap

"I'll guide you inside. You need treatment first."

Supported by the maids, Diela eventually pushed them away.

Then, standing straight on her own, she strode purposefully toward Raeg.

Her eyes, still red and swollen, burned with frustration.

But a loss was a loss.

Diela bowed her head slightly to Raeg in silence and walked past him.

Raeg could only stare wide-eyed at her retreating figure.

- Tap, tap.

She stopped before him, standing tall despite her battered body. A single drop of blood trailed down her cheek, her golden hair and frilly dress caked with dust.

Even after bawling her eyes out, she maintained the dignity of a noble. Whining and complaining in front of a commoner was beneath her station.

A noble lady was always dignified and elegant. Diela, too, had always been a proud, cat-like girl. A stray cat with strong pride and grace would always walk the garden walls with its head held high, even in the dirt.

So, biting her trembling lower lip, she spoke in a lowered voice.

"I lost."

Her noble pride formed an emotional dam, holding back the flood of feelings threatening to spill over.

Still, she had to press down on the cracks with her hands to keep them from leaking.

"Sorry."

The girl offered a brief apology. The recipient was just a commoner.

She had accepted Derek's teachings and stepped onto the platform to prove herself—only to suffer a crushing defeat and cry pathetically.

That was all she had to say.

Derek, who had been silently watching her, finally spoke.

"It's fine."

"..."

"Losing is allowed."

Derek wasn't one for long speeches either.

That was why each of his words carried weight.

"You lose a lot in life."

At that, the dam of emotions she had been holding back finally broke. The girl hiccuped, tears welling up and spilling over.

Amid the servants trying to rush her away for treatment, she cried and cried.

- Tap

Miriela strode toward the garden where the platform had been set up, followed by a crowd of servants.

Clenching her fists, she walked briskly, her face flushed with anger.

And when she saw Diela—covered in wounds and sobbing uncontrollably—her fury skyrocketed.

"Diela!"

Miriela rushed forward, brushing past the servants trying to escort Diela for treatment. She crouched down to inspect her daughter's injuries. Though not severe, she worried they might leave scars.

Without even bothering to wipe away the dirt, Miriela pulled Diela into a tight embrace.

"Oh... Diela...! You've suffered so much... It's alright now... Just trust your mother..."

"Mother..."

"You need treatment first. Go with the servants and get yourself patched up."

After releasing Diela from her arms, Miriela sharply turned her gaze toward Derek.

Her burning eyes radiated fury.

She marched right up to him and grabbed him by the collar.

"You wretch... Do you even realize what you've done?"

"..."

Derek remained silent, his eerie crimson eyes calmly observing her.

"Do you think you've accomplished something great? 1st Grade Magic? That's something she could have learned slowly, in time. But you—you taught the noble daughter of House Duplein, who should have been an elegant lily, the vulgar ways of the gutter. You have no idea what you've done."

"..."

- Slap!

Miriela's palm struck Derek's cheek with enough force to turn his head.

Derek calmly straightened himself, his cheek swelling, but Miriela paid it no mind.

The servants nearby broke into cold sweats, swallowing dryly.

Miriela's rage toward Derek seemed to permeate the very air.

"What could a lowborn like you possibly know about noble culture? Do you have any idea how cutthroat Evelstein's high society is? It's a gathering of beings who live above the clouds. Forcing her to adapt while stained with the filth of the gutter—do you even understand how desperate that is?"

"..."

"There's a world you commoners will never comprehend. A world where you must maintain decorum, display your skills through magic duels, and uphold the dignity that comes with authority. You... gutter trash could never understand such a world."

- Slap!

Miriela struck Derek again, her teeth clenched.

Derek remained still, hands clasped behind his back.

"I... I would do anything for Diela. Squashing a bug like you clinging to my precious daughter is nothing. I'll make sure you—"

- Thud, thud.

As Miriela raged, the Grand Duke of Duplein descended from the platform and made his presence known.

The servants in the area immediately bowed their heads in deference.

Walking forward with his hands behind his back, his expression solemn, the Grand Duke was the master of this ducal territory.

An ordinary commoner would have to prostrate themselves just at the sight of him.

In the heavy silence that followed his arrival, only one person dared raise their voice.

"You! You saw the duel too, didn't you?! This is all... all because of this vulgar commoner's teachings! If you have a mouth, say something...!"

What happened next was enough to shock everyone present.

- Slap!

A silence as if time had frozen settled over the area.

Servants and retainers alike could only stare in stunned disbelief.

Miriela, her cheek turned to the side, only realized she had been struck a moment later.

Her trembling pupils betrayed her confusion.

Only when the stinging sensation spread across her cheek did she finally look up at her husband, whose stern expression hadn't changed.

"Do you not realize who is behaving most disgracefully here?"

"You... What... What is the meaning of this...?"

Miriela's lips trembled as she spoke. The servants around them broke into cold sweats.

As a noblewoman of a ducal house, she had never been subjected to such crude physical reprimand. No one had ever dared.

But strictly speaking, there was one exception.

The moment she realized this, her mind spiraled into chaos.

"Th-this man... He's just a lowborn, worthless commoner. You know the prestige of House Duplein better than anyone."

"Indeed. You're right. This man is nothing but a wandering mercenary from the slums. A nobody who brings shame to the Duplein name."

"Then... Then why...?"

"And yet, he is our daughter's teacher."

Miriela's eyes widened at those words. The Grand Duke's stern face was the same as always, but something in his demeanor had shifted.

"What kind of parent treats their child's teacher this way?"

Once the Grand Duke, master of the duchy, had made his stance clear, no one could defy him.

The shock of the slap left Miriela's legs weak. Servants rushed to support her as she nearly collapsed.

The Grand Duke walked past her without a second glance, stopping before Derek.

This was not the man who idly toyed with a quill in his office—this was the Grand Duke of Duplein, surrounded by retainers, exuding authority. The air around him was thick with intimidation.

He spoke to Derek in a low voice.

The words that followed left the servants doubting their ears.

"Every parent has their own way of loving their child. I hope you can forgive this."

"..."

Even Derek, who always maintained his composure, couldn't help but blink in surprise.

For the Grand Duke of a nation to apologize like this was unthinkable. Especially to a mere commoner from the streets.

"Not at all."

"Then let us speak further in the reception room. Follow me."

With that, the Grand Duke walked away, leaving the shocked crowd behind as he headed toward the mansion.

The retainers gathered in the area bowed deeply as he passed.

When Derek entered the reception room, the Grand Duke was already seated on a gilded sofa, reviewing a document. Legs crossed, chin resting on his hand—he looked no different from usual.

He was a man so busy that even these brief moments had to be spent on work. Governing such a vast duchy was no easy task.

He glanced sideways at Derek as he entered, then gestured toward the opposite chair with his eyes. A silent command to sit.

Derek bowed slightly and took his seat.

- Rustle, rustle.

For a while, only the sound of turning pages filled the room.

Then, abruptly, the Grand Duke spoke.

"If you have something to say, say it."

"..."

The Grand Duke was testing him, inviting him to speak first if he had anything to say.

But Derek had nothing more to add. He was a man who preferred to prove himself through actions rather than words.

"Nothing in particular."

"Good."

The Grand Duke didn't seem displeased by this. In fact, he seemed to appreciate Derek's temperament.

He tossed the document onto the table, stroked his chin, and continued.

"Let me make one thing clear—I don't particularly enjoy employing commoners like you."

"I'm aware."

"That said... credit must be given where it's due."

The Grand Duke's dry eyes fixed on Derek.

"You are competent."

The Grand Duke was neither overly emotional nor entirely devoid of feeling. It seemed to be his way of leading people.

"A ruler is one who employs the competent and rewards them accordingly."

"I've already been promised compensation."

"The pittance Aiselin offered you?"

Only nobles could refer to 15 Ideal Gold Coins as a"pittance."And the man before him was nobility among nobility.

Derek closed his eyes briefly, and the Grand Duke let out a dry chuckle.

Then, in his usual commanding tone, he continued.

"You taught Diela 1st Grade Magic well. But that alone isn't enough to survive in the harsh world of nobility."

"That may be so. But House Duplein has no shortage of capable individuals to guide Lady Diela further. Now that she's grasped the basics of magic, she'll continue to grow."

"What my daughter needs isn't a magic instructor—it's a teacher."

The Grand Duke's voice was firm.

"But my eyes don't deceive me. You harbor ambitions far beyond what a commoner is permitted to dream of."

"..."

The Grand Duke's piercing gaze seemed to bore into Derek.

He had spent his life evaluating people. He instantly discerned that Derek aspired beyond 3rd Grade Magic—into the forbidden realm of 4th Grade and above.

"I know exactly how the noble elite of Evelstein would view such aspirations. But given what you've accomplished, I'll turn a blind eye."

"..."

"However, with such ambitions, you can't remain in a noble household forever. I assume you're already prepared to leave Evelstein soon. You were born to be a wandering mercenary, after all."

"That's true."

"Though I understand your ambitions, I must ask you to teach Diela a little longer."

As Derek's magical prowess grew, so too would the significance of his talents.

The Grand Duke knew this well—and he knew exactly what to offer to keep this wandering soul tethered, if only temporarily.

"The highest realm permitted to commoners is 3rd Grade Magic. Do you wish to reach it?"

"...!"

"Of course, at this stage, it's an impossible goal. But you'd at least want to lay the groundwork, wouldn't you?"

Seeing Derek's reaction, the Grand Duke smirked and pulled a small silver key from his pocket, tossing it onto the table.

"Do you know what that is?"

"No."

"The key to the Duplein family's underground archives. Accessible only to direct lineage and high-ranking retainers."

Resting his chin on his hand, the Grand Duke continued.

"It's filled with 3rd Grade Magic tomes—each worth hundreds of gold coins. More than you could ever need."

This time, it was Derek's eyes that gleamed.

The Grand Duke knew exactly how to keep Derek within the ducal mansion—better than anyone else.