Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 7: Duplain (4)

“However, I understand why you act that way. It’s true—an excess of talent can sometimes consume its owner.”

The Duke of Duplain didn’t elaborate further. He continued scratching at his quill, resting his chin on one hand. He seemed to understand why Dereck was hiding his true ability.

‘At the very least, that’s four-star exploration magic.’

Dereck frowned. In any case, he sensed no hostility from the Duke of Duplain.

Every noble had their own way of dealing with commoners, so there didn’t seem to be any need to take proactive measures at the moment.

Even so, he couldn’t help but feel a faint wariness deep down. Dereck still didn’t fully understand what kind of person the Duke was.

“If I’ve been impolite, I apologize.”

“No, it’s a relief to know you’re not just anyone. But judging by your age and attire, you don’t seem like someone who usually teaches magic.”

“I’m a mercenary.”

“I see. So even tavern mercenaries are entering the Duplain mansion now.”

The Duke’s tone was colder than Dereck had expected. Dereck realized he was being assessed.

He was a man who led many followers and held immense power. The ability to quickly gauge someone’s capability was crucial.

“Aiselin chose you, so I won’t say more. I’ll grant you permission to enter the pavilion where Diella lives. A servant will guide you.”

“Thank you.”

“You can retire.”

With that, the Duke waved his hand indifferently toward Dereck and turned his gaze back to the stack of documents on his desk. He was the ruler of a vast duchy, with too many things to consider and manage.

However, Dereck didn’t leave. He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, unmoving in the office.

After going over the documents several times, the Duke finally looked up again and said,

“What are you doing? I told you to leave.”

“There is something I must ask Your Grace.”

“What is it?”

“Your Grace, I am a mercenary. Mercenaries take pride in fulfilling any task assigned to them.”

Dereck spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper, without lifting his gaze.

“Lady Aiselin gave me a task: to teach magic to Lady Diella and ensure she can hold her head high as a noble in society.”

“Why are you stating the obvious?”

“That’s why I must ask Your Grace something sincerely.”

The Duke furrowed his brow and looked at Dereck.

It was unusual for a commoner to speak so freely before a duke of the realm.

If the matter was trivial, that alone would be an offense. Such was the nature of the social hierarchy.

However, Dereck’s expression remained resolute.

*

After greeting the Duke, Lady Aiselin entered her private quarters and served tea to Jayden.

Her dedicated maid carefully prepared exquisite tea and offered it to Jayden, though the delicate teacup didn’t quite suit the rugged mercenary.

With an awkward smile, Jayden, his hands thick with muscle, raised the cup and took a sip.

“This job doesn’t seem too demanding. I’ll escort Lady Aiselin back to Ebelstein once her schedule at the palace is complete.”

“Would you? Having the leader of the Veldern mercenaries here is very reassuring.”

“Ha ha. No need for such formality with a small mercenary group like ours. Lady Aiselin, you’re far too kind.”

Sitting in a corner of the room, Lady Aiselin looked like a solitary flower.

Her dress, though modest, flowed with an elegance that highlighted her beauty. Still, the worry in her expression dimmed her grace.

“Valerian looked quite grim. If he’s upset, I apologize.”

“No need. Bringing mercenaries into a grand duke’s mansion won’t be pleasant for anyone. I understand. It’s Dereck who’ll face the real challenge, not me.”

“I brought him based on my own judgment, but I’m worried whether Dereck will be able to handle Diella.”

“I don’t know much about Lady Diella… so I can’t say.”

Lady Aiselin appeared far more anxious upon returning to the noble estate.

She had invested much time and money seeking skilled mages through various mercenary groups. Yet she hadn’t neglected her social education.

Jayden observed Aiselin for a moment and then smiled gently.

“Why did you bring Dereck?”

“Was it a hasty decision?”

“Not at all. I’ve worked with him for quite some time, and he’s definitely more composed and capable than his age suggests.”

Jayden’s smile softened, and he continued, hoping to ease Aiselin’s concern.

“I was just wondering if you saw the same thing.”

“Well… Dereck may be a mercenary, but oddly enough, he seems to know a little about noble etiquette and culture.”

“Perhaps that’s due to his mentor. His teacher used to be a wealthy noble who fell from grace.”

“I see. Most mercenaries lack that kind of refinement and resolve… But he has good manners… So I thought maybe he could manage Diella.”

It was true, Dereck seemed sensible and kind—especially compared to typical mercenaries.

His magical ability was also well developed. Though still basic, the small age difference between him and Diella was significant.

Four-star or higher mages, who studied magic decades ago, often struggled to understand beginners.

That’s why someone like Dereck was seen as more suitable.

Upon hearing Aiselin’s explanation, Jayden chuckled.

“Ha, Lady Aiselin, you’re sincere and honest. Your direct and earnest gaze is what draws people to you—a trait that inspires loyalty.”

“No need to flatter me so much.”

“Not at all. But… may I, a humble commoner who has wandered many battlefields, offer an opinion?”

Jayden’s relaxed smile broadened. Though still friendly, the air grew more serious.

Lady Aiselin knew Jayden was a seasoned warrior. His casual manner hid a deeply reflective nature.

“In your opinion, what’s the most important trait for a mercenary, someone who constantly walks through dangerous battlefields?”

“…I’m not sure.”

“Tenacity… or perhaps courage. That can’t be taught—unlike most things.”

Holding a teacup with floral patterns that looked out of place, Jayden glanced away briefly before setting it down on the table.

“Dereck is a mage raised on the streets and has been a mercenary since before coming of age. Do you think a mercenary born on the streets could survive with only grace and kindness?”

“Excuse me?”

“Lady Aiselin, you need to sharpen your ability to judge people.”

*

Creak!

After his audience with the Duke, Dereck found a servant waiting in the corridor.

With a polite bow and voice, the servant said:

“The butler has informed me. I’ll guide you to the pavilion where Lady Diella resides.”

“Lady Diella lives separately in a pavilion?”

“Yes, that’s correct. She used to have a room in the main house, but due to certain circumstances…”

The circumstances were fairly obvious. It must have been difficult to house someone so destructive in the main residence.

Dereck followed the servant, who calmly walked through the ducal corridors.

The hallways, filled with ornate decorations, were magnificent, with walls lined with what looked like expensive paintings.

Everything from the carpets to the curtains was of the finest quality—fitting for a true noble mansion.

The path to the pavilion was surrounded by green trees, with red roses decorating the fence’s arches. It was a beautiful walkway, though its design subtly isolated it from the main house.

“…”

Following the servant, Dereck entered the pavilion where Diella’s room was located.

Crossing the large front door, he finally saw the servants assigned to Lady Diella, their faces already weary.

“My name is Dereck.”

“We’ve been expecting you. This way, please.”

After a brief introduction, the butler of the pavilion led him through the foyer and up the stairs.

Unlike the bustling main house, the interior of the pavilion carried an oddly pale aura. Sunlight barely filtered in, and the air felt damp.

Dereck took a deep breath and climbed the stairs.

Soon, a large room came into view—presumably Lady Diella’s quarters. Servants stood before the wooden door, heads bowed, waiting.

“Thank you for your efforts.”

He passed by the servants, each one looking more dejected than the last, until he reached the door.

Dereck paused, resting his chin on his hand, realizing there was no point in speculating further about Diella, whom he hadn’t met yet. So he knocked.

Knock, knock.

“Excuse me.”

Receiving no reply, he slowly opened the door and peeked inside.

“…”

The air in the room was silent.

It was far too spacious for a girl not yet of age. So grand that all the furniture inside seemed to occupy less than a fifth of the room.

A bed adorned with fine lace, a tea set that looked expensive at a glance, a vanity, and a wardrobe with decorative embroidery stood out.

At the center of the room was a tea table covered with a pristine white cloth, and a girl seated with her back to the door.

Only her back was visible, but her small frame was impressively cloaked in numerous golden locks. Dressed in a comfortable lace gown like casual loungewear, the girl appeared to be enjoying tea at the table.

“My name is Dereck. Pardon the intrusion.”

“Come closer.”

Her tone was soft, but there was a youthful lilt to her voice. She was the youngest daughter of the Duplain family. Even younger than Lady Aiselin, so her voice wasn’t surprising.

Noticing the expressions on the surrounding servants, tension was evident.

Dereck looked around, then hesitantly stepped farther inside. After all, he had to speak with Lady Diella.

That’s when he quietly approached her.

Splash!

It happened in an instant.

When he opened his eyes, Dereck was soaked.

Lady Diella, who had swiftly turned around, had thrown dirty water from a cloth hidden beneath the tablecloth.

A stale stench began to emanate from his body. He was now in the same condition as the servant who had been crying in the audience chamber.

“My, my.”

The girl’s eyes, wide like a cat’s, glinted with satisfaction. With her delicate fingers, she touched her lips and then, bursting into laughter, twirled the ends of her lush golden hair with innocent delight.

“My, my, my.”

Drip, drip, drip.

Reddish droplets fell from Dereck’s snowy white hair.

Through the strands, he could see Lady Diella wearing a bitter grin, as if something had brought her immense joy.

“I thought it was a rat crawling in, but turns out it’s the mercenary the butler mentioned, isn’t it?”

“…”

“Or not? Now that I look closer, you really do look like a rat. A beggar from the slums, huh? Living the high life now, visiting grand mansions.”

Lady Diella pulled something else from beneath the tablecloth, climbed onto a chair, and dumped it over Dereck’s head.

This time it was dirty water mixed with food scraps—something the kitchen staff might’ve discarded but had been kept instead.

Now Dereck understood why the servants had looked so anxious. They knew Lady Diella would do something like this. Yet they had to remain silent; warning Dereck ahead of time would only have made Diella take her anger out on them.

No matter the era, the middle ranks always suffer. Working in this annex was no easy task.

Understanding their unease to some extent, Dereck silently endured the cruel welcome.

Drip, drip, drip.

Bang!

After emptying the bucket, Lady Diella flung it carelessly to the floor.

“I prepared something to remind you of home, thinking you wouldn’t be used to such grandeur. Now you really look like a sewer rat. Do you like my surprise?”

“…”

“Don’t look at me with those eyes.”

Still seated on the chair, Lady Diella kicked Dereck in the stomach, knocking him down.

Thud!

The already filthy floor was slippery, and Dereck had no choice but to fall.

“Ugh… what a stench.”

She removed the sandal that had touched Dereck and tossed it at him with disdain.

The sandal struck Dereck’s shoulder and rolled away.

Barefoot, Lady Diella crossed her legs and perched on the table. Using the chair as a footrest, she rested her chin on one hand and laughed arrogantly.

“Now sewer rats from the slums are entering my pavilion. You’re so lowly you don’t even know your place… You should’ve left before embarrassing yourself. What a pitiful sight.”

Her tiny body belied the ferocity in her gaze. The aggression of a clawed cat was clear, defying her diminutive stature.

She pinched her nose and added with disgust,

“Who do you think you’re going to teach, you street beggar?”

“…”

“Know your place, gutter rat.”

Dereck stared at her in silence before rising to his feet.

—‘That’s why I must ask His Grace, the Grand Duke, seriously.’

In the office, the Grand Duke Duplain’s movements paused as he manipulated his quill in silence.

He stroked his chin, contemplating for a while, before finally setting the quill down on his desk.

“…”

—‘I’m not an ordinary magic instructor, but a mercenary from the streets. So I can handle things my way, or I can follow conventional methods like others.’

—‘But seeing Lady Diella’s condition, I’m not sure the usual approach will work. Sometimes, drastic measures are necessary. That’s why I must seek guidance from His Grace, who deeply loves Lady Diella.’

The Grand Duke rose from his seat and calmly gazed out the window at the view from his office corner.

Deep in thought, he stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

Though born a commoner, he possessed an inner magical strength that seemed at least two-star level.

Standing before the Grand Duke, Dereck had asked what he needed to know, maintaining the courtesy and fundamental understanding of noble culture.

The boy had said that mercenaries take pride in fulfilling their contracts.

True to his word, he sought to determine what was necessary to complete his mission, regardless of method. Sensing the strange sincerity in him, the Grand Duke Duplain could only rest his chin on his hand and reflect.

—‘In teaching Lady Diella, how much authority are you willing to grant me, Your Grace?’

Drastic measures might be needed. The seriousness in Dereck’s eyes was clearly different from the majestic dignity of the mages who came before.

If things continued as they had, the outcome would be no different.

The boy’s voice had been as resolute as steel.

“…”

Diella’s arrogance was already well-known among the high circles. Could the Grand Duke Duplain truly claim innocence regarding his daughter’s fate?

As head of the family and a father, had he always made the right decisions?

Valerian, Leigh, Aiselin, Diella.

Among stacks of documents that always kept him busy with the duchy, had he ever loved his children equally?

In endless introspection… the Grand Duke Duplain continued to gaze silently out the window.

Crack!

Slap!

Sometimes, when something happens too quickly, it’s hard to process what’s occurred.

As if the brain can’t compute a scene so removed from reality.

This was one of those moments.

The servants gathered near the door and hallway widened their eyes.

So shocked they forgot to breathe, their fingertips trembled uncontrollably.

Crack!

The sound of a teacup shattering as it fell from the table. Before them, Lady Diella, whom Dereck had slapped, now lay on the floor after falling from her chair.

“??.”

A silence so deep it felt as though time had stopped.

Seated on the floor, Diella couldn’t even comprehend what had happened, her eyes wide with shock. Her pupils dilated, reflecting disbelief.

What was the status of a lady from a distinguished family? If the tea’s temperature was wrong and burned the lady’s tongue, the servant who made it would be flogged until his back tore open.

If she twisted her ankle while walking, the servant in charge would be expelled from the mansion.

Such was the sacredness of a noble lady’s body—always dignified and beautiful. It was a lesson instilled in noble house servants to exhaustion.

And yet, despite all that, Diella’s cheek was swollen and red.

Tap, tap.

Dereck brushed off the remains of his soaked tunic.

Lady Diella tried to speak, to say something, but her voice, trapped in shock, only emitted hollow, incomprehensible sounds.

“…”

That stale stench still clung to him. Diella was right. Dereck’s home was the slums.

An insult like that might wound high-ranking mages who had lived noble lives, but to a sewer rat from the gutters, it wasn’t even a scratch.

Because that, too, was just life.

“Get up.”

Dereck, adjusting his clothes, looked coldly at the girl sitting on the floor.

His white hair, tangled with dirty water.

Between the strands, his icy gaze exuded a chilling aura from another world—one that could freeze anyone with a glance.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelCet