Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 16: Imam (6)

Dust swirled on the platform as the servants rushed in all at once. The duel was over, and it was time to clean up.

Among them, Diella was clearly the one who needed help the most.

Her small body had crossed the platform at full speed, and now, bruised from the fall and drained of magic, she was a mess. Watching her cough and cry didn’t evoke anger—it inspired only pity.

Seeing Diella in that state, Leigh was at a loss for words.

“Ah… ahh…”

Her sobs and clutching at her injuries were truly pitiful. It was supposed to be a ceremonial magic duel between nobles, but Leigh had never anticipated such an outcome.

“I… I’m so sor…”

Just as he was about to speak, Leigh stopped himself. Was he going to apologize? To poor Diella, who seemed mocked even by the heavens?

But the Diella he saw during the duel was very different from the one he had known.

Had she changed?

He wasn’t quite sure what exactly had changed, but at the very least, he knew that Diella had sincerely wanted to prove herself through this duel.

The result wasn’t favorable, certainly, but sometimes the process itself holds more meaning. That’s why Leigh couldn’t mock or scold Diella, who lay there crying.

There was an indescribable glory in those who challenge themselves with everything they have. To ridicule that lightly would be shameful. Leigh stood there for a long while, not knowing what to say…

“I’ll escort you to the inner rooms. You must receive treatment first.”

Supported by the servants, Diella finally pushed them away and stood on her own. Then she walked over to Leigh, her eyes still red and swollen with frustration.

But a loss was still a loss. Diella bowed her head silently to Leigh and walked past him alone.

Leigh could only watch, eyes wide.

Knock, knock.

Then Diella descended from the platform and headed toward Dereck, who had been silently observing the duel among the servants.

She stopped directly in front of Dereck, who stood motionless, his body bruised. A streak of blood ran down her cheek, and her golden hair and frilled dress were covered in dust.

The girl had been crying just moments before, but now tried to maintain the dignity of a noble. Complaining and wailing in front of a commoner was unseemly for someone of her status.

A noble lady must always be proud and poised. Diella had always been like a proud, aloof cat. A proud wild cat always walked along the fence—even in dust.

So, though her lower lip trembled, the girl spoke in a quiet voice.

“I lost.”

Her emotional shield, built from noble authority, held back the torrent in her heart. Still, she had to press her hands to her chest to keep the emotions from leaking out, one or two trickles at a time.

“I’m sorry.”

The girl offered a brief apology. The other was just a commoner. She had accepted Dereck’s teachings and stood on the platform to prove them, but had been miserably defeated and cried in shame.

She apologized only for that.

Dereck remained still, watching her, and after a moment, slowly said:

“It’s okay.”

“…”

“It’s okay to lose.”

Dereck was not one to ramble. That’s why every word he spoke carried weight.

“Life is full of losses sometimes.”

Hearing those words, the dam holding back her emotions finally burst, and the girl wept, choked with sobs.

Surrounded by servants rushing to treat her wounds, she cried and cried.

*

Thud.

Miriela, followed by several servants, walked toward the platform in the garden. With clenched fists, she marched forward, her face flushed with heat.

And her anger peaked as she saw Diella bruised and sobbing.

“Diella!”

Miriela rushed past the servants assisting Diella, who was being taken for treatment. She knelt to check Diella’s wounds.

They weren’t serious, but the thought of potential scars disturbed her. Ignoring the dirt staining her gown, Miriela hugged Diella tightly.

“Oh… Diella… You’ve been through so much… It’s okay… You can trust me now…”

“Mother…”

“We must treat your injuries first. Go with the servants and receive care immediately.”

With that, Miriela let go of Diella and turned her fiery gaze toward Dereck.

Her eyes glowed with unspoken fury.

Miriela walked up to Dereck and grabbed him by the collar.

“You… Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

“…”

Dereck remained still, hands clasped behind his back, his blood-red eyes narrowing.

“Do you think you’ve done something great? A first-level spell? Those can be learned gradually, even if late. You’ve taught the noble daughter of House Duplain, who should be a lofty lily, the vulgar and disgraceful depths. You don’t understand how serious that is.”

“…”

Slap!

Miriela’s hand, driven by fury, struck Dereck. He turned his face to look at her, his cheek swollen, but she showed no remorse.

All the nearby servants swallowed hard, sweating coldly.

Miriela’s rage seemed to saturate the air around Dereck.

“What would someone like you, who crawled up from the bottom, know of noble culture? Do you understand how dangerous the social circles of Ebelstain are—like a field of ice? It’s a place where creatures above the clouds gather. You wouldn’t understand how desperate it is to survive there, soiled by the filth of the gutters.”

“…”

“There’s a world that commoners like you can never grasp. A world where one must uphold courtesy and dignity, demonstrate excellence through magic duels, and defend the values that deserve protection. A world… that someone of your lowly birth could never comprehend.”

Slap.

Gritting her teeth, Miriela slapped Dereck again. He stayed calm, hands still behind his back.

“For Diella… I would do anything. Driving out a plague like you from her life would be nothing. I will use whatever means necessary…”

Stomp, stomp.

It was at the peak of Miriela’s fury that the Grand Duke Duplain descended from the platform, revealing himself.

The gathered servants bowed their heads in respect. The Grand Duke of Duplain, master of the duchy, walked among them with a stern expression, hands still clasped behind his back.

To commoners, he was a figure so overwhelming they could only bow in his presence. His arrival silenced the room, and only one person dared raise their voice in such an atmosphere.

“You! You saw the duel, didn’t you?! All of this… it’s all the work of this reckless fool! If you have a tongue, then speak—!”

What followed shocked everyone present.

Slap.

A silence, as if time had stopped, fell over the area in front of the platform. The servants, even the nobles, were stunned. Only then did Miriela realize she had been slapped. Her trembling eyes showed her inner turmoil.

Only after feeling the sting on her cheek did she realize that her husband, still wearing a stern expression, had struck her.

“Do you not see who is being more reckless here?”

“You… What… What is this…?”

Miriela, her lips trembling, turned and spoke again. Everyone around her was sweating nervously. As a noble lady of an aristocratic house, she had never experienced such a harsh blow. No one dared do such a thing.

But there was, in truth, one exception.

Once she recognized this undeniable fact, her mind fell into chaos.

“You… Why…? That man is just a commoner, a worthless mercenary from the slums. You know well the nobility of Duplain.”

“Yes, what you say is correct. He is nothing but a wandering mercenary from the slums, a man who stains the name of House Duplain.”

“Then… why…?”

“However, he is our daughter’s tutor.”

Hearing those words, Miriela’s eyes widened. The Duke’s stern expression remained, but something had clearly changed inside him.

“What father in this world would treat his child’s tutor this way?”

If the Duke of Duplain, ruler of the duchy, had decided firmly, then no one could object. The shock of the slap made Miriela’s heart tremble.

As the Duke walked past her, Miriela’s knees buckled from the shock, and nearby servants rushed to support her. The Duke of Duplain didn’t look back at her, instead walking toward Dereck, hands still behind his back, his footsteps echoing.

This was not the same figure occupied with quills in his office, but the Duke himself, flanked by many servants, bowing with gravity, an intimidating aura swirling around him.

In a low voice, he spoke to Dereck.

The words that followed made all the servants doubt their ears.

“There are many ways to love one’s child. Please forgive us with humility.”

“…”

Even Dereck, who always maintained composure, had to blink in disbelief, as if he hadn’t expected it. That the Duke of a realm would offer an apology in such a way was unimaginable. All the more so because the one receiving it was merely a street-born commoner.

“No, no.”

“Then, there are things we must speak of in private. Come with me to the reception room.”

With that, the Duke crossed the astonished crowd and quietly returned to the mansion.

As he walked, every follower gathered at the scene bowed their heads.

*

When Dereck entered the drawing room, the Duke of Duplain was reviewing documents on a gold-carved sofa. His posture—legs crossed, chin resting on one hand—was as familiar as ever.

He was a man so busy that even this brief break had to be used for work. Managing this vast duchy was no easy task.

He glanced at Dereck as he entered, then averted his gaze, motioning to a chair across from him. It was a casual invitation to sit.

Dereck bowed silently and then took his seat.

Creak, creak.

For a while, only the sound of pages turning filled the room. Then, suddenly, the Duke asked, almost as if tossing the words out:

“Speak if you have something to say.”

“…”

The Duke threw those words at Dereck as if testing him. It was an invitation to speak first if something was on his mind.

But Dereck had nothing more to say. He was a man who preferred to prove himself through results rather than words.

“I don’t have much to say.”

“Good, that’s fine.”

The Duke of Duplain seemed to appreciate that quality in him, as he showed no signs of displeasure. Then, throwing the documents onto the table, he stroked his chin and said:

“For the record, I don’t particularly like employing commoners like you.”

“I know.”

“However… credit must be given where it’s due.”

The Duke’s dry eyes turned toward Dereck.

“You’re competent.”

The Duke was neither overly emotional nor overly cold in his manner. It seemed to be his way of leading people.

“A ruler is someone who employs the capable and gives credit based on merit.”

“I was promised a reward.”

“Are you referring to the cheap price Aiselin offered?”

Only a noble could call fifteen Aidel gold coins cheap. Ironically, the man before him was a noble among nobles. When Dereck closed his eyes tightly, the Duke of Duplain let out a dry laugh.

Then, in his usual firm voice, he said:

“You’ve taught Diella an excellent first-level spell. But achievements like that aren’t enough to survive the harsh noble society.”

“That may be true. But not many in Duplain could guide Lady Diella as well as you. Now that she’s tasted magic, she’ll advance even further.”

“What my daughter needs is not a magic tutor, but a mentor.”

There was firmness in the Duke’s voice.

“But my eyes cannot be deceived. You have great ambition—ambition that someone of common birth shouldn’t even dare dream of.”

“…”

The Duke’s eyes, trying to see through Dereck, flickered. He had spent his life judging and measuring people. He quickly realized that Dereck dreamed of surpassing the third level, aspiring to reach the fourth level and beyond.

“I’m well aware of how humiliating that is for the proud nobles of Ebelstain. However, since you’ve achieved something, I’ll turn a blind eye.”

“…”

“Still, if you harbor such intentions, you can’t stay long in a noble house like this. I already know you’re ready to leave for Ebelstain at any moment. Perhaps you were always meant to be a wandering mercenary.”

“That’s true.”

“I understand your ambition, but even so, I want you to continue teaching Diella a while longer.”

As the world of magic reached higher and higher, Dereck’s value subtly changed as well.

The Duke of Duplain understood this very clearly—he knew exactly what to offer to keep a wanderer like Dereck tied to the noble mansion.

“The highest domain allowed for commoners is three stars, isn’t it? Do you aim to reach that realm?”

“…!”

“Of course, at this point, it’s a reckless goal. But even so, you want to lay the foundation, don’t you?”

Observing Dereck’s reaction, the Duke scoffed and pulled a small silver key from his pocket, tossing it casually onto the table in front of Dereck.

“Do you know what this is?”

“I don’t.”

“It’s the key to the underground archive—accessible only to direct descendants and high-ranking retainers of House Duplain.”

With his chin resting on his hand, the Duke spoke quietly.

“There, spellbooks of three-star level worth hundreds of gold coins are scattered about as if they were nothing.”

At that moment, Dereck’s eyes couldn’t help but gleam.

The Duke of Duplain was a man who, more than anyone, understood coldly and precisely what it would take to keep Dereck within the walls of the noble mansion.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelCet