Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 243

"Have you come to refuse the marriage proposal?"

Melberot cut straight to the point as if he'd already sensed it.

Aiselin, who had followed Derek inside, immediately held her breath. Though Derek's status had risen to the highest echelons, it still couldn't compare to Melberot's authority.

Despite Melberot's notorious stubbornness bringing him all the way to Ravenclaw Academy, Derek had to decline the offer. Though an uncomfortable situation, Derek showed no signs of panic or distress as he sat in a corner chair with a firm expression.

"To put it bluntly, yes."

"The commotion at the dormitory must be groundwork for refusing the proposal then."

"Pellin acted on her own initiative, but given how things have unfolded, I can't remain silent."

Pellin and Sirine were likely fighting tooth and nail.

Sirine wasn't just anyone—she was the beloved daughter of House Rocheste's head. Everyone knew how perilous it was to raise weapons or lay hands on such a girl.

Only someone as bold as Pellin would dare such a thing.

Her unilateral actions made sense too. By provoking Sirine into a deathmatch, she gave Derek an excuse to cut ties with her if things went south—a considerate move.

But Derek had no intention of accepting such consideration.

Instead, he resolved to stand firm before Melberot. This was entirely his decision.

"If Lady Sirine wrecks Lavender Dormitory and clashes with Pellin, who nominally holds the title of countess... it would make it difficult for me to associate with her."

"So you've prepared your justification?"

"Yes."

Aiselin's breath hitched audibly.

Both sides knew full well that Pellin's outrageous antics were nothing but a fabricated"justification."

Naturally, this would irritate Melberot. After painstakingly raising his daughter, her marriage proposal was being dismissed with flimsy excuses.

In other words, Derek's justification was purely performative.

'M-Melberot won't take this lightly...! Derek... what are you thinking...!'

Aiselin looked on the verge of tears.

Anyone who knew how dearly Melberot cherished his daughter would find this situation suffocating. When it came to his daughter, Melberot was known to act recklessly—who knew how he might react?

"Hmph, justification indeed."

Melberot smirked, perched on a large table.

Invoking"justification"implied there were other, truer reasons. The old mage seemed to have already deduced this much.

"Then what's the real reason?"

"..."

"From how you speak, it doesn't seem you dislike Sirine herself."

Surprisingly, Melberot neither flew into a rage nor sneered.

Instead, he seemed to have guessed Derek's underlying motives. Derek wouldn't reject the proposal without good reason—likely something far more consequential.

Derek listened quietly before finally closing his eyes.

Objectively speaking, marrying someone like Sirine of House Rocheste would be ideal. Given his need for a nominal wife, Sirine was far superior to Pellin—her family background, abilities, and loyal disposition left nothing wanting.

Yet Derek remained resolute.

"I've lived quite a while as a teacher. Compared to my days as a wandering mercenary in the slums, my circumstances have changed drastically."

Why refuse such a blessed proposal?

Melberot, arms crossed, studied Derek intently, curious what answer would come.

Aiselin watched nervously, unsure what could possibly satisfy Melberot.

"Have you seen Ravenclaw Academy's grounds? Though touted as the continent's premier magical institution, peel back one layer and you'll find unparalleled chaos."

"..."

"The Lavender Dormitory incident is just the tip. Sepia Dormitory students are uncontrollable, inter-dorm rivalries escalate beyond reason into daily brawls, rebellious youths chase romance and rebellion, and overachievers drown in academic zeal... Everywhere I turn, something's breaking down, collapsing, or springing leaks. It's overwhelming."

Why shift from marriage talk to academy management?

Aiselin was baffled, but with Melberot listening silently, she could only wait.

"I was born with innate magical talent. Reached 5th-Class at the youngest age, faced countless challenges, yet never once stumbled."

"Same here."

"Indeed. That's what innate talent means. But running this academy makes all my past achievements feel meaningless... My head throbs daily, fires erupt at my feet unexpectedly, and unpredictable situations leave me gasping. It's vexing yet... ironically makes me feel alive."

Though he'd never panicked amidst White Labyrinth's deadliest depths, handling unpredictable teenage girls brought fresh surprises daily.

Even now, chaos surely reigned across campus.

He could picture it clearly.

In Camellia Dormitory's representative office, Diela would be stomping her feet in frustration. Elente, having sent a letter to Border Count Belmierd, would wear a troubled expression, while Denis likely holed up in the library corner, loathing any inconvenience.

Tricia, having found a new victim in"Lady Rona,"would be scheming ways to break her spirit, oblivious she'd stepped on a landmine...

Meanwhile, Sirine and Pellin tore through Lavender Dormitory trying to kill each other, while Delbritton evacuated staff and monitored the situation.

Though Derek had handled everything flawlessly before, managing this academy felt like facing an insurmountable wall—every moment dizzying. In this monochrome world, this place of unknowns and chaos reignited his spirit of challenge.

Thus, Derek remained rooted in this tumultuous yet beloved academy's corner.

Life is a series of challenges, and achievement springs from adversity.

Unbeknownst to him, the academy Aiselin had pushed him to create had become part of his life.

Such things creep in unnoticed, taking root in your heart before you realize.

"Teaching people... I've pondered it deeply."

Derek finally returned to the main point.

"I've met many great teachers. Learned much from each—nothing trivial. Reflecting on those memories, insights about teaching never ceased."

"..."

"I can't yet draw conclusions. My magical attainment remains at 5th-Class, and Ravenclaw Academy isn't mature enough. So rather than belonging to any house, I wish to remain solely as this academy's teacher."

Marrying into House Rocheste would bind him to familial obligations. Central noble bureaucrats would increase scrutiny, and internal conflicts within the Ravenclaw School would intensify.

That wasn't what Derek wanted.

Melberot studied Derek's eyes before slowly closing his own.

Derek Raidof Ravenclaw.

The world saw him as a grand mage second only to Melberot.

But after coming to Ravenclaw Academy and speaking with him, Melberot realized they were fundamentally different.

It hadn't always been so.

When Derek first became Sirine's tutor in northern Rocheste Territory, he'd been far more mechanical—enchanted solely by magic itself, striving for higher realms, much like Melberot in his youth.

Yet time and worldly storms had revealed his true face.

"You... ultimately wish to teach people."

"...Having been lifted up by so many teachers, I believe it's only right to lift others in turn."

Hard to imagine such words from a man who'd once scraped by in the slums.

Yet even then, Derek had always been generous regarding teacher-student bonds. Aware that meeting great teachers had enabled his rise.

No more needed saying.

Few in the empire could rival Derek Raidof Ravenclaw as a teacher.

Pushing the marriage proposal might rob his daughter of a great mentor.

Justification and practicality.

Derek had prepared justifications and revealed his true underlying reasons.

Rather than belonging to a house and becoming its member... he wished to remain a free teacher guiding others.

Considering the nobility of this intent, one could imagine how burdensome the proposal must have been.

Melberot chuckled dryly.

"You've put considerable thought into persuading me."

"..."

"Truthfully, I've been lost in deep contemplation myself. Sirine likely admires you because you're a good teacher."

"I'm grateful for Lady Sirine's high regard, but lately I've felt my limitations."

"Oh?"

Derek sighed deeply.

"I could spar with most students blindfolded, but Lady Sirine's different. Facing a 4th-Class mage, I can't afford carelessness."

Among Derek's disciples, Sirine stood uniquely powerful.

This pleased Melberot, easing his mood.

"Then to be a good teacher... you must reach higher realms."

"Higher realms..."

"Yes. I must become a 6th-Class mage by any means."

Though Sirine was catching up fastest, Ravenclaw School's exceptional disciples weren't limited to her.

Diela, Elente, Denis—all grew stronger at unprecedented rates. Good students under good teachers advanced at unmatched speeds.

To avoid being overtaken, he had to climb faster.

As good teachers elevate students, good students push their teachers forward.

"I see."

Having reached 6th-Class, Melberot was among the mightiest.

He knew well—those surpassing limits were often twisted in some way.

Melberot often said: Among 6th-Class mages, not a single one is normal.

Only those lacking something or warped in some way. Himself included.

The most extreme example was that viper Kohlera, hiding in Gremfort Palace.

A madwoman consumed by magic itself, willing to sacrifice ethics, morals, and bonds to climb higher.

Derek had once seemed like her.

But now, Melberot sensed crucial differences.

On the path to the summit, one inevitably faces the question: Why seek such strength?

"To be a good teacher guiding others... one must reach the highest peaks. Only those who've seen the view from above can lead those struggling below."

Life takes many paths. Having lived half his life as a teacher, Derek had his reasons.

Thus, he couldn't be restrained.

"What a reckless man."

Melberot exhaled deeply before speaking languidly from his perch.

"Can't entrust my daughter to someone so unrestrained. Very well, consider the proposal withdrawn."

"..."

"...At least for now."

Still, Melberot added conditions.

Derek becoming a 6th-Class mage seemed almost certain, so he didn't fully withdraw.

"...!"

Aiselin's eyes widened.

Persuading the notoriously stubborn Melberot like this was unimaginable.

"Send word to that mercenary Pellin that the matter's settled. No need for her to keep fighting Sirine and risk injuries."

"No need to worry. She's the most seasoned mercenary I know."

"...?"

"And what Lady Sirine needs most right now is the bitter taste of defeat."

Only now was it clear—this man was a teacher to his bones.

- Crash! Bang! Whoosh!

Pellin leapt nimbly through Lavender Dormitory's wreckage, her dress fluttering.

Though covered in dust, she bore no visible wounds. Of course—against a mage like Sirine, one hit meant death. As a veteran mercenary, Pellin knew this better than anyone.

So she used terrain, tools, psychological tactics, battlefield control—every means to evade all attacks.

Dagger in one hand, bow in the other, she flitted across the battlefield like mist.

"Huff... huff... *cough*! *cough*!"

Sirine, choking on pepper-laced dust clouds, gritted her teeth.

She'd realized—Pellin harassed her with every trick yet avoided lethal blows.

In other words, she was holding back.

Though capable of killing Pellin instantly, not a single strike landed.

Overwhelming firepower meant nothing against overwhelming experience.

Sirine had slaughtered snowfield beasts and magical creatures, but never faced an enemy who designed battlefields so intelligently.

Perched on shattered staircase debris, Pellin shook dust from her dress. Now the reason Ravenclaw Count kept her became clear.

Losing to a higher-class mage would be understandable.

But losing to this frail girl—lacking dignity and any detectable magic—wounded her pride deeply.

Battlefield prowess wasn't just about mana and firepower.

Pelline, Ravenclaw Count's right hand, demonstrated this better than anyone.

"Struggling this hard against a magicless nobody like me? You're not even close to Derek, who mastered both mercenary arts and magic. What exactly have you learned as his disciple? Just how to throw tantrums?"

"Grrr... Grrrr...! You...!"

"Let's end this."

Ignoring Sirine's fury, Pellin prepared her final strike.

Her agile movements between rocks felt less like a person and more like a gust of wind.

- Swish!

Another smoke-tipped arrow flew.

By the time Sirine cleared the smoke with wind magic, Pellin was already upon her.

A extended leg shot toward her from the edge of vision.

- Whoosh!

Instinctively squeezing her eyes shut betrayed her inexperience. She should've tracked the movement to react.

- Thud!

Suddenly, stars exploded before Sirine's clenched eyelids.