Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 89

Conversing with a drunkard is always a headache.

But it's unavoidable. When you frequent slums or tavern streets, stumbling across people swaying from intoxication becomes commonplace.

Truthfully, drowning sorrows with a few drinks isn't particularly strange when living through harsh realities.

Thus, Derek harbored no particular aversion to dealing with drunks.

"This Lynus... *hic*... *sigh*... I don't make empty promises... I swear on my name I'll repay you, Deril... Just one favor... *gag*..."

"It's Derek, not Deril."

"Ahaha, look at me. Right. Denin."

"..."

Acting as if they were old friends, Lynus slung an arm around Derek's shoulders while raising his beer mug again.

His lanky frame wasn't particularly heavy, but Derek wished this mysterious noble would just get to the point.

"Derek."

After Lynus drunkenly rambled before collapsing onto the bar counter again, Jayden—who'd been watching stone-faced from behind the counter—approached to whisper:

"He's definitely no ordinary man."

"Really? Looks like just another drunk to me."

"He introduced himself as Lynus, right? In Evelstein's noble circles, there's only one person by that name."

Jayden maintained connections with various clients, often memorizing prominent noble house members.

If Jayden recognized him, he was undoubtedly significant.

"Lynus—the disinherited eldest son of House Belmiere."

"...What? House Belmiere?"

The revelation momentarily stunned Derek, but recalling House Belmiere's circumstances made things more complicated.

Lynus Rugel Belmiere might have once carried authority as heir to the Belmiere Count Family, but now he was infamous as a wastrel drowning in debauchery.

People said the otherwise flawless Border Count lacked fortune in heirs.

Were it not for Elente's level-headedness, House Belmiere's lineage would be truly pitiable.

And the source of such rumors was this very wastrel sprawled beside Derek.

Once a sharp-eyed intellectual during heir education, Lynus now wandered taverns with unkempt hair and scraggly beard, reeking of sweat and liquor, his nails crusted with grime.

Derek studied him curiously before asking Jayden:

"I heard the Belmiere heir left Evelstein?"

The reply came not from Jayden but:

"A man's life flows like the wind—here today, gone tomorrow. *gag*..."

"You heard that?"

"My ears are sharp. I can detect card cheats just by the shuffling."

"My apologies if I offended."

"None taken! Our Lord Denim has questions—ask away! Wait, was it Deril...? Right, Derek."

Boisterously ordering another beer, Lynus blearily draped an arm over Derek.

"Bah! Names mean nothing between men sharing drinks—that's true companionship!"

"What favor did you need from me?"

"Well... hard to say right now."

"...?"

What nonsense was this?

As Derek stared incredulously, Lynus belched before continuing:

"I've got principles. Won't leave you empty-handed."

"..."

"Don't trust me, eh? Can't blame you—a wastrel running bar tabs hardly inspires confidence. Don't worry—payment upfront."

Lynus took another swig before slapping Derek's shoulder amiably.

"Upfront payment removes most objections. Though I'd still need to hear the request details."

"Payment's not the issue... it's not about money."

"...What?"

Derek eyed Lynus warily as the drunkard chuckled before faceplanting onto the counter.

"*hic* So drunk~ *gag* *sigh*..."

"...What if I take the title and ignore your request?"

"Then I misjudged my bet. Simple, no?"

"..."

As Lynus said—he wasn't stupid.

This overwhelmingly favorable offer suggested strong confidence that Derek would comply.

And that request was—

"Elente will die if left alone."

"..."

"Help her keep the heir position."

Whatever House Belmiere's circumstances, this disgraced heir anticipated future turmoil.

Derek held his breath.

Despite intoxication, Lynus's expression hardened when mentioning Elente.

"That happened in the north? I knew Derek was reckless, but to that extent..."

Three figures gathered in a corner of Aiselin's Evelstein noble district garden.

The hostess Aiselin, her sister Diela, and their unofficial younger sister Siern.

"Yes. But Lord Melberot provided ample funds. Servants'wages won't be delayed."

"That's... fortunate, but..."

Diela looked oddly deflated—surprising given her usual stern demeanor. She only relaxed like this around Aiselin.

"I didn't expect Lady Siern to come too..."

"Ahaha..."

Siern—the icy princess of House Rochester with feral tendencies—now slept soundly in Aiselin's lap.

Diela and Siern.

Evelstein nobles would gawk at these untamable girls who only softened for Derek and Aiselin.

Even the arrogant Lady Trisha retreated from Aiselin flanked by them.

"I should've slapped that insolent Trisha more..."

Diela calmed herself with tea, her presence comforting Aiselin like returning home.

"What were you doing at the salon after hours? With Lady Denise and Lady Elente..."

"Ah... I haven't told you. There was news worth sharing at the salon..."

"News? Since when do you run errands delivering gossip?"

Diela's heart ached seeing Aiselin—once sought after by all—now bustling about.

"Derek is getting married."

"Pfft—!"

The tea never reached her throat.

"D-Did I hear wrong...?"

Aiselin's casual bombshell left Diela reeling.

"To Pellin, an archer from Velderun Mercenary Group..."

"Him? Derek? Dating? Marriage?"

The Derek she knew was magic-obsessed.

While he might desire companionship, this abrupt decision shocked her.

Despite being common-born, he mingled effortlessly with nobles like Aiselin, Elente, and Denise—making a slum-born mercenary seem an improbable match.

Strangely, this thought reassured her—though she couldn't fathom why.

"..."

Aiselin wouldn't joke like this.

Diela's trembling hands clutched her empty cup as she studied Aiselin's evasive expression.

Aiselin hesitated to reveal the marriage was merely for Derek's barony—though family like Diela deserved honesty.

But Derek insisted secrecy—the fewer knowing this contractual marriage's nature, the better.

Especially among gossip-prone nobles.

'Derek... married to magic... right?'

The absurd thought brought no comfort.

Diela stood abruptly.

"I... should go. Sister."

"D-Diela... You look pale..."

"The mercenary's name... Pellin?"

"Why? You're not going to—"

Diela left without answering, leaving Aiselin anxious.

- zzz

Only Siern slept peacefully in Aiselin's lap.

- Thunk!

- Crack! Splat!

- Screech!

An arrow pierced the goblin's eye.

After spasming violently, the creature collapsed lifeless.

- Crunch, crunch

- Splurch!

The petite mercenary in a cloak—her platinum hair tied back—retrieved her arrow from the corpse.

Goblins littered the area—all slain by her.

"Done here early. Might grab mead at Beldern's Tear after payment~"

Stretching, Pellin headed toward Evelstein's gates.

She was Derek's official wife—a nauseating title, but the pay was good.

"♪♬♪"

She couldn't possibly know yet.

What it truly meant to hold the hand of the magic tutor that Houses Duplein, Beltus, and Belmiere had fought over.

All that awaited her was trial after trial.