Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 84

Officially, the purpose of debutante balls in high society is to maintain cultural, artistic, and magical exchanges with various high-ranking individuals while cultivating and refining oneself.

However, that's merely the superficial reason. When young women of marriageable age gather to showcase their beauty and refinement, it's often ultimately to facilitate favorable marriage arrangements.

Especially among lower nobility or those of ambiguous status, it was common knowledge they had no ulterior motive beyond catching a good nobleman to elevate their social standing.

Such individuals spent less time sitting in cultural halls discussing philosophical discourses or elevating magical realms, and more time obsessively attending balls and dinner parties to maximize contact with eligible noblemen.

If they managed to snag even one son from a ducal family for marriage, it would be an instant life reversal—which is why families often pushed their daughters in various ways. Essentially, that's how high society functioned.

Still, an unbridgeable gap existed between territorial nobles of high status and lower nobility.

Since marriage talks rarely occurred between these two groups, the attention of influential noble sons naturally gravitated toward the pinnacle of Evelstain's high society rather than lower nobles obsessed with marriage prospects.

Ultimately, the figures at that pinnacle were clearly defined.

Aiselin of Duplein, Elente of Belmierd, and Denise of Beltus.

Securing even one of these three could instantly elevate a minor border noble to the ranks of true influence.

Thus, from provincial nobles to powerful scions, frequent love letters filled with passion or expensive fresh flowers as gifts were sent to impress these three ladies of the Rosea Salon.

The competition was so fierce that the head maid's daily routine began with clearing away letters full of flirtatious words and arranging the flood of flowers at the mansion entrance into the garden.

That's how inundated these influential noble ladies were with marriage proposals.

Knowing these two facts—that Evelstain's high society contained many lower noble ladies obsessed with marriage talks, and that reaching the top three positions in the Rosea Salon meant countless noble suitors—made predicting subsequent events straightforward.

"The Duplein family no longer deserves to occupy the top seat in the Rosea Salon."

Denise thought the inevitable had arrived.

This statement emerged during an afternoon gathering at the Elfontain Hall—words that would have been considered blasphemy when Duplein's name reached the heavens, yet none present could refute it.

Rumors about the faltering Duplein family had already solidified into accepted fact.

Aiselin traveling north to earn money, Diela borrowing funds by visiting various noble houses—they'd lost all dignity required of the highest elite.

Though wealth may last three generations after ruin, in noble society governed by justification and decorum, they could no longer raise their voices.

Thus, Duplein occupying one of the coveted three seats in the Rosea Salon would naturally be seen as unreasonable.

"Therefore, I propose we select someone to replace the Duplein family in that position."

Elente frowned slightly from her seat at the tea table, while Denise sighed from the opposite end.

The speaker was Lady Tricia of the Renuel Marquisate.

Her wavy, cascading hair was beautiful, though occasional freckles slightly marred her classical elegance.

Rather than focusing on academics and cultivation, she strongly desired advantageous marriages to climb higher.

'Predictable.'

Denise could guess Tricia's intentions without hearing her out.

Remove Duplein and take their seat—the motive was obvious.

Marriage-obsessed ladies shared tiresomely familiar traits.

They believed Aiselin, Elente, and Denise occupied their positions solely through family prestige.

If they could somehow displace Duplein and borrow some family prestige, they too could reach that coveted position receiving noble suitors.

"Does anyone disagree?"

Tricia stood proudly at the podium, hands on hips.

Her Renuel Marquisate was unusually powerful for its rank.

Once Duplein fell, either her house, the Pelobel County, or Logwalz Marquisate would likely take its place. She seemed ready for that competition.

'None can match Belmierd or Beltus, but Duplein's fall seems inevitable.'

Denise observed with folded arms. A glance showed Elente doing the same.

Ultimately, noble decisions hinged most on battles of justification.

"...Ah, one person objects, it seems."

As Tricia spoke, all eyes turned.

Diela, sipping tea quietly at the gathering's edge, received their collective gaze.

'Here we go.'

Diela set down her teacup and glared silently at the podium.

Those familiar with her temperament gulped nervously.

As Derek's first apprentice and Duplein's youngest, she possessed fiery determination.

When displeased, she'd even confront Lady Denise of the Beltus family without hesitation—a reckless character.

But that was only possible with the Duplein name behind her.

For a noble lady struggling to pay servants'wages, she couldn't project former grandeur.

"Amusing words, Lady Tricia. You seem to view House Duplein as a toothless tiger."

"Isn't it?"

Her tone was openly challenging. Some ladies still intimidated by Diela swallowed hard.

But Tricia merely smirked arrogantly with folded arms.

"History flows onward. If it's time to fade into the background, one should do so quietly."

"However impressive Marquis Renuel's influence may be, surely it doesn't warrant such discourtesy toward a ducal house."

Rumors had long circulated about the capital granting Renuel wider territories.

Duplein was a setting star; Renuel, a rising sun. None present were unaware.

Yet Diela remained Diela.

She likely wouldn't cause a magical scene here, but neither would she stay silent.

From her seat with folded arms, Diela finally raised her eyes and spoke.

"Well, nothing you said is technically wrong."

'...!'

All present were inwardly stunned.

Even Tricia, who'd openly challenged Duplein, was surprised—she'd expected Diela to raise her voice here.

Instead, Diela spoke calmly with subdued energy.

"I'll acknowledge Duplein's reputation isn't what it was. But calling us toothless may be your arrogance speaking."

Pushing up from the table, her eyes gleamed sharply.

"Should Duplein's power return, prepare to lose an arm to those teeth."

"..."

"The name Renuel Marquisate is now firmly etched into Diela Catherine Duplein's memory—remember that."

While acknowledging their decline, the young lioness's piercing gaze radiated palpable intensity.

Though Duplein was already staggering, Diela's spirit made it seem she might rise again to tear out Renuel's throat.

What power could a nearly ruined house—losing its head, proper heir, territories and privileges—possibly wield?

Yet watching Diela, one felt this wounded lion might someday rise again.

Tricia, ready to mock, instead swallowed dryly at Diela's aura.

A trickle of cold sweat down her cheek was the finishing touch.

- Thud

Passing through Elfontain Hall's gates, Diela gazed at the sunny sky.

Twirling her golden hair tips with visible irritation made surrounding ladies retreat nervously.

"Sigh..."

Diela exhaled wearily, shielding sunlight with her hand.

'What a mess. It's worse with sister gone.'

Aiselin would return soon from the north with Derek.

What would she think finding no seat left at the Rosea Salon's top table? The thought unsettled Diela.

'I miss Derek too...'

Diela felt strangely abandoned.

Endless tasks, no visible solutions, only worsening situations.

This development wouldn't help Derek either.

The Rosea Salon's top three all had ties to Derek—either as students or connections.

But with Duplein displaced, whoever replaced them likely lacked such connections.

'He's been striving for a title—this is bad.'

To claim Duplein's seat required family prestige and extraordinary distinction.

Few in Evelstain's current society could realistically aim so high.

If Lady Tricia took that seat, the consequences for Derek were unpredictable.

'The chance of someone favorable to Derek taking that seat is vanishingly slim...'

Everything seemed unfavorable lately.

"Yesterday Lady Sirine called me Aiselin unnie again. The eighth time now. She says it so naturally—my heart swells... What is this feeling? Love...?"

"..."

Aiselin radiated stray-cat-collector energy, clearly delighting in earning lost Lady Sirine's trust.

Her proud recounting the morning after left Derek—still groggy—scratching his bedhead with a sigh.

"Oh dear... Did I come too early? I wanted to tell someone, but you're the only one I can share this with..."

"No, it's fine. I should get up anyway—we need to discuss schedules."

Derek shook his head and opened his private quarters'door, inviting Aiselin in before stretching.

Sitting opposite her at the table, he prepared tea while speaking.

"Let's return to Evelstain next week."

"...Really?"

"Yes. Lady Sirine hasn't attacked anyone from bloodlust in weeks. Once basic instinct control is established, there's little left for me to teach magically."

As Derek's tea skills were mediocre, Aiselin naturally took over preparation.

Though maids could handle this, since her family's fall Aiselin often rolled up her sleeves herself.

Derek had repeatedly said this wasn't necessary for a commoner, but Aiselin ignored him.

"We'll need to bring her to debut in Evelstain's society."

"But if Noir's blood erupts again, it could be disastrous."

"That's why we must stay vigilant. Fortunately, I'll remain in Evelstain as a mercenary, and you frequent those circles—we can keep watch."

Derek smoothed his bedhead while Aiselin chuckled.

"...Problem?"

"No. You're always so impeccably groomed—seeing you so relaxed feels refreshing."

"Occupational necessity when dealing with nobles. As a mercenary, I often look far worse."

During multi-day hunts with Pellin, going days without bathing or changing clothes was common.

This disheveled state hardly warranted criticism.

"Had Duplein remained powerful, you wouldn't be so casual with me."

"I still maintain proper noble etiquette. My attitude doesn't shift with family prestige."

"I disagree. I feel much closer to you now. Subconsciously, you sense our status gap has narrowed—it shows."

"My apologies if I've offended you."

"No, I'm pleased. Sometimes falling has its benefits."

Her positivity seemed excessive, but maintaining such perspective during crisis was valuable.

Derek nodded politely.

"Derek..."

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

"...?"

Sipping tea, Derek could only look at Aiselin in confusion.

"Fine. Before her debut, showing Sirine Evelstain's nobility isn't a bad idea. Permission granted."

As usual, Lord Melberot barely glanced at those reporting.

Maintaining his arrogant posture while gazing out windows, he listened halfheartedly.

Aiselin and Derek updated Sirine's progress, confirming readiness for Evelstain.

Risks remained, but manageable with their supervision.

"Lady Sirine's debut will create a sensation. She's that remarkable."

"Compliments are welcome, but attention doesn't always bring good results."

"That's... true..."

Knowing Evelstain's social storms, Aiselin couldn't argue.

"Visit Rodelen Territory en route. Passing through Beltus Duchy makes it convenient."

Rodelen would become Derek's territory if granted a title.

Its small size—mostly vineyards—offered little beyond good wine.

Still, Derek would govern it.

"The estate is dilapidated, but be grateful it exists at all. I've informed the staff of your arrival—transition should be smooth. The real issue is the title itself."

Melberot crossed his legs and sighed.

"Central nobles responded tepidly as expected, but the Beltus Grand Duke of the southwestern continent voiced opposition."

While Duplein and Belmierd wouldn't oppose Derek's title, Beltus differed.

Rodelen bordered Beltus territory—they'd react sensitively.

"I'll handle this, but another issue remains—your orphan status."

Melberot struck directly.

Aiselin started, but Derek remained unfazed—it was simply fact.

"Claiming nobility requires family. You lack even a surname, let alone connections."

"That impedes receiving a title?"

"Naturally. Without meeting formal requirements, procedures can't proceed."

This was an era of lineage societies. Family status was crucial for titles.

Magical bloodlines, political stability, duty succession, economic foundations, education, trustworthiness—all required examining one's family.

Thus, orphans like Derek joining closed noble circles was nearly impossible.

"They won't scrutinize a minor border barony excessively, but minimum formalities must be met."

"Should I choose a surname?"

"That alone won't suffice."

While Sirine's debut would bomb Evelstain's society, reality proved even more explosive.

An even greater bomb seemed poised to drop.

"Find a suitable partner. Even formally—establish a family presence to prove belonging."

─It was Derek's marriage talks.

Aiselin's eyes widened like full moons upon hearing this.

Sweating profusely, she looked at Derek—now deep in thought while stroking his chin.

"..."

Aiselin had never seen Derek sweat before.

Who knew what would happen when this news reached Evelstain?

Unfortunately, they were scheduled to depart next week.