Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 20

There's nothing left to teach.

Those who heard Derek's declaration could only tilt their heads in confusion at first.

While his apprentice Diela was still in the process of mastering 1st Grade Magic, Derek had nearly perfected 2nd Grade Magic and was beginning to glimpse the realm of 3rd Grade.

Though their magical abilities were worlds apart, Derek declared there was no longer any meaning in continuing to teach Diela.

"Beyond this point, my involvement may do more harm than good for Lady Diela's magical development."

The setting was the Duke's office.

Even at midday, the Duke's dimly lit office carried an oppressive atmosphere that seemed to weigh heavily on visitors.

The Grand Duke of Duplein sat with his chair turned, quietly listening to Derek's explanation.

"Your Grace must have noticed from observing Lady Diela's magic usage—she employs mana in a way distinctly different from the disciplined, aristocratic approach."

"The Wild School's magical theory, I presume."

"You were aware?"

"I had my suspicions since your duel. Not complete certainty, but enough."

As a 5th Grade mage, Raymond Oswald Duplein was well-versed in most magical theories. He had recognized that Diela's magical achievements weren't ordinary.

"And?"

"Wild School magic fundamentally requires self-study. While guidance from a good teacher can be beneficial up to a certain level, beyond that point, it risks becoming detrimental."

"What exactly do you mean by'detrimental'?"

"It could constrain the mage's natural, freeform mana utilization."

Derek stood with his hands clasped behind his back, explaining matter-of-factly.

"Lady Diela's magic is like painting. Among Wild School practitioners, her mana usage is uniquely expressive—she has an exceptionally strong personal style."

"Almost like creating art."

"Yes, that's an apt comparison. The stronger an artist's personal style, the more dangerous outside advice becomes. It risks chipping away at that uniqueness."

Derek added:

"She might become an even greater mage than I initially imagined."

The Grand Duke listened quietly before closing his eyes briefly in contemplation.

His thoughtful expression was familiar—it never took him long to reach conclusions.

"I see. Then you no longer have reason to remain at the ducal mansion."

"What purpose would a magic teacher serve if they can't teach magic?"

"Diela has grown quite attached to you."

"..."

Derek lowered his gaze without responding. The Duke observed this reaction before nodding in understanding.

Excessive dependence wouldn't benefit Diela. A Wild School mage needed to learn independence.

"...Very well. You were always too ambitious for this place anyway. These peaceful ducal grounds must feel restrictive for your magical development."

"...Yes. My magic progresses fastest in combat-oriented environments. The mansion is too... tranquil for me."

"A cursed fate you've chosen."

"I consider it a blessing."

The Duke turned his chair toward the window, resting his chin on his hand as he spoke.

"Still, my troublesome youngest has benefited greatly. I may never be called a good father, but at least I can remain one who cares for his daughter. Thanks to your efforts."

"You flatter me."

"Children grow frighteningly fast. When immersed in territory affairs, you blink and they've grown another handspan taller."

Valerian, Raeg, and Aiselin had all established their places in noble society. Only Diela's aimlessness had remained a thorn in his heart.

Now that even his youngest had found her path, he felt entering a new phase of parenthood—that peculiar mix of relief and loneliness when the nest empties.

The Duke quietly contemplated his children forging their own destinies.

"When do you leave?"

"I plan to accompany Lady Aiselin's carriage back to Evelstain during her next visit."

"I see. Return the archive key now."

"Understood. I'll return the tome I'm currently studying and have the head butler deliver it separately."

"No need. Just return the key now."

It took Derek a moment to grasp the implication.

Startled, he glanced at the 3-Star Magic Tome tucked at his waist.

Even for a Grand Duke, casually gifting such valuable tomes to commoners required careful consideration. A single worn volume could equal the price of a modest house.

Yet the Duke showed no intention of reclaiming the book, merely gazing out the window in silence.

Derek placed the archive key on the desk.

"Dismissed."

In the dim office, the Duke sat amidst his responsibilities and quiet solitude—immovable as a statue.

Derek bowed deeply before quietly exiting.

Valerian and Diela waited in the corridor outside.

Valerian wore a concerned expression, while Diela appeared surprisingly composed.

"You've reported to Father?"

"Yes. I'll be leaving for Evelstain with Lady Aiselin's carriage."

"...So it's decided."

Valerian studied Derek with regret.

His early morning visit had been to ask Derek to continue mentoring Diela. But Derek's stance remained firm—uncertainty about further instruction's benefits, and his own need to focus on magical advancement.

Eventually, Valerian accepted this, giving Derek's shoulder a few pats.

"Well done. The Duplein family owes you much."

"Not at all. Teaching Lady Diela helped me reorganize my own magical theories."

"...Take this."

Valerian produced a thumb-sized metal medallion bearing the Duplein family crest on one side and his personal seal on the other.

"Show this at noble district shops for proof of our patronage. They'll offer our exclusive goods."

"...Thank you."

Accepting the kindness, Derek tucked the medallion away before turning to Diela.

She met his gaze with unexpected determination.

"First you show up unannounced, now you're leaving just as suddenly."

"Such is a mercenary's life."

"I know you won't listen, but I'll say it anyway."

Diela hesitated, lips pressed tight, before lifting her chin defiantly.

"...Do you really have to go?"

Valerian winced at the painful question.

Derek studied Diela before softening his expression.

"I'll be at Tavern Street as always—working mercenary jobs and studying magic."

"...Right. Of course."

"You'll soon receive your own estate in Evelstain's noble quarter for social training, just like Lady Aiselin did."

A rare smile crossed Derek's typically stern face.

"We'll meet again soon. Perhaps by then, I'll have progressed enough to teach you more."

Diela could only nod at his calm assurance.

Derek always spoke truthfully, leaving no room for rebuttal.

That night, Diela had a nightmare.

Of her days confined to the guest house, achieving nothing.

As she sat idle in the silent room, demonic whispers filled her ears.

Useless Diela. Incompetent child. Worthless trash with nothing but lineage.

The walls seemed to close in, threatening to crush her as she struggled to breathe—until she jolted awake.

Drenched in sweat, she found a maid standing nervously by her bed.

"Lady Diela! Are you alright? I heard distressed sounds—"

"..."

After steadying her breathing, Diela exhaled deeply.

The thought of Derek leaving filled her with inexplicable emptiness. She realized how much she'd come to rely on him.

Honestly, she didn't want him to go.

But she had no justification to make him stay.

-'Doesn't Lady Diela hold all the cards in this situation?'

Suddenly, his words echoed in her mind.

Indeed—she controlled this scenario. Derek was leaving because she'd reformed enough to no longer need him.

All she needed was to create a reason for him to stay. Reverting to her old troublemaking ways—beating servants, causing chaos—would force the Duke to keep Derek employed.

Diela studied the worried maid.

One slap. A scolding for daring to enter uninvited. That's all it would take to start the chain reaction.

But she didn't.

"...No, I'm fine. Just fetch me some water."

"Right away!"

Because such behavior would invalidate everything Derek had done for her.

Sitting at the tea table, moonlight washing over her, Diela wiped her face.

How precious this reclaimed normalcy was—servants greeting her warmly, family moving through carefree days.

Destroying that would betray Derek's wishes. So she could only wipe her face and sniffle.

Most painful was Derek's own ambition.

His dream, confessed under the garden sky—to surpass commoner limits and reach greater magical heights.

Keeping him at the mansion would only hinder that journey.

Thus, Diela couldn't hold him back. He was meant to soar.

The girl swallowed her tears and hardened her expression.

Four days later, when Lady Aiselin returned to Evelstain.

The mansion's grand entrance bustled with servants seeing her off as an ornate carriage stood ready.

Lady Aiselin, with mixed emotions, greeted the staff before acknowledging Derek's approach.

"Shall we drop you at the city entrance? Or the commercial district?"

"The commercial district would suit me best. Thank you for your consideration."

"It's nothing."

Dawn's moisture hung heavy in the air.

As typical of late spring mornings, a light mist lingered while retaining that crisp freshness unique to early hours.

The boundary between night and day.

That liminal time when the world feels eerily empty.

Only birdsong echoed hollowly through the still-dark gardens.

After thanking Lady Aiselin, Derek surveyed his surroundings before boarding.

Valerian and Raeg, present since dawn, nodded silently—a gesture Derek returned.

Then Diela stepped forward from between her brothers.

Her expression remained steadfast. Though prone to tears, she faced this farewell with surprising composure.

"What? Expected me to throw a tantrum? I'm not a child anymore."

"...Indeed. My mistake."

Chuckling, Derek glanced at the lightening sky before addressing Diela.

"Teaching you has been an honor. While I can't claim the title publicly, I hope you'll remember the magic we practiced."

"Actually, I plan to proudly announce you as my teacher."

"..."

"Sorry, but you don't get a say. Imagine the gossip—'Diela Catherine Duplein's mentor'? Hehe."

The girl laughed mischievously before smoothing her golden locks and adding sharply:

"Don't get hurt doing mercenary work."

"I'll be careful. You focus on recovering fully."

"I'll be fine."

Diela made no fuss. Twirling a lock of hair, she declared firmly:

"I'm an adult now. See? I can take care of myself."

She placed hands on hips, puffing her chest proudly—

—and Derek's eyes flew wide with sudden recognition.

A long-buried memory surfaced.

Young Derek had once said those exact words to his departing mentor—forcing a brave smile to ease their worries.

Yet instead of relief, his mentor had embraced him tighter, whispering something Derek never understood—until now.

Years later, watching his own apprentice declare adulthood with that same fragile bravado, everything clicked.

The girl was still so young. So far to go.

Life's trials would come. More wanderings awaited.

That tiny figure proclaiming adulthood—how precarious it seemed.

Now Derek finally understood the emotion in Katia's eyes that day.

"Lady Diela."

So he knelt, resting a hand on her glossy golden hair.

And softly told her:

"You don't need to grow up so fast."

Diela's pupils dilated before she bit her lip.

Her dam of suppressed emotions nearly broke—tears welling despite her efforts as her eyes reddened.

Derek stood, flipping up his robe's hood.

"Derek!"

As if no time remained for lengthy farewells, Diela called out sharply. Her next words were brief:

"See you."

The girl would come to Evelstain's social circles. So Derek could board the carriage with a lighthearted wave.

"Let's meet again in Evelstain."

- Creak

The heavy carriage door opened, and Derek stepped out onto familiar streets.

Brushing off his clothes, he noted the late hour.

The narrow alley reeked of life's grime, piled with rotting garbage and rusted scrap—a stark contrast to the perfumed noble quarter.

"Mr. Derek, visit our estate if you're in the noble district. We'll serve our finest tea. And consult us if any troubles arise."

"Thank you."

"You're always welcome."

Lady Aiselin leaned out to bid farewell properly. Though they'd spoken at length during the ride, parting still weighed on her.

As Derek bowed, the carriage rolled toward the noble district.

- Clop clop

Moonlight bathed the commoners'streets as Derek walked.

Barefoot children played while crippled beggars pleaded with passersby.

Distant screams of beaten women mixed with drunkards'shouts as cheap tavern songs spilled into the night.

The polar opposite of the noble quarter's refined ambiance.

Inhaling deeply, he felt that peculiar satisfaction of homecoming after long travels.

"Wow. Your complexion improved. Noble food agrees with you."

A girl's voice came from a dilapidated crate where she sat cross-legged. Her nonchalant tone felt comfortably familiar.

The tattered robe and large bow identified her unmistakably as a mercenary. Platinum hair tied back neatly completed the look.

"Oh, Pellin."

If these filthy streets were Derek's hometown, this girl was his oldest friend.

Derek had truly returned home.