Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 263

This probably isn't my life flashing before my eyes.

Derek opened his eyes amidst the hazy scenery and had that thought.

Given the blurry landscape, it seemed more like a dream.

His last memory was falling from a great height while grievously wounded. Losing consciousness in that state should have meant certain death, so logically this should be the final visions before dying.

Had he not experienced it before, he would have thought exactly that.

But Derek probably wouldn't die here. Remembering the person he met atop the celestial altar, his death here wouldn't make sense.

Therefore, what he saw now must be nothing more than a fleeting dream.

The white-haired boy covered in grime rummaging through trash bins in the pure white space... was just a transient illusion.

Derek knew that filthy boy's identity.

That wretched child picking through rancid garbage for edible scraps would one day become Evelstain's most famous mage.

"Hey."

Leaning bloodied against a wall, Derek wiped his mouth and called to the distant boy.

The white-haired youth, seemingly preoccupied, barely glanced Derek's way before continuing his scavenging.

Evelstain's slums were merciless. Kind souls who pitied wounded beggars rarely survived long.

The boy, with this law carved into his bones, sniffled while stuffing moldy bread into his shirt.

"Hey."

When Derek called again, the boy turned with visible annoyance.

"Can't help you. Got my own problems."

"I know. Not asking for help."

"Then why call me?"

"Just wanted to say... you're having it rough."

The naive white-haired boy froze momentarily at this.

Hearing such words from a bloodied beggar at death's door seemed unexpected. He gave Derek a curious look before resuming his task.

"You too."

Perhaps some bottom-dweller solidarity emerged.

After that brief exchange, the boy kept digging through refuse for food.

What a pointless dream, Derek thought—until considering the blood still flowing from his wounds.

It felt like ages since he'd last dreamed. Busy days had reduced sleep to mere energy recovery.

To that boy struggling daily without bright prospects, Derek added:

"Keep at it."

He had more to say, but it all felt superfluous.

Words were fleeting—of thousands spoken, maybe one might stick. But that one could anchor itself in the heart forever.

So Derek told his past self:

"You didn't have to grow up so fast."

Wiping blood, he slowly closed his eyes.

What meaning could the past hold?

Yet some words couldn't be discarded. As with everyone.

"..."

The ceiling looked familiar.

When Derek's eyes snapped open, the figure peeling apples beside him startled.

"...Where..."

"Oh, awake? Rising like a corpse resurrected. Most people twitch fingers first or groan while getting up..."

"...Ryner?"

"Oh! You recognize me. Ah—should use honorifics. You recognize me, Lord Ravenclaw? Please speak casually—given the circumstances."

Blinking groggily, Derek saw they were still in Gremfort Palace.

The lavish guest room overflowed with medical supplies. Many must have come and gone during his unconsciousness—mostly medical staff.

Guarding him was an unexpected figure: Ryner, disgraced heir of House Belmierd, infamous gambler.

Derek had personally sent him to scout Gremfort Palace beforehand.

Though absent during the climax, he'd apparently been working.

"...Thought you'd abandoned us for dice games..."

"I do my job... sir. Just... palace affairs proved complex."

"That so?"

"Only gambled twice. Capital folks lack appreciation for dice."

"Figures."

As Derek sat up clutching his throbbing head, Ryner tossed him a peeled apple.

"Normally a warrior's awakening should be greeted by a lovely lady... My presence is an insult."

"..."

"Not denying it, I see."

Ryner chuckled hollowly before slumping into an ornate chair with a sigh.

"Officially, Count Ravenclaw is dead... so few could visit. Only tight-lipped servants and some court officials know the truth."

"Makes sense... ugh..."

"Handled things while you were out. Many questions?"

"Palace status?"

"Details would take ages, but you can guess the major points."

Ryner grinned while cracking his knuckles.

His weary movements suggested hectic activity.

"Empress Rozelyn finally holds full authority. With Damon and Kochella gone, the path is clear."

"..."

"Damon's corpse was found in the central gardens. Kochella fell from the stars in agony. The body... best not seen."

Ryner's grimace indicated it wasn't pretty.

"Two 6-Star mages dead. A national tragedy—but for Rozelyn, it's weeds removed. She now holds the throne unchallenged."

"I fell from the stars too... yet seem intact."

"Lord Melberot caught you with magic. You owe him your life—should thank him later."

"I see..."

Melberot must be exhausted too.

His debts to the man kept accumulating. As his primary patron, another northern visit seemed inevitable.

"Much has concluded. I've slept long—should rise..."

"Four days unconscious—no wonder you're weak."

"...Four days?"

Now his fatigue made sense. No wonder Ryner had jumped—Derek had hovered near death.

He'd known he wouldn't die here. But to others, it must have seemed real.

"Your school's in chaos. Direct disciples came to the palace. Southwest nobles wept."

"...Could've told my inner circle I survived."

"Your decision to make—and you were unconscious. We kept quiet."

"...Academy status?"

"Lady Aiselin holds the fort. Announce your survival before they compose tragic epics about you."

"Right..."

Derek massaged his pounding temples.

"Before your disciples become tragic heroines, make the announcement."

"Rozelyn didn't clarify things? With Kochella gone, no need for secrecy."

"Who knows? Ask her yourself—she'll be delighted."

Ryner stretched before handing Derek a coat.

"Four days fasting—you'll need food and movement. I'll escort you to the main palace. But... don't be shocked..."

"Why?"

"Personal question—did you make any... arrangements with Rozelyn beforehand? Special relationship? Promises?"

"...Why ask?"

"Nobles smell power like bloodhounds. Court nobles, bureaucrats, territorial lords—all speculating. That Derek Raidof Ravenclaw received... promises from the Empress."

"...Based on what?"

"Her checking on you constantly. Investigating your household. Preparing accommodations."

Derek's expression darkened.

He had indeed made an arrangement with Rozelyn before coming.

"Care to enlighten me? After all my hard work?"

"We're getting married."

"..."

Ryner's playful demeanor vanished.

"Didn't know you joked like this."

"I don't."

"..."

Though still gauging palace dynamics, the implications were clear.

With no remaining challengers, Rozelyn's era had truly begun.

And those eyeing power would speculate endlessly about who might stand beside her.

"I'll announce my awakening and report to Rozelyn."

"C-can I rescind my escort offer?"

"...Why?"

"I avoid power games—prefer carefree wandering. Being near you would... alter my position unavoidably."

Ryner wiped sweat nervously.

"I despise busywork."

"Too bad. You're working."

"One free pass?"

"Having power taught me something—loyalty comes from those who struggled with you before. In that sense... Ryner of Belmierd is too valuable to discard."

"Damn it."

"Swearing before your superior seems improper..."

"Then execute me."

"No."

Derek donned the coat while massaging his temples.

He opened the corridor door to stunned servants.

The Empress's favored lord had awakened.

They scattered to inform their masters.

Derek stopped one:

"I need to see Empress Rozelyn—where is she?"

Few could demand an immediate audience with the realm's busiest ruler.

But the servant simply nodded and led the way.

"Oh, Derek!"

Upon arrival, Rozelyn abruptly halted state affairs to greet him.

The assembled nobles gaped—their normally composed Empress reacting like an excited girl.