Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 61: Drop of Blood (7)

Dereck gathered both of Leigh’s arms, which had fallen to the floor, behind his back and tied them tightly with a torn curtain.

Then he wrapped the remaining fabric around his entire body and used the Star Level 1 transformation spell, Attribute Imbuement, to harden it like stone.

The sequence of actions flowed so naturally it seemed he had done it countless times before. Freya, seated in a corner of the hallway, watched Dereck wide-eyed.

‘The former student of Master Katia? I heard he was a commoner, and yet…’

Five minutes earlier, Lady Freya had tried to quickly flee from Dereck, but was instantly caught.

It was the first time in her life that her confusion magic had been detected so swiftly. She was so shocked that she had begged for her life, but the white-haired mercenary had recognized Freya and reassured her.

Without mentioning her surname or affiliation, the boy, who briefly introduced himself as Dereck, said he knew Freya was the eldest daughter of Count Elvester’s family.

The man who greeted her politely, following noble etiquette, exuded a calm completely unlike the monster who had just subdued Leigh.

“You said your name is Dereck? Master Katia spoke a lot about you. She said you were exceptionally gifted in magic among commoners…”

“How is Master Katia?”

“…Of course, she’s doing well. Her position as the Elvester family’s magic instructor is admired by everyone.”

Dereck, who was firmly securing the bindings, responded without even glancing at Freya. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t afford to observe every formal courtesy with the count’s daughter.

“Seems like we’re something like siblings. I also received great teachings from Master Katia. Knowing she’s well is a relief. But now isn’t the time for nostalgia.”

After completely immobilizing Leigh, Dereck spoke.

“The young lady from the Beltus family is hiding in the upper section of the VIP rooms. We plan to gather the survivors there, so you should head upstairs as well.”

“No, I… was trying to escape the mansion.”

“Outside the mansion is filled with moving corpses. If you try to escape recklessly on your own, you’ll regret it.”

“If I decide to escape, no one can catch me. I even escaped alone from the great fire at Roventer Castle caused by bandits.”

“Didn’t I just catch you?”

“…”

Freya couldn’t answer. But only because Dereck’s ability to sense magic was abnormally sharp.

In truth, Countess Freya was so skilled at diverting others’ attention that even Katia had to search the entire mansion with all her might to barely find her.

Dereck rested his chin on his hand and thought for a moment.

Indeed, Freya’s level of illusion magic had reached a considerable degree. If he hadn’t been personally trained by Drest in magical detection, he might not have noticed her at all.

It seemed unlikely that ordinary detection magic would work on Freya.

A third-rate mage would hardly detect her presence, so she could easily avoid the corpse monsters.

The thought crossed his mind that it might actually be better to send Freya out of the mansion to seek help. It was a seriously viable alternative.

‘I’ve seen many people die… but why is this girl so calm?’

Meanwhile, Freya was watching Dereck like she’d discovered a magical unicorn. Even in a situation where the mansion was full of possessed people, he was searching for survivors, had subdued Leigh, and even stopped her—without showing the slightest bit of nervousness.

His magical ability was excellent, his judgment precise, and he was linked to Katia by fate. Freya quickly reassessed her position.

‘It’s better to trust this guy for now. My gut tells me so.’

“Then I’ll head to the guest rooms and meet the young lady from the Beltus family. But… what’s your plan in gathering the survivors? Given the situation, wouldn’t it be better to focus on escaping first?”

“Let’s save as many as we can. Every guest in this mansion is a key figure in the empire, aren’t they?”

“Loyalty to the empire?”

“If someone from the empire asks, I’ll say yes.”

“And the real reason?”

“Half of it is the duty to save lives as a human being. The other half is that if I save the guests, I’ll likely be rewarded.”

It was said that nobles from the northeast would pay hundreds of gold coins for their lives without batting an eye. They’d generously donate that much even to rescue prisoners, so saving a noble’s life would be seen as a major achievement.

“There’s no law that says a person’s motivations have to fit into one category, right?”

Just hearing those words, Freya felt she had glimpsed a side of Dereck’s character. Deep down, he was a good person, but not naive about personal gain.

He was selfish where it counted and selfless where it mattered.

Far better than someone obsessed only with one extreme. Freya removed the necklace she was wearing and handed it to Dereck.

“…What’s this?”

“It’s a magical accessory gifted to me by the Arendelle Academy at my coming-of-age ceremony. It’s part of a set with this ring; when worn together, they allow each wearer to detect the other’s location.”

“Isn’t this expensive?”

“It’s better not to know the price. Either way, if we’re moving through this mansion, we should be able to track each other.”

Dereck slipped the necklace around his neck quickly and tucked it under his clothes.

“If you go to the main hall, you’ll see many unconscious mages seated at the banquet table. Most don’t appear to be dead.”

“Banquet table?”

“Yes. I don’t know why, but the servants of this mansion are still preparing the ball. In fact, it seems more like a kind of ritual than a ball.”

Dereck’s brow furrowed.

A ritual where a banquet is served, music played, and mages are murdered was, quite literally, something only a necromancer would do.

By worshipping the god of corpses or the god of souls, they would kill a high-level mage to absorb the magical power embedded in their soul, and transfer part of it to another mage.

Disguising it as a ball was certainly a clever move. It allowed high-ranking guests to gather naturally, and the music and food wouldn’t raise suspicion.

Using Diella’s debut event as an excuse, the guests had completely let down their guard.

It was the mansion of the Duplain family, one of the most prestigious on the continent.

No one could have imagined something so atrocious would happen.

The problem was, from Duke Duplain down to his subordinates, there wasn’t a single person who seemed capable of leading such madness. Especially Dereck, who knew the Duplain family well, was certain of this. Valerian, Leigh, Aiselin, Diella… none of them would dare touch such a taboo.

‘There must’ve been some shocking trigger. Someone provoked them… or maybe they were corrupted by a magical artifact with its own will…’

Dereck quickly assessed the possibilities. It was impossible to hastily guess who in the Duplain family had turned to necromancy.

However, Dereck had enough reason to suspect someone.

— Before reaching adulthood, Valerian Duplain will become involved with necromancy.

— And when that happens, you must kill him.

Drest, who had foreseen it all, had already warned Dereck. He told him he must kill Valerian. No one else.

He himself, already a 6-Star mage, would not get involved. Now that events had unfolded this way, his intent was clearer than ever.

Most of the continent’s distinguished guests were captured and at risk of death.

If Dereck cleaned up the scene and captured the culprit, the merit would be immeasurable.

Saving the lives of numerous nobles would propel Dereck to a new level. The empire would have no choice but to reward him publicly.

Drest planned to hand over all that merit to Dereck.

He had trained him back then to ensure he reached the level necessary to subdue Valerian, who would one day be lured by necromancy.

‘It was impossible to know just how far ahead he had planned.’

Having a 6-Star scouting mage as backup meant that much. Yet, Dereck felt conflicted.

The Valerian he remembered was a young man sweating buckets while clumsily sewing a doll to win his sister Diella’s favor.

He had always been someone who thought only of his family—the most worthy candidate to lead the Duplain house in the future.

Dereck, who rarely acknowledged others, had seen Valerian as a leader deserving of everyone’s respect.

‘Still… if he strays from the path, he must be eliminated.’

Because Dereck was a man of resolve. Even when emotionally shaken, he never hesitated to draw his sword when the moment demanded it.

And so, Dereck advanced with steady steps toward the mansion’s main hall.

*

The moon was approaching its highest point.

Even near midnight, moonlight filled the main hall of the Duplain mansion.

Step, step.

As he entered, a scene beyond description unfolded before him.

Several banquet tables stretched in a straight line across the immense hall.

Lavish feasts were laid out temptingly atop them, and numerous unconscious mages were slumped on either side.

An orchestra, seemingly entranced, sat silently near the grand staircase, clutching their luxurious string instruments to their chests, their eyes vacant.

Each chandelier held flickering candles, and the center of the hall—where the host of the event should have been—was empty, bathed in moonlight.

Had there been cheerful chatter, it would have been no different from a real ball. But the silence was absolute.

As Dereck crossed the hall, only the echo of his footsteps disturbed the air.

He frowned as he looked around. The mages lined up in front of the tables were unconscious, but still alive.

There had been no intention to kill them before the ritual. Sacrificing so many mages to rise in rank wasn’t something a sane mind would do.

All the famous necromancers in history who had attempted such feats had ended up beheaded and erased from the records.

That was the nature of touching the forbidden.

As he walked through that unnatural place and turned his gaze toward the center of the hall, he saw it.

Moonlight filtered through the stained glass of one of the walls and lit up that very spot.

It was likely the seat where the host of the ball was meant to be. Right across from it, a man slouched in a wooden chair, his head deeply bowed.

His blond hair, now shoulder-length, was longer than before, with streaks of gray woven through it. His skin was pale, and his frame appeared more solid.

Once dressed like a distinguished noble, he now wore steel armor adorned with ornate engravings.

Although his appearance was more fitting for the next head of the family, there was a dark and unstable aura around him that hadn’t been there before.

Dereck stopped, keeping his distance.

“…”

“Who is this? Dereck. You’ve come to witness Diella’s debut.”

“…Lord Valerian. You’ve changed a great deal.”

“Yes. Time changes people. Still, I’m sincerely honored that my dear little sister’s most respected teacher has come in person. As the host of this ball, I thank you.”

Valerian raised his head to look at Dereck.

His pale, ominous figure came into full view. His pupils trembled as if shaken by an earthquake.

“However, as you can see, the ball has been canceled due to certain circumstances. If Diella returns to the mansion… could you take her back to Ebelstein?”

“…”

“In my current state, there’s no one I trust enough to entrust that request.”

Behind Valerian stood the grandest, most majestic chair in the entire hall.

It was the seat reserved for the highest-ranking figure at the event.

While Valerian’s seat was well lit by the moonlight, that other chair remained partially hidden in shadow.

Dereck took a few steps to the side and slightly adjusted his angle of view.

Gradually, the figure seated on that throne became visible.

The moment he recognized who it was—head bowed—Dereck narrowed his eyes even further.

Raymond Oswald Duplain, the duke.

The head of the family was slumped in the seat, a dagger buried in his chest.

The dagger bore the clear emblem of an eagle—the symbol of House Duplain.

“…”

Valerian’s expression softened when he saw that Dereck had identified the duke.

“As you can see… I’m now busy picking up the pieces of my mistakes.”

Valerian stood with a bitter smile. The metallic sound of armor echoed through the hall.

“…What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t I just tell you?”

Valerian responded with a faint, unreadable smile, lowering his voice softly.

“I’m picking up the pieces of my mistakes.”

Dereck remained still, silently watching Valerian without blinking. Sometimes firm, sometimes compassionate—his gaze now was resolute. There was no need to ask his intent.

Valerian looked at him in silence, then finally lowered his gaze, defeated.

“I see…”

With that resigned gesture, he kept his eyes fixed on the floor for a moment.

Then, he raised his hand, wrapped in magic. A wave of dark, reddish, ominous energy spread through the hall, concentrating at Valerian’s fingertips until it took the shape of a staff.

It was known as the relic of the five-star summoner Rozin. But contrary to popular belief, Rozin was not a summoner.

Dereck silently furrowed his brow.

Whoosh.

The hall, bathed in moonlight. Its master, now standing, looking down at Dereck.

The necromancer Valerian.

He was now the Master of that mansion.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelCet