Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 151: The Youngest Disciple (3)

Although she had in front of her a cup of tea with a strong aroma of rosemary leaves, Trisha felt not even the slightest intention of bringing it to her lips.

Seeing that man sitting in front of her made her want to down cold water in a single gulp instead of excellent-quality tea.

However, she could not show such an unrefined behavior, so she held back, although she could not avoid letting a tired expression slip out.

Just by looking at him, she felt as if she aged ten years.

“I knew that Lady Trisha does not exactly consider me someone comfortable.”

The one who took the initiative first was Dereck.

Without elaborate greetings or phrases to break the ice; he simply spoke as he was, with his arms crossed.

Even nobles with a decent title treated a distinguished young lady like Trisha with extreme delicacy when meeting her, but this man did not show even a trace of that caution.

It was not as if people like him did not exist—rural peripheral nobles often spoke in such a direct manner. But Trisha was not very fond of that style.

Even so, no matter how arrogant or capricious she was, Trisha was the daughter of an important noble family.

She had at least the minimum training in etiquette and conversation, so replying even to someone like Dereck was something natural for her.

“Of course, I can’t say I’m completely comfortable. Lately your name has gained too much renown… how could I treat you casually? The influence of Lord Ravenclaw is such that…”

That Trisha spoke of “treating him comfortably” had a meaning—she usually showed contempt toward those she considered below her.

When she found someone weak, she crushed them without hesitation to place herself above.

Arrogant and authoritarian to the core. Dereck had already seen that side of Trisha several times.

And from Trisha’s perspective, pretending modesty before someone to whom she had already shown all her worst facets also felt somewhat absurd.

If she was going to be exposed anyway, she preferred to speak frankly.

“…Fine. I will admit what I must admit. Baron Ravenclaw is not someone I can treat lightly.”

Even though Dereck’s title was limited to baron, his influence in Ebelstein’s society was something no one could ignore.

He had even restored the lost dignity of the Duplain, whom everyone thought doomed to disappear.

Political power was not something he lacked.

Of course—so what?

Even so, Trisha was still the only daughter of Count Renuel.

Even if Dereck was at his peak, she had enough status to keep her head raised.

She would not let herself be intimidated. With that thought, Trisha straightened again and let out a little laugh.

“You may consider it a great honor. I, Trisha, do not easily acknowledge anyone. I hope Lord Ravenclaw appreciates that properly.”

“Yes. Very grateful.”

“Ugh…”

But Dereck never allowed himself to be dragged by Trisha’s rhythm.

When someone spoke to her like that, normally they reacted with anger or lowered their head.

But he showed no emotion.

And that made Trisha feel as if she were a child performing antics before an adult.

In the end, she was the one who ended up frowning and sighing.

“Every time I see you, I feel that Baron Ravenclaw does not care much about me.”

“If Lady Trisha already feels burdened by me, what can I do?”

“Well… you’re not wrong… haaa…”

Trisha let her shoulders drop and sighed deeply.

Then, looking at the hand holding her feather-decorated fan, she murmured in a voice that slipped downward.

“I will tell you directly.”

In this brief exchange, she had understood something.

In front of such an impenetrable man, speaking indirectly or attempting mind games was completely meaningless.

He was a mercenary who had always lived in the practical world; he was immune to such subtleties.

So only speaking clearly remained.

“I want to become Lord Dereck’s disciple.”

It was a huge gamble for Trisha.

She pushed the cup aside, set down the fan, removed her gloves and tossed them onto the table. Then she gripped her knees tightly.

Dereck, who was about to take a sip of the rosemary tea, lifted his eyes slightly, surprised.

It seemed he did not expect her to retreat so far in posture.

“Are you interested in magic?”

“No. I am not especially talented, nor do I have great ambitions.”

“…Then, why do you want to enter as a disciple?”

“Because by being Lord Dereck’s disciple, I can draw closer to secular power.”

Too honest.

Normally one would say something like “I want to become a great mage.”

But Trisha lowered her gaze and affirmed it with complete seriousness.

That caught Dereck by surprise.

He did not expect Trisha to confess so openly such a mundane motive.

But that did not mean it was the correct answer.

Dereck only taught those who were worth teaching.

Someone who did not seek knowledge but only power did not interest him in the slightest.

Even so, it was the only card Trisha had.

“…”

Trisha squeezed her eyes shut.

The first person who came to mind was Aiselin, whose kindness as vast as the sea had managed to move her.

Before her, Trisha had broken internally.

That was a true noble lady—elegant, elevated, pure.

How could Trisha Lenuel even compare herself to the brilliance of a woman like Aiselin of the Duplain?

The answer was impossible to speak.

Even Ellen of Count Belmierd had fallen into inferiority before Aiselin.

Trisha felt envy toward Ellen.

Inferiority only arises among people of similar level.

But before a flower so high she could not even imagine touching it—there was no inferiority, only longing.

“To be honest… I am an ambiguous person.”

In a heavy atmosphere, Trisha confessed.

“…”

“In magic, I’m better than commoners, but not enough to stand out in studies, same. In status, I’m above certain lesser nobles, but not high enough to compete with the true elite. I am… well, simply like that. Ohoho.”

The atmosphere turned strange; so Trisha only laughed awkwardly.

“…”

Dereck, however, did not burst out laughing or anything like that upon seeing Trisha in that state.

Regardless, he was a man with whom one could not speak comfortably.

“That’s… all.”

She murmured.

Trisha’s mother was Countess Rodelia, a heroine who had killed more dark mages than anyone in the southwest of the continent.

Her father was Hutton, a first-class merchant who had fled his rural home without a cent and built a huge company on his own.

Trisha had lived her whole life between those two extraordinary beings, while she herself was just an ordinary person.

She had not been born with the elegant natural dignity of a noble daughter like Aiselin.

Nor did she possess ruling aptitude like Ellen.

She was not cunning or calculating like Denise.

Nor did she have a turbulent or dramatic past like Diella, with reasons to have gone astray.

She had simply been born as a normal person within a great lineage, and stumbling her way through life, she had reached this point.

In magic, studies, and authority, she had always remained at an “acceptable” level.

Had she ever experienced a deep tragedy or a pain that forced her to rise from the abyss?

Not at all.

Had she ever governed others from above, imposing her absolute power?

Of course not.

And not only Trisha—this is how most people live.

She had never climbed the top of the mountain, nor swum in the deepest underground.

She lived her life as it had been given to her, without great ups and downs. That could not be considered laziness or irresponsibility.

But unfortunately, around her were always extraordinary people who lived colorful, brilliant lives. Each showcased their achievements to the world.

And in a world full of exceptional beings, a simple mortal could feel small.

That’s why, sometimes, she had to gather what she had and exaggerate it, raise her voice, and shout that she, too, had value.

— Even if it seems like everyone is playing above your head, never let yourself be intimidated, Trisha. —

The will Hutton left before he died was deeply engraved in her heart.

She clung to those words during her childhood, walked through the fields raising her voice, and thus reached the high society of Ebelstein.

And now, before the most renowned master of Ebelstein, Trisha spoke, slightly shrinking.

“Could someone like me… become your disciple?”

The question slipped out before she could think, and Trisha flinched as she realized it. She felt she had said something absurd and searched for how to fix it, when—

“Of course you can.”

Before Trisha could retract her words, Dereck had already responded.

It was so unexpected that she opened her eyes wide.

“I only teach those who have the worth to be taught. I had never considered learning magic for mundane reasons, but if you think about it, it’s quite natural.”

Dereck studied magic to obtain secular power.

Trisha was the opposite—she would study magic to elevate her status within the aristocracy.

If he analyzed it that way, it made sense.

“Then why wouldn’t it be possible? Of course you can. As long as your determination is firm.”

Only then did Trisha feel she was beginning to understand that man.

He taught magic, but not to show off power.

Precisely because of his purity, the disciples who did wield great influence bowed before him.

Perhaps that was why Dereck was considered the best magic master of Ebelstein—because he only cared about teaching magic, and nothing more.

Trisha let out a weak laugh and lowered her head.

“I didn’t expect you to say it so clearly.”

She felt as if she had shown the most sincere part of her heart, and that embarrassed her. But she couldn’t deny she also felt relief.

If even someone so arrogant, vulgar, full of complexes, and without any exceptional talent compared to the other disciples—if even she, an insignificant noble of House Renuel, could be accepted…

Perhaps she could allow herself to let her guard down a little.

From that comfort, Trisha spoke softly for the first time.

“Then… would you accept me as your disciple?”

“I refuse.”

“…”

Not even a second passed before she was rejected.

***

Bang!

From inside the hall, a bang was heard against the table. Trisha, her eyes watery, shouted with a voice full of injustice.

“Weren’t you going to accept me based on the flow of the conversation?!”

“No, that is one thing and this is another. They’re different matters.”

The servants standing silently to the side turned pale.

Countess Rodelia had ordered them to treat Baron Ravenclaw with the utmost etiquette.

But seeing Trisha whining like that, there was no trace of dignity left.

It was a scene that made cold sweat run down their backs.

“After saying so many nice things, rejecting me so bluntly! What am I supposed to be now? And I was smiling, thinking it would become a pretty memory! Ugh… my… my back is burning…!”

“I publicly announced that I would only accept as a disciple someone who was acknowledged by Lady Diella. If I change my words now as if nothing happened, what would become of Lady Diella?”

“I-it’s just… how am I supposed to get the recognition of a savage like her?! You know better than anyone—that maniac doesn’t intend to accept any disciple ever.”

“I understand. So I’ll get straight to the point.”

Dereck put on a serious expression, laced his fingers together, and leaned forward slightly.

Trisha swallowed nervously. She was about to hear how to win the recognition of that beast called Diella.

“…It’s not my problem.”

“Aaagh!!”

Trisha grabbed her head and collapsed onto the back of the chair.

“S-so… there’s no other way? Anything I can do to become your disciple… or to catch Lady Diella’s attention… something…?!”

“Why would I know? Only Lady Diella knows that.”

“Aaaah!”

Trisha let out a sound as if she were about to faint, exhaling furiously.

Dereck only watched her in silence.

There was nothing more he could do.

***

—‘He only knows how to say “it can’t be done,” “it’s difficult”… And I’m dying here!’

—‘What if you send her a gift? Lady Diella likes sweet things.’

—‘G-gifts won’t solve this… ugh…’

—‘You know it’s partly your fault, right?’

—‘……’

“Madam Countess… that…”

When Countess Rodelia returned after handling an urgent matter, the servant standing before the door stammered with a pale face.

Despite the order to treat Baron Ravenclaw with utmost etiquette, the conversation he heard from inside was anything but dignified.

The loyal servant tried to think of how to handle the situation, but he couldn’t find a solution.

“Pfft.”

But Countess Rodelia, after listening for a moment at the door, let out a small laugh.

She patted the servant’s shoulder reassuringly and, with no intention of entering the hall, signaled her legal adviser to follow her.

She seemed intent on returning to her office without intervening at all.

“Let’s leave them a little longer. Let’s also finish the army budget before going back.”

With her hands behind her back and humming, Countess Rodelia walked down the corridor on her way back.

The servants watched her leave with bewildered expressions.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelCet