Chapter 7

Chapter 7
## Chapter 7

“However, I understand why you act that way. It is true: sometimes, an excess of talent can consume the one who possesses it.”

The Duke of Duplain offered no further explanation. He continued scratching with his quill, resting his chin on one hand. He seemed to comprehend why Dereck was concealing his true ability.

*“At the very least, that is 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 seemed to be no need to take proactive measures for the moment.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a slight distrust deep down. Dereck still did not fully understand what kind of person the Duke was.

“If I have been impolite, I apologize.”

“No, it is a relief to know you are not just an ordinary person. But judging by your age and your attire, you do not look like someone who usually teaches magic.”

“I am a mercenary.”

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

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

He was a man who led many followers and wielded immense power. The ability to quickly assess someone’s aptitudes was crucial.

“Aiselin chose you, so I will say no more. I will grant you permission to enter the pavilion where Diella lives. A servant will accompany you.”

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“Thank you.”

“You may be dismissed.”

Having said that, the Duke made an indifferent gesture toward Dereck and returned his gaze to the pile of documents on his desk. He was the ruler of a vast duchy, with too many things to consider and manage.

However, Dereck did not leave. He remained standing there, hands clasped behind his back, motionless in the office.

After reviewing 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 of Your Grace.”

“What is it?”

“Your Grace, I am a mercenary. Mercenaries pride themselves on fulfilling any task they are assigned.”

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

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

*“Why do you say the obvious?”*

“That is why I must sincerely ask something of Your Grace.”

The Duke frowned and looked at Dereck.

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

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

However, Dereck’s expression remained unwavering.

***

After greeting the Duke, Lady Aiselin entered her private quarters and poured tea for Jayden.

Her faithful maid carefully prepared an exquisite tea and offered it to Jayden, although the delicate cup did not quite suit the rugged mercenary.

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With a forced smile, Jayden, whose hands were thick and muscular, lifted the cup and took a sip.

“This job doesn’t seem too demanding. I will accompany Lady Aiselin back to Ebelstein once she has finished her schedule at the palace.”

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

“Ha, ha. There is no need for such formality with a small group of mercenaries like ours. Lady Aiselin, you are 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 enhanced her beauty. However, the worry on her face clouded her grace.

*“Valerian had quite a somber countenance. If he is upset, I apologize.”*

“There is no need. Introducing mercenaries into a Grand Duke’s mansion won’t be pleasant for anyone. I understand. The true challenge will be faced by Dereck, not me.”

“I brought him based on my own judgment, but I worry if Dereck can handle Diella.”

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

Lady Aiselin seemed much more anxious upon returning to the noble estate.

She had invested a lot of time and money seeking expert mages through various mercenary groups. However, she had not neglected her social education.

Jayden observed Aiselin for a moment and then smiled sweetly.

“Why did you bring Dereck?”

*“Was it a hasty decision?”*

“Not at all. I have been working with him for quite a while, and he is undoubtedly more composed and capable than his age suggests.”

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

“I wondered if you had seen the same thing.”

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

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

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

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

His magic ability was also well-developed. Although it was still basic, the small age difference between him and Diella was significant.

Mages of four stars or higher, who studied magic decades ago, often had difficulty understanding beginners.

That is why someone like Dereck was seen as more suitable.

Hearing Aiselin’s explanation, Jayden let out a chuckle.

*“Ha, Lady Aiselin, you are sincere and honest. Your direct and honest gaze is what attracts people; a quality that inspires loyalty.”*

“There is no need to flatter me so much.”

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

Jayden’s relaxed smile widened. Although it remained a friendly atmosphere, the situation turned more serious.

Lady Aiselin knew Jayden was an experienced warrior. His carefree attitude hid a deeply reflective nature.

“In your opinion, what is the most important quality for a mercenary, someone who constantly travels through dangerous battlefields?”

“…I’m not sure.”

“Tenacity… or perhaps courage. That cannot be taught, unlike almost everything else.”

Holding a tea cup with clashing floral patterns, Jayden looked away briefly before setting it on the table.

“Dereck is a mage raised on the streets and has been a mercenary since before reaching adulthood. Do you think a mercenary born on the streets could survive on grace and kindness alone?”

“Excuse me?”

“Miss Aiselin, you need to refine your ability to judge people.”

***

*Crunch!*

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Following his audience with the Duke, Dereck found a servant waiting for him in the hallway.

With a polite bow and voice, the servant said:

“The butler has informed me. I will accompany you to the pavilion where Lady Diella resides.”

“Does Lady Diella live separately in a pavilion?”

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

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

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

The hallways, filled with ornate decorations, were magnificent, with walls lined with what appeared to be expensive paintings.

From the carpets to the curtains, everything was of the highest quality, worthy of an authentic noble mansion.

The path toward the pavilion was surrounded by green trees, with red roses adorning the fence arches. It was a beautiful path, although its design subtly isolated it from the main house.

“…”

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

After crossing the large main door, he finally saw the servants assigned to Lady Diella, their faces already weary.

“My name is Dereck.”

“We were expecting you. This way, please.”

After a brief introduction, the pavilion’s butler led him through the hall and up the stairs.

Unlike the bustling main house, the interior of the pavilion had a strangely pale aura. Sunlight barely filtered through, and the air felt damp.

Dereck took a deep breath and climbed the stairs.

Soon a large room appeared in view, presumably Lady Diella’s quarters. The servants were standing in front of the wooden door, heads bowed, waiting.

“Thank you for your efforts.”

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He passed the servants, each with a more dejected countenance than the last, until he reached the door.

Dereck paused, resting his chin in his hand, realizing there was no point in continuing to speculate about Diella, whom he did not yet know. So he knocked on the door.

*Knock, knock.*

“Excuse me.”

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

“…”

Silence reigned in the room.

It was too spacious for a girl who had not yet reached adulthood. So grand that all the furniture seemed to occupy less than a fifth of the room.

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

In the center of the room was a tea table covered with an immaculate white tablecloth, and a girl sitting with her back to the door.

Only her back was visible, but her petite figure was elegantly draped by a thick mane of blonde hair. Dressed in a comfortable lace nightgown, as casual house wear, the young girl seemed to be enjoying tea at the table.

“My name is Dereck. Pardon the intrusion.”

“Come closer.”

Her tone was soft, but it had a slight youthful nuance. She was the youngest daughter of the Duplain family, even younger than Lady Aiselin, so her voice was not surprising.

Observing the expressions of the surrounding servants, the tension was evident.

Dereck looked around and then, with some hesitation, stepped a bit further in. After all, he had to speak with Lady Diella.

It was then that he approached her silently.

*Splash!*

It happened in an instant.

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When he opened his eyes, Dereck was soaked.

Lady Diella, who had turned around quickly, had thrown dirty water from a rag hidden under the tablecloth.

A rancid stench began to emanate from his body. Now he found himself in the same condition as the servant who had been crying in the audience hall.

“My, my.”

The girl’s eyes, large as a cat’s, sparkled with satisfaction. With her delicate fingers, she touched her lips and then, bursting into laughter, curled the ends of her abundant golden hair with innocent delight.

“My, my, my.”

*Drip, drip, drip.*

Reddish drops fell from Dereck’s snow-white hair.

Through the strands of hair, he could see Lady Diella with a bitter smile, as if something had brought her immense joy.

“I thought it was a rat sneaking in, but it turns out to be the mercenary the butler mentioned, right?”

“…”

“Or not? Now that I look at you more closely, you really do look like a rat. A beggar from the slums, huh? Now you’re living in luxury, visiting ostentatious mansions.”

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

*Splash.*

This time it was dirty water mixed with food scraps; something the kitchen staff might have discarded but had instead saved.

Now Dereck understood why the servants looked so anxious. They knew Lady Diella would do something like this. However, they had to remain silent; warning Dereck in advance would only have caused Diella to vent her anger on them.

Regardless of 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 tossed it carelessly to the floor.

“I prepared something so you’d remember your home, thinking you wouldn’t be used to such ostentation. Now you really look like a sewer rat. Do you like my surprise?”

“…”

“Don’t look at me with those eyes.”

Still sitting on the chair, Lady Diella kicked Dereck in the stomach, knocking him to the floor.

*Thump!*

The floor, which was already very dirty, was slippery, and Dereck had no choice but to fall.

“Ugh… what a stench.”

She took off the sandal that had touched Dereck and threw it at him with disdain.

The sandal hit Dereck’s shoulder and rolled away.

Barefoot, Lady Diella crossed her legs and sat 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 are so contemptible you don’t even know your place… You should have left before making a fool of yourself. What a pitiful spectacle!”

Her tiny body contrasted with the ferocity of her gaze. The aggressiveness of a cat with sharp claws was evident, defying her small stature.

She pinched her nose and added with disgust:

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

“…”

“Know your place, sewer rat.”

Dereck looked at her silently before standing up.

—*“That is why I must seriously ask Your Grace, the Grand Duke.”*

In the office, the Grand Duke Duplain’s movements stopped as he silently manipulated his quill.

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

“…”

—*“I am not just any magic instructor, but a street mercenary. So I can solve things my way or follow conventional methods like everyone else.”*

—*“But seeing Lady Diella’s state, I am not sure the usual approach will work. Sometimes, drastic measures are necessary. That is why I must seek the guidance of Your Grace, who deeply loves Lady Diella.”*

The Grand Duke rose from his seat and calmly contemplated the landscape stretching from the corner of his office, through the window.

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

Although born into a commoner family, he possessed an inner magical strength that seemed to be, at the very least, of two-star level.

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

The boy had said that mercenaries pride themselves on fulfilling their contracts.

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

—*“When teaching Lady Diella, how much authority are you willing to grant me, Your Grace?”*

Drastic measures might be necessary. The seriousness in Dereck’s gaze contrasted clearly with the majestic dignity of the mages who preceded him.

If things had continued as before, the result would have been no different.

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

“…”

Diella’s arrogance was already well known in high society circles. Could the Grand Duke Duplain truly plead 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 the piles 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 look silently out the window.

*Crack!*

*Slap!*

Sometimes, when something happens too fast, it is hard to process what occurred.

As if the brain cannot process a scene so far removed from reality.

This was one of those moments.

The servants gathered near the door and in the hallway opened their eyes wide.

They were so shocked they forgot to breathe, and their fingertips trembled uncontrollably.

*Crack!*

The sound of a tea cup breaking 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 seemed as if time had stopped.

Sitting on the floor, Diella could not even comprehend what had happened; her eyes were wide with surprise. Her pupils dilated, reflecting disbelief.

What was the status of a lady from a distinguished family? If the tea temperature were wrong and burned her tongue, the servant who prepared it would be lashed until their back was torn.

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 to the point of exhaustion in the servants of the nobility.

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

*Tap, tap.*

Dereck brushed off the remnants of his soaked robe.

Lady Diella tried to speak, to say something, but her voice, caught by shock, only emitted hollow and incomprehensible sounds.

“…”

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

An insult like that might hurt high-ranking mages who had led noble lives, but for a sewer rat from the underworld, it wasn’t even a scratch.

Because that too was simply life.

“Get up.”

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

His white hair, tangled with dirty water.

Between the strands of hair, his icy gaze gave off a chilling, otherworldly aura, one that could freeze anyone with a single look.