Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 67

"Though Lord Melberot of the North is a mage whose name no practitioner is ignorant of, his family relations aren't as well-known as one might think."

Denise, walking through Elfontaine Hall in Evelstein's noble district, spoke with a bored expression to Derek who was trailing casually behind her.

"Lord Melberot? Isn't he the only combat mage among the known 6-Star mages?"

"Right. He's famous for various reasons. Head of the Roguest Count family, owner of the 5-Star magic wand'Dawn', nephew of the greatest magic scholar Rovenkheim, Dominator of the North, Sword of the Empire... really, the man has endless titles."

There are only four living 6-Star mages on the continent.

Lord Melberot, Dominator of the North; Kochella, Head Magic Advisor to the imperial court in the central region; Phee of the minor barony in the southeastern granary region; and Drest Wolftail, a commoner-born mage from the southwest - just four across this vast continent, marking an almost unreachable level of mastery.

Among them, the most renowned is Lord Melberot, considered a hero among heroes for slaying countless magical beasts and leading victories in the Dawn War.

Despite the crude cultural environment of the north, he's known for loving arts, cultivating refinement, while maintaining warrior's pride - a true great man of this era.

Any magic practitioner would name him as someone they'd want to meet at least once... so Derek couldn't help being surprised when he heard the imperial request for a meeting.

"You know the northern atmosphere well, Derek. Being closest to battlefields against magical beasts, it's a place where blood flows freely and people die constantly. To reign there like a king and earn fame as a war hero - that's no ordinary man."

"That may be so, but why are his family relations so little known?"

"What else? Because they're not people worth making public. I don't know about his countess or sons, but his only daughter Lady Siern is truly unmanageable."

Derek's contract period was nearing its end.

Denise could easily predict the Beltus family wouldn't try to keep Derek any longer.

Though she desperately wanted to hold onto him herself, she knew there'd be no competing if the northern Lord Melberot extended his hand to Derek.

Hence her decision to warn him in advance.

"As a commoner you wouldn't know, but noble ladies who've attended northern events are all aware. She's not just a troublemaker. To use cruder terms... a lunatic... or psychopath... words like that barely suffice."

"..."

"Why do you think the famous magic instructor Derek caught Lord Melberot's eye? He's searching for someone who can handle his daughter."

The Elfontaine Hall corridors bustled with noble ladies returning to their quarters after gatherings.

While gracefully smiling and greeting admirers, Denise continued whispering to Derek between passing groups.

"You should think of ways to refuse Lord Melberot's offer if possible. I strongly advise against becoming Lady Siern's instructor."

"That bad? Arrogant or domineering... I've dealt with plenty of that."

"Would I worry if it were just that, Derek?"

Having taught Diela and endured even having waste dumped on him, Derek was mentally resilient enough to perform his duties unflinchingly through any insult.

"No proof, but rumors abound. Torturing servants to death, bathing in blood, gleefully pulling nails from innocent territory residents..."

"..."

"Told you. A lunatic or psychopath. Building your reputation as a magic instructor is important, but you should avoid someone that insane."

"How does she maintain her status with such acts? However great the authority gap between nobles and commoners, purposeless torture and murder wouldn't be tolerated by the empire."

"Hence'rumors.'She clearly has ways to conceal evidence. Already famous in the north as'The Blood-Stained Lady'- doesn't that sound terrifying?"

Judging by rumors alone is wrong.

But where there's smoke, there's usually fire.

Noble ladies of repute often possess keen insight into human nature.

Those who've met Lord Melberot's only daughter Siern all seem to recognize the madness underlying her demeanor.

To put it bluntly - she's a fucking psycho.

Getting entangled and falsely accused, possibly tortured or killed, would be tragic. Hence Denise's grave warning.

"The remote north sees frequent battles with magical beasts and many casualties. In such rugged lands, hiding deaths isn't difficult."

"..."

"So Derek, don't take unnecessary risks."

Denise spoke with genuine concern. Her worry was palpable, so Derek didn't argue.

However, someone of Lord Melberot's stature could make offers hard to refuse. Derek wanted to at least hear him out.

Though keeping his thoughts private, Denise suddenly stopped walking and studied Derek with hands on hips, pouting before hitting the mark:

"You're thinking of hearing Lord Melberot's offer, aren't you?"

"You're sharp as ever."

"After all this time. Sigh. Speaking of which, did you help the Dupleins?"

"They said they didn't need more help. That they'd received plenty already."

"Lady Aiselin said that?"

"Yes. Their mansion situation didn't look comfortable, but they seem to be managing."

"Hmm... I see..."

Denise smoothed her platinum hair and glanced around.

They'd reached a secluded corner of Elfontaine Hall with no one nearby, most attendees having left after the gathering.

After stroking her chin thoughtfully, she approached Derek with slight tension:

"D-Derek... personal advice... you should keep some distance from Lady Aiselin..."

"Pardon?"

"Don't ask why. J-just trust me, it's for your own good..."

As Derek stared silently, Denise coughed awkwardly and stepped back.

Noble ladies are supposed to be perfect, lofty and beautiful in all aspects, but their one weakness tends to be matters of the heart.

Oddballs like Denise aside, sheltered flowers like Aiselin often fail to recognize their own romantic feelings.

Having devoured romance novels and (self-proclaimed) become an expert, Denise knew Aiselin's type couldn't distinguish affection from simple goodwill. This was for the best.

However diminished, nobles remain nobles. Any relationship between a slum-born commoner and her would only bring mutual misery.

Best to sever it completely. When someone perceptive like Denise notices, taking preemptive action is wisest.

"Nothing good comes from getting close to a fallen noble's daughter, right?"

"I don't judge people that way. Isn't Lady Aiselin a good person?"

"Urk... Can't argue that... but I don't give advice without reason."

"I'll keep it in mind."

"You're clearly ignoring me..."

Denise scratched her head in frustration.

Life was simpler before Derek appeared and disrupted the Rosea Salon's dynamics.

"I should head to the cultural center to meet the imperial delegation. Apologies for not escorting you further."

"No need. I didn't hire you as an escort... The imperial summons is far more important. See you at the mansion later."

Denise sighed wearily and boarded her carriage.

Being too perceptive and quick-witted just means more things to worry about.

Sometimes it's better to be oblivious.

Today had driven that lesson home.

While crossing the opposite corridor to leave Elfontaine Hall, Derek noticed something odd.

With the Rosea Salon gathering long over, only occasional servants remained in the halls.

Being surrounded by noble ladies lately had become uncomfortable, with many eyeing him hungrily.

Likely knowing his contract with Beltus would soon end.

In this world, noble families would ride out personally to recruit a capable magic instructor.

Now that his reputation had grown, attention was inevitable as he neared freedom.

But everyone was busy. No one would linger this long after an event. So Derek relaxed as he walked.

- Whoosh.

Derek's sharp senses, honed through labyrinth mercenary work where awareness meant survival, detected something.

"...?"

Someone had been following him. Turning occasionally, he glimpsed a dress hem disappearing around corners - unmistakably Aiselin's indigo skirt.

'What now?'

In short, Lady Aiselin was tailing him.

If she had business, she could just speak. Despite status differences, they'd known each other long enough for basic conversation.

Yet she chose stealth, which meant something.

Understanding her situation, Derek pretended not to notice, needing to meet imperial officials and discuss Lord Melberot. The Duplein incident's aftermath also required attention.

After walking awhile, he still felt Aiselin's presence, darting between hiding spots.

"..."

Finally, Derek turned abruptly and approached rapidly.

"...!"

Startled, Aiselin nearly fell, catching herself on a display case with wide, panicked eyes.

"Lady Aiselin. Did you need something?"

"D-Derek. Y-you knew I was following?"

"Just now."

A white lie to spare her embarrassment.

"I, I wanted to ask about the commercial district layout. I was just... unsure how to approach you..."

"...Just call me. Why the hesitation...?"

"Well, you're busy! With the imperial summons and personal matters... I wanted to keep it brief but wasn't sure how to condense it..."

Aiselin rambled uncharacteristically. Derek immediately noticed her discomfort.

"No need to be so cautious around me. However diminished, you're still the Duplein Ducal family's eldest daughter. A noble lady shouldn't mind her words with a slum-born mercenary."

"B-but basic courtesy matters. And mental preparation... vocal warmups... planning responses if the conversation veers unexpectedly..."

"..."

Her fidgeting fingers and timid demeanor contrasted starkly with her usual noble grace.

The flower atop the cliff that Evelstein nobles associated with Lady Aiselin was nowhere to be seen.

Derek too was perplexed.

The proudest lady of Rosea Salon acting so skittish was unlike her.

Derek analyzed the situation.

Ah! Aiselin must have fallen hopelessly for me, too shy to act her usual confident self─── was NOT the narcissistic thought he had.

That would be absurd.

Raised as aristocratic nobility's flower, she'd been surrounded by refined noblemen and dependable gentlemen.

Her brother Valerian alone was handsome enough to steal maids'hearts, while Raeg was the picture of reliable masculinity.

To imagine such a lady falling for a slum rat who scavenged scraps was pure fairy tale thinking.

As a realist, Derek considered the only plausible explanation - her collapsed family standing.

The sole difference between proud Aiselin and this nervous wreck was her house's decline.

Amidst cruel gossip, maintaining dignity was hard. Hence her hesitation even addressing a passing mercenary.

Her pitiable state stirred Derek's sympathy. He respected her integrity.

"Lady Aiselin."

There was little he could do. Only offer earnest advice.

Disregarding propriety (knowing Aiselin would understand), Derek placed hands on her shoulders.

Meeting her gaze, he spoke firmly:

"Don't let your self-worth diminish. The Duplein name may have been your strength, but you're valuable beyond that."

"D-Derek. Too... too close..."

Aiselin's mosquito-like protest went unheeded as Derek's intensity overwhelmed her.

Seizing the moment, he continued earnestly:

"You're beautiful and worthy regardless of family. Please remember that."

"G-gasp..."

Aiselin trembled, red to her ears.

Every hair on her arms stood erect as she fidgeted speechlessly.

"You know your reputation? The noble lily. So don't lose heart. I'll always support you."

"L-lily... lily..."

"My apologies for the impropriety."

Derek withdrew and bowed. Touching a noble lady was improper regardless.

"I must apologize and take my leave for the imperial summons. If you need more time, I'll visit later. Have a pleasant afternoon."

With a bow, Derek hurried off.

Aiselin stood stunned, disheveled hair forgotten, cheeks burning.

Struck by lightning, she clutched her flaming face, eyes trembling.

Then hiccuped helplessly.

In the cultural center's reception room, Derek first met imperial magic advisor Roen.

"So you're Derek. I've heard stories."

Emperor Gertrel's nine magic advisors, led by Head Advisor Kochella, oversaw various magical research fields.

Two combat, three transformation, two confusion, one summoning, and one detection mage comprised this group that conducted experiments under imperial authority - often successfully, maintaining strong court influence.

Roen, a 3-Star combat mage (low for imperial standards), retained his position through diligence, insight, and achievements despite his relatively young-looking middle-aged appearance.

He instantly recognized Derek's exceptional nature.

"Calloused fists, sinewy arms. Expected some pampered mage, but you've lived hard, haven't you?"

"Just a street-rat mercenary."

"Modest. The favorite disguise of beasts hiding their fangs."

The elderly mage in thick leather gloves chuckled, sinking into a large sofa.

"Our distinguished guest arrives shortly. Meeting him even once is an honor. Mind your manners."

"...Lord Melberot is coming personally?"

"Sharp. This visit is unofficial, so don't make a scene... but first, imperial business."

Roen stroked his chin with a grin.

"Wand or staff - which do you prefer?"

Derek, usually composed, couldn't help his widening eyes.