Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 42

'It's been quite some time since Derek became the Beltus family's instructor.'

As she quietly listened to the Magic Society's research presentation on magical theory, Lady Elente of the Belmierd family—often regarded as the rose of Rosea Salon—found her concentration inevitably slipping.

Her thoughts drifted to a certain mercenary instructor who could talk about magic all night if given the chance.

Elente let her crimson hair cascade down as she heaved a sigh.

The Belmierd family had suffered a crushing defeat in the recruitment battle for Derek, ultimately losing him to the Beltus household.

While noble recruitment competitions always had unpredictable outcomes, losing Derek stung particularly hard. Even Border Count Belmierd had apologized to Elente, feeling genuinely remorseful.

This marked the first time Elente had ever actively requested an instructor, which likely prompted the Count's unprecedented personal involvement.

'Perhaps I've only burdened Father unnecessarily... Still, what terms could the Beltus family have offered to secure Derek?'

Regardless, even Elente acknowledged Derek as an exceptional magic instructor.

In an era where skilled magic tutors commanded premium prices, she couldn't help wondering exactly how much the Beltus family had paid.

In reality, Derek's own intention to establish connections with the Beltus lineage had been the decisive factor... though Elente had no way of knowing this.

After rejecting Aiselin, one thing became clear—he wouldn't take just any student.

'Hmm... Should I casually invite Lady Denise for tea and subtly probe...?'

Elente typically disliked the subtle power plays of high society. Scheming to extract information from a rival family's daughter by inviting her out felt unlike herself.

Yet she remained genuinely curious about how Lady Denise was receiving magic instruction from Derek.

'Well, arranging a meeting should be fine. I'll have the head butler reach out.'

At Evelstain's social gatherings and Rosea Salon meetings, Lady Denise always carried an air of mystery.

Like other noble ladies, she could be warm and dignified... yet something indefinable lurked beneath the surface. Among the Rosea Salon Trio, she was undoubtedly the most enigmatic.

'Lady Denise... is no simple character...'

Teaching such an inscrutable person couldn't be easy. Ultimately, instructing someone meant bending them to your will.

How was Derek handling this mistress of mystique?

Elente found herself wanting to see for herself.

As the Magic Society's presentation concluded, Elente rose from her seat, smoothing her dress with renewed vigor.

For the first time in a while, she felt genuinely motivated.

"I don't know what scheme you're plotting... but the servants will inevitably side with me. Structurally, they all belong to House Beltus after all."

The next morning after breakfast, Lady Denise stood in the corridor addressing Derek.

Derek stood with hands clasped behind his back, tilting his head quizzically at her.

"Pardon?"

"You've been putting in noticeable effort to cozy up to the servants lately... Whatever backchannel maneuvering you're attempting isn't welcome. We should simply focus on pure magical instruction, shouldn't we?"

"There seems to be some misunderstanding... While I have been making efforts to get along with the staff, it's not part of any grand scheme."

Lady Denise swallowed dryly.

Having openly tried to manipulate Derek herself, she knew full well House Beltus viewed him as a pawn in their noble power plays.

Yet despite having little reason to feel goodwill toward Denise or her family, Derek maintained an unfazed expression that revealed nothing.

"It's true I need to grow closer to the servants, just as you said. And yes, I do have a purpose for this behavior. But the reason isn't particularly nefarious—if asked, I've nothing to hide."

"Then... what is it?"

"What else? The servants who've supported Lady Denise all these years naturally know her best, don't they?"

Though Denise had approached the matter accusatorily, Derek met her gaze directly as if discussing something trivial.

"I need to understand Lady Denise better. As your instructor, shouldn't I strive to know every minor detail about the person I'm teaching?"

"You don't need to go through such tedious lengths for that! I could just tell you everything...! Besides, as the Beltus family's young lady, you must have heard all the rumors at Rosea Salon."

"That may be so, but rumors have clear limitations."

Derek's eyes took on that characteristically intense focus whenever magic became the topic.

His immersion and passion never failed to impress observers.

"Magic is profoundly deep, and everyone handles magical power with subtle differences. One must holistically consider temperament, thoughts, habits, values, and worldview. While magical schools matter, equally crucial is understanding the mage's fundamental nature."

"...S-so as I was saying..."

"How could superficial rumors from Rosea Salon possibly help me truly know Lady Denise? What I seek isn't surface-level achievements of'the Beltus heiress'... but Denise the individual. Only then can I teach magic properly."

Derek's resolute tone carried conviction.

Having risen from the slums, he'd developed his own philosophy about how people master magic through hard experience.

Lessons from the old man, Katia, and Drest. Insights from teaching Diela and Elente. Revelations from self-directed magical study.

These lifelong experiences coalesced into his personal teaching philosophy—what truly mattered when instructing others in magic.

"S-so... you've been asking servants about me?"

"Those who assist you daily knew countless things rumors couldn't convey. Though I refrained from mentioning things that might embarrass you."

"Wh-what exactly did they say...?"

Derek recounted the servants'comments without filter.

Hearing this firsthand clearly flustered Denise.

"They deeply respect you. Though you constantly complain about things being bothersome, they say you'll roll up your sleeves when it truly matters."

Derek relayed everything the servants had shared.

"They mentioned you could achieve great things in magic or studies if motivated, but often lack drive... How you act aloof but secretly look after staff... Your sharp perception... Literary talent..."

"Th-the servants said all that? Ah... ahaha... ehehe..."

"..."

"Did they... mention my looks? Like being prettier than Aiselin or Elente..."

"..."

Derek wasn't one for empty compliments.

While Denise was undoubtedly beautiful, comparing her to Aiselin and Elente would give anyone pause.

"You really never sugarcoat anything, do you?"

"Only by speaking my true mind can my words carry weight when it counts."

"Having principles is good, but aren't you worried about making enemies?"

"I've made plenty already."

"Figures."

Denise exhaled deeply before relaxing her shoulders.

She did feel she'd gained some insight into this boy. Derek had sacrificed his free time to befriend servants solely to better instruct Denise—not for any ulterior motive.

Unlike hothouse flower Denise, he'd traversed labyrinths and endured hellish trials.

Yet when unnecessary, he often displayed gentlemanly consideration rather than brute force.

A far cry from the magic-obsessed hermit in the cave. Like the city of Evelstain itself, he seemed to wear countless faces, making his true nature hard to discern.

"Still... it's nice knowing the staff see me so positively. Not that I do anything extraordinary... The perception thing... and writing..."

"..."

"W-wait, how do they know I write?"

"Head Maid Jang mentioned it."

"H-how would she know?"

Denise suddenly paled. Derek had anticipated this reaction but, true to form, didn't soften the blow.

"They suspected your constant sleepiness had a cause. Many maids have seen you at your desk late at night, quill in hand. When odd sounds come from your room, attendants naturally peek."

"B-but I always check my surroundings!"

"Don't underestimate your maids. As your shadows, they notice everything. Well-oiled hinges don't creak when doors open slightly. You should've watched the door more carefully."

At this point, Derek had no choice.

He relayed everything exactly as told. The servants had likely agonized over how to broach these topics themselves.

"The pink-bound manuscript hidden under the third bedside drawer... I heard about that too."

"Th-the servants knew?!"

"Yes. Weren't you writing nightly? The title was..., I believe..."

"........"

Denise's breath hitched.

"They praised your elegant prose and masterful psychological depictions."

"............."

"I didn't seek it out... but the maids pestered me until... I read some during a Salon gathering... The narrative and descriptions... resonated deeply. It has quite the following among staff... for good reason."

"........Hic."

Denise emitted an unladylike hiccup.

She hadn't responded for some time now.

Derek studied her expression carefully, choosing his words with care. A girl her age having such romantic fantasies wasn't unusual.

"There's no need for such embarrassment. Creation inherently involves vulnerability... And even to a layman like me, your skill was remarkable."

"..."

"Tracy's tragic backstory particularly moved me. Coming from the slums myself, I was stunned by the authenticity. Though whether someone like Lord Robain exists in reality... seems doubtful. His cruel yet tender feelings for Tracy were poignant."

"..."

"The missed connections, obsession, possessiveness... And dedicating seven pages to describing Lord Robain's primal masculinity might have been excessive... but I suppose such men could exist. Who's to say? I respect your vision."

"KYAAAAAAAH!!!!"

Unable to bear more, Denise tore at her hair and fled to her room.

Derek stroked his chin thoughtfully.

A teenage girl's sensitivities were truly inscrutable.

Despite his lengthy commentary, Derek hadn't lied.

His outreach to servants genuinely aimed to understand Denise better.

To be precise... he'd been searching for potential weaknesses.

"Good morning, Lady Denise."

The next morning, a disheveled Denise had maids fixing her hair.

Dark circles suggested a sleepless night, leaving staff scrambling to restore their lady's usual radiance.

"Did you write late again last night? You look exhausted. Perhaps moderation would be wise?"

"Gasp..."

When Derek casually mentioned this, nearby servants froze.

Even the responding maid was among Denise's avid readers.

"Wh-what nonsense is this? Derek? W-writing...?"

Denise seemed determined to pretend yesterday's conversation never happened.

But Derek wasn't one to play along with such charades.

"... I remember the ending clearly—when Lord Robain tenderly covers Tracy with blankets after her nightmare... His poignant realization that she's as fragile as glasswork..."

"........"

"Since it was the final scene, it stuck with me. How Lord Robain sees the feverish Tracy as something precious that might shatter at the slightest touch..."

"Derek!! We have magic practice today! Stop this nonsense!"

Sweating profusely, Denise sprang up. This marked her first time initiating training.

Her usual languid grace vanished, replaced by frantic foot-stomping.

"..."

Watching servants collectively held their breath.

Denise was ruthless, but Derek proved even more relentless.