Chapter 152

Chapter 152
## Chapter 152

After that, Trisha kept scratching her head in despair while begging Dereck to please help her even just a little, but Dereck, as if raising a steel wall, rejected all of her requests.

Even if Trisha, who went around raising her voice arrogantly everywhere, had reached that point of humility, one would think he might grant her something; however, he had no intention of retracting the principles he had already established.

“Miss Trisha. Even so, there is nothing absolute in this world. Lady Diella, although she certainly has the temperament of an enraged beast, if one approaches her with total sincerity, one way or another she ends up opening her heart.”

“…”

“To use my own example, when I met Lady Diella, I ended up soaked in dirty water full of food scraps. After leaving me like a dirty rag, she insulted me non-stop.”

Dereck remembered the first encounter with Diella.

The image of that little girl, locked in the Duplain family annex, rejecting the entire world as if everything were her enemy, quickly came to his mind.

“She did something like that? How on earth did you manage to connect with such a savage? What kind of magic did you have to use so that a wild beast like that would end up following you so well…?”

“Mmm… I did everything in my power… That is all I will say.”

“No, you have to give me a clear method so that I can at least try.”

“The details are a secret…”

***

Although Trisha argued with Dereck for a good while, he did not yield an inch.

In the end, she had to accept that Dereck was not someone who could be persuaded with words or flattery.

Trisha no longer cared about appearance or dignity, and she clutched her head while letting out groans of frustration.

Since it felt uncomfortable to stand there watching her, Dereck held back a sigh and forced himself to respond.

“Are you afraid of Lady Diella?”

“Ugh… it’s not fear. I simply believe that approaching such a tyrant brings nothing good. She has… neither poise… nor elegance…”

“You don’t have to be so afraid of her. As I already said, although it seems like she acts without thinking, in the end, she is a person who cannot step outside of what is reasonable.”

“I-It’s not fear,” I said. “W-who is afraid of whom…?”

“You have spent a lot of time in high society, haven’t you? After all, Lady Diella is also a young noble of the Duplain family, and you must not forget that she is part of the aristocracy.”

No matter how much Trisha complained inside, Dereck simply said what he had to say.

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As always, this man did not change his attitude based on the family or lineage of the person in front of him. Whoever it was, he maintained his firmness.

“Among the nobles, what is it that they value most, Miss Trisha? You know it better than anyone.”

When Dereck said that, Trisha’s fingers trembled slightly.

It sounded like a hint, but in reality, it was nothing more than a superficial phrase without real content. Even so, Trisha could not ignore it.

“What does that mean?”

“Literally.”

— *Creak.*

“Forgive me for making such a distinguished guest wait. In any case, the higher the rank, the more work.”

At that moment, the mistress of the mansion, Countess Rodelia, entered the lounge accompanied by servants.

Trisha finally remembered what Countess Rodelia had emphasized several times: that Baron Ravenclaw was a guest of honor in that mansion and that he should be treated with absolute respect.

But Trisha had been saying all sorts of sincere things without any filter, and thinking about it, she felt so much shame that she wanted to hit her head against the wall.

‘I lost my mind for a moment. What nonsense have I done?’

Trisha clutched her head and held her breath, but Dereck, as always, simply greeted Rodelia with his expressionless face, as if nothing had happened.

It was obvious that Dereck did not take Trisha’s reckless comments too seriously.

That was how Dereck was.

***

“I regret having to present you with only a limited support plan. As I already mentioned, allocating too many resources or personnel to another territory is not recommended. Furthermore, the situation around the White Labyrinth is not favorable, so I hope you understand.”

“No, not at all. Even what you have promised will be of great help to the Ravenclaw territory. When the infrastructure works are finished, I intended to decorate the main hall with a portrait or a statue of Your Excellency, Countess Rodelia, who has supported us.”

“If you do, it will also be a great honor for me. You are a person who knows how to show respect.”

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Once almost all negotiations were concluded, Dereck prepared to return.

Countess Rodelia tried to detain him, telling him that, since he had traveled all the way there, why not stay a bit longer?; but Dereck, who led a life so busy he barely had time to breathe, politely declined.

Rodelia had wanted to take the opportunity to bring Trisha and Dereck a bit closer, but since it didn’t work as she expected, she couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

Even so, she had managed to create an important point of contact between the house of Countess Renuel and the house of Baron Ravenclaw.

That in itself already represented a considerable diplomatic advantage, so, with a satisfied smile, Rodelia said to Dereck:

“I imagine my daughter must have committed several discourtesies.”

Countess Rodelia, the wise ruler of the Renuel County, knew that her daughter Trisha must have already said all kinds of things.

Trisha had returned to the annex by her mother’s order, because Dereck still had matters to discuss alone with the Countess.

Taking advantage of that moment, Rodelia offered an apology with a kind smile.

“At first glance, one can see that Trisha is arrogant and very vain. She relies on the prestige of House Renuel to look down on everyone, and everywhere she goes, she is obsessed with keeping her head held high.”

“…It is not that bad.”

“You don’t have to be so formal. I would like our relationship to be a bit closer.”

Although Rodelia appeared completely open and relaxed before Dereck, for a border baron, it was somewhat overwhelming for the head of House Renuel to approach him with such familiarity.

When Dereck lowered his head slightly without protesting much, Rodelia sighed to herself and spoke in a more informal tone.

“Trisha certainly takes after her father. My late husband, Hutton, always tried to teach her useless things.”

“Useless things?”

“Things like masculine ambition, audacity, bluffing, initiative, the ability to read the atmosphere… that kind of confrontation is not very useful for a young lady of ancient noble lineage.”

Countess Rodelia sighed deeply as she remembered her late husband.

Mind games and firmness could be useful in the dangerous social world of the nobility, but Rodelia, who spent her entire life as a warrior on the battlefield, was no expert in such subtleties.

Perhaps that was why the great merchant Hutton tried to teach Trisha something that Rodelia could not teach her.

“That’s why Hutton and I always clashed regarding Trisha’s education. Although usually one of us would yield, and that would solve the problem.”

“…”

“Even so, Hutton had a very good eye for certain things. So I also yielded quite a bit. But even then, standing in front of a seven-year-old girl shaking a fist to tell her not to blink or making her jump from cliffs so she would enjoy the adrenaline—now that was excessive.”

Just by listening to it, it was easy to imagine what kind of person Hutton had been.

Seeing Dereck’s expression of disbelief, Rodelia cleared her throat.

“My husband Hutton was really… how should I put it…?”

“Yes, he was an oddball.”

“…”

“You don’t have to choose your words. As I said before, I think we can get closer. Ahem.”

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“I appreciate you saying that.”

“Hutton was a truly strange man. At that age, it’s normal for a girl to start receiving a formal education in etiquette, tea, magic, history, and literature; but he, who understood better than anyone the importance of a lady’s education, didn’t seem to want to teach Trisha any of that.”

Rodelia’s voice took on a slightly nostalgic tone.

When remembering old times, it was natural for the voice to soften.

“Most likely, by then, Hutton had already understood it.”

“…”

What had he understood? Dereck didn’t ask. He had a feeling. And Rodelia, seeing his expression, sighed.

“Yes. With your perspective, I’m sure you already know. Trisha, in all aspects, is a girl without any particularly remarkable characteristics.”

Even if Dereck hadn’t said it, her parents had already confirmed it repeatedly.

Whether it was magic, art, politics, studies, or etiquette, whenever they taught her something, she ended up being a bit below or a bit above average. Never enough for her to be considered useless, but never enough for her to be called talented even once.

“Miss Trisha told me so herself.”

“Exactly. Compared to your students, who shine like stars every single one of them, Trisha must seem like an opaque stone.”

Dereck could not nod, but he did not deny it either.

Even if Trisha were his disciple, the chances of her experiencing spectacular growth were practically nil.

All the students Dereck had taught until now had the “open sky” above them, without limits.

Siern and Denise, for example, could be considered prodigies or geniuses.

But Trisha’s upper limit was clearly sealed.

Dereck could state with certainty that, even if he taught her personally, he would only manage to bring her to a level slightly above average.

“Mediocricity is not a sin.”

Rodelia lowered her gaze.

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“But there are those who, due to their birth position, cannot afford mediocrity. It is not something that can be solved simply because others say ‘it’s okay’.”

She was the daughter of the continental heroine Rodelia and the great merchant Hutton. It was easy to imagine the situation in which she had been raised.

That obsession with keeping her chin up was a kind of desperate struggle.

Dereck made a decision. He had to be clear to avoid future problems.

“Even if I taught her directly, Miss Trisha would never reach the level of 3 stars or higher.”

It was not a guess, but a certainty.

And Rodelia knew that this man did not make statements lightly. So she closed her eyes for a few seconds and nodded.

Rodelia looked up at the clear sky, remembering the past.

Hutton, who adored his daughter more than anyone, at first taught her all the subjects proper to a lady of the nobility.

But one day, he abandoned all that and focused exclusively on strengthening her mentality and her courage.

Probably because he had seen exactly what the limit of his daughter’s talent was. Hutton had an exceptional eye for those things.

She remembered the days when little Trisha, eyes bright with curiosity, followed her father.

That girl who ran through the forest, climbed cliffs, and fished in the river while her father guided her.

Thanks to that, she developed a rough personality; but Hutton only wanted to engrave one thing in her heart.

The girl who looked at the open sky with ambition would inevitably one day collide with reality.

In a social world filled with brilliant beings, the day would come when she would have to bow her head, lamenting her waning talent.

For that reason, the only thing a father had to engrave in his daughter was:

— “Never cower.”

It was the last message from the man who started as a beggar and ended up owning a commercial empire.

— “Even if it seems like the whole world is playing above your head, never cower, Trisha.”

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That was what he told her while drying clothes by a bonfire near the cliff, after spending the whole day fishing.

He offered her his closed fist so she could bump it and make him a promise.

It didn’t matter if she seemed arrogant, pretentious, or if they insulted her.

Even if they considered her a third-rate villain, greedy and conceited, or a mediocre person.

She must never worry about that.

Whatever happens, she must never back down.

That was what Hutton repeated over and over again, the man who reached the top thanks to his pure tenacity.

Did that message still remain in her heart?

“In short, he was a strange man, without self-control, without elegance, and completely unpredictable. Even now, remembering him is terrible to me. I have no idea how I endured the marriage. Every time I think of him, I can only sigh.”

“…”

“But well…”

Countess Rodelia, who spoke as if remembering an enemy, slowly closed her eyes and smiled.

“As a husband, he wasn’t so bad.”

***

—*What is it that nobles live and die for, Miss Trisha? You know it better than anyone, right?*

At that moment, she could only cling to her pride.

Inside her, the idea ignited that, one way or another, she would become Dereck’s disciple.

It was as if her pride had been mercilessly scratched.

Trisha, lying alone in the bed of her private room, gnashed her teeth and then let out a long sigh.

The image of that young lioness with bright red eyes, who radiated an intimidating ferocity, came to her mind.

The number one in the Ravenclaw academy, the primary disciple, Diella Katherine Duplain… to be honest, just being in front of her already instilled a paralyzing fear.

Dereck had managed to tame that crazy girl and turn her into his disciple; it was something that she still found impossible to believe.

Seeing her become a docile lamb only in front of him was an unimaginable spectacle.

Even so, she too was a noble. What is it that nobles live and die for? In reality, the answer was simple.

“It is legitimacy.”

Legitimacy, legitimacy… that damn legitimacy.

Perhaps it made no sense to talk about legitimacy with a fierce young woman like her, but legitimacy is something that, if one knows how to manipulate words, can always be manufactured somehow.

“…”

Trisha, lying in the dark room, stretched her hand toward the ceiling and clenched her fist.

She felt a force rising to her nose, bit her lower lip firmly, and exhaled hard.

Then she narrowed her eyes and gathered courage.

“I am the noblest of ladies from the lineage of Count Renuel.”

She swallowed hard, holding her ragged breath, and clenched her fist again.

Her mind began to race at full speed.

***

Four days later, at the Hall Rose meeting.

Among the numerous sons and daughters of influential families who were in the Elfontaine building to conduct academic research, a young woman made her way through the entire corridor.

Wherever she walked, the crowd split in two.

Every time she took a step, everyone watched her movements; every time her abundant blonde hair swayed, everyone stepped back, afraid to block her path.

If she looked to the right, the people on the right swallowed with difficulty; if she looked to the left, those on the left broke into a cold sweat.

At some point, this little tyrant had become the dominant figure of the Rose Hall, capable of subduing the entire room with just her gaze.

Such was the ephemeral nature of earthly power.

Nothing had changed, but depending on support and political shifts, one could go from being crushed on the ground to walking above the clouds.

With no intention whatsoever of dealing with that rabble who didn’t even seem noble, the young woman walked heavily through the crowd.

“Good morning, Miss Diella.”

But someone stepped into her path without moving aside.

Diella frowned, but the person in front of her raised her head even higher and took a deep breath.

“You don’t seem to be in a good mood, huh?”

“Tri… Tri… what was it? Your name.”

Although she knew perfectly well her name was Trisha, Diella deliberately decided to set aside her pride.

Trisha contained her emotions, forced a smile, and remembered one by one the words her late father had engraved in her mind throughout her life.

As a lady-in-waiting to Count Renuel, she had to always live with dignity, pride, and an upright bearing.

But life always presents us with tests that seem to measure how far a person can fall.

“Get lost.”

A single word from Diella made the entire corridor fill with a sensation of intense cold.

It was like facing a lion inside a cage.

Worrying about clothes or about not dirtying one’s shoes in front of a wild beast was stupid.

To survive there, one had to be willing to wallow in the mud.

And the most valuable thing Trisha inherited from the banker Hutton was his courage.

Trisha smiled slightly. She had spent days practicing words in front of the wall, words she had never uttered in her life.

Now she just had to let them out smoothly and firmly.

The more shocking, the better.

“Let’s fight, bitch.”

Thus, the atmosphere of the Elfontaine building, packed with spectators, froze instantly.

They wondered if their ears were failing.

They had heard something, but it seemed too absurd to be true.

The young noble ladies, mouths agape, stood petrified, unable to move.

*Rest in peace, Trisha.*

As if everyone had been in agreement, a solemn silence ensued.