Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 21

Unlike the aristocratic gardens lined with antique artworks, the commoners'streets reeked of musty odors and dampness—a gap only those who knew would understand.

One's living environment was like a perfectly tailored garment—easy to move up in status, but difficult to descend. Yet despite this, Derek felt pleasantly at ease walking through the tavern district with his old friend.

"Eating the nobles'slop would just turn you into a fat pig. When I heard you'd been holed up in that ducal mansion for months, I nearly choked on my own sigh."

"Pellin, you worry too much about pointless things. And not all nobles are as rotten as you think."

"Oh my. Look at you. A few months of living in luxury and you're already one of their retainers, aren't you? Next thing you know, you'll be taking knightly vows."

"You're overreacting."

Derek chuckled dryly while glancing sideways at the tavern street. This area, frequented by rough-looking mercenaries, was notorious as Evelstain's most dangerous quarter.

In a place where men would kill for a few silver coins, survival meant staying close to violence. Pellin, like Derek, was a girl who scraped by working as a mercenary in these very streets.

Her delicate appearance belied a will of steel—she could decimate dozens of goblins without batting an eye. Though they never pried into each other's pasts, her visceral hatred of nobility suggested her family had met a tragic end at their hands.

Such was the way of the world.

Derek wasn't tactless enough to voice such thoughts aloud. There was nothing more insensitive than analyzing someone's tragedy to their face.

While Pellin harbored deep resentment toward nobles, she wasn't entirely unreasonable. She might curse them behind their backs but knew better than to act recklessly in their presence. Like any mercenary, she'd swallow her pride when gold was involved.

In this underworld, survival was justice. Accusations of cowardice or pettiness were just the grumblings of those left behind.

- Creak

As the worn wooden door of"Beldern's Tear"tavern swung open, the proprietor yawning behind the bar came into view.

"Boss, look who's here."

"Oh, Pellin. And... Derek? Well I'll be. To think I'd live to see Evelstain's soon-to-be-famous magic tutor gracing my humble establishment."

"Still as dramatic as ever, boss."

Jayden stroked his scruffy beard as Derek took a seat at the bar without ceremony. Though late, the tavern had a decent crowd—mostly mercenaries with gleaming equipment who likely preferred quieter venues.

Not wanting to disrupt business, Derek kept his voice low.

"Took longer than expected. Those fifteen Ideal Gold Coins weren't easy to earn."

"Since when was making money ever easy? This was a fair deal. Hell, I should be bowing to you."

Jayden laughed heartily while pouring fruit wine into a large mug. Pellin downed hers in one go with an undignified"glug glug,"exhaling in satisfaction afterward.

After months watching noble ladies sip tea daintily, Derek found her crude drinking oddly refreshing.

Noticing his gaze, Pellin stared back.

"What? Never seen a girl drink before?"

"Watching you makes me feel like I'm home."

"That sounds sweet until I remember you've been living it up with nobles. Are you calling me uncouth?"

"You are, but you hate acting refined anyway."

"Hmph... can't argue with that."

As Pellin adjusted her platinum blonde ponytail, Jayden slid a mug toward Derek.

"A toast. Our mercenary group's only mage has finally returned—what greater occasion could there be?"

"Thanks. You're adding this to my tab, aren't you?"

"Your sharpness is your greatest flaw, Derek."

They burst into laughter simultaneously. After a few sips, Jayden folded his arms.

"So, did you get paid?"

"Of course. But that's not what matters."

"What matters more than money?"

"Bigger money."

Derek produced a worn book from his belt. Jayden and Pellin squinted at it before their eyes widened in realization.

"What the— Derek. Is that... a 2-Star spellbook?"

"No, 3-Star. From the Ducal archives."

"...3-Star? Did I hear that right?"

Pellin leaned in to examine the book at Derek's waist. Though lacking magical knowledge to verify its rank, she knew Derek wouldn't lie about this.

While 2-Star tomes were nearly unattainable for commoners, 3-Star ones only appeared in noble auction houses. Jayden similarly struggled to believe a commoner could possess such an item.

"They just gave this to a commoner? Derek, have you picked up noble boasting habits?"

"Just stating facts."

"Unbelievable."

Pellin took another gulp to steady herself. This book could buy a better life—superior housing, equipment, everything. Yet Derek showed no intention of selling it.

"I'll treat everyone when I cash this in."

"Damn right. The Velderun Mercenary Group could use a generous donation too."

Jayden laughed heartily, genuinely pleased for Derek's success.

"Any new contracts? I'm ready to work tomorrow."

"Eager as ever. Don't worry—mage talent is always in short supply here."

"But Derek, you just got back. Already jumping into work?"

Pellin sounded concerned, but Derek shrugged it off.

"Better start with some extermination jobs. Too much lounging in that mansion dulled my edge."

Jayden snorted at Derek's complaint.

From the next day onward, Derek took on monster extermination contracts through Velderun. The peaceful months faded from memory as he hunted creatures across Evelstain's outskirts—sometimes alone, sometimes with Pellin.

Work was plentiful as ever.

Goblins, trolls, and gremlins roaming the borders were common—often escapees from nearby labyrinths attacking merchants and travelers, providing steady work for mercenaries.

There were also minor tasks—driving off beggars encroaching on territories, roughing up thugs, escorting merchants. Derek accepted anything within his capabilities.

He approached life as he always had—doing everything possible. By day he built trust with clients in the tavern district; by night he studied spellbooks in his rented room near the market.

During missions he prioritized untested spells to improve proficiency. On rest days he practiced mana control in the grasslands. Every moment was spent productively, time flying by unnoticed.

Derek had returned to the tavern district in late spring. Before he knew it, summer's heat gave way to autumn.

His greatest strength was this relentless consistency.

"...Hmm. I can almost grasp it, but not quite."

During breaks, Derek practiced magic in the outskirts. He wanted to become a 3-Star mage—an ambitious dream for his age, but not impossible.

Even among nobles, prodigies reached 3-Star by their coming-of-age ceremonies. For Derek, who'd mastered magic faster than most nobles since childhood, this wasn't pure fantasy.

Yet the 3-Star barrier proved formidable. Something was missing—some crucial insight.

Still, perseverance was all he could offer. Even prodigies needed matching effort to achieve results.

He rarely slept more than four hours, candle expenses for nightly study becoming burdensome. But this was necessary investment.

By the time Derek could wield 2-Star magic proficiently, autumn leaves had fallen and the first snow began.

- Bang!

The creaky wooden door of"Beldern's Tear"swung open, revealing Derek covered in blood.

Winter's chill invaded the cozy tavern as snowflakes drifted inside before melting on the floor.

Drunkards gulped at the sight of the white-haired boy—expressionless despite being drenched in gore, clearly not his own blood. Over his shoulder hung a massive harpy's head.

Pellin rushed in after him to warm her hands by the fire.

"Brrr! Freezing! Boss! Hot tea please! My fingers might fall off!"

Derek strode past her and thumped the harpy head onto the bar. The metallic stench of blood filled the air.

"Took a while."

"You actually went to Kent Mountain's midslope in this weather? Youth these days."

"I'll admit it was reckless. Never want to camp in snow again. Nearly froze to death."

"What's life without some suffering while you're young?"

As Derek removed his bloodstained gloves, Jayden quickly stowed the grotesque trophy in the back. After settling payment, he served hot mead.

Other patrons whispered—Derek was becoming famous in Evelstain's mercenary circles. Reliable mercenaries were rare in this business.

Clients increasingly sought him out, leaving Jayden to carefully select contracts.

"..."

Accepting a damp cloth from Jayden, Derek wiped dried blood from his face, utterly ignoring the murmurs. He first checked his equipment.

His fees had multiplied since childhood, allowing comfortable savings even after the Ducal payment. At this rate, purchasing that expensive personal wand or staff wouldn't be impossible.

"Good work, Derek. You're probably the only one mad enough to climb a mountain in snow for a harpy head."

"Other groups take winter contracts too."

"They go in teams with full camping gear for days. Nobody just pops over like it's a stroll like you."

"...It wasn't a stroll. I nearly died."

"Sure, sure. I'll negotiate better pay. The client will understand this wasn't easy."

Jayden laughed while organizing cups, moving briskly so Derek could rest.

"Taking a break after this ordeal?"

"Any pending contracts?"

"Too many to count."

"I'll rest tomorrow, but after that I'm open."

Derek tightened his bootlaces casually. Jayden could only shake his head at his relentless drive.

Still, having such an active mage was a boon. Jayden chuckled while sorting documents under the bar.

"That mountain trip drained me though. Prefer something local next."

"Hmm... there is one easy, well-paying job."

"Since when does that exist?"

"Easy money always has strings. No pressure if you're not interested."

Jayden placed a contract on the bar.

"From Count Belmiere's house. Passed over by the Rohel Mercenary Group. They want someone who can use magic."

"...A noble contract got rejected? Rohel's a major group."

"Exactly. Strange, right?"

Noble houses rarely hired commoner mercenaries—they typically had ample manpower. When they did, competition was fierce.

The only reason Velderun had secured the Duplein contract last spring was because Lady Aiselin had desperately spread requests everywhere to find Diela a tutor.

Normally, minor groups like theirs never saw noble contracts.

Derek narrowed his eyes at the document.

"...There's always a reason."

Count Belmiere sought a commoner for magic sparring—any 1-Star mage would do. With countless noble mages available, they clearly wanted a punching bag.

A commoner defeating a noble mage was absurd to begin with, and such commoners were vanishingly rare.

Derek understood why no one wanted this job.

Young, healthy commoner mages were scarce and could find better-paying work than being human targets for spoiled nobles. Rohel's mages preferred monster hunts or escort missions over being practice dummies.

The pay, while decent for a noble contract, wasn't exceptional.

"Just some magic sparring in the Noble District?"

But after the harpy hunt, Derek was exhausted. He'd rather take an easy local job than another demanding trip.

"You're in?"

"I'll just lose gracefully and take a few hits. Sign me up."

"If you're sure."

Derek stood, adjusting his coin pouch. He planned to wash up and study—never slacking in his magical training, even after long missions.

Jayden waved as Derek headed out.

"Pellin. Napping there will get you burned."

"Yipe!"

Pellin jerked awake from her fire-side doze. After quick goodbyes, Derek pushed through the tavern door into the blizzard.

Patrons quietly watched his retreating figure through the snow. Time had tempered the boy into a veteran mercenary.

Another year passed.

He'd soon turn seventeen.