Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 125: Characters (6)

The atmosphere in the Grand Duke Beltus’s office was unsettling.

When Denise opened the door and entered, a characteristic dimness had already settled over the floor.

The Grand Duke, who was listening to the reports of his eldest son, Robenalt, and the head butler, Alex, lifted his gaze toward the open door and gave a benevolent smile.

“You’ve come, Denise. It must have been exhausting to travel all the way to the Ravenclaw territory.”

The smile was so warm and welcoming that, to an outsider, the family might have seemed as harmonious as the Duplains or the Belmierds.

However, the expressions of Robenalt and Alex, who were watching the duke, were tense.

After so many years serving the cunning patriarch, both knew very well that his expression should never be taken at face value.

Of course, Denise was no different.

She lowered the hem of her dress, bowed her head gracefully, and greeted him.

“Thank you for your warm welcome, Father.”

“Of course I must receive you well. You are the most intelligent, quick, and capable person in all matters of our Beltus family. Moreover, you are my beloved daughter, so it seems I have been blessed with good offspring.”

“You flatter me too much.”

Although it might have been uncomfortable for Robenalt, the eldest son, to hear that Denise was the best, no one dared to comment.

Robenalt knew. He was weak by nature, lacked ambition, and was not fit to be the head of the family.

He held the position of heir only because he was the firstborn, but he accepted with resignation that one day he would hand the position over to Denise.

However, Denise had no interest in the family’s power; on the contrary, she openly acknowledged Robenalt’s right of succession.

“Brother Robenalt, it’s been a while.”

“Yes.”

He replied quietly, without raising his gaze.

Denise took a deep breath.

The duke, sitting elegantly behind his desk and stroking his arm, was a fox tainted by greed for power.

To him, the southwest of the continent was nothing more than a great chessboard, and every human under the name of Beltus was a piece to be moved at his whim.

In that grand game, any piece that disobeyed had to be eliminated. They weren’t just useless—if not removed quickly, they could turn into daggers aimed at his throat.

Purging was essential, and justification could always be invented.

The Grand Duke Beltus was a man capable of using even his own family as tools to preserve his power.

He was entirely different from Duke Duplain—strong but protective of his kin—or from the kind and jovial Count Belmierd.

And yet, he loved his family too.

There is no better chain to bind someone than the bond of blood.

“Denise, I have great expectations for you. And you have always fulfilled them. You have contributed greatly to the Beltus house at critical moments in the social circles of Ebelstein.”

“…”

“My beloved daughter Denise, this unworthy father will always be in your debt.”

And under the guise of that familial love, he wrapped her in his web like a spider, using her as a convenient piece.

Denise had no words to refute him.

This mansion, her luxurious life, the looks of respect—all came from the prestige of the Beltus family.

Therefore, betrayal was not permitted.

A fleeting bond, a teacher from the slums with whom she shared a faint connection—to turn her eyes from her family’s greatness for that would be foolish. It was a matter of reason, not morality.

Besides, Dereck had said it himself many times.

“If you want to betray me, do it.”

He knew Denise’s circumstances well.

He knew that betraying Beltus carelessly would be too risky for her position.

So he had told her that if she had to do it, she should do it completely.

How magnanimous he was. His kindness should not be mistaken for weakness.

Denise was the sharpest and most perceptive in the family, and she always made the right decisions. She might err in form, but never in what was advantageous.

“As ordered, I visited the Ravenclaw domain. Being a newly established territory, it still has many rough edges; its organizational structure isn’t entirely solid. That’s understandable—they must have had too many concerns when founding the Ravenclaw Training Center.”

Then Denise took a breath and continued.

“However, in the important aspects, Baron Ravenclaw has managed everything with precision. The military system is efficient, public order is well controlled, and they seem to have measures for natural disasters. At first glance, there are no obvious weaknesses to exploit.”

Having said that, she paused.

She couldn’t show nervousness. A single drop of sweat would be enough for that fox to smell something unusual.

As always, she spoke naturally, as if fulfilling a routine report.

In truth, Denise knew the Ravenclaw domain was full of weak points.

No matter how meticulous Dereck was, a new territory couldn’t be managed perfectly.

She had thought of at least a dozen ways to destabilize it—manipulating public opinion, staging false disasters, fabricating incidents—there were endless strategies to undermine his authority.

Even so, Denise stayed silent.

It was the most foolish decision she had made since entering noble society.

Why tip the scales in favor of a mere baron from the suburbs, betraying Beltus, who held the true power?

A fleeting bond. A teacher who taught her magic. Nothing more.

The Grand Duke Beltus, on the other hand, was a cold, calculating man who would not hesitate to eliminate any rebellious piece.

‘…’

A stupid decision. Why did she make it?

She tried to find a logical reason but couldn’t.

Dereck Lydorf Ravenclaw was only a minor provincial noble.

But he was diligent, dedicated to his training, striving to improve, ambitious, consistent, productive.

That was all.

And yet—why couldn’t she turn her back on him?

— Lady Denise, you are much more valuable than you think.

A dusty underground storage room.

Those words, spoken by that indifferent man, had pierced the heart of Denise, who had lived a life of being used and exploited.

“I see…”

She murmured, lowering her gaze.

Unlike her, who lived under the name of Beltus, he was trying to free himself from his fate without hesitation.

What weighed her down was merely a powerful family.

What weighed him down was the burden of an entire lineage and nobility.

And seeing him break those chains without fear—perhaps that had influenced her more than she realized.

A teacher passes down knowledge.

A mentor passes down the meaning of life.

Without realizing it, Denise had learned about life from Dereck.

So what then?

Did that justify protecting him?

Once something is taught, it’s enough to remember it and move on.

And yet, why did she want to stand by his side?

That man, hardworking but insignificant—could he really be worth more than the Beltus family?

A fleeting bond—how much could it be worth?

The most trusted daughter of the great Beltus family—why would she risk her authority?

[At those words, Lord Robain wept and said over and over, “I love you, Tracy. You are the only meaning left in my empty life.” It was not the will of my family nor the difference in status that made me leave you…]

Suddenly, the lines she had once written with her own pen pierced her heart.

Her pupils trembled.

Lord Robain was only a character in a story.

But, whether she liked it or not, characters often reflect the will of the one holding the pen.

Lord Robain, who let go of his beloved Tracy because of the chains of nobility, resembled her far too much.

Perhaps, without realizing it, Denise had woven her own desire to escape the family’s yoke into that story.

And, on a moonlit night, a white-haired mercenary reading the book in silence might have closed it, looked up at the moon, and thought.

Maybe, upon reading those passages, you understood where Denise’s self-criticism came from.

That’s why you might have read those words seriously, and that’s why you allowed her to betray you.

That’s why, when she walked away, her back seemed free of regret.

Everything toppled like dominoes within Denise’s heart.

She could no longer betray Dereck.

Even if he himself said it was fine, even if he accepted facing Beltus’s will.

None of that mattered.

It wasn’t Beltus’s choice. It was her own.

And now, she had to accept the consequences.

“So I believe I’ll need a little more time. To find the safest way to crush the Ravenclaw territory, I’ll need to carefully study a few cracks…”

“I see.”

Denise tried to make sure her words didn’t raise suspicion, but the duke interrupted her.

At that moment, she felt something strange.

She tried to hide it, but the smallest flicker of emotion opened a crack.

And the Grand Duke Beltus was someone who never overlooked a crack—no matter how small.

“Father…?”

At some point, the warm and familiar smile had vanished.

The duke’s face was as cold as marble.

Butler Alex and Robenalt already had completely stiff expressions.

They had noticed something was wrong.

When Denise lifted her gaze, she saw that the duke was looking at her with a frozen stare.

*

“You’re planning to attack Beltus.”

Baroness Pheline, lying in the guest room and still unable to overcome her hangover, barely lifted her head.

Dereck, who had come to see her early in the morning, placed some snacks on the table to ease her discomfort and sat in a corner.

“Ugh… Ugh…”

“…”

“What are you talking about…? Ugh… the hangover…”

“Did you drink again last night?”

“Even if this is a country noble’s house, the atmosphere here is great. They’ve got alcohols you can’t even find in taverns or back alleys…”

“And you drank everything that was sent as gifts for the border nobles?”

“You don’t even like to drink anyway. Someone like me, who knows how to appreciate the flavor, should handle it. That way, the liquor will be happier.”

Pheline raised her face, still marked with drool, sat up in bed, disheveled and yawning with a sigh.

Her clothes were so messy that any stranger would have been embarrassed, but neither she nor Dereck cared.

They had treated each other for years with the rough familiarity of two people long accustomed to ignoring one another.

“By the way, attacking Beltus. Even I, who’s already sick of the noble world, have heard that name plenty of times. They’re the kind of people who do whatever they want and live large, right?”

“Yes. I’m thinking of attacking them.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve got your reasons, Dereck. But why are you telling me this?”

“I want to ask for help—from you and the Beldern Mercenary Corps.”

Pheline burped softly and brought a hand to her temples.

“Ugh… What? Our help?”

“You don’t want to?”

“Do I look like the kind of woman who’d turn down a chance to legally beat up nobles?”

“I knew you’d say that.”

Pheline grinned broadly and sought confirmation.

“So, what’s your plan?”

“I’m going to openly strike at the Beltus territory. The Ravenclaw Barony’s military strength is weak, so I plan to gather reinforcements from various places. The Beldern Corps will be one of them.”

“As long as you pay old Jayden well, he’ll help you with anything. But tell me, will there really be other forces willing to oppose a family as powerful as Beltus?”

“I plan to gain support from Belmierd and form an alliance with the Viscounty of Renouel.”

“Wow, you’re taking this more seriously than I thought. But hey—I don’t know much about noble stuff, don’t you need some kind of reason or justification to attack other nobles?”

It was a sharp observation. But Dereck had already anticipated that.

“We’ll set a trap for them. We’ll create the justification needed to unite the nobles and strike Beltus.”

“That’s your part, but what matters is the real reason. Why do you want to hit Beltus when they haven’t done anything to you?”

Not the public reason—the true one.

Pheline’s words were coarse, but always direct.

After all, she had spent her entire life on the battlefield, thinking only in practical terms.

“If I stay still, Beltus will be the one to strike first.”

Dereck answered in his own way.

“The Beltus family hasn’t done anything particularly bad—at least not yet.”

They had tried to ambush Pheline, but failed, and no physical evidence remained.

Even so, it couldn’t be taken lightly. Anticipating them was only natural.

“They probably don’t hate me personally, and even if they’re planning something, nothing’s been revealed yet. In public, they maintain a polite attitude. Their dignity remains intact, and their lineage is still solid.”

“…”

“But you know me, Pheline—I’m not the type to sit still and wait for the blow to come.”

Dereck spoke with a cold look while still seated.

Pheline watched him, her expression unreadable.

“I don’t know much about nobles, but anyone who’s rolled around the mercenary world knows that waiting until the enemy cuts your throat is pure stupidity. The one who draws their sword first gains the advantage, and the one who pulls the bowstring earlier wins.”

“…”

“I won’t offer my neck just because the enemy hasn’t bared their fangs yet. That’s the only reason I’m attacking Beltus. Is that really so hard to understand?”

It was a preemptive strike against someone who hadn’t even revealed their true intentions.

A decision that hovered between self-defense and malice.

How should one judge his actions?

Rigid nobles, lovers of propriety, would call it reckless and try to stop him.

“Hard to understand? No, it’s perfect.”

Pheline, however, let out a laugh so wide it looked like the corners of her mouth might reach her ears.

That was just how she was—a woman who, at the prospect of a fight, smiled with genuine delight.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelCet