Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 81

There comes a time in life when one must accept their current reality, thinking"I suppose this is my fate."

Siern had always considered this so natural that she'd never questioned it.

Living and dying with blood on one's hands in this vast snowfield might seem miserable at first glance, but once accepted, it became bearable.

Strolling through flower gardens in warm, fertile lands like Duplein or Beltus territories was a life only permitted to people like Aiselin.

Enviable, but not something she coveted.

Whenever she stood atop the spire letting snowflakes fall on her face while overlooking the northern territory, she had no choice but to clearly accept that this land was her homeland.

Bare tree branches protruded like thorns across the cold, lonely snowfield.

This was Siern's homeland—the Duchy of Rochest.

"Why... why are you alive?"

"I'm sorry for being alive... This must be quite shocking for you...?"

"Ah, no... I didn't mean it like that... But clearly... the blade..."

As Siern asked with a dumbfounded expression, Aiselin slowly explained what had happened.

How Derek had pretended to order Siern's murder. How he'd deceived Aiselin to ambush Siern.

How he'd only pretended to stab Aiselin while using dye and confusion magic to create the illusion.

From the beginning, Derek had never intended to kill Siern—everything was an attempt to guide her and control her murderous instincts.

Easier said than done—it required being prepared to withstand Siern's genuine rage-filled attacks.

No tutor until now had been so determined to control Siern's instincts.

After experiencing Siern's bloodlust once, nine out of ten would look at her with terrified eyes and try to flee.

"Why... why go that far...?"

"That's just the kind of person he is."

Though there was the matter of being promised a noble title, Aiselin chose not to mention that detail.

Even without such compensation, Derek would likely have made maximum effort to reform Siern to some degree. The fact that he immediately started considering correction methods upon seeing Siern's true nature proved as much.

Though Derek himself might not realize it, he'd already developed something resembling professional pride as a magic instructor.

There are no bad noble ladies—only those who haven't been properly taught yet.

If someone was lost, guide them toward a better path. The way he habitually considered such methodologies showed he'd already become a proper teacher.

"A-anyway... I wanted to apologize too. No matter how good the intention, I ended up startling Lady Siern and unintentionally became complicit..."

"..."

"And... as I said, I thought you might feel very frustrated or sad... so I wanted to tell you it's okay. I'm alive and well, Derek has no intention of killing Lady Siern... well, that's it."

Aiselin exhaled wearily, then smiled to indicate everything was fine.

"We came north for Lady Siern. I just want you to know that."

Her appearance resembled warm sunlight shining over grassy plains, making Siern momentarily bow her head deeply.

The anger toward Derek now wavered directionless. Only a faint resentment remained rather than rage.

If he truly bore all hardships solely for Siern's sake, where should her anger be directed?

Perhaps at herself. That thought crossed her mind.

"Anyway, Lady Siern didn't kill anyone. Even while surrendering to instincts and rage, you succeeded in regaining reason. If you succeeded once, you can do it twice or thrice."

"...Can I really?"

"I'll help you. As I said, you don't need to fully trust me. Think of me as someone to use and discard if you want. So..."

"...No."

Siern hugged her knees and spoke in a mosquito-like voice.

Her embarrassed expression as she buried her head looked quite shameful.

"I'll... try believing you."

Aiselin clasped her own hands together, smiling with starry eyes. She seemed delighted that the ice-cold Siern was finally opening up.

Quickly moving to sit beside her on the bed, Aiselin spoke softly:

"Thank you, Lady Siern. I'm so happy."

"D-don't get so excited. The so-called'flower of House Duplein'shouldn't be this thrilled just for earning trust from a monster like me."

"What are you saying? Lady Siern, this is such an honor."

Placing her delicate hand over Siern's, Aiselin spoke with a warm smile:

"Actually, I have a younger sister about your age. She went through a rebellious phase too, but after meeting good people, she's now striving to become a leader. I'm sure you two could be good friends."

"R-really...?"

"Yes. I remember when she used to follow me around calling me'big sis'—now she's grown so dependable it makes me proud. Though you seem lost now like she was, you'll surely learn to control that blood and become a great mage."

Embracing Siern while offering encouraging words—this was precisely the role Derek had wanted Aiselin to play.

Truthfully, before any talk of roles, this was simply Aiselin's natural disposition.

"You know..."

Siern, still hugging her knees with her head down, spoke hesitantly.

Her voice was so soft one had to strain to hear.

"C-can I... call you big sis too...?"

Aiselin's face lit up with euphoria upon hearing this, overwhelmed by uncontrollable excitement.

It was like watching an injured stray cat finally approach her after much difficulty.

Head Maid Serina swallowed dryly while bandaging Derek's wounds.

Though he sat expressionless, the cuts and bruises covering his body would normally be extremely painful.

But whether such injuries were routine for battle-hardened mercenaries or Derek simply had exceptional mental fortitude...

Sitting on a sofa in the private room with his arm extended, Derek didn't flinch.

"All the scrapes and tears on your right arm are treated. Just your ankle and lower back remain."

"Yes, you've worked hard. Thank you."

"Not at all. You've endured far more than I have, sir."

Though Serina had suffered Siern's abuse too, never to this extent.

The mansion staff already respected Derek after witnessing him fight Siern head-on in the central hall.

Seeing him somehow control what was essentially the mansion's calamity gave them hope—perhaps he could take responsibility for Siern.

For now, treating his wounds was all she could do.

Just as Serina unwrapped a fresh bandage—

- Creak

- Thud thud

The private room door opened without knocking.

Turning, they saw Melberot entering in full northern noble attire lined with fur.

When Serina flinched and tried to rise from bandaging—

"At ease. Continue the treatment."

Derek, who'd begun standing, sat back down at Melberot's instruction.

Melberot strode past Derek's sofa to perch on the windowsill table.

After silently watching the snowfall outside with folded arms, he finally spoke quietly:

"Saw the commotion in the garden earlier."

"I damaged some property. My apologies."

"Spare change means nothing. But Siern truly regained reason."

Briefly yielding to primal instinct before recovering was trivial.

But Siern had actually regained her senses amidst surging rage and bloodlust.

Though only possible because Derek endured it all, this was still significant progress.

Compared to hopelessly managing Siern before, this was meaningful change.

Yet Melberot showed no particular joy, merely acknowledging Derek's achievement.

"What's next?"

"Having controlled her instincts once, we'll repeat the process. Building on that success. I plan to teach simple calming magic before the next bloodlust surge..."

"Think she'll comply?"

"Following me may take time, but with Lady Aiselin present, no need for concern."

Aiselin possessed a gift for opening hearts.

Melberot seemed to agree, offering no objection.

Derek extended his other arm to the head maid, who began applying ointment.

"I admit. You're better than those half-baked scholars who came to teach Siern. Seeing her change pleases me."

"Thank you. Though... you don't seem particularly pleased."

"Didn't I say from the start? Siern is merely research material for my magical attainment. How could I love Noir's abhorrent blood? The fiend who caused the Dawn War catastrophe."

"..."

Derek studied his bandaged arm, then glanced at the head maid's expression.

She seemed tense watching Derek converse so casually with the North's Dominator.

Their status difference was beyond compare.

Yet Derek felt compelled to add:

"Teaching Lady Siern made me realize something. Certainly not anyone could do this. Withstanding her magic while preventing harm to her and myself requires rare combat-oriented skills."

"Touting your achievements now?"

"Perhaps. At least within Rochester Mansion, none exist. Except one—your lordship."

Derek spoke calmly while examining his bandages.

Melberot kept watching the snowfall.

"Yet... you couldn't do it. As a 6-Star mage, you must have reasons for not intervening directly."

"..."

"Truthfully, this requires pushing Lady Siern to extremes. And being prepared to earn her hatred. Teaching someone means being willing to push them off cliffs."

Derek had unflinchingly played that role.

To Siern, Derek embodied pure evil—a monster who deserved death.

Such perception meant nothing. Great endeavors inevitably invite misunderstanding.

Someone of Melberot's stature would know this.

Derek fell silent.

Only bandaging sounds and snowfall against the window filled the quiet room.

"You claimed to have glimpsed 7-Star potential in Lady Siern. Yet scouting nearby high-level labyrinths revealed no traces of research or subjugation. No matter how thoroughly I searched."

Researching magical beasts requires labyrinth exploration. Liches and Reapers only appear in high-level labyrinths.

While lower-level labyrinths near the mansion showed signs of subjugation for security, deeper ones appeared untouched.

Despite claiming interest in Siern's magic, Melberot showed none toward magical beasts.

"Are you truly... pursuing 7-Star attainment?"

"What are you implying?"

"Just meaningless nosiness."

Derek bowed slightly.

"As a celebrated war hero, discovering Lady Siern inherited Noir's blood must have burdened your esteemed reputation."

"..."

"That's all."

Derek closed his eyes.

No further explanation was needed.

The day Siern awoke amidst slaughtered wolves.

The day her bloodlust first emerged—what thoughts crossed Melberot's mind upon finding her?

Only he could know. Unless he spoke, none would.

Yet one could speculate.

A dead comrade's orphaned daughter.

What feelings did Melberot harbor raising her in these snowfields?

Watching Siern gradually mature into a lady—what thoughts arose?

And upon realizing her bloodlust stemmed from Noir's blood—what expression did he make?

Melberot was the hero who slew Noir.

No one understood Noir's scars better. Countless deaths, including his dearest comrades.

His heroic identity could never permit preserving Noir's legacy for personal sentiment.

Thus, he needed another reason.

Not personal feelings, but some greater justification for sparing Siern.

Any reason would suffice to convince himself.

Perhaps his"pursuit of 7-Star magic"—a legendary realm in magical history.

A hero, but first a mage. A father, but first a mage.

This grand magical legacy required justification.

Yet one person remained unconvinced.

Even after deceiving the world and himself, one person saw through him.

"Lady Siern left a message. Asked me to deliver it."

"A message?"

"She believed today was her last day."

-'Tell father. Thank you for embracing a daughter like me. At least I... could never resent you... For loving this monster as your daughter till the end... Thank you...'

Those were the words of a daughter who'd accepted death with tears in the snowfield.

A message to deliver, so delivered. Derek felt no hesitation.

"..."

Melberot didn't look at Derek.

He simply kept watching the snowfall.

Closing his eyes would bring memories.

Of Siern standing amidst wolf corpses.

Despite reaching for his sword, he'd grabbed her wrist and returned home.

That daughter had tightly clung to his arm through the snowfield.

Two sets of footprints trailed behind them that day.

Likely always had.

"You're capable and clever... but talk too much nonsense."

"My apologies."

"Nevermind. Teaching Siern requires such qualities."

After long silence, Melberot finally spoke softly.

Derek offered a perfunctory apology, unfazed.

The two sat quietly for a while longer.

"There's a small vineyard region near Rodellen."

Breaking the silence, Melberot continued:

"Famous for wine. Borders Beltus Duchy and Deloua grasslands—decent location with good trade routes. But too small and remote—central nobles consider it exile."

"...Is that so?"

Derek answered nonchalantly, testing his bandaged arm.

"Exile to some, but not all. Even that small, it's still territory requiring governance. Lacks justification for appointing non-titled administrators. They say even a minor barony would help manage that troublesome land."

Melberot turned his head.

"Like wine?"

"I'll learn to if I must."

"Good."

Rising from the windowsill, he flashed an arrogant smile.

Some things never change.