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Noble Lady Reformation Guide Chapter 1: Dereck (1)

Chapter 1: Dereck (1)

Dereck’s‍ first teacher was⁠ a shabby old‌ man who begged‌‍ in the slums.⁠‌

Even​⁠⁠ in Ebelstein, a renowned metropolis on‍‌⁠ the continent, there‌​ were slums where⁠ the destitute gathered.⁠ At the entrance‌‍⁠ to a dark⁠⁠ alley frequented by​​‍ thugs and prostitutes,​⁠ the old man‍​ would loudly proclaim‍​ to the empty‍ air that he​‌​ was a great‌‌⁠ wizard, as if⁠⁠‍ he had lost​ his mind.

“In⁠​‌ my prime, I was a grand⁠ wizard who soared‍ through the skies​⁠ in the Great​⁠ Northern War!”

“The‌‍ famous Grand Duke‌‍‌ Beltus even personally​⁠ sought me out​‌ to deal with‍​ the monsters in‍⁠​ the frontier! Haha!”⁠‌‍

The‌ few remaining strands​‌‍ of hair on‌‌ his wrinkled head‍ were filthy, and​ his worn-out leather‍‍‌ shirt and pants⁠​‌ were stained with‌ dirt and leftover⁠⁠ food. To anyone‌⁠ who saw him,​ he was nothing‍⁠‌ more than a mad beggar, so‌‌ naturally, no one​‍‌ believed his words.​‌

“Ah,​‍​ these fools… Tsk!”‌

Hurt‍⁠ by their disbelief,‌‍ the old man​⁠‍ would occasionally shoot‍ fire into the‍ air or summon⁠ a gust of​ wind.

In​⁠ an era where‍ magic was rare,​ even the most‌⁠​ basic magic was‍ an invaluable skill‍ in these slums.‍​ Passersby would applaud‌⁠‍ or exclaim in​⁠ awe at his‌⁠ magic, but those⁠ with a bit‍ of knowledge would​‌ critically remark:

“I‍ understand you can⁠‍‌ use magic, but‌⁠ your scale is​ too small to⁠​ call yourself a grand wizard, don’t‍‌‍ you think?”

“Hey,⁠​‍ you little brat!‌ Who are you⁠‍ to criticize me?”‌⁠‌

“Well,⁠‍ it’s just that‍ you seem capable⁠ of only basic​⁠‍ first-level magic, which‌‍⁠ noble children often⁠‌⁠ master before their⁠‌‍ coming-of-age ceremony.”

The‍ old man swallowed‍⁠ dryly at the​⁠‌ criticism from a man in the‍​‍ crowd. He hadn’t​​⁠ expected anyone in‍ this filthy slum‌⁠ to recognize the‌ levels of magic.⁠‍

“Of‍​ course, it’s impressive‍ to use magic⁠‌‌ at all in⁠ this wasteland, but‍‌⁠ claiming to be‍⁠‌ a grand wizard‍‍ from your past‍⁠​ seems a bit⁠‍​ much. Let’s be‍⁠ honest.”

The​‌ man, who looked⁠ neat and well-dressed,‍​ made it clear​⁠ that between him‍‍ and the beggar,‍‌ there was no‍ need to debate⁠​​ who was more⁠‌ credible. The gathered‍ crowd laughed and⁠‌‍ mocked the old‍ man, throwing trash‌​‌ and dirt at‌ him.

“See?‌⁠‍ I knew it!​‌​ That annoying old‌​ man always boasts‍ about himself when‌‍ he walks by!”‌​​

“He⁠‍ thinks he’s special,‌ but he’s just​​ a worthless bum​‍⁠ who rationalizes why⁠⁠ he doesn’t belong‌ in this back​‍ alley!”

Even⁠⁠⁠ the ability to‌​​ use basic magic​‌ was admirable to‌‍⁠ the poor in‌⁠​ the slums. However,⁠‌⁠ the old man’s‍​ arrogant behavior and‌ constant belittling of​ others had made‍​ him a target​​‌ of ridicule. As‌ a result, he‌‌ was spat on​‌ and mocked whenever‍‍ he lay on⁠‌⁠ the street.

“Fools.‌ They don’t recognize‌ true talent…”

The‍​ old man would‍​ mutter to himself,​ trying to justify⁠ his situation as⁠ the only way⁠​‌ to defend his​​‌ pride.

One‍‌⁠ day, while sitting​⁠‍ on the ground,⁠ angrily biting into⁠⁠ a piece of⁠‌ oat bread he‍ found in the‍ trash, a small‍⁠ boy with a dirty appearance approached‌ him.

“Please‍ teach me magic.”​⁠

The‍⁠​ boy, who looked​​ no older than⁠ ten, with white‍‌⁠ hair covered in​‍ dirt and a malnourished face, was⁠​ a typical orphan⁠‍ from the slums.⁠

It‍​​ was clear that​⁠ the boy was‌⁠ not in his‍ right mind to⁠​ ask a beggar⁠ known for his​ tall tales to​‍ teach him magic.⁠ Despite his serious‌ eyes, it was‍‍ a common look‍‌ in this harsh⁠‍‌ slum where survival‍⁠⁠ was a daily‍ struggle.

“My‌​ name is Dereck.”​​‌

“…Very‌ well.”

The⁠​ old man looked‌‌ at the boy‍​⁠ and then grinned,‍‌‌ baring his teeth.​

The⁠ old man was‍⁠⁠ a braggart. He‍‍ was not a successful grand wizard‌ from his youth,‌⁠ but a mediocrity‍ who wandered the‍‍⁠ magical world with⁠‍ unremarkable talent and‍ grew old without‌⁠ accomplishing anything.

He​ had no real​‍ ability or intention⁠ to teach magic⁠​ properly. Sometimes, people‍‌ who have accomplished‍ nothing in life‌‍ need someone to​‌ take their boasts​⁠ seriously and admire⁠‍‌ them. The arrival⁠‍‌ of a naive​⁠ boy was a great stimulus to​‍⁠ his otherwise empty⁠​ life.

“Haha,‌‌ Dereck, consider yourself​ honored to have‌‍‌ me as your‌​​ teacher. Though I may be sitting‌‍​ here in the⁠​ dirt now, in​​ my prime…”

The​⁠‌ old man filled​ his ego by⁠​ giving lengthy speeches‌ to the small​ boy. Passersby would⁠ click their tongues‍​⁠ or look sympathetically⁠ at Dereck, but‌ he listened quietly‍ to the old‌‌ man’s stories.

Occasionally,‍⁠ the old man‌ would reluctantly share‌ basic magical knowledge,⁠‌ though it was‌‌ elementary and exaggerated​‍‌ to seem profound.‍ Dereck, whether aware‌ of the old‍‍ man’s nature or​​‍ not, absorbed the⁠​ magical knowledge silently.‍​

Time‍ passed, and the​​⁠ seasons changed like‍‍‌ a flowing river.​​ The colorful autumn‍ leaves disappeared, the​‍‍ weather turned cold,‌‌‌ and soon it‌ was spring again.‌‍‍

The⁠ boy and the⁠⁠‍ old man sometimes⁠‍‍ slept by the‌​‌ river, stole bread​‌‍ from bakeries, and​‍‍ endured the cold​⁠‍ in makeshift shelters.​‌​ Despite the difficulty‌ of understanding people’s‍ true nature, the‍ old man gradually​⁠⁠ realized Dereck’s exceptional‍‌​ talent.

“Are‍​ you a bastard⁠ child from a noble family?”

“Not​ at all.”

In​⁠ magic, bloodline was⁠ paramount. Even the​‌ old man could‌‌​ see Dereck’s extraordinary​⁠ talent. He grasped​ concepts quickly and‍‍ applied them skillfully.‍

In‌ terms of theoretical​ knowledge, Dereck soon​⁠ matched first-level wizards,‍‍ a feat rare‍‌⁠ even for noble‍⁠‌ children with the‍​ best resources.

“I⁠‍ wish that were‍⁠​ the case.”

Dereck‌ answered indifferently, the​‌⁠ steam from fresh‌ bread wafting in​‌ front of him.​‍​ It was a lucky day, having‌‌‍ successfully stolen a lot of warm​⁠ bread. The old​​​ man greedily stuffed​‍ some into his‌‌​ leather pouch and‍ began to eat,‍‍ pushing the rest⁠‍ toward Dereck.

“Why​‌ you’re so eager‌ to learn magic,​ I don’t know,‍​⁠ but you understand‌​ that as a commoner, there’s a limit to how‍ far you can‌ go.”

“Yes.”​

“Noble⁠‍‍ children beyond Ebelstein’s‌ northern walls often​‌ reach the third‍‌ level before adulthood.‍​ For someone of⁠ low birth, it⁠​⁠ takes decades of‍​⁠ training to reach⁠​​ that level. Does​​ that motivate you?”​‌

The⁠ old man couldn’t‌​⁠ help but offer⁠⁠ some life advice⁠​⁠ to the boy​ who seemed prematurely⁠ world-weary. Despite needing⁠ a follower, Dereck’s‌ old-man-like demeanor made⁠ him difficult to​‌‍ like.

Still,‍‌‌ time spent together⁠‌​ breeds attachment. The⁠ old man felt​ compelled to share‌‌⁠ his grim outlook.‌‍‍

“Even⁠‍‍ if you feel⁠‌‍ exceptional now, you’ll‍⁠ eventually hit an​⁠ insurmountable wall.”

This⁠ wasn’t just a story. The old⁠‍ man recalled his‌ younger days, when⁠‌⁠ his hard-earned magical‌ skills were effortlessly‌​ matched by a duke’s son in‌ a week. The‍​⁠ chasm between noble‌ and commoner was‍‌ vast.

“Live​​ selfishly and tenaciously,‌ like me.”

“I’m⁠ not harboring grand‍​ ambitions. I just‍‌⁠ need a way‍⁠ to survive.”

“Ah,‌⁠‌ speaking like you‍⁠‍ know everything at‌‍ your age… this⁠‌‌ butter bread is⁠‍ delicious. Seems we​‍⁠ got lucky.”

“My​ bread only smells​​ of grains.”

“Haha…”‍

Dereck‍⁠ chewed his bland⁠ bread, watching the​‌‌ old man laugh​ with his yellowed‍ teeth on display.‌‍

“I’ve‍‌ already taken the​ good butter bread.⁠‍ A disciple shouldn’t‍⁠ eat better than‌ his master.”

“…”‍​‌

“I​ told you, life⁠​ is about being​ tenacious. If you’re‌ upset, you should’ve‌‍⁠ kept the good⁠‌⁠ bread for yourself.‍ It’s all in‌‌‍ my pouch now.”‍

The⁠⁠ old man’s behavior‍ of hoarding the‍ good bread was​ typical of a beggar. Dereck, unable‍ to muster even‌⁠ a bitter laugh,⁠‌​ quietly ate his‌‍⁠ dry bread, vowing‍‍ to secure the‌ good butter bread‍‍ first next time.​

The‌​⁠ next day at​‍ dusk, Dereck returned‍ from practicing pickpocketing‍⁠​ to find his‌ teacher lying by‌‌⁠ the river, covered‌​ in blood.

The‌ old man had​​ tried to steal​ from the northern‌​ wall guards and​ was beaten nearly‍ to death. It‌⁠⁠ seemed he attempted⁠ to steal a second-level magic book.‍‌ No one understood‌​ why a man​⁠ with no ambitions‌⁠​ would do such‌‌ a thing.

Touching‌⁠⁠ Ebelstein’s guards was⁠⁠ suicidal, especially for‌⁠ a despised beggar.‌​ No one would⁠‌‌ defend him.

“Master.”⁠‍‍

“Gah…‍​ ha…”

With⁠ broken ribs, the‍‌ old man could⁠‍​ barely breathe, trembling⁠⁠⁠ in a pool‍ of blood, trying‌ to speak. But‍ no words came,‌ only the struggle‍ to breathe. His‍⁠⁠ life ended with‌​ a trembling hand,‌‍ true to his​‌ beggar’s life.

Dereck⁠ silently observed the‍‍‍ cold body, then​ used a broken‌‌‍ shovel to dig‌ a grave by⁠‌​ the trash-filled riverbank.​ After placing the​ old man’s body‌‍ in a modest‌‌​ grave, Dereck nodded⁠​ a few times​⁠ and returned to‌‌‌ their usual shelter.‌

There,⁠ he found the‌‌ old man’s smelly⁠⁠ leather sheets, a small wooden drawer,‌⁠ and some cloth‍⁠ used as pillows.‍ Searching through, he‍‍ found nothing of‍ value except a leather pouch with​‍ leftover bread.

Dereck‍‌ took the pouch,​ wrapped a leather‍‌ sheet around his⁠ shoulders for warmth,​⁠‍ and headed towards⁠‍​ the main street‍ of Ebelstein.

The‌‌‌ old man had​ said that as⁠ a commoner, Dereck’s⁠​‌ magic training would‍ have limited success.‌‍‌ It wasn’t wrong;‌ most would agree⁠‍ in this world‍ where magic was⁠​ a privilege.

However,​​​ the old man⁠⁠​ never realized that‌ Dereck wasn’t originally⁠ from this world.‍​‍

[You‍ have mastered the‌⁠⁠ basics of magic.⁠​ You can now⁠‌ access first-level magic.]‍‍

[Choose‍‌​ your main school​‌‍ of magic. This‌ choice is irreversible.]​‌

Dereck‌​ only needed a teacher to learn​ the basics. For⁠​ advanced magic, one​⁠⁠ would need a great master, but⁠‌​ for the basics,⁠⁠​ anyone could be‍‍‍ a mentor. In‍​‍ these slums, even​ such teachers were‌ rare. The old​‌ man, with his‌⁠​ exaggerated stories, was​‌ perfect for Dereck’s⁠ needs.

That⁠ was all there​ was to it.⁠

Despite‍ his pitiful life,‌‌​ the old man⁠ had tried to‌​‍ teach Dereck something.⁠​​ He wanted to​​ impart his desperate‌​ tenacity to survive‍‌ from the bottom.‍‌​

As‌ Dereck walked towards⁠⁠ Ebelstein’s main street,⁠​ he wore his​ usual old-man-like expression‌‍ and bit into​‍‍ a piece of‍‌ bread from the‌‌ old man’s pouch.‌‌ It contained no⁠ butter.

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