There Are No Bad Young Ladies in the World

Duplain (4)

“Still, I see why you would behave that way. Indeed, excessive skill can sometimes consume its owner.”

The Duke of Duplain did not speak at length. He simply resumed scratching his quill pen, resting his chin on one arm.

Derek seemed to have some idea why he was hiding his true abilities.

‘It’s at least a four-star exploration spell.’

Derek furrowed his brow. Regardless, he didn’t feel any hostility from Duke Duplain.

Each noble had their own way of dealing with commoners, so there seemed no reason to take any proactive measures at this point.

Still, he couldn’t help the wariness blooming in a corner of his heart. Derek didn’t yet fully understand what kind of person Duke Duplain was.

“If I have been rude, I apologize.”

“No. It’s good to know you’re not just anybody. But judging by your age and attire, you don’t seem like someone who normally teaches magic.”

“I am a mercenary.”

“Is that so. Now even a mercenary from a tavern story has made his way into the Duplain Duke’s residence.”

Duke Duplain’s sharp tone carried less emotion than Derek expected.

Derek realized the Duke was sizing him up.

He was a man who commanded numerous vassals and wielded considerable power.

The ability to quickly gauge someone’s capacity was of utmost importance.

“Aiselin chose you, so I won’t say much. I’ll grant you permission to enter the annex of the mansion where Diela resides. You’ll be guided by a maid.”

“Thank you.”

“You may go.”

With that, Duke Duplain waved his hand dismissively at Derek and turned his gaze back to the pile of documents on his office desk.

He was the master of this vast duchy. There were far too many things to think about and deal with.

Yet, Derek did not leave. He stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, not moving from the office.

After reviewing the documents a few times, Duke Duplain eventually looked up again and said,

“What are you doing? I told you to leave.”

“There is something I must ask Your Grace.”

“What is it?”

“Your Grace. I am a mercenary. Mercenaries pride themselves on completing any task they are given.”

Derek spoke softly, almost whispering, without raising his eyes.

“Lady Aiselin has given me a task. To teach Lady Diela magic, and to ensure she can stand proudly as a noble in society.”

“Why state the obvious?”

“That’s why I must earnestly ask something of Your Grace.”

Duke Duplain frowned and looked at Derek.

It was not common for a commoner to speak so freely in front of a duke of the realm.

If the content is trivial, that alone could be a sin. Such is the nature of social status.

Yet, Derek’s expression remained steadfast.

*

After greeting the Duke, Lady Aislin entered the private parlor and served tea to Jayden.

Aislin’s dedicated maid carefully brewed the fine tea and presented it to Jayden, but the delicate teacup seemed ill-suited for the rough mercenary.

With an awkward smile, Jayden, his hands full of sinew, lifted the teacup and took a sip.

“This task doesn’t seem to require much from me. I’ll accompany Lady Aislin back to Ebelstain once she finishes her schedule at the manor.”

“Will you? Having the leader of the Veldern mercenaries here has been very reassuring.”

“Ha-ha. There’s no need for such formalities with a small mercenary group like ours. Lady Aislin, you are truly generous.”

Sitting in a corner of the parlor, Lady Aislin looked like a solitary flower.

Her dress, though plain, flowed with an understated elegance that made her beauty seem radiant. However, the worry etched on her face greatly marred her graceful loveliness.

“Valerian’s expression was quite grim. If he’s upset, I apologize.”

“No need. Bringing a mercenary into such a grand ducal residence must have been unpleasant. I understand. It’s Derek who will have the hard time, not me.”

“I brought him here on my judgment, but I’m anxious whether Derek can handle Diella.”

“I don’t know much about Lady Diella… so I have nothing to say.”

Lady Aislin seemed much more anxious upon returning to the ducal residence.

She must have spent considerable time and money seeking a capable mage through various mercenary groups. And yet, she had not neglected her social studies.

Jayden watched Aislin for a moment, then let out a sympathetic smile.

“Why did you bring Derek?”

“Was it too hasty a decision?”

“No, not at all. I’ve worked with him for a long time, and he’s certainly calm and competent beyond his years.”

Jayden’s smile relaxed, and he continued, hoping to ease Aislin’s worries.

“I was just curious if you had the same thought.”

“Well… Derek may be a mercenary, but he oddly seems to know a bit about noble speech and culture.”

“That’s probably the influence of his mentor. His mentor was once a well-off noble who fell from grace.”

“I see. Mercenaries usually lack such refinement and determination… He also has a kind demeanor… So I thought he might be able to manage Diella well.”

Indeed, Derek seemed quite sensible and good-natured, especially compared to the typical mercenary.

His magical proficiency was also growing rapidly. Although still modest, the small age gap between him and Diella was significant.

Mages of 4-star rank and above, who learned 1 and 2-star magic decades ago, often struggle to understand those just beginning to learn magic.

Therefore, it was thought that someone like Derek might be more capable in this regard.

Upon hearing Lady Aislin’s explanation, Jayden let out a laugh.

“Ha, Lady Aislin, you are indeed sincere and upright. It’s that very gaze, straight and true, that draws people in, a character that inspires loyalty.”

“There’s no need to praise me so highly.”

“Not at all. But… may I, a mere commoner who has wandered battlefields here and there, be so bold as to speak my mind?”

Jayden’s easygoing smile grew heavier. Though still amiable, the atmosphere had shifted.

Lady Aislin knew Jayden to be a veteran of many battles, his frivolous demeanor a veil for his profound inner thoughts.

“What do you think is the most important quality for a mercenary, always traversing perilous battlefields?”

“…I’m not sure.”

“Decisiveness… or perhaps courage. Those can’t be taught, unlike other things.”

Jayden, holding a floral teacup that seemed out of place, swept his gaze over it before setting it back on the meeting table.

“Derek is a magician raised on the streets, and he’s been a mercenary since before he was fully grown. Do you think a street-born mercenary survives on grace and goodness alone?”

“Excuse me?”

“Lady Aislin, you need to hone your ability to see through people.”

*

-Creak-

Exiting the Duke’s audience chamber, Derek encountered a waiting maid in the corridor.

With a bow and a polite voice, the maid addressed Derek.

“I’ve been informed by the housekeeper. I will guide you to the annex where Miss Diela resides.”

“Does Miss Diela live separately in the annex?”

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

Those circumstances were clear enough. It must have been difficult to keep a reckless troublemaker who breaks everything on a whim in the main house.

Derek followed the quietly walking maid through the ducal corridor.

The ducal corridor, filled with lavish decorations, was dazzling to behold, and the walls were adorned with expensive-looking paintings.

Every item, from the carpets to the curtains, was of the finest quality, befitting a true noble house.

The path leading to the annex was surrounded by green trees, with red rose vines decorating the arch-shaped fences. It was a beautiful path, but its design subtly intended to distance it from the main house.

“…”

Following the maid, Derek entered the annex where Diela’s room was located.

Passing through the large main gate, he finally saw the servants assisting Miss Diela, their faces already weary.

“My name is Derek.”

“We’ve been waiting for you. Please, come this way.”

After Derek briefly introduced himself, the butler managing the annex led him along the hall to the stairs.

In contrast to the lively main house, the interior of the annex had a strangely ashen feel. The sunlight scarcely penetrated, and there seemed to be a dampness in the air.

Derek took a deep breath and ascended the stairs.

Soon, a large room appeared, presumably where Lady Diella resided. Maids stood in front of the wooden door, their heads bowed in wait.

“Thank you for your hard work.”

He passed by the servants, each looking more haggard than the last, until he reached the door.

Derek pondered with his chin propped on his hand, realizing that pondering further about Diella, whom he knew nothing about, was pointless. So, he knocked.

– Knock, knock.

“Excuse me.”

With no response, he slowly opened the door and peered inside.

“…”

The air inside the room was still.

It was an excessively large room for a girl not yet an adult. So grandiose that even with all the furniture combined, it seemed it would occupy less than a fifth of the space.

A bed adorned with delicate lace, a tea set cabinet that looked expensive at a glance, a vanity and wardrobe embellished with ornate embroidery caught his eye.

In the center of the room was a tea table covered with a pristine white cloth, and a girl sat with her back to the door.

Her back was all that was visible, but her petite frame was impressively wrapped in abundant golden locks. Wearing a comfortable lace dress as casual wear, the girl seemed to be enjoying a cup of tea at the table.

“My name is Derek. Pardon my intrusion.”

“Come closer.”

Her tone was refined, yet there was a youthful timbre in her voice.

She was the youngest of the Duplain family. Younger even than Lady Aiselin, so her voice was not out of the ordinary.

Observing the expressions of the surrounding servants, a clear unease was evident.

Derek glanced around and then trudged into the room. After all, he had to converse with Lady Diella.

It was at that moment, as he calmly approached Lady Diella.

– Splash!

It happened in an instant.

When he opened his eyes, Derek was already drenched.

Lady Diella, who had quickly turned around, had splashed him with water from a rag she had hidden under the tablecloth.

A fishy smell began to rise from Derek’s body. He was now in the same state as the maid who had been sobbing in the reception room.

“Oh my.”

The girl’s eyes, stretched wide like a cat’s, exuded a satisfied air.

With delicate fingers, she traced her lips, then, with a burst of laughter, she twirled the ends of her lush golden hair innocently.

“Oh my, oh my, oh my.”

– Drip, drip, drip.

Crimson droplets fell along Derek’s snowy forelock.

Through the strands of hair, Lady Diella was seen grinning bitterly, as if something brought her immense joy.

“Thought a rat had crept in, but it was the mercenary the butler mentioned, wasn’t it?”

“….”

“Or not? Now that I look again, you do seem like a rat. A beggar from the slums, right? Living the high life now, visiting such a luxurious mansion.”

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

– Swish

This time, it was dirty water mixed with food scraps, something the kitchen maids had been about to throw out but had been kept instead.

Derek now understood why the servants’ expressions were anxious. They knew Lady Diella would do something like this.

Yet, they had to keep silent; warning Derek in advance would have turned Diella’s wrath upon them.

Regardless of the era, middle managers always suffer. Working in this annex must be no easy task.

Understanding their unease to some extent, Derek quietly accepted the filthy slop.

– Drip, drip, drip.

– Bang!

Having emptied the contents, Lady Diella carelessly tossed the empty bucket to the floor.

“I prepared something reminiscent of home, thinking you wouldn’t be accustomed to such splendor. Now you look more like the gutter rat you are. How do you like my surprise?”

“…”

“Don’t look at me so insolently.”

Remaining on the chair, Lady Diella kicked Derek in the solar plexus, toppling him over.

– Thud!

The already filthy floor was slippery, and Derek had no choice but to fall.

“Ugh… the stench.”

She slipped off the slipper that had touched Derek, and flung it at him carelessly.

The slipper that hit Derek’s shoulder rolled across the floor.

Barefoot on one side, Lady Diella crossed her legs and sat atop the table. Using the chair as a footrest, she rested her chin on her hand and let out a haughty laugh.

“Now gutter rats from the slums are making their way into my annex. You’re so lowly, you don’t even realize your own status… You should’ve known your place and left before seeing such a sorry state. What a sight this is.”

The girl’s petite frame belied the sharpness in her eyes. The aggressiveness of a clawed cat was evident, belying her small stature.

The rising stench was unpleasant, or so it seemed, as the girl pinched her nose and said,

“Who are you to teach me, a lowly vagabond?”

“…”

“Know your place, you street rat.”

Derrick quietly observed the girl before he rose to his feet again.

– ‘Therefore, I must earnestly inquire something of Your Grace, the Grand Duke.’

In the office, the Grand Duke Duplain’s movement halted as he quietly manipulated his quill.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully a few times before finally setting the quill down on the desk.

“…”

– ‘I am not an ordinary magic teacher, but a mercenary from the streets. Thus, I can handle matters in my own way, or I could follow the principles as others have done.’

– ‘However, seeing how Lady Diella’s situation has come to this, I am uncertain if the usual approach will resolve matters. Sometimes, drastic measures are necessary. Therefore, I cannot help but ask Your Grace, who loves Lady Diella dearly, for guidance.’

The Grand Duke stood from his seat and quietly gazed out the window at the landscape from a corner of the office.

Lost in deep contemplation, he stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

Despite being of common birth, he possessed an inner magical power that seemed at least of two-star grade.

Standing before the Grand Duke, he asked what he needed to know, all the while maintaining the utmost courtesy—a fundamental understanding of noble culture.

The boy said, mercenaries take pride in fulfilling their contracts.

True to his word, the boy sought to determine what was necessary to complete his mission, by any means necessary.

Sensing the boy’s peculiar sincerity, Grand Duke Duplain had no choice but to lean on his chin and ponder.

– ‘In teaching Lady Diella, to what extent are you willing to grant me authority, Your Grace?’

Drastic measures might be necessary.

The seriousness in Derrick’s eyes was distinctly different from the dignified nobility of the magicians he had seen before.

If things continue as they have, the results will remain the same.

The boy’s voice was as firm as steel.

“…”

Diella’s haughty nature was already well-known among the upper class.

Could it be that Grand Duke Duplain himself was entirely blameless for how his daughter turned out?

As the head of the family and a father, had he always made the right choices?

Valerian, Leig, Aislin, Diella.

Amidst the mountain of paperwork that always kept him preoccupied with his duchy, had he ever loved his children equally?

Within such endless self-questioning… Grand Duke Duplain quietly continued to gaze out the window.

– Snap!

– Crash!

Sometimes, when something happens too suddenly, it’s hard to comprehend the situation right away.

It’s as if the brain can’t accept a scene so detached from reality.

This was exactly such a moment.

The servants gathered by the door and the hallway all had their eyes wide open.

Shocked to the point of forgetting to breathe, their fingertips trembled uncontrollably.

– Tinkle!

The sound of a teacup shattering as it fell from the tea table.

In front of it—Lady Diela, having been slapped by Derek, had tumbled from her chair and was now slumped on the floor.

“──.”

A silence so profound, it seemed as if time itself had stopped.

Diela, sitting on the floor, couldn’t even grasp what had happened, her eyes wide open in shock. Her dilated pupils spoke volumes of her astonishment.

What is the position of a lady of a prominent family?

If the temperature of the tea is misjudged and scalds the lady’s tongue, the servant who brewed it will be whipped until their back is torn.

If she stumbles and sprains an ankle while walking, the maid attending her will be thrown out of the mansion.

Such is the body of a noble lady, always dignified and beautiful. This is the lesson drilled into the servants of the noble house until they are sick of it.

Yet, despite all this, Diela’s cheek was swelling up, bright red.

– Tap, tap.

Derek dusted off the ends of his soiled tunic.

Lady Diela tried to speak, to say something, but her voice, wrapped in shock, could only emit hollow, meaningless sounds.

“…”

A fishy smell emanated from the body.

Lady Diela was right. Derek’s hometown was a slum.

Such humiliation might be a painful wound for high-ranking magicians who have lived nobly all their lives, but for a gutter rat from the bottom, it’s not even a scratch.

Because it was all part of life.

“Stand up.”

Derek, having straightened his clothes, looked down quietly at the girl sitting on the ground.

White hair matted with dirty water.

Between those strands, cold eyes revealed a chilling, otherworldly aura that could make anyone shiver just by looking.