Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 174

Everyone who knows understands just how terrifying environmental influence can be.

A noble's child who pretends to be virtuous for a hundred days will develop a vicious temperament after rolling around slums for a month or two, while someone who lived as a pauper their whole life will suddenly grow arrogant upon striking it rich and joining the upper class.

Humans can never escape environmental influence—no one remains consistent forever.

Derek implicitly understood this well, yet he harbored an indescribable certainty regarding Sirine.

This girl who resembled freshly fallen snow on a winter field would forever carry the stench of blood soaked deep into her heart... or so he'd been convinced.

To that extent, Sirine had seemed unshakable, maintaining her beast-like temperament throughout her magic training without faltering.

He'd thought that even if she walked through Evelstain's high society now, that uniquely sharp edge of hers wouldn't dull...

But Derek had severely underestimated the powerful influence of a maiden's affection.

Romantic feelings are sensations instinctually engraved in humanity—as natural as hunger from missing meals or drowsiness from lack of sleep.

Moreover, such sentimental notions are contagious. Immersed in Evelstain's aristocratic circles, it was inevitable she'd be influenced.

Even a girl who'd only known blood-soaked life could spread wings of rose-tinted delusions.

No one would call that sinful. At the very least, Sirine fidgeting with her hands while sitting beside Derek appeared more like an embarrassed ordinary girl than a murderer.

What would Melberot—who wished for Sirine to live as a typical noble lady—think seeing this?

Impossible to predict. But generally speaking, a father's gaze upon the man who stole his daughter's heart... could hardly be called friendly.

"Derek. Um... can I hold your hand?"

Sirine's face flushed crimson as if she'd made some lifelong declaration with that single question—so unlike the northern beast who'd killed with hollow eyes while drenched in blood.

This was the girl destined to kill without remorse, accumulate sins, and walk a bloodstained path.

Melberot's wish for her to become an ordinary noble lady... was being fulfilled in ways he never anticipated.

"..."

Derek blinked once, experiencing what felt like an eternity of contemplation in that brief moment.

Judging by her demeanor, Sirine herself seemed uncertain about the nature of her feelings.

Would firmly rejecting her be better? Or should he maturely accept and let this fleeting passion pass?

'I did suspect this might happen someday.'

As the foremost figure in noble education, Derek was Evelstain's most renowned tutor.

Each student under his wing could potentially overturn aristocratic society.

But working among women inevitably led to such situations.

While the bond between mentor and student is beautiful and sublime, prolonged exposure can sometimes transform into romantic affection.

He'd vaguely considered how to handle such occasions—but never established concrete policies.

Honestly, that was only natural. Narcissistic fantasies like"What if my student falls madly for me?"are embarrassing to entertain.

There are limits to self-awareness. No one could blame him for procrastinating on such dilemmas.

Still, the current situation demanded action.

Sirine Aleina Rocheste enjoyed the protection and affection of two 6-star mages—an incredibly fortunate position for any magic practitioner.

However, excessive paternal love sometimes bears thorns. Derek lacked confidence enduring the piercing gazes of two 6-star mages capable of incinerating entire regions with a finger twitch.

Swallowing dryly, Derek spoke in a lowered tone:

"Lady Sirine."

"S-sorry Derek. That was weird of me. I've been having strange thoughts lately... words just slip out without thinking..."

Sirine suddenly hugged her knees, turning scarlet to her ears before fanning herself furiously as if overwhelmed by heat.

Her voice remained cool as ever—like settled snowflakes, she rarely showed agitation or excitement.

Yet now she averted her gaze without trying to escape or change topics.

With her reacting so visibly, Derek couldn't pretend not to notice.

Casually ignoring a girl's affection while subtly enjoying her attention wasn't an option—Derek was an upright man.

But those who develop feelings for such people must prepare for sudden directness.

"Lady Sirine, do you have romantic feelings for me?"

"Hic!"

Unfortunately, Sirine lacked such preparedness.

The straight pitch striking her solar plexus left her breathless as if her throat had closed.

Yet her animalistic instincts managed some response:

"O-of course I like you! You're the one who freed me from that spire!"

"Not that kind of affection. I mean romantic feelings. You must hear such talk often in high society?"

"H-hyek!"

In some ways, Derek was truly merciless.

Vague, indecisive attitudes that leave matters ambiguous are cruel—but this approach carried its own brutality that he failed to consider.

Clear, decisive communication is ultimately cleaner and kinder.

His obvious sincerity made complaints unjustified—this was entirely for Sirine's sake.

As the saying goes, the one who falls first loses. If she didn't want to be struck, she shouldn't have fallen.

Of course, Sirine likely felt wronged—but such was reality.

"If that's how you feel, I can't take this lightly—"

"W-what nonsense! Derek! You're so full of yourself! Making me flustered like this...!"

Sadly, even a girl unfazed by bloodshed... remained clueless in such matters.

Her shrill interruption and abrupt standing might as well have been a confession.

Overloaded, her mind had no capacity for new realizations.

"I-I'm too flustered... I'll go inside... Wait, sorry for calling you conceited... Or was that not something to apologize for? I don't know. Anyway, it's not like that..."

"Lady Sirine, you should rest inside."

"I-I was going to! Just keep training hard!"

With that, Sirine pressed her burning cheeks and fled.

Derek remained seated, quietly watching the snow begin to fall again.

Regardless of everything, what happened next depended entirely on Sirine.

The next day, Kalimford stood in the training grounds with ominous energy swirling in his eyes.

He'd apparently spent the night in deep anguish.

One glance at his expression told Derek everything.

Sirine's transparent reactions made obliviousness impossible. First love renders people painfully visible.

"Let today's spar begin."

An unusual seriousness emanated from Kalimford, who typically seemed detached from reality.

Derek sensed it—this spar would carry personal undertones...

'...'

This resentment felt unjust—Derek had done nothing wrong.

Kalimford knew this too, hence no direct accusations.

But emotions don't always follow reason.

Kalimford's aura practically demanded testing the man who'd enchanted his daughter—looking utterly ruthless.

As if Derek had formally requested her hand—an absurd atmosphere from his perspective.

Yet Derek couldn't entirely dislike it, for complex reasons.

- Crack! Whoosh!

- Kaboom!

Kalimford's signature stance—dragging his staff across the ground as he moved.

Not a single incantation or gesture, yet spells flew faster than eyes could track.

Magic seemed not to be cast but to spontaneously manifest.

Even with Derek's detection magic surpassing senior mages, their speed felt overwhelming—ordinary mages wouldn't react at all.

- Whoosh!

- Crack!

Derek drew his longsword with one hand and a dagger reversed in the other, evading spells.

Blocking everything was impossible—Kalimford's mana manipulation defied conventional principles.

The suffocating pressure from mere proximity.

Compared to their first spar, the intensified assault clearly carried emotion.

'He was holding back all along. Of course—a 6-star mage going all out against me was never realistic.'

Amid the deadly spells, excitement surged up Derek's spine.

There was still more to learn.

Higher realms of magic to reach.

That thrilling euphoria during crises gradually enveloped him.

Facing a 6-star mage didn't crush him with intimidation but ignited aspirations for greater heights. He was the type who found ecstasy in absorbing magic itself.

6-star mages often feel the heavy responsibility of their power.

Even against trained mages, they rarely reveal true capabilities.

Each strike now carried weight—any unblocked hit would cause severe injury.

Some trust in Derek's ability to handle them, yes—but underlying it all was peculiar hostility.

Strange as it sounded—was Sirine actually good difficulty adjustment?

The thought crossed his mind as pleasant tension coursed through his arms. Rarely did 6-star mages spar so seriously.

This resembled real combat.

Each exchange felt fresh—not the haphazard attacks of magical beasts, but strikes anticipating Derek's movements to exploit openings.

'Every deflection brings new enlightenment. Truly... opponents with clear hostility... teach the most...!'

A flood of knowledge surged through Derek's mind.

Mana arrows, shockwaves, earth spikes, magic blades, golem summoning, illusions, freezing... From 1-star to 4-star, spells of various levels attacked in diverse ways. Even simple spells carried profound insights.

Struggling through them, Derek's gaze seemed to touch some distant height.

─Almost within reach.

In this deluge of experience, he sensed proximity to a secret realm previously unattainable...

Reach out.

Even if it seems beyond grasp, stretching will touch it.

4-star magic alone could never match this mage's seasoned mastery. He needed to reach some new magical realm to strike his flaw─

- Thunk!

An ice spear impaled Derek's right side.

- Splurt! Splash!

- Crack!

Derek's eyes widened—it came from a direction he'd completely failed to perceive.

Battling by repurposing an opponent's mana. He'd learned this before and thought himself perfectly prepared.

But to Kalimford, such mana manipulation was child's play.

'Confusion magic... At least... 5-star...!'

5-star Confusion Magic:"Perception Adjustment"

Interferes with the target's mana perception itself, making specific spell types completely undetectable.

This absurd magic guarantees near-certain victory against any mage—virtually impossible to counter below 5-star.

He'd thought Kalimford's confusion magic was 4-star level, but the man had reached 5-star—transcending human limits.

'I can do it... Maybe...!'

Yet Derek's eyes shone.

Since learning from Katia, confusion magic had been one of his specialties.

With confusion magic, he might replicate 5-star spells—

In this lethal spar with Kalimford, he finally glimpsed attainable heights. That thought emerged just─

- Splurt! Gush!

Blood sprayed from the deeply embedded ice spear.

The sudden hemorrhage blurred Derek's vision.

Excessive blood loss for a spar—the volume seemed unnatural.

The world seemed to sway as Derek dropped to one knee.

"Huff...! Ugh..."

"...!"

Even Kalimford looked momentarily stunned.

Derek's skillful counters kept pushing the limits until they'd finally been exceeded.

Assuming Derek could handle anything, he'd grown careless.

'Damn...!'

Derek's blood pooled across the ground.

Though academic fervor still burned in his eyes, the absurd hemorrhage paralyzed his body regardless of willpower.

Gritting his teeth, Derek tried rising to demonstrate his epiphany. He needed to manifest that almost-grasped sensation immediately.

His near-fanatical obsession with magic made him ignore the gushing blood.

"Ghk... Ghk...! Cough... More... Need more..."

His blood-drenched determination seemed monstrous. Crimson light flickered in his pupils.

Yet consciousness steadily faded.

"Medics! Call the medics!"

Servants rushed toward the kneeling, bleeding Derek.

Maids sprinted out sweating cold sweat while squires scrambled busily.

The previously silent training grounds filled with commotion.

Just as Kalimford tried speaking─

"Derek!"

A girl's cry came from where she'd secretly been watching.

The familiar voice made everyone turn—she'd already run onto the field.

"Derek! Derek! Are you okay?! The bleeding...! There's too much blood!"

Sirine emerged pale-faced at Derek's near-fatal wound.

Though Derek's eyes still burned with determination to manifest his revelation, his body wouldn't obey.

Gradually, his kneeling form slackened.

"Derek...! Quickly...! Move him now...!"

Clutching Derek's wound, Sirine desperately urged the servants.

Seasoned staff immediately prepared transport while administering first aid.

The injury's severity seemed impossible for a spar.

Then she turned her gaze toward Kalimford.

Her frigid eyes mirrored the northern snowfields'harshness.

"............"

The legendary hero who saved the nation was drenched in cold sweat.

Never in his life had he perspired so profusely.