Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 65

When Derek returned to Duplein Manor after nearly half a month, the estate had changed considerably—or more accurately, it had become far more pitiful.

There was no way to fully restore the half-destroyed mansion in such a short time.

They had hastily used tents to patch the broken ceilings, while the completely shattered west wing was left abandoned or used to store items that wouldn't be damaged by rain.

The devastated garden was packed with external contractors and remaining servants camping with outdoor gear, while the relatively intact rooms housed the severely injured or unconscious patients.

The mansion itself looked like an old garment clumsily stitched together.

That was Derek's impression.

-'The Beltus family has no official pretext to assist Duplein... So I decided to personally contribute some funds for the mansion's upkeep. It's not a huge sum, but... Given our history at the Rosea Salon, I can at least offer that much help.'

-'In a way, this could be an opportunity to publicly showcase my humane side. Graciously aiding the family of that snarling Lady Diela... Strategically speaking, this is my victory. Hehe.'

Lady Denise crossed her arms, cleared her throat, and flashed a proud smile as she packaged her good deed—though in truth, her desire to help seemed more genuine.

She had also asked Derek to extend assistance if the Duplein family made any requests, as long as it didn't severely disrupt his daily life.

"It's... quite chaotic, isn't it? If we cut through the inner garden to the backyard, it should be quieter."

Aiselin, who had entered the mansion grounds with Derek, spoke awkwardly.

Given that she had even visited Derek's residence to borrow money, he assumed she'd be under immense pressure. Yet she seemed to be maintaining her composure despite everything.

She was a strong-willed person. Derek knew that, but it was still astonishing how she remained composed after losing two immediate family members, her household in ruins, and now bearing the responsibility alone.

"There are more people than I expected."

"About half the surviving servants chose to stay. The other half left, but given our past bonds, I introduced them to other households or gave them at least a few gold coins."

"Isn't the financial situation already tight?"

"After liquidating some disposable assets, we have some leeway. But after ensuring everyone was taken care of... we're definitely in belt-tightening territory now..."

As they moved toward the backyard, several sizable tents were set up there. While relatively comfortable compared to other areas, it was still essentially homeless living compared to the former splendor of the mansion.

Inside one tent, a modest table and a few household items were arranged.

Suspecting this might be Aiselin's living quarters, Derek glanced around, prompting her to straighten her posture and explain.

"A bit cramped, isn't it? Though the coziness isn't entirely unpleasant."

"..."

"Feel free to pity me outright, Derek."

Aiselin hummed with a faint smile before speaking resolutely.

"After half a month, we've managed to organize the urgent matters. Now it's time to accept what must be accepted!"

"Accept what, exactly?"

"The fact that I've become a fallen noble lady!"

Her cheerful tone made Derek unsure how to react.

Unfazed, Aiselin maintained her dignified demeanor.

"I tend to get flustered easily when big things happen. But I recover quickly."

"Even so... given the grief you must feel, wouldn't it be fine to take some time?"

"As you can see, there's no room for that. Besides, times like these call for optimism."

Was there really anything optimistic about this situation?

As Derek gave her a dubious look, Aiselin rolled up her sleeves and declared proudly:

"Honestly, our previous lifestyle was too luxurious and perfect. Don't you think? Living in the continent's greatest household, beloved by a respected father and kind family, envied by all while living in comfort—that wasn't normal. In a way, I've finally become more... ordinary."

"It's astonishing you can say that."

"Isn't it true? You grew up in the slums, climbing from nothing. Compared to that, someone like me, born with so much privilege, can't just play the tragic heroine forever. I still have plenty left, you know."

Aiselin counted on her fingers as she listed her remaining assets and tasks.

"After liquidating the mansion's assets and letting go of those who needed to leave... I won't be completely penniless. Though belt-tightening is inevitable now."

"What about taxes or donations?"

"I can handle this year's taxes through proper procedures, but... other noble houses won't stay idle. They won't just watch a weakened territorial noble struggle. We'll likely have to cede control of the fertile lands north of the Teol River and coastal villages."

Countless opportunists would swarm to claim the most valuable territories under any pretext.

A noble without authority could only retain so much land.

"Even if we resist... our territory will shrink to less than half of what Duplein once controlled. What remains will be mountainous regions, depleted mines, or empty plains. Considering that, I should prepare for taxes to drop by 70-80%..."

"At least the family line survives."

"Yes. But maintaining the ducal title requires enormous taxes to the royal court. And with dependents to support... I wonder if we'll even have enough for next quarter's food..."

Aiselin's expression grew dizzy, as if her mind was fraying.

Despite her determined acceptance of reality, reality itself remained overwhelming.

Most crucially, the Duke of Duplein—the family's pillar—was gone.

Valerian, the first heir, was dead. Raeg, the next in line, remained unconscious.

In this turbulent world, people die and leave all the time. That much was ordinary.

But those left behind must grow stronger.

Now was the time for Aiselin's inner strength to be tested.

"Still... I didn't expect things to get this dire."

"Technically, I could set aside portions from the servants'meals... but even their rations aren't plentiful. They're loyal retainers who stayed despite everything—I can't just eat my fill while they..."

"..."

"C-could I... occasionally drop by for a meal?"

Just weeks ago, she had bowed her head at Derek's doorstep to borrow money.

Reality hardens people, they say—Aiselin's adaptability was almost absurd.

"That wouldn't be a burden... but I can't promise meals fit for a ducal lady."

"It's fine. I'm not picky."

Aiselin spoke with an awkward, embarrassed smile.

"Besides, I've studied a lot. I've even tried foraging wild plants from the hills behind the mansion... Some have surprisingly pleasant textures. Nightflower stems, when trimmed and boiled roots and all, taste oddly sweet. Fascinating, right?"

"...Wild plants can be poisonous. Be careful."

"Katarina tastes them first. She seems knowledgeable about such things."

"..."

It was hard to tell if this girl was impoverished or noble.

Indeed, Aiselin seemed more resourceful each time Derek saw her.

Once the cherished flower of House Duplein, she had exuded an unapproachable aristocratic grace. But lately, she was often seen rolling up her sleeves, directing servants, and taking charge on-site.

She seemed to be overseeing the mansion's repairs personally—her dress hems were often dust-stained.

"I've also learned ways to conserve laundry water, save candles at night, and reduce ink usage when writing. Enduring hardship really isn't easy."

"You're involved down to that level?"

"Every penny counts. The mansion's expenses are overwhelming right now. Once we sell the spellbooks from the archives and artworks from storage, we'll have some breathing room. Then we can clear the wreckage and stock up on daily necessities."

Aiselin nodded proudly, as if impressed by her own resilience through these harsh times.

'She'll go far.'

Life is like turbulent waves—rise and fall are inevitable.

Wallowing in despair after stumbling solves nothing. Everyone knows that, but acting on it is another matter entirely.

"I've sold most of my clothes, so my outfits are repetitive. Normally, neglecting appearance would be a grave breach of etiquette, but given the circumstances, I hope you understand."

"You know I don't care about such things. Though you still seem to have a fair wardrobe?"

"Enough to maintain salon appearances."

"You plan to keep attending salons?"

"I must."

Aiselin was now the sole pillar of House Duplein. If she lost her standing, the family would collapse entirely.

Thus, she had to continue networking at salons, seek potential allies, and preserve her own authority.

A fallen noble lady thrown into Evelstain's high society.

It wasn't hard to imagine how coldly reality would treat her.

The one saving grace was her naturally amiable disposition—she had made few enemies.

Her accumulated goodwill was a small mercy.

"Anyway, since I'm at Duplein Manor today, let me know if there's anything I can assist with. The Beltus family is willing to lend limited support where possible."

"Oh, no. Most urgent matters are settled, and the servants have their roles assigned. You've already helped so much—I can't ask you to labor here too."

Aiselin perched on a worn-out cot.

Though the tent was decently furnished, it was still just a tent.

A far cry from the lavish private chambers she once had.

Derek studied Aiselin quietly.

He had only visited today because she had requested it.

Assuming she needed further help, Derek had come prepared. But her claiming no assistance was needed left him puzzled.

"I just... wanted you to know how things stand here. That I'm managing. That's all."

"You told me specifically?"

"You helped during the crisis and cleanup... I felt I owed you this much."

Aiselin forced a faint smile, though her expression seemed hollow.

Derek observed her silently before pulling up a wooden chair from the corner and sitting across from her.

After a long pause, he spoke slowly.

"It's okay not to be okay."

Aiselin's brow twitched.

She tried to laugh it off, but seeing Derek's expression, her smile turned wry.

"When things are this bad, it's fine to admit it. My help won't amount to much, but if you think of anything, reach out. I rarely work for free, but I'm flexible on pricing."

"..."

"You should rest when you can. I'll take my leave."

With a polite bow, Derek exited the tent.

His blunt pragmatism was quintessentially Derek—no emotional platitudes, just clear-cut support.

Yet the warmth in his tone was unmistakable. Oddly, Aiselin found it comforting.

As she stepped outside into the midday breeze, Duplein Manor still looked pitiful.

Tents patched the half-collapsed structure. Restoring it fully would require considerable time and money.

But step by step, it could be done.

Aiselin lay alone in her tent.

After a day inspecting the mansion, handling family affairs, preparing for her salon return, and briefing Derek, she replayed their conversation.

"..."

Most tasks were necessary—but updating Derek wasn't.

Though he had helped greatly, he was an outsider. Repaying debts could come later.

Yet she had insisted on detailing everything to him. Why?

Even she questioned her own actions.

'Was my judgment clouded?'

They say hardship makes people seek someone to lean on.

With so much weighing on her, it was natural to crave emotional support.

'I must be exhausted.'

Closing her eyes, Aiselin finally rested. Her thoughts drifted to the man who had wiped her blood in the rain that night.

Amid terror, his calm had been grounding.

If he could keep his wits during such calamity, he'd make sound choices in any crisis.

That realization altered how she saw Derek.

Lately, that rainy-night boy often came to mind—even when unnecessary. She frequently wondered how he'd act in her place.

She must be truly worn out. Just as sleep took her—

- Swish

The tent flap opened, and a familiar voice called out.

"Aiselin? I'm back from Evelstain. The Ront family sent workers for repairs, but I'm unsure if we should... Huh? Aiselin?"

"Hm...? Diela?"

Diela entered, dusting off her frilled dress, then froze at the sight of her sister.

"Wh-why is your face like that? Do you have a fever?"

"M-me? A fever?"

"You've been pushing yourself. Let's skip repair talk today. Rest."

Flustered, Diela quickly left.

Aiselin sat up and checked the mirror.

A red-faced girl stared back, baffled.

'Derek's contract is ending soon... Can we keep him?'

That night, while writing at her desk as usual, Denise suddenly wondered.

The Beltus Duke had tightly controlled Derek because three great families coveted him.

But with Duplein collapsing and Belmierd withdrawing, Beltus might no longer need him.

His value had peaked. Unless truly necessary, would Beltus retain him?

Many would react sharply if his affiliation changed. To avoid that... Denise needed to act soon.

Just then—

- Creak

"Lady Denise."

"Eek...!"

"Y-you're writing. Should I return later?"

"N-no! It's fine. What is it?"

"A letter arrived. Normally I'd report tomorrow, but it's... unusual."

Denise hastily stashed her quill and composed herself.

"Unusual how?"

"It's from the royal court. Officially addressed to House Beltus, but... the recipient is odd."

"Who's it for?"

"Derek."

"..."

A foreboding chill gripped Denise.