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Noble Lady Reformation Guide Chapter 7: Duplain (4)

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.​‌‌

Splash‌⁠‍

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.

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