Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 246

'...I feel completely untethered.'

Tricia muttered to herself as she walked down the academy corridor.

A storm had swept through the academy when marriage talks with the Rochester family surfaced, but Pellin's rampage had somewhat settled matters.

For now, the marriage proposal between House Rochester and Count Ravenclaw seemed postponed, with all attention shifting to Countess Pellin as she declared her stance to the direct disciples.

- Click clack

- Murmur

Sirine, having been thoroughly put in her place by Countess Pellin, wore a gloomy expression with wounded pride.

With the marriage talks fizzling out amid the chaos, her foul mood was understandable.

The result? Tricia's grand plan to stand atop Sirine's head while breaking the spirits of Lavender Dormitory students had evaporated into thin air.

From the start, her primary target—the mysterious"Lady Rona"—had been acting strangely. No matter how Tricia nitpicked or provoked her, the girl would just lower her head or pretend to listen... without showing any sign of being cowed.

'Fine, I can accept being outmatched by Lady Aiselin or Sirine... but to be looked down upon by some no-name noble from the boonies who just moved into the dorms?'

The clicking of her heels grew louder as she strode down the hall.

She could tolerate being overshadowed by other direct disciples or Aiselin. But to lose face against some backwater noble she'd never heard of? Unbearable for a socialite.

Tricia of the Rosea Salon had never bowed her head to anyone.

Her pride soared higher than the heavens, making Sirine's affairs irrelevant now. That infuriatingly composed Lady Rona—who observed Tricia's provocations with unsettling calm—needed to be taken down a peg.

'Ah... I've grown too soft living at Ravenclaw Academy. This icy sensation creeping up my spine... It's time to reclaim the dignity befitting the Rose of Rosea Salon and heir to House Renuel.'

Tricia advanced with eyes gleaming ominously.

Today, she'd make that arrogant girl taste scalding tea—literally.

"Oh? So Damon pushed Kochella out..."

"Yes, Your Majesty. With the situation resolved, there's no need for you to hide your identity in the academy any longer."

"What a shame. Every moment at Ravenclaw Academy has been a fresh delight. But I suppose one can't live in dreams forever."

When Tricia entered Lavender Dormitory—still under repairs—the first sight greeting her was Count Ravenclaw formally updating"Lady Rona"on Gremfort Palace's affairs.

"........???"

Upon entering the dormitory office, Tricia shook her head violently, wondering if she was hallucinating.

Yet the scene remained unchanged no matter how many times she blinked. Their conversation continued undisturbed.

"Lady Tricia. What brings you to Lavender Dormitory?"

"L-Lord Ravenclaw... Wh-what is this...?"

"..."

Derek wore a complicated expression.

With Kochella's downfall all but certain, Rozelyn no longer needed to conceal her identity.

Hence why they spoke openly in this semi-public space.

Ironically, Tricia became the first to discover the truth.

"L-Lady Rona...?"

"Oh my, if it isn't the Hero of Sepia Dormitory and blooming flower of House Renuel—the lovely Lady Tricia."

"Lady Rona"carried herself differently from usual.

Her braided hair and immaculate dress remained the same, but the meek, polite demeanor had vanished, replaced by regal authority.

To act so arrogantly before Count Ravenclaw—the most influential noble in the southwestern continent—meant only one thing.

She stood far above him.

How many in the empire could claim such status?

One could count them on both hands.

Tricia's spine turned to ice.

"......"

"How strange. You always greeted me so warmly before, sharing all sorts of trivial matters... Yet today, you're unusually cold."

"M-may I... ask your name...?"

"Me? Very well. No need for secrecy now... I am Rozelyn of Gremfort. Does that ring any bells?"

Tricia died inside. Or at least suffered a near-fatal shock.

Her soul seemed to leak from her gaping mouth, which refused to close.

When faced with overwhelming crisis, the body and mind freeze simultaneously—a new revelation as Tricia could only tremble at her fingertips.

"Your Majesty Rozelyn... Wh-what has Lady Tricia..."

"Oh, no need for concern, Lord Ravenclaw. This is a personal matter between Lady Tricia and myself."

"Still... As her teacher, I must take responsibility if my youngest disciple has been disrespectful."

"Hahaha! How unlike you. Didn't I say from the start? Don't interfere too deeply in matters between Tricia and me."

A tempest raged silently in Tricia's heart.

Is this what a soundless scream feels like? Her heart burned, yet she couldn't utter a word.

Empress Rozelyn lounged in her chair, chin propped on hand, smiling like a fox.

"She taught me firsthand about southwestern noble combat tactics. As royalty, such... unique experiences are hard to come by."

"C-combat tactics, Your Majesty?"

"Apparently, when southwestern and Evelstain nobles dislike newcomers, they splash water, spread rumors, glare like venomous snakes, or crush spirits with followers. I was quite worried about getting scalded by tea today."

Indeed, Tricia had planned to demonstrate tea's temperature personally.

But realizing the girl before her was an empress left only one option.

"I BEG!!!!!!!! YOUR FORGIVENESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Tricia's specialty? When neck-deep in shit, she headbutts the ground without hesitation.

With Aiselin, Sirine, or as the instigator of Sepia Dormitory incidents—she always reacted the same.

Though arrogant and perpetually stepping on landmines, her supernatural apology speed was legendary among nobles.

Having grown up under Countess Rodea's iron fist, she knew kneeling immediately was the optimal survival strategy.

"...To kneel so dramatically...?"

"THERE ARE NO EXCUSES!!!!!!!!!!!"

"...I heard Ravenclaw School disciples were prideful..."

Even the empress was stunned by Tricia's flawless prostration—an art form in itself.

Ironically, a noble's signature move—living and dying by pride—was groveling instantly. Still better than stubbornly fighting a losing battle.

"While I can't deny the teacher shares blame for the disciple's faults, I too must formally apologize."

"My, after all my efforts to hear you say those words... Who knew it'd happen like this?"

"...If my disciple erred, then I who guided her am also at fault."

"Not untrue, though I wasn't particularly offended. As I said, it felt like observing exotic creatures."

Rozelyn remained perched, smiling brightly.

She gazed down at the trembling Tricia with amusement.

"While your arrogance seemed foolish at times... ironically, you helped crack Lord Ravenclaw's ironclad demeanor. That's your doing."

"Y-y-your Majesty..."

"Don't dwell on it. I mean it. You've no idea how hard I worked at Gremfort Palace just to hear nice words from that blockhead."

Then, emphasizing the gap between them, Rozelyn continued:

"And really, your attempts at intimidation... From my position, they're just adorable."

To Rozelyn, Tricia's aggression felt like a child's tantrum.

When the status gap is this vast, even rudeness becomes endearing.

"...Even so..."

"Still unsatisfied? Shall I punish you lightly...?"

"..."

"Then... go stand in the corner."

"........."

Tricia sniffled tearfully in the corner—a pitiful sight.

Derek sighed deeply after giving her a sidelong glance.

"So if Kochella spoke true... Damon orchestrated Father's assassination..."

"..."

"That damned bureaucrat noble's family received their title directly from Father. To repay kindness with betrayal... Leaving him be would stain the Gertrel Imperial legacy."

Derek observed Rozelyn's simmering anger.

The once-arrogant princess had grown into her role as empress after coronation.

She expressed rage without being consumed by it. Her voice remained smooth, but Derek sensed deep, viscous fury beneath.

A ruler's anger must carry weight. Frantic outbursts won't command subordinates.

She'd clearly learned this through experience.

"I must return to Gremfort Palace. Lord Ravenclaw, will you accompany me?"

"...There's much to prepare. Please grant me some time."

Rozelyn nodded.

With a 5th-Class Mage like Derek, they could handle most emergencies. As the southwest's foremost mage, she had no concerns.

But their opponents were equally formidable.

If Damon ousted Kochella, how did he manage it? And where was Kochella now? Had she truly abandoned her ambitions?

Having been away in the provinces, many details remained unclear. But Derek's need for preparation went beyond that.

He sensed it.

6th-Class Summoner Damon and 6th-Class Transformation Mage Kochella were entrenched at Gremfort Palace.

Melberot had gone there, Marilyn was likely present, and Drest could appear anytime.

With 6th-Class Mages converging on the palace, Derek's intuition screamed one thing:

This journey would culminate in a life-or-death battle with a 6th-Class Mage. The palace's current state all but guaranteed it.

While Derek had longed for such a confrontation, the opponent's identity remained unknown.

He gazed at the ceiling.

'I've always wanted to reach 6th-Class.'

That desire never changed since his slum days. He'd wondered when it might happen, but never found an answer.

Now, peerless mages surrounded him. Different world, different perspectives.

He desperately wanted to see that pinnacle.

"Lord Ravenclaw."

Rozelyn studied Derek's pensive expression before continuing.

"Frankly, this is my greatest crisis too. Never before have I traveled so vulnerably."

"The situation leaves no choice."

"A Gertrel never abandons those who extend hands in dark times. Once palace affairs conclude and politics stabilize... I'll reward you beyond measure."

Rozelyn often dangled rewards to motivate subordinates.

But her current tone differed as she lounged arrogantly.

"Rewards, Your Majesty?"

"Indeed... We'll be seeing much of each other. So I'll resolve your longest-standing dilemma personally. How's that?"

"Dilemma... Regarding Ravenclaw Academy's management? That's not something others can solve."

"No, that's your responsibility. I mean... something else."

Rozelyn grinned, studying Derek before dropping a bombshell that left corner-standing Tricia—forgetting even her aching arms—gaping in shock.

Derek's expression turned profoundly complicated.