Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 152: The Youngest Disciple (4)

After that, Trisha kept scratching her head in desperation while begging Dereck to please help her at least a little, but Dereck, as if raising a wall of steel, rejected all her requests.

Even if Trisha, who went around raising her voice arrogantly everywhere, had reached this point of humility, one would think he might grant her something; but he had no intention at all of retracting the principles he had already established.

“Miss Trisha. Even so, in this world there is nothing that is absolute. Lady Diella, although she certainly has the temperament of an enraged beast, if one approaches her with complete sincerity, one way or another she eventually opens her heart.”

“…”

“To use myself as an example, when I first met Lady Diella, I ended up drenched in dirty water full of food scraps. After leaving me like a filthy rag, she hurled insults at me nonstop.”

Dereck remembered the first encounter with Diella.

The image of that small girl shut away in the annex of the Duplain family, rejecting the entire world as if everything were her enemy, quickly came to his mind.

“S-she did something like that? How in the world did you manage to connect with such a savage? What kind of magic did you have to use for a wild beast like that to end up following you so well…?”

“Hmm… I did everything in my power… that’s all I will say.”

“No, you have to give me a clear method so that I can at least try.”

“The details are a secret…”

Even though Trisha argued with Dereck for a long time, he still didn’t budge an inch.

In the end, she had to accept that Dereck was not someone who could be persuaded with words or flattery.

Trisha, no longer caring about appearance or dignity, grabbed her head while letting out groans of frustration.

Since it was uncomfortable to just stand there watching her, Dereck swallowed a sigh and forced himself to respond.

“Are you afraid of Lady Diella?”

“Ugh… i-it’s not fear. I just think approaching such a tyrant brings nothing good. She has… no poise… no elegance…”

“You don’t have to be that afraid of her. As I said, even if she seems like someone who acts without thinking, in the end she is a person who cannot step outside what is reasonable.”

“I-it’s not fear, I said. W-who is afraid of whom…?”

“You have spent a long time in noble society, haven’t you? In the end, Lady Diella is also a young noblewoman of the Duplain family, and you must not forget that she is part of aristocratic society.”

No matter how much Trisha was groaning on the inside, Dereck simply said what he had to say.

As always, this man did not change his attitude depending on what family or lineage the person in front of him came from. Whoever it was, he kept his own center firm.

“Among nobles, what is it that they value most, Miss Trisha. You know that better than anyone.”

When Dereck said that, Trisha’s fingers trembled slightly.

It sounded like a clue, but in reality it was nothing more than a superficial phrase with no real content. Even so, Trisha could not ignore it.

“What does that mean?”

“Literally.”

— Creaak.

“Forgive me for making such a distinguished guest wait. In any case, the higher the rank, the more work.”

At that moment, the mistress of the mansion, Countess Rodelia, entered the reception room accompanied by the servants.

Trisha finally remembered what Countess Rodelia had emphasized several times: that Baron Ravenclaw was an honored guest in this mansion and had to be treated with absolute respect.

But Trisha had been spouting all sorts of sincere words without any filter whatsoever, and thinking about it, she felt so embarrassed she wanted to slam her head against the wall.

‘I-I lost my mind for a moment. W-what foolishness have I done.’

Trisha grabbed her head and held her breath, but Dereck, as always, simply greeted Rodelia with his expressionless face, as if nothing had happened.

It was obvious that Dereck didn’t take Trisha’s reckless comments too seriously.

That was the kind of person Dereck was.

***

“I am sorry that I can only present a limited support plan. As I already said, assigning too many resources or personnel to another territory is not something very advisable. Also, the situation around the White Labyrinth does not look good, so I hope you understand.”

“No, not at all. Even just what you have promised will be a great help for the Ravenclaw territory. When the infrastructure work is finished, I was thinking of decorating the main hall with a portrait or a statue of Your Excellency, Countess Rodelia, who has supported us.”

“If you do that, it will also be a great honor for me. You are someone who knows how to show respect.”

Once almost all negotiations were settled, Dereck prepared to return.

Countess Rodelia tried to hold him back, saying that since he had come all the way to the territory, why not stay a little longer; but Dereck, who lived days so busy that he barely had time to breathe, politely declined.

Rodelia had wanted to take the opportunity to draw Trisha and Dereck a little closer, but since it didn’t work as she hoped, she couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed.

Even so, she had successfully created a major point of contact between the house of Countess Renuel and the house of Baron Ravenclaw.

That alone was already a considerable diplomatic gain, so with a satisfied smile, Rodelia said to Dereck.

“I imagine my daughter must have committed several discourtesies.”

Countess Rodelia, wise ruler of the Renuel county, knew that her daughter Trisha must have already said all sorts of things.

Trisha had returned to the annex at her mother’s order, because there were still matters Dereck had to address alone with the countess.

Taking advantage of that moment, Rodelia offered an apology with a kind smile.

“At first glance you can see that Trisha is arrogant and very vain. She leans on the prestige of House Renuel to look down on everyone, and wherever she goes, she is obsessed with keeping her chin up.”

“…It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t have to be so formal. I would like our relationship to be a little closer.”

Although Rodelia presented herself completely open and relaxed before Dereck, for a frontier baron it was somewhat overwhelming for the head of House Renuel to approach him with such familiarity.

When Dereck slightly lowered his head without arguing too much, Rodelia sighed inwardly and spoke with a more casual tone.

“Trisha surely takes after her father. My late husband, Hutton, always tried to teach her useless things.”

“Useless things?”

“Things like masculine ambition, guts, bluffing, taking initiative, reading the atmosphere—those kinds of showdowns that are not very useful for a young lady of an old noble lineage.”

Countess Rodelia sighed deeply as she remembered her late husband.

Mind games and firmness could be useful in the dangerous social world of the nobility, but Rodelia, who spent her entire life as a warrior on the battlefield, was not skilled in such subtleties.

Perhaps that’s why the great merchant Hutton tried to teach Trisha something Rodelia could not teach her.

“That’s why Hutton and I always clashed regarding Trisha’s education. Although normally one of us gave in, and that settled it.”

“…”

“Even so, Hutton had a very good eye for certain things. So I also yielded quite a bit. But even then, standing in front of a seven-year-old girl shaking his fist to tell her not to blink or making her jump off cliffs to enjoy the thrill—that really was excessive.”

Just hearing it made it easy to imagine what kind of person Hutton had been.

Seeing Dereck’s incredulous expression, Rodelia cleared her throat.

“My husband Hutton was really—how could I put it…”

“Yes, he was a weirdo.”

“…”

“You don’t need to choose your words. As I said before, I think we can become closer. Ahem.”

“I appreciate you saying that.”

“Hutton was truly a strange man. At that age, the normal thing for a girl is to start receiving proper education in etiquette, tea, magic, history, literature—but he, who understood better than anyone the importance of a lady’s education, didn’t seem to want to teach Trisha any of that.”

Rodelia’s voice turned slightly nostalgic.

When recalling old times, it was natural for the voice to soften.

“Most likely, by then Hutton had already understood it.”

“…”

What had he understood? Dereck didn’t ask. He sensed it. And Rodelia, seeing his expression, let out a sigh.

“Yes. With your perception, I’m sure you already know. Trisha, in every aspect, is a girl without any particularly outstanding characteristic.”

Even without Dereck saying it, her parents had already confirmed it multiple times.

“Be it magic, arts, politics, studies, or etiquette—whenever she’s taught something, she ends up a little below average or a little above it. Never enough for anyone to call her useless, but never enough for anyone to call her talented even once.”

“Miss Trisha herself told me that.”

“Exactly. Compared to your students, who shine like stars every one of them, Trisha must look like a dull stone.”

Dereck couldn’t nod, but he didn’t deny it either.

Even if Trisha were his disciple, the chances of her achieving dramatic growth were almost zero.

All the students Dereck had taught until now had the “sky open” above them, without limits.

Siern and Denise, for example, could be called prodigies or geniuses.

But Trisha’s upper limit was clearly sealed.

Dereck could say with certainty that even if he taught her personally, he could only bring her to a level slightly above average.

“Mediocrity is not a sin.”

Rodelia lowered her gaze.

“But there are those who, because of their position from birth, are not allowed to be mediocre. It’s not something that can be solved just because others say ‘it’s fine’.”

She was the daughter of the continental heroine Rodelia and the great merchant Hutton. It was easy to imagine the situation in which she had grown up.

That obsession with keeping her chin raised was a kind of desperate struggle.

Dereck made a decision. He had to be clear, to avoid future problems.

“Even if I taught her directly, Miss Trisha would never reach the level of 3 stars or higher.”

It wasn’t a guess, but a certainty.

And Rodelia knew that man didn’t make statements lightly. So she closed her eyes for a few seconds and nodded.

Rodelia lifted her gaze toward the clear sky, remembering the past.

Hutton, who adored his daughter more than anyone, at first taught her all the subjects of a noble lady.

But one day, he abandoned all of that and focused solely on strengthening her mentality and courage.

Probably because he had seen exactly what the limit of his daughter’s talent was. Hutton had an exceptional eye for those things.

She remembered the days when little Trisha, with eyes bright with curiosity, followed her father.

That girl who ran through the forest, climbed cliffs, and fished in the river while her father guided her.

Thanks to that, she developed a rough personality; but Hutton wanted to engrave only one thing into her heart.

The girl who looked at the open sky with ambition would inevitably someday crash against reality.

In a social world full of brilliant beings, the day would come when she would have to lower her head, lamenting her faded talent.

That is why the only thing a father had to carve into his daughter was:

— “Never shrink back.”

It was the last message of the man who started as a beggar and ended up the owner of a commercial empire.

— “Even if it seems like everyone is playing above your head, never shrink back, Trisha.”

It was what he told her while drying clothes before a fire near the cliff after spending the whole day catching fish.

He gave her a closed fist for her to bump and promise.

It didn’t matter if she seemed arrogant, pretentious, or if people insulted her.

Even if they considered her a third-rate villain, greedy and conceited, or a mediocre person.

She must never worry about that.

No matter what happened, she must never shrink back.

It was what Hutton repeated again and again, the man who reached the top with sheer tenacity.

Was that message still in her heart?

“In short, he was a bizarre man without control, without elegance, and completely unpredictable. Even now, remembering him is dreadful. I have no idea how I endured the marriage. Whenever I think of him, I can only sigh.”

“…”

“But well…”

The countess Rodelia, who spoke as if remembering an enemy, slowly closed her eyes and smiled.

“As a husband, he wasn’t that bad.”

***

‘What is that thing nobles live and die for, Miss Trisha? You know that better than anyone, don’t you?’

At this point, she could only cling to her pride.

The idea lit up inside her that, one way or another, she would become Dereck’s disciple.

It was as if her pride had been mercilessly scratched.

Trisha, lying alone on the bed in the private room, gnashed her teeth and then let out a long sigh.

The image of that young lioness with bright red eyes, radiating intimidating ferocity, came to her mind.

The number one in rank at the Ravenclaw academy, the principal disciple, Diella Katherine Duplain—to be honest, just standing in front of her already instilled a paralyzing fear.

Dereck had managed to tame that crazy girl and turn her into his disciple; it was something she still found impossible to believe.

Seeing her become a meek lamb only in front of him was an unimaginable spectacle.

Even so, she too was a noblewoman. What is that thing nobles live and die for? In reality, the answer was simple.

“It’s legitimacy.”

Legitimacy, legitimacy—that damn legitimacy.

Maybe it didn’t make sense to talk about legitimacy with a young wild beast like her—but legitimacy is something that, if one knows how to manipulate words, can always be manufactured somehow.

“…”

Trisha, lying in the dark room, stretched her hand toward the ceiling and clenched her fist.

She felt strength rising up to her nose, bit her lower lip firmly, and exhaled strongly.

Then she narrowed her eyes and gathered her courage.

“I am the noblest of the ladies of the line of Count Renuel.”

She swallowed her uneven breath and clenched her fist again.

Her mind began spinning at full speed.

Four days later, at the Hall Rose meeting.

Among the numerous sons and daughters of influential families who were at the Elfontaine building for academic research, a single young woman advanced cutting through the entire hall.

Wherever she walked, the crowd split in two.

Each time she took a step, everyone watched her movements; each time her abundant blonde hair swayed, everyone stepped back, afraid of blocking her path.

If she looked to the right, the people on the right swallowed hard; if she looked to the left, those on the left broke into a cold sweat.

At some point, this little tyrant had become the ruling figure of the Hall Rose, capable of subduing the whole hall with her gaze alone.

Such was the fleeting nature of worldly power.

Nothing had changed, but depending on support and shifts in political tides, one could go from being crushed on the ground to walking above the clouds.

With no intention of dealing with that rabble that didn’t even seem noble, the young woman walked heavily through the crowd.

“Good morning, Miss Diella.”

But someone stood directly in her way without moving aside.

Diella frowned, but the person in front of her lifted her head even higher and took a deep breath.

“You don’t seem to be in a good mood, hmm?”

“Tri… Tri… what was it? Your name.”

Although she knew perfectly well that her name was Trisha, Diella purposely decided to scratch her pride.

Trisha held back her emotions, forced a smile, and recalled one by one the words her late father had engraved in her throughout her life.

As a lady of Count Renuel, she had to always live elevated, proud, dignified, and with her posture high.

But life always brings tests that seem to measure how far a person can fall.

“Get lost.”

A single word from Diella made the entire hallway fill with a freezing sensation.

It was like facing a lion inside a cage.

Worrying about one’s clothes or about not getting one’s shoes dirty in front of a wild beast was stupidity.

To survive in there, one had to be willing to roll in the mud.

And the most valuable thing Trisha inherited from the banker Hutton was her courage.

Trisha smiled softly. She had spent days practicing words in front of the wall—words she had never said in her life.

Now she just had to let them out lightly and firmly.

The more impactful, the better.

“Let’s fight, bitch.”

Thus, the atmosphere of the Elfontaine building, full of spectators, froze instantly.

They wondered if their ears were malfunctioning.

They had heard something, but it seemed too absurd to be real.

The young noble ladies, with their mouths open, were left petrified, unable to move.

Rest in peace Trisha.

As if they had agreed on it, everyone fell into a solemn silence.

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