Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 270

In the noble society of Evelstain in the southwestern continent, the name of a legendary mage was spreading.

They called him Derek.

Count Derek Raidof Ravenclaw, though born in the slums as a lowly commoner, was a perfect figure possessing extraordinary magical talent, combat instincts, solid political backing, and outstanding influence.

Moreover, the Ravenclaw Academy he established had become known not just among Evelstain's nobility but throughout high society across the continent. It had effectively become an institution absorbing prominent noble families and social figures at the forefront of magical education.

Being a direct disciple of the Ravenclaw School practically meant joining the continent's magical education elite, with each member hailing from influential families.

The academy, now expanding beyond mere noblewomen's education to become a center of magical learning... had countless hopefuls desperately trying to secure admission.

All were scions of renowned noble houses.

So it was understandable why such crowds gathered for Count Ravenclaw's wedding day. Any connection might open doors.

'...All just pipe dreams for someone like me.'

A girl wrapped in rags was a servant of the Lurtveil Earldom, which held mining rights in the northwestern territories.

Earl Rutvik Lurtveil had traveled this long distance to the wedding in hopes of enrolling his only daughter in Ravenclaw Academy.

To transport gifts for the Ravenclaw household, he'd brought low-ranking servants—including this girl named Citri sitting on a tree root in this grassy field.

-"I must at least greet Count Ravenclaw in person...! We've brought the most precious artworks from our homeland. Given the Count's deep artistic appreciation, he'll recognize their value at a glance. Hehe... hehehe..."

She recalled Earl Lurtveil rubbing his hands obsequiously while chatting with Lady Aiselin.

With the wedding underway, her ragged appearance barred her from the Count's manor gates.

During this brief respite, Citri practiced magic alone on the hillside, swirling mana through the air.

'...Elemental magic seems heavily reliant on sensory perception. To learn 1st Grade Magic properly... I'd need spellbooks.'

Though lowborn, she had magical aptitude.

But Citri was perceptive. Commoners displaying exceptional talent invited envy. Count Ravenclaw's rise seemed mythical precisely because it wasn't commonplace.

The thought of her magic-illiterate, piggish mistress discovering this made her shudder. She had no desire to provoke that jealous employer.

So Citri always practiced secretly where none could see.

Yet hitting walls was inevitable.

It felt like drifting lost at sea without guidance. That she improved at all proved her innate magical sensitivity.

'Stupid nobles. Instead of groveling for connections, they'd do better practicing magic themselves. With their resources and libraries... never satisfied...'

To her eyes, the noble wedding guests resembled greedy pigs.

Having clawed her way up from society's dregs, her resentment was understandable.

At least the lengthy ceremony gave her ample time to study magic alone.

As she focused on channeling mana through her fingertips—

"For combat magic, especially elemental spells, over-relying on instinct is unwise. Environmental factors affect it too much. Analyze the mana flow at your fingertips more methodically."

"...Eek!"

Citri whirled around to see a stranger ambling down the hill.

Eerie white hair and crimson eyes.

His resplendent attire marked him as extraordinary.

Having just cursed nobles aloud, cold sweat drenched her. Had he heard her impudence?

Trembling, she dropped to her knees.

"F-forgive me! I didn't see you there...!"

"The hawk crest insignia. You serve House Lurtveil?"

"Gulp..."

His perception was frightening—not just sharp, but habitually aware of everything around him.

Citri stared at her shaking hands and the dirt, sweating profusely.

Her affiliation exposed. Denial was pointless now.

As a lowly servant, she was at his mercy. Worse, she'd disparaged noble magical education while practicing magic herself... She had no right to protest any punishment.

As Citri trembled head bowed, the man crouched beside her.

Studying her with indifferent eyes, he spoke quietly.

"You've got talent."

"Huh...?"

"Slum-born, I'd guess. With proper training, you could go far."

From his belt pouch, he produced an iron token bearing a seal.

Recognizing the Ravenclaw crest, Citri held her breath.

"Show this to Head Butler Delbritton for lodging. Return if you wish to advance your magic."

"Wh-what... This is..."

"Ravenclaw Academy's acceptance token. Valuable metal—sell it at the market if unwanted."

Standing arms crossed, he studied Citri with detection magic glowing in his eyes.

Though she shook like a leaf, he seemed unfazed.

"Your affinity suits Camellia or Lavender Dormitory."

"Huh...?"

"Never mind. The academy must move beyond noble-centric education. To aim higher, we can't be picky about talent. Though dealing with Imperial Capital traditionalists will be troublesome... A problem for later..."

Now Citri understood.

Only one man could casually dictate Ravenclaw Academy's future.

"B-but... I'm just..."

"I know what you'll say. Lowborn slum rat with no connections. Serving nobles for wages, mercenary work, or odd jobs when sickly."

"..."

"No need to explain. I know how it goes."

Life-changing opportunities arrive unannounced.

That this man would leave his own wedding to wander these hills was bizarre.

Yet this granted Citri an audience she'd never otherwise have.

Such was life's charm.

"Your choice. I won't decide for you."

With that, he ambled back toward Ravenclaw Manor.

Realizing his identity, Citri stared dumbfounded at his retreating figure.

Despite his legendary achievements, his casual gait seemed utterly ordinary.

The continent's greatest magic teacher wouldn't make her choices for her.

Clutching the token, Citri tightened her grip.

Though born in society's gutters, opportunities came. What mattered was the will to seize them.

The starry skies she'd gazed at from the slums still burned in her eyes.

Born at the bottom, yet free to dream of the heights.

That tiny spark still smoldered in her heart each night.

And that man shuffling toward the manor might be her kindling.

Finding a good partner and marrying amid universal blessings must be profoundly meaningful.

For some, it's life's most important moment.

Yet as startled servants ushered him inside, Derek reflected:

This was but one episode in life's tumultuous journey.

Marriage was more necessity than milestone.

Countless trials lay ahead.

Slowing his pace to assign undue significance would be foolish.

Entering the hall with these thoughts, Derek reconsidered upon seeing Aiselin.

Her radiant smile proved she'd endured many hardships.

Especially choosing to be with a man like him—that demanded extraordinary resilience. Her effortless acceptance of coming trials revealed innate strength.

Without treasuring life's joys, future regrets might follow.

Drest once reflected on life's journey and found it not unpleasant.

To accumulate such happiness for future reminiscence, one must nurture it carefully now.

This realization left Derek oddly choked up.

Despite his eventful life, this feeling was new.

Excessive happiness too could be overwhelming. Though he'd dismissed this as another passing event in life's grand flow, his heart disagreed.

Having lived long enough, he'd expected predictability—yet life remained full of surprises.

"Apologies. Urgent matters delayed me."

"I knew you'd return."

Though justified in anger at his absence, Aiselin simply smiled with trusting warmth.

Her beauty struck him profoundly.

Because life continues endlessly, one must never begrudge its passing joys.

He'd learned something new.

Late autumn winds blew.

Under universal blessings, even the sky seemed to trumpet celebration.

Surveying his journey's companions, Derek closed his eyes.

With much road ahead, he'd savor this happiness fully.

"Shall we?"

Extending his hand, Aiselin clasped it warmly.

The path ahead was long, yet not daunting.

For he wasn't alone.

"Why's it... so big...?"

Life continues, circumstances ever changing.

A former Lurtveil servant girl dragged a trunk her own size toward Ravenclaw Academy's gates.

The acceptance token from that chance encounter had brought her here.

Magic was noble privilege—commoners with talent faced danger.

Though this knowledge haunted her, she shook it off.

She was entering a world of highborn elites. A once-in-a-lifetime challenge.

Derek's lifelong achievement stood majestic under autumn skies.

His life.

Given physical form.

"..."

- Gulp

After hesitant glances, she stepped through the gates.

- There Are No Evil Noble Ladies, The End