Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 60

Derek swiftly bound Raeg's arms behind his back using torn curtain fabric, then wrapped the remaining cloth tightly around his entire body before casting 1st-Class Transformation Magic"Attribute Imbuement"to harden it like stone. The fluidity of his movements suggested this wasn't his first time handling such situations. Lady Freya, watching from the corridor corner, widened her eyes in astonishment.

'A former student of Mentor Katia? I heard he was a commoner, but this skilled?'

Five minutes earlier, Lady Freya had tried to distance herself from Derek and escape, only to be caught instantly. Never before had her confusion magic been so effortlessly seen through. In her panic, she'd begged for her life, but the white-haired mercenary recognized her and calmed the situation.

The boy who simply introduced himself as"Derek"without mentioning family name or affiliation claimed to know Lady Freya was the eldest daughter of House Elvester.

His mannerisms strictly followed noble etiquette, presenting a stark contrast to the madman who'd subdued Raeg moments earlier.

"D-Derek, was it? Mentor Katia often spoke of you. She said you possessed exceptional magical talent among commoners..."

"Is Mentor Katia doing well?"

"...Of course. The position of magic instructor for House Elvester is highly respected."

Derek, checking the tight bindings without looking at Lady Freya, replied. The situation didn't permit proper courtesies toward an Elvester noblewoman.

"We seem to share the same mentor. I too received great teachings from Mentor Katia. I'm relieved to hear she's well. But this isn't the time for reminiscing."

After securing Raeg completely, Derek continued:

"Lady Beltus is hiding in the VIP quarters upstairs. I'm gathering survivors there—you should head up as well."

"Actually... I was trying to escape the mansion."

"The grounds are swarming with moving corpses. Attempting to flee alone would be regrettable."

"If I'm determined to escape, no one can catch me. I alone escaped the great fire at Robenter Castle caused by bandits."

"Didn't I just catch you?"

"..."

Freya fell silent. Though in truth, it was only because Derek's mana detection was unnaturally sharp.

Lady Freya of Count was famously skilled at evading attention—someone even Mentor Katia would need a full day's search to locate. Derek stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Indeed, Lady Freya's confusion magic had reached remarkable levels. Only someone like Derek, personally trained by Drest in mana sensing, could have caught her—most detection magic would struggle.

One would need at least 3-Star mage abilities to vaguely sense her presence, meaning the corpse monsters would have little chance.

Perhaps sending Lady Freya outside to call for help might be better. A viable alternative worth considering.

'I've seen plenty of death, but why is this girl so composed?'

Meanwhile, Lady Freya stared at Derek as if discovering a mythical unicorn.

Amid a mansion filled with enthralled people, he showed no panic—searching for survivors, subduing Raeg, even stopping her escape attempt.

His magic skills were outstanding, judgment sound, and they shared the Katia connection. Freya quickly revised her assessment.

'Better to trust him for now. My instincts say so.'

"Then I'll go meet Lady Beltus in the VIP quarters. But... what's your plan after gathering survivors? Shouldn't we prioritize escape in this situation?"

"Let's save as many as possible. Every noble here is a prominent imperial figure, no?"

"Loyalty to the empire?"

"If imperial officials ask, that's what I'll say."

"And the real reason?"

"Half is basic human duty to preserve life, half is knowing saving nobles will bring rewards."

Northeastern nobles casually paid hundreds of gold coins as ransom. Saving one's life would warrant even greater recognition.

"People's motivations are rarely singular, wouldn't you agree?"

From those words alone, Freya glimpsed an aspect of Derek's character.

Fundamentally good, yet not naive about practical benefits. Self-interested where appropriate, altruistic when called for—far better than someone leaning entirely one way.

Freya removed her necklace and pressed it into Derek's hand.

"...What's this?"

"A magical ornament from the Arendale Academy, gifted for my coming-of-age ceremony. It pairs with this ring—wearers can sense each other's locations."

"Isn't this expensive?"

"Better not to know the price. If you'll be moving through the mansion, maintaining location awareness would be wise."

Derek quickly draped the necklace around his neck, tucking it under his clothes.

"The main hall has unconscious mages seated at banquet tables. Most seem alive."

"Banquet tables?"

"Yes. Strangely, the mansion staff continue preparing for a ball—though it resembles a ritual more than a dance."

Derek's brow furrowed.

A banquet spread with musicians playing while killing mages was precisely the work of necromancers.

Worshippers of death or soul deities believed sacrificing powerful mages would grant portions of their magical power—disguising it as a ball was clever.

Gathering high-ranking nobles naturally, preparing musicians and food without suspicion—all made possible by coinciding with Lady Diela's debutante, a major event.

Who would suspect such horrors in House Duplein's mansion, one of the continent's most prestigious families?

The problem was—from the Duke down to his children—none seemed capable of leading such madness.

Derek, having been close to House Duplein, knew this well. Valerian, Raeg, Aiselin, Diela—none would dabble in such taboos.

'Some shocking trigger, outside instigation, or perhaps possession by a cursed magical artifact...'

Derek quickly assessed possibilities.

He couldn't randomly guess who in House Duplein might have been drawn to necromancy—except he actually could.

-'Before you reach adulthood, Valerian Delomaine Duplein will meddle in necromancy.'

-'If that happens, you must kill him.'

Drest had warned Derek, foreseeing everything.

He specifically told Derek to kill Valerian—despite being a 6-Star mage himself who could have intervened.

Now, his intentions became slightly clearer.

With the continent's elite nobles held hostage, resolving the situation and capturing the ringleader would bring unimaginable merit—likely earning imperial commendation.

Such achievements would greatly aid Derek's future ascension. Thus Drest left this opportunity entirely to him.

His timing in training Derek ensured he'd be strong enough to subdue the necromancy-possessed Valerian.

—The extent of his foresight was unfathomable.

Such were the benefits of having a 6-Star Detection Mage as one's backer.

Yet Derek felt conflicted.

The Valerian he remembered was the one sweating over clumsy stitches while making dolls, desperate for Diela's affection.

A man who lived solely for family, House Duplein's most promising heir apparent.

Even Derek, who rarely acknowledged others, recognized Valerian's qualities as a respected leader.

'Yet... if he strayed from the path, he must be killed.'

However, Derek was resolute.

Despite his mixed feelings, he wouldn't hesitate to strike when necessary.

Thus Derek trudged toward the mansion's central main hall.

The moon climbed toward its zenith.

Even approaching midnight, moonlight streamed into Duplein Mansion's main hall.

—Clack, clack.

Entering revealed an indescribably bizarre scene.

Several long banquet tables stretched across the vast hall, laden with sumptuous feasts. Seated along them were numerous unconscious mages.

Enthralled musicians clutching fine string instruments sat motionless by the main staircase.

Candlelight flickered in every holder, while the central stage—bathed in moonlight—stood empty.

Had people been chatting animatedly, it would resemble any ball. But the hall was eerily silent—footsteps echoed hollowly.

Derek frowned while surveying the area.

The mages lining the tables were unconscious but alive. Their lives wouldn't be taken until the ritual began—sacrificing so many mages for power wasn't normal thinking.

History's notable necromancers all attempted this, and all met bloody ends.

Such was the fate of taboo-breakers.

As Derek crossed this strange space, his gaze shifted to the hall's center.

Moonlight poured through stained glass, illuminating a man sitting slumped in a wooden chair at what should be the host's seat.

His golden hair, now longer with streaks of gray, framed pale skin. His build had filled out, clad not in noble attire but ornate steel armor.

He looked more fitting as heir apparent, yet carried an unsettling precariousness.

Derek stopped at a distance.

"..."

"Well, if it isn't Derek. You've come to celebrate Diela's debutante."

"...Prince Valerian, you've changed much."

"Time changes people. Still, having my beloved youngest sister's most respected mentor attend is truly appreciated as this ball's host."

Valerian looked up at Derek.

His ghastly pale visage became visible—pupils trembling as if from an earthquake.

"As you see, circumstances forced the ball's cancellation. When Diela returns to the mansion, could you take her back to Evelstain?"

"..."

"In my current state, there's no one else I can entrust this to."

Behind Valerian stood the grandest wooden chair—reserved for the highest-ranking attendee. While Valerian's seat was clearly lit by stained glass moonlight, this one remained shadowed.

When Derek adjusted his angle, the seated figure became visible—prompting his eyes to narrow further.

Duke Raymond Oswald Duplein.

The mansion's master sat slumped with a dagger through his chest—bearing the Duplein family's eagle crest.

"..."

Seeing Derek recognize the Duke, Valerian's expression softened further.

"As you see, I'm currently... preoccupied with rectifying my mistakes."

Valerian rose with a bitter smile, his armor clanking through the silent hall.

"...What are you doing here?"

"Didn't I just say?"

Valerian smiled complexly, his voice gentle yet hollow.

"Rectifying mistakes."

Derek stood motionless, his gaze unwavering—no need to question the resolve in those eyes.

Valerian studied Derek before finally looking down in resignation.

"I see."

After a moment, he raised a mana-engulfed hand.

Sinister crimson energy flooded the ballroom, coalescing into a staff—reputed to be 5-Star Summoner Rozin's artifact.

Except Rozin wasn't a summoner.

Derek's expression hardened.

—Whoosh

Moonlight bathed the ballroom.

Its host stood, looking down at Derek.

Necromancer Valerian.

The mansion's true master.