There Are No Bad Young Ladies in the World

The Acolyte (5)

Among the servants, there was a buzz of whispers.

Diela burrowed under the broken platform, and Leig, drawing upon his magic, manifested a first-class spell.

This was no formal magic duel, where etiquette and magical prowess were exchanged; it had turned into a real brawl.

The head butler, Delron, swallowed dryly at the sight.

Technically, the magic duel hadn’t met the conditions for termination. No one had gone over the wall, nor had the protective magic circle been activated.

But could this still be called a magic duel? Was it really alright not to intervene in a situation where they were just emotionally battling it out?

No orders had come from Duke Duplain, who was watching from the railing. He just observed the duel with serious eyes.

Head butler Delron considered intervening with his own authority, but the earnestness of the two combatants, clenching their teeth in the fight, stopped him.

– Crash! Snap!

Leig dashed out from between the pillars of ice, organizing his thoughts.

If he tried to break the podium floor to chase Diela, that’s when Diela, sensing the magic, would unleash her attack.

Then Leig would have no choice but to interrupt his chanting or turn his magic to defense. A standoff would inevitably continue.

Amidst this mental tug-of-war, Leig realized.

Diela was prolonging this stalemate to waste Leig’s magical power.

Leig, who was indiscriminately firing first-grade spells, and Diela, who was merely repeating basic magic utilization.

Even if their proficiency in magic differed, it was clear who would tire first.

– Thud!

Leig leaped onto the podium.

Despite his footsteps echoing down below, Diela’s magic did not manifest. It was as expected.

Diela only interfered when Leig was about to cast a spell, clearly forcing a war of attrition.

‘Smart move! But… it’s nothing but a petty trick…!’

A magical duel is fundamentally a contest of magical prowess, but with the situation thus, there’s no need to adhere to etiquette and use only magic.

Leig kicked off the podium’s wall and grabbed the flagpole on the outskirts.

The Duplain family’s crest fluttered on the flag. Unconcerned, Leig kicked up to the top of the flagpole, his muscular arms bulging with veins.

Diela’s attacks only reached the top of the podium. If he climbed higher, Diela wouldn’t be able to penetrate the podium and hit an unseen enemy. From here, even if he bombarded with magic, Diela couldn’t respond.

However, there was a disadvantage for Leig. Clinging to the flagpole made it difficult to chant properly, reducing the power of his magic and his mobility.

If he used magic now to break the podium floor, he would only become an easy target for Diela’s magic.

Diela probably intended this as well.

And Leig moved one step ahead of Diela’s intentions.

– Swoosh!

Leig untied the clasp of his cloak and wrapped the fabric around the flagpole.

He then gathered his magic and embedded a first-grade spell, ‘Magic Arrow,’ into the base of the flagpole.

– Boom!

– Creak, squeak.

The flagpole, struck hard at its base, was about to topple.

Ignoring the servants’ startled cries, Leig pulled his weight towards the podium, holding onto the cloak-wrapped flagpole. He was adjusting the direction of the falling flagpole towards the podium.

Using the collapsing flagpole, he would smash the podium to pieces.

Without using magic to break the podium, Diela wouldn’t have time to react, and he would also create a passage to enter the podium area below where Diela was.

On equal ground, Leig was certain to win.

The premise that it would not collapse even if the sky split in two.

– Screech!

– Boom!

Thus, the flagpole was thrust into the podium, raising a cloud of dust.

Leig, on the verge of falling, leapt to the side and rolled atop the podium. Covered in dust all over, he paid it no mind and looked towards where the flagpole was embedded.

One side of the wooden podium had collapsed. The geographical advantage that had been protecting Diela was completely gone.

Without hesitation, Leig threw himself into the crevice of the ruins.

– Crash!

It wasn’t hard to anticipate that the moment of landing would be targeted.

Though the ice pillar Diela had summoned enveloped him, Leig quickly drew upon his magic to shatter the pillars. Dusting off his hands, he turned his gaze to pinpoint Diela’s location.

Below the broken podium.

Sunlight occasionally pierced through the gaps in the shattered wooden planks, but most of the space was quite dark despite it being broad daylight. He searched for Diela, but she was nowhere to be seen below the podium.

‘…What? Did she go outside the podium?’

As Leig inspected the area below, he noticed the hole that Diela had initially sealed with ice was open again.

Below the hole were remnants of ice pillars that seemed to have been stepped on by Diela.

As Leig showed signs of breaking through the podium and descending, Diela had prepared herself to ascend to the podium this time.

‘Damn… cunning rat…!’

She had no intention of fighting under equal conditions. If there was a gap in skill, she would use the battlefield’s advantage and tactics to induce confusion in her opponent.

It was the combat style of mercenaries, living a life where they could not predict when or where they would be forced to fight against stronger foes.

Above and below the podium. The positions had reversed.

Now, Diela occupied the podium above, and Leig had come down below. The reversed situation meant that all conditions had flipped.

Leig maintained his composure. As he had just experienced, being on the podium, which indirectly exposed his position, was far more disadvantageous.

Now that he occupied the space below the podium, he had gained an advantage, or at least, it wasn’t more disadvantageous.

He could either climb back up to the podium or pinpoint Diela’s location from here and strike her down in one blow.

As soon as Leig discerned the sound of Diela’s footsteps, a magic arrow flew in that direction and struck.

– Crack! Bang!

The magic arrow hit right under Diela’s feet, shattering the podium.

At the same time, Diela, who had been hovering above, was forcibly brought down to the ground.

– Rip! Thud!

As Diela fell below the podium, a cloud of dust rose once again.

The thick dust made it hard to see, but I could sense Diella’s presence nearby. Leig drew three more magic arrows and shot them all where Diella might be.

– Boom! Bang! Bang!

The shock cleared the dust, but there was no sign of the protective magic circle activating. The shots had missed.

Leig quickly kicked off from his spot and ran, cursing under his breath. Before Diella could change positions and use her grappling skills again, he gathered his magic, intending to finish it quickly.

And there she was, revealed through the dust.

In that moment, Leig’s pupils shook.

A stream of blood trickled down one side of the girl’s forehead, a wound likely from the fall.

She seemed to move well, so it wasn’t a serious injury, but Leig knew the significance of a scratch on the body of a noble lady.

Covered in dust, the girl was whipping her robe around, drawing magic once more.

Her eyes were filled with venom.

Yes, venom.

Ever since childhood, Leig had seen that venom in Diella’s eyes, the relentless drive to achieve her goals by any means necessary.

Sometimes it was painting, other times magic. The girl would try until death, and yet, achieve nothing. When sincerity fails to yield results, the overwhelming return is endless emptiness.

Where did that venom go when there was nowhere left to turn? She tormented her servants obsessively to maintain her noble authority and protect the last of her value.

And as always, she sat in the annex with empty eyes, passing meaningless time.

Watching her, Leig thought over and over. Diella was just that kind of person.

But the direction of venom is crucial.

If it finds the right guide, sometimes it can transform into wings on one’s back.

– Crackle

Diella, defending herself with a pillar of ice, was visibly exhausted.

Unlike Leig, casting magic a few times drained her significantly. It seemed she had reached her limit.

Regrettably, Leig was not one to show mercy just because she was bleeding.

As he approached, ready to draw the final magic arrow,

– Swoosh!

“Aargh!”

Diella grabbed the dirt from the ground and threw it straight into Leig’s eyes. Such pettiness was unthinkable for a noble.

As Leig stumbled back, clutching his eyes, she kicked him in the abdomen, sending his cloak flying.

– Crash!

She tried to attack Leig with an ice pillar, but he, with bloodshot eyes, gritted his teeth and blocked the attack.

– Thud! Thud! Thud!

Through the shattered ice pillars, destroyed by Raeg’s magic, Diela’s gritted expression could be seen.

Raeg could easily read her determination from such a sight.

She wants to win.

To win by any means necessary. To prove her worth by winning.

Protecting her master or whatever comes after that is a secondary concern.

Right now, Diela just wants to win at all costs. Her eyes blaze with a fierce desire for victory.

Could it really be that this girl, with her eyes cold and empty, once confined to the annex, is the same person?

Raeg swallows dryly and clenches his teeth. But that doesn’t mean he can afford to lose.

Seizing the moment of Raeg’s hesitation, Diela kicks off the broken flagpole and ascends. Her movements are agile, befitting someone who has roamed the forests and painted landscapes since childhood, but it’s nothing more than a futile struggle.

All the variables she had prepared were completely neutralized. Raeg follows suit, kicking off the flagpole to rise to the platform.

There, Diela waits, scraping together the last remnants of her magic.

– “Think of it as painting.”

Under the night sky, a boy with white hair cascading down, once a mercenary, said.

Looking up at the stars, densely packed like salt, he uses the expansive night sky as a canvas, drawing a line with his finger.

As he traces constellations among the stars, magic already lingers at his fingertips.

The girl, with eyes full of starry night, looks at the world, wishing to capture it in her art.

She picks up the brush in front of the canvas, gazing at the forest in the dead of night. As she transfers the solitary moon above to the canvas, it seems as if she can see the magical essence imbued in all things.

A warm breeze on an evening. A zelkova tree standing alone in the middle of the meadow.

Spring. Night. And stars.

If magic is about bringing one’s imagination to reality, how different is it from painting?

Magic is the paint, the spell is the brush, and a single painting is the magic brought to life.

Thus, the girl paints the world with a brush well-dipped in paint.

– Swish!

Just as her white-haired master advised, she draws a stroke of magic.

The girl loves the moment she makes the first stroke on the blank, white canvas.

The magic manifested from her fingertips wraps around her body, and with a single grasp, it gathers at her fingertips and blooms into a flower.

Raeg, who was drawing up magic on the platform, widens his eyes in surprise.

Covered in dust, devoid of any noble dignity, and a streak of blood running down her eyes adds a solemn fierceness to her.

The servants, who had rushed to the platform thinking it was time to intervene, are now frozen in place.

– Whoosh!

From the girl’s fingertips, a one-star spell ‘Ice Spear’ was born.

The frozen spear floated around her, then shot towards Leig with unbelievable speed.

The spear, too fast for the eyes to follow, filled Leig’s vision.

“Argh!”

Leig clenched his teeth and cast a spell.

A one-star spell suddenly launched by Diela, whom he thought lacked the firepower to penetrate his defenses.

It was sudden, but all he had to do was block it and counterattack in an instant. Now, Diela really had no means to resist, having scraped the bottom of her mana.

So Leig lowered his stance and gathered his mana. He focused all his mind on avoiding the Ice Spear and driving a mana arrow into Diela.

– Boom!

Once again, dust rose on the stage, and amidst the dirt, a protective spell was cast.

The emergence of the protective spell meant the duel was over.

The retainers and servants, silently watching the rising dust, all swallowed hard.

They were all curious about the outcome of this desperate struggle.

And so… the dust that had filled the stage slowly cleared away.

– Groan

And the one who had cast the protective spell… was Diela.

Exhausted, she collapsed and gritted her teeth as the defensive magic unfolded.

“Pant… Pant…”

Leig rolled on the ground, barely dodging the Ice Spear. And somehow, he managed to land the last shot on Diela.

Completely drained, Leig struggled to stand up.

Soon, tears began to well up in the eyes of Diela, who sat breathless on the floor.

It was Diela’s defeat.

“…”

And then, deeply saddened by the defeat, Diela began to cry profusely.

Leig could only widen his eyes at the sight of her.

*

‘Used a one-star spell…?’

The duel itself was not long. It was just a few minutes.

But in that brief moment, the stage crumbled, dust rose, and a fierce battle ensued in an instant.

Amidst the grave atmosphere, the sudden event unfolded, and Duke Duplain did not bother to order them to stop.

He was stopped by an intuition that he had to watch what would unfold.

“What is this… What is happening…! Does this make any sense?! Such frivolous and sordid…!”

“…”

Miriella, who had been watching alongside him, clenched her teeth and exclaimed.

“No dignity, only defiled, and to call this a magical duel…!”

“…”

“I can’t just stand by and watch this anymore! That so-called magic tutor. Was he teaching Diella all this? To our Duplain family’s noble lady, who should always be dignified and aristocratic, was he instilling such nonsense?!”

Miriella stormed out onto the terrace in a huff, and the servants who had been watching hurriedly followed her. It seemed she was ready to grab Derrick by the collar and confront him right then and there.

The Grand Duke of Duplain did not let Miriella’s anger reach his ears.

Regardless of what she said, he simply watched Diella crying on the podium.

Raymond Oswald Duplain, the head of the Duplain family, had roamed the battlefields since his youth.

As a noble of the empire, he fulfilled his duty on the battlefield and saw many people before becoming the head of the Duplain family.

Those born with noble blood and who achieved much usually have eyes that sparkle. But there were also many who did not.

Some smile with dreams fulfilled and success, while others cry with dreams lost and despair. Such is the way of the world.

“…”

The dissonance he felt at the sight of Diella, gritting her teeth and using every trick in the book to somehow beat Leig, was because the youngest daughter he knew had changed so much.

He remembered the girl, who after countless frustrations, was holed up in the annex with empty eyes staring at the wall.

Experiencing too much frustration at too young an age often leads to that. Since time is usually the best medicine, the Grand Duke of Duplain tried to embrace the girl in any way he could.

But it did not mean his heart as a father was not aching.

He held Diella within the ducal residence, hoping that someday light would return to those empty eyes.

He watched over her wandering until it seemed she had reached her limit, believing she would surely find her way back.

That’s all a parent can do for a wandering child.

But the girl now had determination.

In a duel where everyone predicted defeat, she fought by any means necessary to win.

The tears she shed in frustration showed a burning desire to compete and be recognized.

It was unimaginable when she was locked in the room covered in thorns, staring at the wall with empty eyes.

Handling magic and learning a few ceremonial spells are things that can be done over time as one grows older.

Being born into the Duplain lineage, it’s only a matter of how quickly or slowly one progresses, but she would have reached a certain level eventually.

Therefore, Derrick’s early manifestation of magic might not be considered a tremendous contribution in the long run.

—

He proved that Diela could do it, and even in a duel where everyone predicted defeat, he presented the possibility that she might win.

He constantly reminded her that if she wanted something, she had to reach out and seize it.

It was then that Duke Duplain realized.

What the boy Derrick had taught Diela was not mere magic.

─What Derrick taught was ‘ambition.’ He planted a flame in the heart of that tiny girl.

In the dark slums, amidst the filth, she absorbed the ambition of that boy who reached for the starry sky.

It was that very ambition that shone brilliantly in their eyes, even amidst war, and what some had failed to grasp amidst countless frustrations, never to hold in their lifetime.

The value of knowing a few spells paled in comparison. The Duke knew all too well that this smoldering ambition, like molten lava, was one of the most crucial elements that determined the course of life.

“…”

The Duke watched quietly as Miriela, puffing with anger, descended towards the podium. His gaze narrowed, and soon, he frowned.

Duke Duplain closed his eyes tightly.

After a long silence, he finally opened his eyes and called out to the head maid.

“Katarina.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“I should go down to the podium as well.”

“Understood.”

With that, he descended the stairs of the main hall with his servants, each step heavy with significance.