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Noble Lady Reformation Guide Chapter 89: Baron (1)

Chapter 89: Baron (1)

Those⁠⁠ who had been‍‌ taught by Dereck‍‍ knew.

The​​‌ young noble ladies‌‌ who were his‍‌ disciples not only‍⁠‍ improved their magical‌⁠ abilities but also​⁠‍ developed a peculiar‌‌‍ tendency to become​‍‍ more straightforward in‍​‌ their thinking and‍⁠ behavior.

It​ was clear they‌‍ had been influenced​‌⁠ by Dereck, once​ a rough mercenary,​​‌ but even so,‌ they never went‍​ as far as‍⁠‍ to disregard the​​‍ basic etiquette ingrained⁠⁠‍ in noble society.‍⁠​

However,‌ Diella wasn’t bound​‍‍ by such things.‌

She‌⁠ had been the​ first to be​ taught by Dereck,‍ the girl who‌⁠⁠ embraced his influence⁠​​ the most, learning‌‌​ to suppress personal​⁠‍ feelings for a greater good—but she‍ didn’t hold back‌⁠ when it came‍ to her sister​ Aiselin.

If‍ someone hit her,​​⁠ she hit back​‍ tenfold. She pounced,‍ crushed, bit ears,⁠⁠​ and jabbed fingers⁠ into eyes to​ make sure they‌ never dared again.‌​‍

That​‌‍ was her style.⁠‌‍

“With‌⁠ the achievements of⁠​ the Renouel Viscountcy‌ on the rise,⁠ you think it’s​‍ all your doing,‌ right? You think​​ you’ll be promoted‌ soon and the⁠ whole world will⁠⁠ bow before you,⁠⁠‍ right?”

“Ah!”​

She⁠​​ lifted her skirt‍​‌ and stomped on‌​ Lady Trisha’s chest​‌‍ with her boot,‍ looking down at‌​‌ her with the​‍ eyes of a beast.

Trisha‍ was a girl​‍ who stood out⁠‌‌ by insidiously and‍⁠ subtly suppressing others.​‌​

She‍ was an expert​​‍ at dodging consequences‌ by claiming it‌‍ was an accident⁠ or that she​‌ had no such‌‌ intentions, all while⁠‍​ chipping away at‍‌‌ someone’s self-esteem.

At‌ least in noble‍⁠ circles, where grace⁠​ and dignity were​ key, such tactics​​​ could be useful.​‌‍

But‍‍ her opponent this‍‍​ time wasn’t the‌⁠ right one.

Diella‍​ knew.

Living⁠ in the luxurious‍‍​ world of nobility,‍‍ it was common​​​ to forget that‍​ one could be⁠ hit at any​‍‌ time.

Those‌‌‌ who didn’t grasp⁠​‍ this cold, logical​ fact—who became obsessed​ with superficial authority⁠ and crossed the⁠​‌ line—needed to be‍​ trampled so they​ could come to⁠⁠‌ their senses.

Those‌⁠⁠ who’ve been hit‌ know how to‌ hit well, and⁠ Diella knew exactly⁠‌ when to lunge‍ in and shatter⁠ an opponent’s psyche.​‌⁠

When⁠ she was convinced‍⁠ her opponent thought⁠​⁠ they were untouchable,​ when their arrogance‌⁠ peaked… that was‍ the moment to​‌ smash them into‌ the ground and​‌‍ make them see‌ reality.

“That’s⁠ why you can’t‌‍‌ do it.”

Slap!⁠‍​

When⁠⁠⁠ she slapped Trisha‌‍ on the cheek⁠‌ once more, Trisha‌​ finally came to⁠‌‍ her senses, clenching​⁠ her teeth as‌⁠‌ she got up.⁠‌‌

She⁠‍​ grabbed Diella’s hair,​⁠​ casting aside all‌⁠​ dignity, and screamed‌‌ as she lunged.​‌⁠

“What…‍‌‌ what are you​‍⁠ doing?! Aaah!”

“Let‍​ go of me!‍​​ Let go!”

She​ shoved Diella, growling⁠⁠ in fury, but⁠‌ Diella kicked her‌ in the lower⁠​ abdomen with her‌ boot.

Crash!⁠

Trisha‍‍‌ fell to the‍‌ ground again but​‌‍ didn’t let go‌⁠‌ of Diella’s hair.⁠

Dragged​ down as well,⁠‍ Diella bit Trisha’s‍‌⁠ wrist with her‍​ teeth.

“Aaah!”‍

Trisha‍‍⁠ screamed and let​ go of her⁠ hand. Diella got​​ up and tried‍ to grab her​‌‍ by the collar⁠ again.

At‌‍ that moment, the⁠⁠​ alarmed servants rushed‍​ in and held​ Diella’s arms to​‌ stop her. If​ she were seriously​ hurt, no one​⁠ would come out​​ of it unscathed.​

Bang!​ Crash!

“Lady⁠ Diella! Please, calm​​ down!”

“Let​ me go! Let‍⁠‍ me go! That’s⁠‌‍ an order!”

Growling‌‌‍ and still glaring‌​ at Trisha, Diella‍‌‍ was restrained by‌‌ the servants.

Seeing‍‍⁠ her like that,⁠‍​ Trisha slowly sat‍ up, panting. Her‌⁠ hair was half‌‍ undone and drenched‍‍ in sweat. Her‍ pupils trembled—a mix​ of confusion and‌​ fear.

“W-what⁠​ is this…? No⁠⁠⁠ matter what, this​‍ is so undignified…!”‌‌​

“Dignity?‌ Right. I don’t‍⁠​ give a damn​ about dignity or​ whatever if someone⁠‌​ touches my reverse​‍⁠ scale. But do‍⁠​ you think you‌​⁠ have dignity?”

Diella⁠ looked at Aiselin,‍‌ who was too‍‌​ shocked to speak.‍⁠⁠

Drops‍ of tea still‍​ dripped down her‌‍ cheek. Seeing that,‍‍⁠ Diella’s rage rose‌ again, and she​​ spoke in a cold voice.

“Rather⁠​​ than clawing people‌‍ from behind and​⁠‍ scheming, it’s far​‌ more dignified to‌​‍ slap someone to‌⁠​ their face. Talking⁠⁠‌ about dignity while​ being a two-faced​ snake is ridiculous.”‌

“You​⁠ think you’ll get‌⁠​ away with this?”​

“And‌‌ what if I don’t? Has the‌ Renouel house already​⁠​ been promoted?”

Trisha⁠ brushed off her⁠ clothes and stood‍‍​ up, regaining her​‌⁠ composure.

“It‍ seems you want​‍ me to be‍‌⁠ blunt, so I won’t hold back.​​‌ You’d best bow‌‍⁠ your head and​ apologize to me⁠‌ right now.”

Having​⁠‌ caught her breath,​‍‍ Trisha adjusted her⁠‍ hair and stared‍‍‌ with wide eyes.‌⁠

“At‍ least within the​ Rose Salon, I can easily expel⁠ Duplain.”

Trisha​‌ glared at Diella.⁠⁠⁠

Current‌‌⁠ secular power may‍⁠ place the Duplain⁠ family far above​‌ the Renouel, but⁠ everyone knew that​‌⁠ gap would soon⁠⁠⁠ be reversed.

The‌ attention of socialites‍‌ didn’t follow explicit​‍ titles. It leaned​⁠⁠ toward whoever held⁠‍ real power.

The⁠ ladies of the​ Rose Salon would‍‍ watch Trisha. Perhaps‍​ a few still​ sympathized with Aiselin’s​​ character, but no‌‍ one would side‍‍‌ with reckless Diella.⁠​

And‌⁠ once you earned⁠​‌ a bad reputation​⁠ in noble society,‌​⁠ the harassment that‌ followed was indescribably‌‌ insidious.

Aiselin,‍ who had experienced‍‍‍ such ostracism firsthand,‍‌‌ knew that better​⁠ than anyone.

It‌‍⁠ was a mistake​ to believe all​​ ladies of the‌‍ three great families​‍‍ were open-minded and‌⁠‍ just.

People‌⁠ follow power and⁠ authority more than‍‌‌ you think.

Especially⁠‌ minor nobles, whose​​ hunger for power⁠⁠ and upward mobility‌ made them easily⁠ swayed.

“Even⁠‍ so, Lady Diella​ is still young‍ and inexperienced, so‌⁠​ her mistakes are⁠‍‍ understandable. We could⁠ see her rash⁠ judgment as an‌‍ act of love‌⁠‍ for her family.⁠ However, an apology⁠‍ is necessary.”

“Do​ you want to⁠‍ die? If you‍‍⁠ keep spouting nonsense,​ you won’t be​ walking home today.”‌⁠​

“I​ didn’t expect much​ from Lady Diella.‌ But you, Lady‍‌⁠ Aiselin, should bow‍⁠​ your head for‍‌⁠ your only sister’s‍⁠ mistake.”

All⁠‍ eyes turned to‌‌ Aiselin.

Denise,‌⁠ who had been‍ watching the situation‌ while fiddling with‌‌‌ her dress, furrowed‌‍⁠ her brow.

Trisha‍‍ seemed to have​​ calculated exactly how⁠‌⁠ to play this.⁠​⁠ She thought pressuring​ the gentler Aiselin⁠⁠ would be far​ more effective.

“Lady‍ Aiselin, you know⁠⁠ how harsh it​‌ is to be​⁠ excluded by the‍‍‍ salon ladies in‍‌ this cold social‌ world. I know,​⁠‍ so I want‍ to forgive Lady‍‌ Diella’s rudeness as‍ much as possible.”‌

From​‌ the start, Trisha‌‌​ wanted one thing—to‌ crush Aiselin and‍​ make sure she⁠‌​ never interfered with‌‍ her social climb‍‌‍ again.

The‌ message was clear:‌⁠‍ bow your head​​ and apologize, and‌ I’ll let it​‌‌ go.

Aiselin,​⁠‌ who always tried‌‌‍ to resolve things⁠ peacefully and calmly,⁠‌ would surely bow⁠‍ her head soon.​⁠ Trisha had already⁠ made up her⁠ mind about her.​⁠

“Aiselin,‍ sister! Stay still!‍‍ We didn’t come‍⁠ to Ebelstein to​ care about what‌​‍ the Rose Salon‌⁠ thinks! Don’t bow⁠ your head!”

She‌‌‌ was of the​​⁠ same blood as​‌⁠ Diella but had‌​‌ a completely opposite​​ nature.

Thinking‌​‌ it’d be easy⁠‌ to break her,⁠ Trisha smiled in⁠‌​ satisfaction.

Drip,‍​ drip, drip.

Cold‍​​ tea began to‌ run through Lady⁠ Trisha’s hair.

Not⁠⁠ only was Aiselin’s‌​ white dress, but‌‌⁠ also Trisha’s navy-blue⁠⁠ skirt now stained⁠‌​ with tea.

“What,‌​ what…?”

At‌‍ that moment, Trisha‍⁠​ met Aiselin’s eyes.‍‍⁠

The​‌⁠ gaze that poured‌ from above as⁠‌ she shook the‌​ empty teacup over⁠​⁠ Trisha’s head was‌‍⁠ icy.

Her‌ lips pressed tightly,‍‌ her eyes wide‍‌‍ and glaring… It⁠ was an expression​⁠‍ no one had⁠ ever seen on‌⁠ Aiselin before.

Aiselin​ was furious to​‍ her core.

Drip,​ drip, drip.

“What,​​‍ what is this…?”​

“Don’t‍‍ cross the line,‌ Lady Trisha.”

Although⁠⁠‌ her voice was⁠ just as cold,‌​‍ it was different⁠‌ from Diella’s ever-angry⁠ tone.

Aiselin,​‍ who always welcomed​‌‍ everyone with a warm and kind‍‌⁠ expression, now appeared​​⁠ strikingly cold. Even‍‍⁠ Ellen and Denise⁠ widened their eyes—for‌‍ a very different⁠ reason this time.‍

She‍‌​ tried to maintain‍⁠‍ her dignity, even⁠ soaked in tea.​‌​

Carefully⁠​ placing the empty⁠⁠ cup on the‍ table, she pushed⁠​ it together with​​ the saucer to‌ make cleaning easier​‍‌ for the servants.⁠⁠‍

“I’m‌⁠⁠ well aware of‍ the merits Viscount‍‍‌ Renouel earned on‌⁠⁠ Rodentz Island. At⁠​‍ the upcoming imperial‍‍⁠ birthday celebration, they’ll⁠ surely be granted⁠ a higher title.‌ On the other‌‍‌ hand, our Duplain⁠ family is a fading star. I won’t deny it.”‌⁠

The⁠ way Aiselin spoke,⁠‍​ as if refuting⁠ point by point,⁠⁠​ was so unusual‍​⁠ that everyone at‍ the table swallowed​​ hard.

“But‍⁠⁠ that doesn’t give‌‌‍ you the right​ to threaten me‍ using Diella’s condition‌​ as an excuse.”‌​

“Ha…”​

“The​‌‌ apology should come‌‌‌ from Lady Trisha,‍‍ not from me.‌ If she doesn’t,‍ I’ll have no‍⁠⁠ choice but to​ get angry.”

Although‍ her tone was​ calm, there was‌ an inexplicable pressure⁠​‍ in her words.‍‌

The⁠​ weight of anger‍​‌ varies from person‍ to person.

Aiselin,‌‍ who was always‌ positive and energetic,‍‌ seemed to have‌ her anger under‌ tight control. That’s​ why her fury‌‍​ carried a weight‍ that pierced deeper‍‍‌ than anyone else’s.⁠

At‌​ that moment, Trisha⁠‌ should have backed⁠‍‍ off.

But‍​ she made the‍‍​ wrong choice, spurred‍ by her family’s⁠ rising prestige, the‌‌​ arrogance of nobility,‌ and her ambition‍​⁠ to climb in⁠​ the Rose Salon.⁠

“You’ll‍ regret this, Lady‍‍⁠ Aiselin. Don’t think‍‌ you’ll continue thriving‌⁠‌ in this Rose‌ Salon. Like it‌​ or not, I’ll‌ be the one‌‌ to push Duplain​ out and take‍ your place.”

“…”​

“When​ that happens, you’ll⁠ bow your head​⁠ to the ground‍⁠‍ and beg for​‌⁠ forgiveness for today’s⁠ disrespect. I can⁠⁠⁠ already feel the⁠‌ pity rising in‌ me just imagining‍⁠‍ how miserable you’ll​ look. That’s how‌‍​ it will end‍‌‌ for the daughter​ of a fallen⁠ family.”

With​‌ that, Trisha let​ out a laugh.​‍‍

In⁠⁠ any case, the​​ minor nobles would​‍ side with Viscount‌ Renouel’s family. Many​⁠​ had already been​​​ won over.

The‍⁠ taste of power‍ was sweet. Leading⁠‍​ others, using them,⁠⁠‍ having followers—all of⁠ it sent a chill of pleasure‍⁠​ through this noble’s​​ heart that was​⁠ impossible to resist.‌

Trisha‍​ was about to‌​ fix her disheveled⁠ clothes.

‘I⁠​‍ can’t stay quiet‍‍‌ any longer.’

Just⁠‍ as Ellen was​ about to stand‍‍‍ up and call​‌ out Trisha’s arrogant⁠​‌ behavior, someone else⁠‍ spoke. It was⁠​‍ a voice she⁠ had never heard‍ before.

“Is⁠ the weather so‌​⁠ pleasant here that‌⁠ everyone plays games​‍​ of pride over​​⁠ trivial matters? Must‌ be because the⁠‌ threat of death‌‌‌ feels like a distant tale to‌ you.”

“…?”⁠⁠​

“Just‌ because the land​⁠‌ is rich and‌​ fertile doesn’t mean​‌ the people are‌⁠‌ always noble and‌​ good.”

Most⁠‌ present hadn’t noticed‌ the arrival of​‍ the new person.⁠⁠

She‌⁠ was an expert⁠ in transformation magic,⁠‍‍ able to move‌‌ at extreme speeds⁠ with only a small amount of‌‌ mana.

Only‍‌ someone versed in‌⁠ detection magic—the natural‌‌⁠ enemy of transformation—could​​ notice her presence.⁠ That’s why only⁠⁠​ Denise noticed the​‍‌ girl’s sudden appearance.‌​‍

Whoosh.‍‌

When‌ Denise turned her⁠⁠‌ head, the unknown⁠​⁠ figure was already‌‍ sitting in the​ chair Trisha had​ occupied moments ago.⁠

She‌​⁠ was small in​‌ stature, reminiscent of​‍ Diella.

Although⁠‌ her face was‌‌​ hidden beneath a mage’s robe embroidered⁠ with golden thread,​ the glimmer of​‍ her dress through⁠‌ the fabric showed‍ it was beautiful‍‍ and ornate.

“W-what?‌‌ Who are you…?”⁠‍‍

Trisha‌ startled and turned​​ sharply when she​⁠⁠ saw the girl​⁠‌ suddenly seated behind⁠‌⁠ her.

The​ girl in the⁠‌ mage’s robe slowly⁠‌ raised her small‍⁠‍ hand and removed‌‌ her hood. Her⁠ white hair fell‌⁠ like waves.

Her⁠ skin was like‍‌​ white jade, and​‍ her eyes were‍ as pale as‍‌ northern snowflakes.

A single strand of​⁠​ hair falling between​ her brows gave‍ her a slightly⁠ clumsy air, but‍‌ even that transformed​⁠ into elegance through‍⁠ her purity.

She‍ looked like a finely dressed porcelain‌⁠⁠ doll come to‌‌ life.

However,‍ the moment Denise⁠ recognized the girl’s‌ face… she had​‍‌ no choice but‌​‍ to rise with⁠‍ a serious expression.​

She‍ was a student⁠​‌ Dereck had trained‍‌​ during his journey‌‍‌ to the far⁠‌​ northern lands.

Since​​‍ Denise was the‍ first to learn‍ about Dereck’s trip⁠‍ north, she couldn’t‍​‍ help but swallow‍ hard.

“A…⁠ no… Lady Siern…‍‌ why are you‌​ here…?”

“…You⁠‍ know me?”

Siern‌ had no interest‌‌​ in famous noble​​‌ figures.

She⁠ had accompanied her‌ father to a few social gatherings‌‍ on the outskirts,​​‍ but held no⁠​ interest in other‍ young noble ladies‌‌⁠ besides herself.

However,⁠ Siern’s notoriety was‍‌⁠ already well known‍ even in the‍‍‌ southwest.

Her‌‍​ personality was vile,⁠ and her arrogance​ exceeded all bounds.​ If something displeased​‌⁠ her, she killed​ without hesitation.

Though⁠‌​ the facts weren’t‌ yet clear, at​ least the high‍​‌ nobility had heard​⁠ of Siern’s atrocious‌⁠‌ nature.

Siern⁠ Alaina Rochester.

Upon⁠‌​ hearing that name,‌‌‌ the others present‍⁠ also froze.

It‍⁠ was rare for⁠ the girl, usually​⁠ confined in the​‍​ Rochester family’s tower⁠⁠​ on the northern‌‍‌ continent, to appear‌⁠ in the noble​‍ district of Ebelstein.​

“I‌‍ finished checking the⁠ mansion, so I thought I’d come‌‌ see sister Aiselin’s‌‍ face…”

Her​ voice was youthful,‍ but the pressure‌ it carried was​​ intense.

She‌ called her “sister‍‌ Aiselin.” It was‍⁠​ strange to refer⁠​ to the daughter​ of a completely‍‌‌ fallen family like‌‍ that, but no‍‍ one found it‍ odd.

Siern‍ slowly stood, and⁠⁠ upon seeing Aiselin’s‍‌‌ ruined state, narrowed​ her crescent-moon-shaped eyes.‌‍‍

She​ approached Aiselin, and⁠​‍ seeing her completely‌⁠‌ wrecked, bit her‍ lower lip.

Beside⁠‌ her stood Diella,‌‍ still seething with​⁠‍ rage. To the‌ left, Diella. To‍​ the right, Siern.​

Just‌​ looking at that⁠‍ scene made one⁠ swallow hard. You’d‌⁠⁠ wonder if there​ was anyone in‌​ the world who​‌⁠ could control those​ two girls—except their⁠⁠⁠ teacher, Dereck.

However,⁠ surprisingly, the girl‌‍⁠ soaked in tea​⁠ and looking like⁠‌‌ a drowned rat‍⁠⁠ showed no sign​ of fear.

In⁠​ fact, she looked⁠​ slightly confused. She‌ hadn’t expected Siern​ to suddenly intervene⁠​⁠ in this situation.​‍

“Lady‌‍ Siern… you said⁠‌⁠ you were going‍​ to check the⁠ mansion where you’ll‌​ be staying…”

“I​‌ finished earlier than‍​‍ expected, sister Aiselin.‍​ But still…”

Siern​ turned her gaze‌ to Lady Trisha.​​

The⁠​⁠ murderous intent in‌‍‍ her eyes wasn’t‍⁠‍ that of a mere troublemaker. It​⁠‌ was the look‍ of a lunatic‍⁠‍ who had already‍​ killed countless people.​

Killing‌‌ intent, at times,​‌‌ exudes an oppressive‌ force as if‍ it had physical‍‍ weight.

Rumors⁠​‍ of Siern were​​‌ already widespread among‌‍ the high nobility.​‍​ And when Trisha‍​​ felt that bloody‌‌⁠ intent coursing through‍‌⁠ her entire body,‍‍⁠ her legs nearly⁠⁠‌ gave out.

Siern’s‍⁠ level of magic⁠‍‍ was already beyond​ ordinary. Her movements​ were impossible to‍‍⁠ follow.

Sensing‍ murderous intent is‍‌ instinct engraved in‌ the realm of​‍‌ senses.

It’s‍​ more like facing‍ a giant bear⁠⁠⁠ alone in a snowstorm than standing⁠⁠⁠ before a strong‌ lady in a refined social circle.‍​

Suddenly,‍​‍ you close your‌ eyes and open‍‌⁠ them to find‍​​ yourself in the‍​ middle of a snowy field.

Red‌ eyes glowing in⁠ the darkness, white⁠‌‌ breath rising with⁠‍ every panting breath.‍‌‌

The​‌‌ bright red flesh‌⁠ visible between the⁠‍​ beast’s snarling fangs​‌​ seems to symbolize​‍​ your future.

“…”⁠⁠‌

While‌‍ Trisha stammered, unsure‍​ what to say,‍‌ Siern looked toward⁠ Aiselin and whispered.⁠‍​

The​ questions she asked‌⁠ weren’t the kind​‌⁠ you’d expect from⁠‍ someone gentle or‌​⁠ kind—like asking if‍⁠​ she was okay‍ or saying Trisha⁠​ was mean.

“Should‌‌‍ I kill her?‍ Considering the place.”​​‌

There​‍ was no deep‍ meaning or grand​ intention behind those​⁠⁠ words. It was⁠ simply a direct⁠⁠ expression.

It​⁠ wasn’t a threat​‌⁠ or an empty⁠⁠​ phrase. She truly‍​ was asking for​‌ permission.

If⁠⁠ Aiselin shook her​​⁠ head, she would‌​ really do something.‍⁠⁠ Trisha’s face turned​‌ completely pale.

“L-Lady‌​ Siern. Please, calm‍ down. I’m fine.‌ Lady Trisha surely‌ had her reasons.‌‌​ It’s hard to‌‍ judge just from​ the surface. That’s‌ how social activities‌‌‍ are.”

Eventually,⁠ Aiselin began to⁠​ defend Trisha.

If⁠‌‍ Siern really lost⁠‌‌ her temper in‌​‍ anger, no one​​ there could stop‍ her unless they‌ brought Dereck.

“L-Lady‍‍ Trisha… right? It’s‌‍ not like she‌‍ really meant to​​ hurt me… it​‌ was just… a mistake… right?”

“Y-Yes…?”⁠​

“R-Right?‌‍‌ Yes?”

“Ah,‌ yes? Yes…”

Siern‌ grabbed the edge‍⁠‌ of her robe‍ and looked back‌⁠​ at Trisha.

She‌‍ watched her for‌‍ a few seconds⁠⁠‍ as she stammered,​⁠‌ and finally remembered⁠‌‌ the etiquette Aiselin‍ had taught her.​‌

When⁠‌ she bowed her‌‌​ head with her‍ small stature, her‍ messy hair swayed.​‍‌

“Nice⁠‌ to meet you.‌​‌ I’m Siern Alaina‍​ Rochester.”

It‌ was just a simple greeting—but the‌‍ words that followed‍‌ hit Trisha like​​​ a bolt of​‌‍ lightning.

“Before‌​‌ late spring, I think I’ll debut‌‍ in Ebelstein’s social‍⁠ circle. We’ll be​ seeing each other‍⁠‌ often.”

It⁠⁠ was news that‌ the young lady‌‍⁠ of the Rochester​⁠ family, led by​​ the northern hero‌‌‍ Melverot, would be‍ making her debut‍‍ in Ebelstein’s social‍​ circle.

It​‌​ was obvious she​‌ would enter the⁠​‌ Rose Salon.

Trisha’s​‌‍ expression began to‌‍​ stiffen.

***‍‍‌

“Here,​⁠ put this on⁠⁠ for now.”

“…”‍

When​‍‌ Dereck handed her‍‌ the ring, Pheline‍​ looked at him‍ with a repulsed​⁠ expression.

It​⁠‌ was like receiving‌ an engagement ring‍ from a brother⁠​⁠ she’d been fighting⁠‍ with for years—reacting‍ as if her​ entire body broke‌‍ out in hives.‍‍

Of​​‍ course, Dereck felt‍ the same, so​⁠​ he couldn’t say⁠​‌ anything. It was‍ clear he was⁠‍ trying hard to‌ endure the discomfort⁠ crawling over him.​⁠‌

“Dereck…​ When you give‌‌ something like this,‌⁠‌ shouldn’t you say‍ something romantic…?”

“Would‌​ you like that?”​‌

“…Just‌‌‌ imagining it was‌ so awful I got dizzy.”

“Yeah,⁠ you’re welcome…”

The⁠‌ tavern “Tears of​ Beldern.”

The​ two were sitting⁠ side by side‍‍​ at the counter.‍‍ To anyone looking,​ it would’ve been​ hard to believe‍ they were nobles‍⁠ in training.

Thud.‌‍

“A‌‍‍ celebratory drink. Take‍‍​ it. I’m so⁠⁠ happy the members⁠ I considered like‍‍‍ my own children⁠‌ are getting married⁠​ and starting families.”‍‍‌

“…”‍​⁠

“…”‍​​

Jayden,⁠ who had served​‍ them Pheline’s favorite‍‌ apple wine and‍‌‌ honey mead, laughed​⁠ heartily.

He​ knew full well‌‍‍ those two didn’t​ look even remotely​ like a couple,‍‍​ so the situation‌ was entertaining to‍⁠‍ him.

Of‌‍ course, Dereck and​⁠ Pheline only stared‌ at their drinks‌‌ with expressions like​‌​ they were chewing‍ sand.

“Relax‌ a little. Since​‍ you’re doing something⁠⁠ necessary, try to‌​​ approach it with​⁠‍ a positive attitude.”​‌⁠

“Yeah…‌⁠‌ Anyway, I’ve finished⁠ all my preparations⁠‌​ to receive the⁠‌ title… I should‍ try to think⁠ positively.”

“Since⁠⁠‌ you’ve been expanding​​ your contacts and​ gaining the attention​ of many nobles,⁠ our Beldern Mercenary‍ Company has benefited‌‌‌ quite a lot.‍ We’ve got lots‌‌‌ of work, and‍​‍ tons of requests‍‌⁠ from nobles… It’s‍​​ a treasure. I’ll​ never charge you​‍ for drinks, so‍ remember that.”

Jayden⁠‌ would never abandon​⁠‌ his materialistic nature.‍​

Dereck,‌⁠ whose prestige was‌⁠‌ growing day by‍⁠​ day, was like⁠ a gold coin‌ magnet.

That’s‌⁠​ why Jayden’s ever-cheerful​‌‌ laughter sounded even​⁠ livelier lately.

Dereck‍ also enjoyed seeing‍⁠‍ that satisfied face,⁠ so he said‌ nothing.

“By‍ the way, when​​⁠ you brought those‍ young noble ladies​ last time, and‍‍ when the Duke​⁠ of Belmierd came​⁠‌ looking for you​⁠ personally… Ever since‍​​ you started mingling‌ with nobility, more‌ nobles have been‌⁠‌ coming to Tears​ of Beldern.”

“Well,‍​‌ most of the‍​‍ people I know‌‌ are young nobles⁠‍ from the noble⁠​⁠ district…”

“Really?​‌⁠ A young noble​‍‍ came here recently‌‍⁠ to drink… Don’t​ you know him?”⁠‌‍

There’s‍​ more than one‍ young noble out‍⁠‌ there.

Of​‌ course, nobles are⁠ easy to recognize,‍‌ so Jayden couldn’t‌⁠⁠ treat them lightly.​‍

“If‍ they’re coming to‌⁠​ our tavern to‍‍ drink, I figured​ they must be‌ connected to you…”‍‌

“Well…​‌‌ Don’t you know​​‌ his name?”

“No.⁠‍‍ But he always⁠⁠‌ leaves a tab​ open, which is‌ a pain. He’s⁠⁠ got a strangely​ noble aura… Makes‌‍‍ me wonder if‍ he’s broke… And​‌⁠ he seems to⁠‌​ have high status,⁠​‌ so I can’t‌ treat him carelessly…​‌⁠ It’s a dilemma.”⁠‍

It​ was the first⁠ time he’d heard​ of a noble⁠ leaving tabs unpaid‌ instead of tipping​ generously.

Dereck‍⁠​ scratched his head,​​‍ trying to remember,‌ but didn’t know‍‌‌ any noble who⁠ came here and‍‌ left unpaid tabs.‍

That’s​⁠ when, while he⁠‍​ was sitting at‌⁠ the counter—

“Oh,​ what an insensitive‍‍ owner. I always‍‌​ pay on time.⁠ Hic.”

When​ had he entered‍‌ the tavern? Even‌‍ Jayden, with his‍ trained eye, flinched‍‍‍ and shuddered. In​ that instant, he​⁠​ couldn’t help but‍ feel something was⁠‍ off. Jayden was⁠ a mercenary who⁠‍ lived by his⁠‍ instincts.

Weren’t‍⁠ they just gossiping⁠‌ about nobles?

Despite​ the awkward situation‍‌‍ of eavesdropping, the​‍⁠ man plopped down‍‍ beside Dereck, swaying‌‌‍ and hiccupping happily.‍⁠ He didn’t seem⁠⁠⁠ bothered at all​⁠‌ by what Jayden‍⁠ had said.

With‍ long red hair⁠ tied back and‌⁠‍ a scruffy beard.​‌‍

His‍​ clothes looked expensive,​‍ but his appearance⁠‌​ was anything but‌‌ neat. He suddenly⁠​ threw an arm‍ around Dereck’s shoulder,‍​​ grabbed the mead​‌‍ in front of‍ him, and toasted.‍​

“Hic…‍ I thought I was friends with​‌​ the owner… So‌⁠ sad… Very sad…”⁠

“Oh,​ sorry. I’m just⁠ trying to survive​​‍ day to day…”​

“I’ve‌​ been gambling for​‌‌ seven years… I feel like I’ll​‌ win big soon.‌⁠​ When that happens,‍​⁠ I’ll pay off‌‍‌ all my debts‌‌⁠ and treat everyone,​⁠⁠ so hang in⁠ there. Hic…”

Then⁠ he chugged the‍​ mead and belched​‍ without even wiping‌ the liquid off​​ his lips.

“Oh…⁠‌​ I’m getting drunk.​ It’s sweet but‍​⁠ strong. Ladies would⁠​ get tipsy without⁠​ noticing. Wow, this‍ is Ronen mead.”​

“…”‌‌

“Oh,‌‌‌ right. Dereck. You’re‍‍⁠ Dereck, right? I’ve⁠​​ heard a lot‍‍⁠ about you. Your⁠‍ name is well​‌ known in Ebelstein’s‌​ social circle. Wow,⁠⁠ what an honor‌‌ to see a celebrity in person.”⁠⁠‍

“Who…‍‍ are you?”

“Didn’t⁠ the owner tell‍‌‌ you? Have I never mentioned my​⁠‍ name? Hic…”

Jayden​ exchanged glances with⁠‌ Dereck and shrugged.⁠​‌

“Sure⁠ I said it⁠ once… Hmm… Did​ I dream it?‌ Everything’s blurry from​‍ the booze… Maybe⁠⁠ I was slurring‌‌ too much for‍‍ anyone to understand…”⁠⁠‌

The⁠ man, already reeking‍ of alcohol, scratched‍‍‍ his greasy head‍ hard, then took⁠‌ his arm off‍‌‌ Dereck’s shoulder and⁠‌ slumped over the⁠​‍ counter.

“Linus,​‍ that’s it, Linus.​ Yeah. Dereck. I always wanted to‍‌‌ meet you. Ugh.‌⁠ Ugh. I’m Linus,⁠‌ you’re Dereck.”

Dereck,‌​ who had been‍‌⁠ silently observing the‌​ man too drunk⁠‌‌ to stay conscious,​⁠‍ looked at Pheline⁠⁠⁠ with a stunned⁠ expression.

Pheline​‍ also looked disgusted.‍

She⁠​‍ hated nobles and‍ she hated drunks.​​ A drunk noble‌‍ was practically her‌​‌ natural enemy.

‘That⁠ name sounds familiar…’‍

Linus.​ He felt like​ he’d heard it‍‌​ somewhere before, but​ he was sure‍⁠ it was the​‍ first time they’d‍ met.

If‍ he could trigger⁠ his memory, he​⁠ might recall it—but​ for now, nothing⁠ came to mind.​‌‍

“…Just‌‌ one favor, Dereck.‍⁠⁠ You can’t resist‍⁠ magic, right? Then‌‍⁠ maybe this will‍​ interest you.”

Still,​ he was a customer.

That​‌ meant his attitude‌⁠ had to shift.​‌‌

Of‌ course, checking his⁠‍‌ ability to pay‍‍ was also necessary.​​​

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