Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 28

When Aiselin entered the Noble District's dueling grounds, a sizable crowd had already gathered.

Magic duels among nobles were essentially refined hobbies—opportunities to showcase magical achievements, hone skills, and socialize.

Yet whenever word spread of prominent heirs engaging in magical sparring, people flocked to spectate. These observers fell into two broad categories.

First were those genuinely fascinated by magic itself. Second were those hoping to forge connections with nobility.

The former typically included Magic Society members from the Southwest or imperial dignitaries. The latter usually comprised wealthy merchants or scions of influential families.

Crowds inevitably drew knights and soldiers for security, along with their commanders, creating unavoidable congestion.

Heirs of powerful families always attracted entourages. Though Aiselin understood this, she often found such scenes overwhelming.

'With this being a duel between House Duplein and House Belmierd, of course more people would gather...'

Still, it was just practice.

Such duel outcomes could easily be reversed over time. Yet spectators still gossiped over these trivial magical contests.

Aiselin disliked such shortsighted attitudes but never showed it.

She remained courteous to all.

"Greetings, Lady Aiselin. The chill has eased considerably."

"Indeed, Lady Taniam. Please take care of your health during this season."

"I perused the literary work you recommended at last week's tea gathering. The poignant emotions in its expressions and descriptions were exquisite, just as you described."

"Oh my, you actually read it? Knowing Lady Rakail enjoyed it brings me such joy."

Aiselin greeted her admirers with radiant smiles but maintained her brisk pace. She wanted to warm up promptly and conclude her magic duel with Lady Elente quickly.

Her lower-ranking noble followers flinched at her busy demeanor, yet this rare opportunity to interact couldn't be missed.

Navigating the antique corridor while fending off conversation proved exhausting for those desperate to exchange even a single word.

As she approached the central dueling area, a boy quietly reading in the corridor's corner caught her eye.

"...!"

When Aiselin suddenly turned her head, her entourage of followers and servants halted.

"Pardon me briefly."

After apologizing to the chattering girls trailing her, she swiftly crossed through them toward the boy immersed in a magic history book amidst the crowd.

His snow-white hair, crimson eyes, and features blending gentleness with resilience remained unchanged since she last saw him.

"Derek!"

As Aiselin called out cheerfully, the boy's pupils flickered slightly.

Perhaps too absorbed to notice the surrounding crowd, he looked up startled when addressed.

There stood Lady Aiselin, as always elegantly dressed in a lovely gown, addressing him in her lively tone.

Behind her, various lower nobles, followers, and servants watched curiously. The boy quickly assessed the situation.

"Long time no see, Miss Aiselin."

A polite bow seemed the proper response.

They'd parted in late spring—now deep winter. A considerable time had passed since their last meeting.

"Here to watch the duel? You haven't changed a bit, Derek."

"Yes. You remain as beautiful as ever, Miss Aiselin. Even more refined now."

"My, such flattery. You've grown quite skilled at complimenting ladies. Has working in the Noble District polished your tongue? Heehee."

Aiselin's delight wasn't surprising.

Derek had resolved her most agonizing years-long dilemma while demonstrating extraordinary magical prowess.

Though possessing refined character, he retained a mercenary's bluntness—which Aiselin interpreted not as rudeness but free-spiritedness.

However, her followers and servants'gazes grew pointed.

Having strived endlessly for even a glance from Aiselin, they now regarded this suddenly familiar boy with envy and wariness.

"..."

Derek appeared ordinary at first glance—form-fitting tunic, trousers, leather boots, a robe instead of a cloak, dagger at his right hip, longsword opposite. Though still bearing traces of boyishness, he was clearly maturing into a young man.

The reason for Aiselin's warm reception became apparent from their conversation.

"After inviting you for tea at the estate to no avail, winter's already here."

"My apologies. I truly appreciate the consideration, but making ends leave kept me occupied."

"I heard you've been instructing Lady Elente in magic?"

"News travels fast. Our paths crossed briefly, so I shared some knowledge."

Onlookers finally realized this was the wandering magic tutor who'd rehabilitated House Duplein's troublemaker and earned Lady Elente's complete trust.

Yet Aiselin looked concerned.

"...You weren't too harsh, were you...?"

"...?"

"Lady Elente has seemed quite fatigued lately... I grew worried."

Through her sister Diela's accounts, Aiselin knew Derek's magic lessons weren't the genteel sort noble ladies typically endured.

What instructor would subject delicate flowers to training even soldiers struggled with, short of actual knightly drills?

But Derek spared no method to achieve his client's goals.

Seeing Aiselin's worried expression, he finally spoke.

"No need for concern, Miss Aiselin. If anything, excessive worry for your opponent is unwise."

"Huh...?"

"Don't let your guard down too much."

With that polite warning, Derek bowed.

Aiselin was busy, and the surrounding attention grew oppressive.

Belatedly realizing this situation might burden Derek, she offered an awkward smile.

"L-Let's converse at the estate next time, Derek. I must attend to my schedule now."

"Of course. Please proceed."

Derek pulled up his robe's hood and trudged off opposite Aiselin.

Though still a year from his coming-of-age ceremony, the boy often carried himself like a battle-hardened veteran. A truly remarkable youth.

Aiselin had vaguely sensed Lady Elente's inferiority complex toward her. Anyone would have.

But she didn't overinterpret it. Her magnanimity prevented that.

Envy and jealousy naturally accompanied those at the top. Elente wasn't her only detractor—many had tried tarnishing Aiselin's reputation.

Maintaining grace under such scrutiny defined a true daughter of House Duplein.

Thus, Aiselin pitied those who envied her.

She wished these self-destructive souls would break free from their toxic mindsets—for both their sakes and hers.

Elente was no exception.

Pointless jealousy only eroded oneself. She wanted to advise Elente to cast off such shackles and become a friendly rival through cultured discourse. Yet she knew this was easier said than done.

"Greetings, Lady Aiselin."

"I hope you've been well, Lady Elente. You've been absent from salon gatherings lately? I heard you were preparing intensely for our duel... I should be nervous."

"..."

As Elente stepped onto the dueling platform, her eyes burned with determination.

On the grand stage, distinguished guests and noble ladies filled the spectator seats, discussing magic theories.

At center stage stood Lady Elente and Lady Aiselin, today's main performers.

When the two beautiful roses adjusted their attire, refined applause showered the platform.

Defensive magic enveloped the upscale dueling arena.

The rules remained standard—ten-minute time limit, with defeat declared when a lady's protective jewelry activated first.

"Then, let's proceed courteously."

Aiselin gathered magical energy while greeting Elente.

Elente returned the courtesy, lifting her head calmly. The chill in her eyes felt eerily familiar.

"..."

An indescribable tension arose.

Elente stood composed as always, her beautiful crimson locks cascading down.

Yet the gaze she fixed on Aiselin carried an unusual intensity.

Aiselin quietly studied Elente's demeanor.

Soon, she identified the anomaly.

During conversations, Elente's eyes always betrayed subtle emotional turbulence.

But now, as she calmly observed Aiselin while focusing solely on magic, no such disturbance appeared.

Elente's once-fiery eyes had turned ice-cold with concentration.

Had she finally broken free from the jealousy that long tormented her?

Had Derek, as an exceptional mentor, liberated her from that dark period?

This hopeful thought surfaced briefly before being swiftly dispelled.

When Aiselin blinked, her vision flooded crimson.

Only then did she notice Elente's blazing fire arrows engulfing the entire stage.

Amidst the flames, Elente's figure rose like a phoenix, her scorching gaze piercing through.

-'In a pure magical skill contest, you'll never win. Shift the battle's flow elsewhere.'

-'...Elsewhere? What determines victory in a magic duel if not magical skill?'

Typical noble ladies practiced magic gracefully in polished halls under renowned tutors.

But Lady Elente, collapsed on a labyrinth floor reeking of blood and rotting mucus, lifted her head to ask Derek this question.

Exhausted after witnessing monsters dismembered all day, she'd vomited repeatedly. Her gaunt face finally understood Derek's definition of hell.

Undaunted by her condition, Derek continued teaching. He always fulfilled his contracts.

-'Willpower.'

Elente scoffed at this.

Who didn't know willpower was valuable? If willpower alone won magic duels, why did star rankings exist? Why magical elitism?

But Derek never spoke idly. After weeks under his tutelage, Elente trusted his words held deeper meaning.

-'You've repeatedly experienced scraping together magic power to your absolute limit with me, correct?'

-'Yeah... Thought it was your sadistic hobby.'

-'No such hobby exists. When both parties exhaust their magic, victory often hinges on willpower rather than skill.'

Derek's tone grew graver.

-'Flamboyantly expend magic to force a battle of attrition. In the final moments... the one who somehow dredges up seemingly nonexistent reserves will prevail.'

-'...What if Aiselin has more magic power?'

-'Then you lose.'

-'...'

-'Though innate magic capacity varies greatly, as a Belmierd descendant, yours shouldn't lag far behind. So... believe in yourself.'

Derek was drenched in monster blood after single-handedly slaughtering a giant spider with sword and flame.

His monster-slaying self seemed another person entirely. Each labyrinth expedition with him made Elente wonder if this boy was the real monster.

This wasn't a safe dueling arena but a monster den where momentary lapses meant death.

Having lived such a life, stage duels must feel like child's play.

Only life-or-death struggles reveal one's limits.

Only on thin ice where everything can be lost does one unconsciously summon all hidden strength. This sensation can't be bought or easily taught.

Thus, Derek thrust Elente into the labyrinth.

Made her cast spells all day.

Dodge axe swings from goblins, incinerate trolls'nasal bridges.

The boundary between life and death.

The pressure of protective spells that might shatter any moment.

Cold sweat from simply standing still. Trembling legs. Blurring vision.

Only such environments teach how to dredge up every last reserve.

Some realms remain forever inaccessible to those lounging in mansions playing decorum games.

Greenhouse flowers die ignorant. They never learn to scrape their absolute bottom and rise anew.

As a teacher, Derek knew how to awaken such realizations.

- Whoooosh!

- KABOOOOOM!

Spectators gasped as magic engulfed the platform.

However exceptional the magic application or vast the reserves, 1st Grade Magic had inherent limits.

Yet Elente's fiery spells blazed so brilliantly they nearly blinded onlookers.

- Fwooosh!

Aiselin swiftly wreathed herself in protective magic while scanning for Elente through the flames.

Amidst the fiery stage, Elente stood wreathed in flames like a witch, glaring intently at Aiselin.

Her eyes still burned with jealousy—that monumental envy toward perfect Aiselin, mingled with faint self-loathing.

Recognizing this gaze, Aiselin understood.

Simultaneously emotional yet rationally detached—these were the same eyes Diela had when facing Raeg.

Derek's students carried fiery passion in their hearts and icy reason in their eyes.

What their mentor taught was fervent desire for victory paired with cold analysis of combat.

A gaze where heat and chill violently collide. A sinister aura that makes opponents swallow dryly.

Only now did Aiselin understand why Raeg had fought Diela with such desperation.

Derek's students approached duels with fundamentally different resolve than typical noble ladies.

That near-obsessive tenacity would make anyone retreat upon first encounter.

But her opponent was Aiselin Eleanor Duplein.

'Still... I'll win.'

Though not one to flaunt her achievements, Aiselin had absolute confidence in her abilities.

However formidable Derek's student might be, Aiselin stood at the threshold of 2nd Grade Magic. The gap between her and Elente's 1st Grade was substantial.

In a pure skill contest, she wouldn't lose.

As freezing magic began radiating from Aiselin, Elente's eyes widened. Countless fire arrows erupted opposite her.

"..."

Elente had spent weeks glimpsing Derek's world.

Traces of that world lingered in her eyes—mostly blood. The rest was equally grim.

Clotted fluids, stench assaulting nostrils, severed monster limbs, spider eggs, scattered corpses, stone floor's chill, slaughter's marks, bloodied expanses, creature screams.

Emerging from such horrors to stand here made everywhere seem warm and serene by comparison.

Even this magic-filled dueling stage felt tranquil. Amidst the clashing spells, the girl analyzed everything with icy clarity.

As magical energies collided, a brilliant radiance enveloped the arena.