Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 241

Through relentless magical training and pushing boundaries, I will undoubtedly reach the 7-Star realm one day.

Such an ambitious goal seemed utterly unrealistic—even those who knew Derek well often wore expressions of disbelief.

Yet Derek had proven himself through his journey thus far.

Becoming the youngest 3-Star, then 4-Star mage... until finally ascending to the 5-Star realm and joining the ranks of family-head level mages who commanded the southwestern continent.

The authority he now wielded was unimaginable during his days rolling in slum gutters. His influence in the southwest had reached unparalleled heights.

Though the process demanded immense time and effort, he had never once suffered defeat or succumbed to adversity.

Thus, it was believed nothing in this world could possibly fluster this iron-blooded man.

At least, not until he became Ravenclaw Academy's director.

"......"

"D-Derek? You... don't look well. Are you alright?"

Lord Melberot had suddenly arrived with marriage proposal documents. Understandable.

The news caused uproar among the school's disciples. Also understandable.

Sirine herself had quarreled with Melberot before barricading herself in Lavender Dormitory. Entirely plausible.

Pellin burst forth declaring she'd discipline Sirine's manners before charging out. An interesting development worth observing.

While chaotic, these were matters to monitor. Complex situations often revealed simpler truths when peeled back.

However, discovering Rozelyn—drenched like a drowned rat—while inspecting Amaryllis House with Aiselin... nearly shattered Derek's sanity.

"Ah, Lord Ravenclaw. My apologies for this unsightly appearance. Quite the impropriety."

"...What happened?"

"Nothing serious. Lady Tricia of Sepia Dormitory accidentally spilled water on me while gardening. Then she gave that uniquely aristocratic smirk before leaving... I believe this is what they call territorial posturing."

Maintaining her disguise as"Lady Rona,"Rozelyn spoke without imperial airs.

But Derek and Aiselin—aware of her true identity—couldn't help stiff expressions.

Already considering visiting the academic building to meet Melberot, they now faced their nation's ruler caught in noble squabbles, drenched by none other than Tricia—the Ravenclaw School's youngest disciple.

Aiselin and Derek simultaneously felt blood drain from their faces.

"Please... don't trouble yourself. For me—no, for someone like me—this is actually quite refreshing."

"...We never imagined such disrespect. She occasionally acts out when status is challenged... but isn't malicious, so please..."

"Of course. Frankly, I find her assertive nature and temperament rather admirable."

"...Pardon?"

Derek studied Rozelyn's face for sarcasm, but found only sincerity.

"Those born into nobility often take authority for granted, overlooking its value. Commoners striving to protect their status through sheer tenacity—that's harder to appreciate from ivory towers."

"...Is that so?"

"The Renuel family rose from minor border nobility through merit, overcoming territorial lords'resistance. Such relentless drive undoubtedly shaped Lady Tricia's character."

Crossing her arms, Rozelyn nodded thoughtfully before flashing a radiant smile.

"Absolutely adorable."

First obsessing over Sirine, now embracing Tricia—the empress's inclusive nature knew no bounds.

Derek understood her perspective perfectly.

This was the amusement of a superior observing inferiors. Rozelyn enjoyed witnessing unfamiliar aspects of those beneath her station.

While entertaining for her, this spelled disaster for Tricia.

Left unchecked, who knew what mischief might follow? Yet...

"Should Lord Ravenclaw intervene or hint at the truth, I'd ask you refrain."

Rozelyn preemptively blocked Derek's involvement, determined to enjoy her game.

Exchanging glances with Aiselin, both wore grim expressions.

At this point, they could only pray for Tricia's soul.

That unassuming baron's daughter was actually Gremfort Palace's ruler—who could've imagined?

Yet when fate conspires, even the absurd becomes reality.

"Lady Tricia's situation seems... beyond our control now..."

"Unavoidable. Frankly, her provoking doom isn't unusual. As said earlier, we can only offer prayers."

"Ugh... Lady Tricia... may you..."

"Our priority is meeting Lord Melberot."

Confirming Amaryllis House's stability, Derek proceeded toward the academic building.

Aiselin trailing him in frilly dresses had become commonplace. As academy operations flowed through her, their proximity raised no eyebrows.

Passing noblewomen offered polite nods without suspicion.

"Lord Melberot... we assigned him the finest guest quarters. He likely won't depart without resolution..."

"Prolonging this chaos will draw House Belmierd and Renuel into full conflict. We must act before escalation."

"Then you intend to..."

"Yes. The marriage proposal must be declined."

Aiselin hiccuped mid-step—uncharacteristically undignified.

"...Lady Aiselin?"

"A-ah, apologies. I... didn't expect such decisiveness."

Mixed emotions swirled within her.

Part of her rejoiced at Derek's refusal, given her own feelings. Yet as someone fond of Sirine, she pitied the inevitable heartbreak.

Of course, if given choice, she'd prefer refusal... but discomfort remained.

Sirine would undoubtedly suffer greatly.

"Pellin intervened precisely to create justification for refusal. Now I must act accordingly."

"P-Pellin did?"

"You don't know her well. Her battlefield-honed provocation skills are... exceptional."

"..."

Derek's detour to Amaryllis House wasn't coincidental—he'd anticipated Pellin's schemes.

"Provocation...?"

"We may need to dispatch maintenance crews to Lavender Dormitory soon. Prepare a dozen workers."

"For what possible—"

- BOOM! KABLAM! CRASH!

A massive explosion echoed from Amaryllis House.

Minimum 3-Star magic. The smoke plume was visible across campus.

"Eeek!"

Aiselin whirled toward the commotion.

The blast originated from Lavender Dormitory. Her face fell.

"Sepia Dormitory's repairs just finished...! Now Lavender?!"

"......Perhaps we should increase maintenance budgets."

"Head Custodian Clement... I told him major repairs were done so he could visit his daughter in Southern Riziel Isle...! His joyful smile warmed my heart...!"

"Such is life. Academy administration is... challenging."

"Derek..."

"I want to cry too. Let's weep together later..."

Hundreds of gold coins already spent this semester. Necessary sacrifices.

Despite the explosion, Derek continued toward Melberot's quarters.

"Shouldn't we check the dormitory?"

"Delbritton will handle it. We'll review reports later."

"But..."

Derek gripped Aiselin's shoulders solemnly.

Flustered by the sudden closeness, she broke into cold sweat.

"D-Derek?"

"Listen carefully."

His tone turned grave.

"My survival depends on acting now... Before other houses intervene, we must nullify Melberot's proposal. Pellin will provide justification soon."

However chaotic Ravenclaw Academy's operations became, this marriage matter required immediate resolution.

Success here would prevent future incidents. Convinced by his urgency, Aiselin slowly nodded.

'At least... Derek's refusing... right?'

Aiselin began questioning her own sanity.

No matter. She'd follow her heart. Resolved, she trailed Derek toward Melberot's chambers.

-'Know the difference between us? You failed to win Count Ravenclaw's favor, while I ride his coattails to glory.'

-'Born to wealth as Melberot's daughter, yet coveting Ravenclaw House? What greedy vixen. This golden goose is mine.'

-'That magic-obsessed fool dotes on my beauty, obeying my every whim. How satisfying to exploit such convenient men.'

-'Your father would grant any wish anyway. Why this desperate grab for more?'

-'You're no different—coveting Ravenclaw's wealth and status. Hypocritical wench.'

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

Head Butler Delbritton sweated profusely near Lavender Dormitory's entrance.

Pellin had warned him—expect major disturbances. He'd prepared accordingly, but never imagined this scale.

'Lady Pellin's tongue is sharper than anticipated.'

He swallowed dryly.

Among Ravenclaw's subordinates, Pellin was the most feral—a former slum mercenary hardened in battle.

In tavern brawls and battlefield skirmishes, meekness invited oppression. She'd mastered both verbal dominance and physical intimidation.

Provoking enemies into recklessness was standard mercenary tactics.

Now she mercilessly taunted Sirine—insulting Derek, portraying herself as a gold-digging harpy exploiting his affections.

Every word struck Sirine's berserk buttons with precision.

"Heh... haha..."

Sirine's laughter preceded her chair screeching backward.

Though a 4-Star prodigy, she remained an emotionally volatile teenager.

Normally tolerant of personal slights—a remnant of her self-loathing killer days—two things were unforgivable: insults toward her father Melberot, and disrespect toward Derek.

This upstart woman had crossed both lines.

To ignore such offenses would be dishonorable.

"You've chosen death. Had you mocked only me, I might've spared you."

As crimson mana erupted, Pellin theatrically gasped before darting into the corridor.

- KABOOM! CRASH! BANG!

Lavender Dormitory's main hall exploded.

- Slice! Thunk! Stab!

Though dressed elegantly, Pellin produced daggers from her thigh straps—always armed despite noble attire.

"Alright, let's play."

Facing enraged Sirine was no easy feat.

Yet amidst the dust, Pellin crouched low with a relaxed smile.