Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 8

-'What does it mean to teach someone, Master?'

During his early days of learning magic, Derek had asked Katia this question.

They were in a carriage returning from completing a monster extermination request in the frontier.

Derek had sustained some minor injuries, and Katia was casually treating his wounds at the time.

-'Why ask that all of a sudden?'

-'...Just wondering.'

Having spent his childhood drifting through the mercenary underworld, Derek had seen plenty of warriors who supposedly served their masters in a master-disciple relationship.

It often struck him as absurd how even those with the most savage and cruel personalities would act reverently before their masters.

Thus, a simple curiosity had suddenly welled up within him.

-'I've seen guys who'd casually stab people in the back or yell at strangers suddenly become meek before their masters. Hmm... Actually, is Master Katia just unusually merciful, or is that how everyone is?'

-'You shouldn't judge everything by the harsh standards of the mercenary underworld. Not all master-disciple relationships are like that.'

Katia replied in a gentle voice while wrapping bandages around Derek's arm.

-'And Derek, you're relatively easy to teach. You have excellent magical aptitude and absorb things quickly, plus you're always cooperative.'

-'Isn't it natural to be cooperative when you're trying to learn something?'

-'That's the ideal, yes. But the world doesn't always work that way, does it? Sometimes you'll encounter people who look down on their masters, grinding their teeth and picking power struggles.'

Derek stroked his chin and fell into thought.

If a so-called disciple bares their fangs against their master, can they even be called a disciple? Is there any point in teaching such people in the first place?

Yet, as Katia said, the world doesn't always follow ideal principles.

-'If you absolutely had to teach such a stubborn, ungrateful disciple, what would you do, Master?'

-'I'd try to understand them to the very end, to embrace and accept them.'

-'...That sounds too idealistic.'

-'...You're right. Still, the essence of teaching ultimately lies in guiding, embracing, and leading the disciple toward a better path.'

Her tone suggested this was obvious.

-'If understanding and acceptance don't work, then we must seek another starting point—but we must never forget that essence.'

-'Another starting point? What would that be?'

Katia quietly continued bandaging his arm, her gaze lowered.

-'Imprinting fear.'

Derek silently closed his mouth.

-'Sometimes, that's where you have to begin.'

"Treat others with consideration and respect."

Derek's icy voice sank into the quiet room.

In Lady Diela's chamber, its floor sullied with filthy water, Derek repeated what he needed to say amidst the silence.

"Stand up."

Lady Diela stared at Derek with trembling eyes before reluctantly rising to her feet as instructed.

Then, slowly stepping toward him, she abruptly swung her hand—

- *Slap!*

Derek's head snapped to the side.

Gasping for breath, Lady Diela spoke in a voice seething with fury.

"You... Who do you think...? How dare you—"

- *Slap!*

Before she could finish, Derek's palm struck her cheek again.

This time, Lady Diela's head whipped to the side. Her pupils dilated to their limits.

When she looked up at Derek, his expression remained utterly unmoved. His crimson eyes simply stared coldly back at her.

The girl had grown up like a greenhouse flower; the boy, like a weed by the roadside.

In that moment of realizing the gap between them, an unfamiliar emotion surged through her—

The framework of that emotion was fear. Fear of the unknown.

"As I said, you must treat others with consideration and respect."

"Shut your mouth!"

Diela grabbed Derek's collar with her tiny hands.

Yet no matter how she struggled, it meant nothing. No matter how much the small girl hurled insults, Derek didn't even crack a smile.

"Wh-what is this?! Why aren't any of you stopping this?!"

Head Butler Dellon, having heard the commotion, quickly pushed through the gathered servants and stepped forward.

The old butler barked at the stunned servants before swiftly positioning himself between Derek and Diela.

He was acquainted with Derek—the man who had wandered mercenary bands with Lady Aiselin in search of a master.

"That's enough. Any further would be truly dangerous."

Dangerous.

That word seemed directed more at Derek than Diela.

For a mere commoner to lay hands on a ducal young lady was a capital offense—one that could see his limbs severed without question.

If he stopped now, he might live the rest of his life disabled, but at least he'd survive. That was the implication of Head Butler Dellon's words.

Yet Derek pulled out a document stamped with the Ducal Seal and tossed it onto the tea table.

Its contents were straightforward.

"His Grace the Duke of Duplein has granted me full authority over Lady Diela's education. Please bear in mind that whatever methods I employ have been sanctioned by His Grace."

"...What?"

Even the Head Butler was unaware of this document. He couldn't help but be shocked.

Since it hadn't been formally delivered through him, it meant the Duke had written it on the spot.

Head Butler Dellon had no choice but to question its authenticity. A commoner striking a noble wasn't merely a moral issue of violence—it was a challenge to aristocratic authority.

If word got out that such an act had been permitted, it would bring immense disgrace upon the entire Ducal family. Nobles were meant to remain lofty at all times.

How could the Duke of Duplein, standing at the pinnacle of that authority, allow such a thing?

When Dellon looked at Derek with those doubts, the latter answered as if reading his mind.

"I heard Lord Raeg instructed you to look into something."

"...!"

The Ducal family's second son, Raeg, had already completely given up on rehabilitating Diela.

He had shifted his approach entirely, planning to confine her to a frontier monastery. As part of that plan, he'd ordered the Head Butler to investigate potential locations.

The Duke of Duplein had dismissed the proposal, but that didn't mean he could ignore the implications. The mere fact that such an option had been openly suggested proved how dire the situation had become.

Already, not only the servants of the annex but even the retainers of the main manor were being worn down by her tantrums.

As the leader of his people, he couldn't turn a blind eye forever.

Thus, this decision was a father's last resort—a desperate measure taken with a heavy heart.

If even extreme measures failed, then she would be deemed incurable.

"Lady Diela doesn't have many chances left."

At these implicit words, Dellon's expression hardened.

Above all, Derek's actions themselves were hard to believe.

A boy who was a mercenary-turned-mage. Though raised in wild, untamed environments, it was still beyond what any ordinary person would dare.

No matter how much he had the Duke's document backing him, few would dare to slap a noble young lady.

The Duke of Duplein had a sharp eye for judging character.

Whether he had anticipated things going this far was something Dellon couldn't discern from his position.

"Brother! Brother! Please calm down first, Brother!"

- *Crash!*

That night, as Derek was organizing his equipment in the guest room assigned by the butler, an enraged man kicked open the door.

"So you're the mercenary Aiselin brought? Yes, you're the one I saw outside the reception hall earlier."

"Brother! No, please calm down first! Brother!"

Valerian Leonard Duplein, the first son of the Duplein family.

A tall, handsome man with long golden hair, his face twisted in fury as he grabbed Derek by the collar.

He was the designated heir to lead the Ducal family, known for his gentle and benevolent demeanor.

Yet there was no trace of that benevolence in the face glaring at Derek.

Before the insolent commoner who had struck his precious youngest sister, he trembled with barely contained rage.

"How dare you... How dare you—"

"Brother!"

Raeg, trying to dissuade him, looked almost pitiful.

Still held by the collar, Derek listened quietly before replying in a calm voice.

"His Grace permitted it."

A simple statement of fact, delivered with as much courtesy as possible.

Hearing this, Valerian briefly held his breath, then closed and opened his eyes before releasing Derek's collar.

"...Hah."

Finally letting out a deep sigh, Valerian wiped his face as if washing it and spoke.

"Follow me. Raeg, you go train or something."

"But if I hadn't followed, who knows what would've—"

"No more talking."

With that, Valerian gave Derek a look to follow before stepping back through the open door.

Raeg watched him go, sighed deeply, and clapped Derek on the shoulder.

"Right. I heard about what happened earlier. I'm on your side. That girl Diela needs a good beating to come to her senses. Just because she's a noble doesn't mean fists won't reach her."

"...That's not it."

"Anyway, you've got your work cut out for you dealing with that hopeless brat. Well, we'll be sending her to the monastery soon, so just hang in there a little longer. Brother Valerian... well, he's just overly affectionate, but he's a good man. He won't do anything drastic, so don't worry... Anyway, I should get going now."

With his sturdy build, square jaw, and well-defined muscles, Raeg sighed once more before following through the open door.

"Ugh... What's the point of clinging to something with no hope... Brother, really."

Even as he left, Raeg's expression wasn't exactly cheerful.

It seemed he had already given up all hope for Diela.

The place Valerian took Derek was a secluded room on the first floor of the main manor.

Clearly, it hadn't seen visitors in a long time. Yet not a speck of dust could be found—likely cleaned meticulously regardless.

- *Whoosh*

As Valerian channeled his magic, candle stands throughout the room lit up, illuminating the interior.

It was a cute, cozy room.

On one side was an adorable bed draped with lace and ribbons; on the other, a bookshelf neatly displaying pretty dolls.

Between the wardrobe filled with frilly dresses and the shelves of well-organized books, it was a quaint yet girlish space. Though excessively large for a single girl, given her status, it wasn't surprising.

"This was Diela's room when she lived in the main manor."

Valerian spoke in a low voice.

Though now confined to her own kingdom in the annex, Diela had apparently been different during her time here.

In one corner stood several canvases and painting supplies. When Derek looked that way, Valerian added,

"Diela loved painting. Mostly landscapes. She started as part of her social education but grew genuinely fond of it—always happily showing me her work."

"..."

"I still remember how she'd bounce around, begging me to look at her paintings."

As Derek browsed the canvases, one covered by a white cloth caught his eye.

Noticing his gaze, Valerian removed the cover, revealing a neatly painted sunset.

A girl piggybacked by a maid, gazing at a magnificent sunset.

Yet the edges of the painting were blank.

"Her last unfinished work. As you can see, it's incomplete."

"Unfinished?"

"Diela always loved painting but rarely finished anything. She'd leave most of the canvas blank, only completing the parts she liked."

Looking again, it was true—all the landscapes had blank spaces.

As Derek examined them, Valerian perched on the edge of a desk in the corner.

Rubbing his forehead with a sigh, he spoke.

"...I apologize for grabbing your collar earlier. That was uncalled for."

His expression carried a heavy weight. For a noble of his standing to apologize to a commoner was no small matter.

"I always vow to remain rational, yet I act emotionally when it matters most. Especially when family's involved. In that regard, I'm still far from being a proper lord."

"...May I ask why you showed me this room?"

"...I wanted you to understand. She wasn't always someone to be scorned or struck."

Valerian spoke calmly, his voice grave.

"But at some point, she became obsessed with her lineage, looking down on those beneath her. I don't know why... what triggered it. She changed bit by bit until she became what you see now."

"..."

"I just... I don't understand. Why she's so fanatically fixated on her bloodline, what made Diela so bitter. She was slow at learning magic and far from perfect in every field... but she was always cheerful. She painted constantly, chatted happily with family—she was a lovely child."

Valerian rose from the desk, straightened his noble attire, and bowed his head. Derek couldn't help but be taken aback.

Though the Duke still held power, making Valerian's succession a distant future, he was still the heir of the Ducal family.

He wasn't permitted to bow his head lightly to a commoner—not out of pride, but because noble etiquette forbade it.

"Father told me. If things continue like this, Diela will truly be sent to the monastery."

"This is inappropriate."

"If she can learn even one 1st Grade Magic spell, I might persuade Father. At least enough to prepare for her social debut. So please... give Diela one more chance."

Valerian looked up with solemn determination.

While Derek understood his desperation, it was still a headache.

From what he'd heard from the servants, she'd hit people when annoyed, broken things out of irritation, insulted retainers, and flaunted her status to oppress them.

A troublemaker, a failure, a personality wreck—so extreme it was hard to believe Valerian's stories.

And now he was supposed to reform her into a proper lady and teach her magic? It might as well be literal magic.

No wonder they'd gone through twenty tutors in eight months.

"..."

Yet Derek took another look around Diela's room, organizing his thoughts.

Canvases filled with landscapes. Neatly made bedding. Adorable lace and ribbons.

Among them, he quietly examined the bookshelf—packed with educational texts.

Books on embroidery, flower arrangement, horseback riding.

Even a few expensive spellbooks were shelved. It seemed Ducal heirs had their own educational resources.

"...Hmm."

Derek stroked his chin, slowly scanning the shelves.

All were Noble Discipline School spellbooks. Naturally—this was the Duplein family.

Pulling one out, he flipped through it, finding clear signs of diligent study. Notes and practice reflections were scribbled throughout.

It wasn't hard to see: Diela hadn't given up from the start. She'd put in blood-and-sweat effort but achieved nothing.

The amount of effort matters, but so does its direction.

Looking at the shelves packed with Discipline School theory, Derek couldn't help but think so.

"Alright, let's try."

Derek reshelved the book and turned to Valerian.

Then, flipping his robe's hood back up, he left the room.

His footsteps led not to a bedroom, but to the annex surrounded by rose vines.

The midnight darkness welcomed him as he quietly crossed through the garden.