Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 96

"Ah! If gods exist, I wish to ask! Why have you bestowed upon me such cruel fate! Why must you make me love a princess from an enemy nation, forcing me to live with this burning heart! Though all imperial glory belongs to me and countless kneel before me, she alone refuses to even glance my way!"

"Rather than embracing this cruel fate, I shall relinquish all glory and turn to her. A life without her holds no meaning—I would even abandon the power to command this world!"

The operas at Kalimford Theater were renowned spectacles.

In her childhood, holding Countess Belmiere's hand while toddling into the theater, young Elente would become utterly absorbed watching the actors'passionate performances.

Though barely ten years old—far too young to grasp the artistic merits—the Countess had wanted her to experience high society's cultural performances early.

Contrary to adult concerns, Elente became completely immersed in the actors'vocal techniques and dialogue, losing herself in the stage production <Prince Rodian's Love>.

The tragic romance of Prince Rodian, who fell for a princess from an enemy nation, vividly conveyed the playwright's message about human anguish and love's sublimity.

The final scene unfolded against a cliffside sunset backdrop.

As the prince relinquished all royal authority to embrace Princess Iriana, the curtain fell while extolling love's noble value.

When the orchestra's mournful music concluded the performance, the aristocratic audience rose in tearful applause.

The Countess applauded the beautiful, sublime tale while standing, and little Elente clapped her tiny hands in imitation.

Exiting Kalimford Theater at dusk, Countess Belmiere asked:

"A splendid performance, wasn't it? What did you think, Elente?"

"The acting was truly impressive. The orchestra's skill surpassed even my music lessons—such rich harmonies."

Even as a child, Elente possessed remarkable artistic sensitivity, effortlessly articulating her impressions.

"But... I couldn't empathize with the characters."

"Oh? I found Prince Rodian's poignant love story quite beautiful..."

"A prince possesses... all the world's power, doesn't he?"

Though too young to fully comprehend imperial authority, she intuitively sensed its magnitude.

Elente's indifferent expression didn't falter as she continued:

"With such immense power... to be swayed by fleeting emotions..."

The prince's ultimate choice—abandoning power for Princess Iriana—struck Elente as utterly incomprehensible.

Having grown up entangled in noble society, she understood power's sublime value better than anyone.

From childhood, Elente had loved power.

Though occasionally romanticizing love's nobility from fairy tales, her heart ultimately cherished only the will to wield authority.

She had never loved a person in her life.

Thus, her emotions naturally gravitated toward power—hardly surprising.

'Leonard of House Belmiere—must be the youngest son Elente mentioned.'

After prolonged absence under the pretense of pilgrimage, he had recently returned.

For unknown reasons, this Belmiere scion had sent Derek a personal letter.

Though Derek opened it, the contents proved underwhelming—merely requesting a meeting at Belmiere Manor.

"..."

Derek hesitated.

Though Leonard appeared a pious man, rumors painted him as a political schemer.

Given Elente's explicit warnings, Derek had no desire for entanglement.

'Even as a Belmiere son, meeting seems unnecessary.'

Ignoring noble correspondence breached etiquette, but Derek had perfect justification to decline politely.

"Use thicker beams for the central second-floor columns! Insulation can wait—prioritize brickwork!"

Amidst the construction site, a peculiar figure directed burly workers.

Aiselin Eleanor Duplein—the Ducal House's treasured daughter and Rosea Salon's noble flower—wore safety gear over her frilly dress while supervising.

The surreal sight resembled an elephant riding a bicycle.

"Group Two takes break! Group Three resumes foundation work immediately after! Remember—water station's set up! Dizzy workers hydrate promptly!"

Despite late spring heat, Aiselin rolled up her delicate sleeves, commanding rough laborers with natural authority.

"Mr. Derek, rest in the office if tired! Dormitory construction's on track—no major decisions need your approval now!"

"No need. I was just reading correspondence."

"Letters? Oh... from House Belmiere?"

"Yes. Nothing important."

Crumpling the unwanted letter into his pocket, Derek thought:

'Grateful for the invitation, but Ravenclaw Barony's historic construction leaves no time for visits.'

The estate's expansion had grown so massive that the classroom and dormitory wings now dwarfed the main residence.

"...Pretty sure this was my baronial mansion... strange..."

"Hmm?"

"Nevermind. Let's inspect the lecture halls."

"Yes!"

Aiselin's energetic response radiated unprecedented vitality.

Busy times indeed.

- Caw! Caw!

Sunset painted the sky crimson.

An era faded like the dying light.

House Duplein's once-unshakable dominance now teetered on collapse.

"This territorial assembly stripped Duplein's outer trade routes, southeastern granaries, and northern villages. Our domain shrinks below one-third of its peak."

Raeg—last remaining Duplein son—spoke solemnly at the hillside cemetery.

Before him stood tombstones for patriarch Raymond Oswald Duplein and Valerian.

Their pristine condition betrayed recent interments.

Diela sat quietly, bathed in sunset's watercolor hues.

When elongated shadows touched her feet, she rose steadily.

"I failed you, Diela."

"..."

"While this foolish brother lay bedridden, my precious sisters fought the world alone."

Raeg's voice broke as tears threatened.

Aiselin and Diela had endured every humiliation to salvage their house—a fact haunting Raeg with shame.

Yet overwhelming helplessness consumed him.

The once-ambitious heir who challenged the heavens had vanished.

"I tried speaking at assemblies after recovering... but accomplished nothing."

"..."

"Aiselin works tirelessly to raise funds while I... just suffer insults. Pathetic... disgraceful..."

Raeg's tearful eyes mirrored the crimson sky.

"I'm unfit to lead this house. My limits... end here."

No individual could resist a fading era.

With Duplein's influence and noble trust shattered, Raeg's personal efforts were doomed.

Diela didn't blame him.

Rising gracefully, she spoke with quiet determination:

"I've prepared myself. Perhaps House Duplein... truly faces irreversible collapse. Maybe no individual can change this tide."

Though Raeg's despair pained her, Diela refused to yield.

Yet maintaining resolve proved difficult.

'Can any fallen noble house truly recover?'

Even diligent Aiselin might secretly share this thought—that they merely delayed the inevitable.

Diela struggled against rising emptiness.

The fading sunset seemed unbearably poignant.

An era ended.

Yet resistance continued—because Aiselin resisted.

While she endured, Diela would stand firm.

This was basic courtesy toward Aiselin, who bore their misfortunes.

A captain commanding a sinking ship must shoulder such fate.

Thus, for Aiselin's sake, Diela resolved to endure.

──Unfortunately, Aiselin hadn't considered house restoration at all.

"The Rosea Salon investment seminar secured substantial funding! We can even expand the lecture hall!"

"...What?"

"Many nobles recognized Ravenclaw Academy's profitability. Guaranteed returns had them lining up to invest!"

Aiselin had leveraged noble connections to raise capital.

"We'll need ballrooms and dueling grounds—let's build a proper auditorium!"

"..."

"Administrative staff too. You can't teach everything alone—we'll hire assistants."

"That scale of funding exists?"

"Frankly, we could expand gardens and erect proper gates. Even upgrade teaching materials."

As Aiselin scribbled calculations, Derek gaped before sitting at his desk.

"..."

"Noble ladies open purses easily—they won't mind. Projected profits increase 25%—we can borrow against that for interior upgrades."

"Isn't the timeline tight?"

"Pre-hired the workforce. But you should personally select teaching assistants. Head Butler Delbritton helped organize documents—quite skilled!"

Progress advanced at breakneck speed.

Even Derek hadn't anticipated Aiselin's executive prowess.

Her sparkling eyes then delivered the coup de grâce:

"Business... is unexpectedly fun...!!!"

"..."

"I think... I'm getting addicted..."

Her euphoric expression suggested enlightenment.

The greenhouse flower who once discussed metaphysics now discovered practical academia's thrill.

Those who've experienced such epiphany know—no drug rivals that exhilaration.

Derek thought:

'When profits come... allocate generously to House Duplein...'

"About the opening—before formal classes, why not have your former students host Q&A sessions?"

Ideas kept flowing.

"Your apprentices are all renowned. I'll ask Diela. If Lady Denise or Lady Elente attend—their fame alone would boost credibility. Word spreads faster."

"Would Beltus or Belmiere ladies readily visit... although..."

Considering how Lady Denise visited for Derek's sake and Elente occasionally sought magical advice, refusals seemed unlikely.

"The idea has merit."

"Right?! Proper etiquette requires gifts—but they'll surely accept if you appear personally!"

As Aiselin brainstormed gift lists, her drive surpassed even royal bureaucrats'.

Though raised as a sheltered noble flower, she possessed remarkable strategic talent.

Human potential often withers in unsuitable environments.

Whether Aiselin's situation constituted misfortune or luck remained ambiguous.

"Everything's prepared during your absence. Gifts for House Belmiere are loaded—Head Butler Delbritton handled it."

Formally inviting noble ladies required proper protocols—hence Derek's visit to Belmiere Manor.

"Duke Beltus respects you—expect warm reception."

"Just exchanging pleasantries before making requests—nothing complicated. Oversee construction in my absence."

"Leave it to me, Mr. Derek!"

Though Derek had declined Leonard's invitation, circumstances now compelled the visit.

The journey to Belmiere Territory—Derek's first official visit despite previous trips to Elente's Evelstein residence.

Hoping for safe travels, Derek boarded the carriage, gazing back at his estate.

- Clang! Clang!

- Screech!

Amidst construction chaos, the tiny mansion came into view.

Aiselin's expanded plans had doubled the project scale.

Derek's personal residence now seemed buried within the site.

'This... is my mansion... right...?'

He muttered familiar words.

Now—to Belmiere Manor.