There Are No Bad Young Ladies in the World

The Priest (6)

Dust billowed on the podium as the servants rushed up in unison. The duel was over, and it was time to clean up.

Among them, Diela was clearly the one who needed help the most.

Her tiny frame had darted across the podium, and now, bruised from falls and drained of magic, she was a wreck.

Watching her cough and cry, one would feel not anger but sheer misery.

Looking down at the tattered Diela, Leig was at a loss for words.

“Ah..ahh…”

Her sobs and the clutching of her wounds were pitiful.

It was supposed to be a ceremonial magical duel among nobles, but Leig had never anticipated such an outcome.

“Mi, Mia…”

As he was about to speak, Leig caught himself. Was he about to apologize? To that wretched Diela, whom even the heavens would scorn?

Yet, the Diela he saw during the duel was so different from what he knew.

—

Has it changed?

I’m not quite sure what has changed, but at least I could tell that Diella wanted to prove herself sincerely through this duel.

The outcome was not favorable, but sometimes the process is more meaningful.

That’s why Leigh couldn’t mock or blame Diella, who was lying down and crying.

There is an indescribable nobility that flows from those who challenge with all their might.

To mock that carelessly is to feel a sense of sin. Leigh stood there for a long time, with a look of not knowing what to say…

– Clang

“I will guide you to the inner room. You need to receive treatment first.”

Diella, supported by the maids, eventually pushed them away and stood up straight.

Then, she strode towards Leigh, her eyes still swollen red with resentment.

However, a loss was a loss.

Diella quietly bowed to Leigh and walked past him on her own.

Leigh just watched her, his eyes wide open.

– Tap, tap.

Then Diella descended from the platform and headed towards Derek, who had been quietly watching the duel among the servants.

She stood straight in front of Derek, who was standing still, her body battered. A drop of blood trickled down her cheek, and her radiant golden hair and pretty frilled dress were covered in dust.

The girl had been sobbing just moments ago, yet she strived to maintain the dignity of a noble. Whining and complaining in front of a commoner was not befitting her status.

A noble lady must always be proud and lofty. Diella was always like a proud and lofty cat. A proud and dignified stray cat always walks atop the fence, even amidst the dust.

Therefore, even as her lower lip trembled, the girl spoke with a subdued voice.

“I lost.”

Her emotional shield, built from a sense of noble authority, was tightly holding back the overflow of her heart.

Yet, she had to press down with her hand to stop the emotions that threatened to leak out, one or two streams at a time.

“I’m sorry.”

The girl apologized briefly. The other was just a commoner.

She had received Derek’s teachings and stood on the platform to prove it, but she was defeated miserably and cried shamefully.

She simply offered an apology for that fact.

Derek stood still, watching her, and after a while, he slowly said,

“It’s okay.”

“…”

“It’s okay to lose.”

Derek was not one to ramble on in his stories.

That’s why each word he uttered could carry such weight.

“Life is full of losses sometimes.”

At those words, the dam holding back her emotions finally broke, and the girl let out tears, choked with sobs.

Amidst the servants rushing to tend to her wounds, she cried and cried.

*

– Thump

Miriella, followed by several servants, walked towards the podium set up at the front of the garden.

Her fists clenched tightly, she strode forward, her face flushed with heat.

And that anger surged to its peak upon seeing Diella, battered and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Diella!”

Miriella ran ahead of the servants attending to Diella, who was on her way to receive treatment. She stooped down to inspect Diella’s wounds. They weren’t severe, but the thought of scars left behind filled her with worry.

Without a care for the dirt smeared on her, Miriella embraced Diella.

“Oh… Diella…! You’ve had it tough… It’s okay… Just trust in me now…”

“Mother…”

“We need to treat your wounds first. Follow the servants and get treated quickly.”

With that, Miriella released Diella from her embrace and turned her blazing gaze towards Derek.

Her eyes shimmered with unspoken rage.

Miriella marched up to Derek and grabbed him by the collar.

“You… Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

“…”

Derek stood silently, hands clasped behind his back, squinting his blood-red eyes.

“Do you think you’ve done something great? First-grade magic? Such things can be learned slowly, even if it’s late. You’ve taught the noble lady of the Duplain ducal house, who should be a lofty lily, the vulgar and ugly depths. You don’t understand the gravity of it.”

“…”

– Slap!

Miriella’s hand, driven by her fury, struck Derek.

Derek turned his head back to face her squarely, his cheek swelling, but Miriella showed no sign of concern.

The nearby servants all swallowed their dry saliva, sweating coldly.

Miriella’s anger seemed to spread through the air around Derek.

“What do you, who crawled from the bottom, know of noble culture? Do you even grasp how the social circles of Ebelstain are as treacherous as fields of ice? It’s a place where beings above the clouds gather. You wouldn’t understand the desperation of having to adapt there, tainted with the filth of the gutter.”

“…”

“There’s a world unknown to commoners like you. A world where one must maintain decorum and dignity, showcasing their prowess through magical duels, and uphold values worth protecting from that authority. A world… that someone of your lowly origins could never comprehend.”

– Swoosh –

With gritted teeth, Miriella slapped Derrick across the face once more.

Derrick stood quietly, hands clasped behind his back.

“For Diella… I would do anything. To rid my beloved Diella of a pest like you is no trouble at all. I will use whatever means necessary to…”

– Thud, thud.

It was during Miriella’s fiery outburst.

The Grand Duke Duplain slowly descended the podium, revealing himself.

The servants gathered at the scene bowed their heads in respect.

The Grand Duke Duplain, owner of this duchy, walked through them with a stern expression, hands still clasped behind his back.

To the commoners, he was a figure so imposing that they had to bow their heads upon mere encounter.

His arrival cast a silence over the room, and there was only one person present who could raise their voice in such an atmosphere.

“You! You saw the duel, didn’t you?! This is all… all the doing of this frivolous wretch! If you have a tongue, then speak up…!”

What happened next was enough to shock everyone present.

– Swoosh –

A silence, as if time had stopped, enveloped the front of the podium.

The servants, and even the nobles, were left with eyes wide in shock.

It was only then that Miriella realized she had been slapped.

Her trembling eyes revealed the turmoil within.

Only after feeling a stinging sensation on her cheek did she notice her husband, still stern-faced, looking down at her.

“Do you not see who is behaving most frivolously here?”

“You… What is… What is this…”

Miriella, lips quivering, turned her head and spoke again. Everyone nearby was breaking out in cold sweat.

As a noblewoman of a ducal family, she had never experienced such a primal assault. There was no one who could have done so.

But strictly speaking, there was one exception.

As soon as she realized this undeniable fact, her mind was filled with chaos.

“You… Why… This man is nothing but a lowly commoner, a worthless mercenary from the slums. You know well the nobility of Duplain.”

“Yes, your words are true. He is but a vagrant mercenary from the slums, a man who tarnishes the name of the Duplain family.”

“So.. then why…”

“Nevertheless, he is our daughter’s teacher.”

At those words, Miriela’s eyes widened in shock. The Duke of Duplain’s stern face was as usual, but there seemed to be some inner change.

“What parent in the world would treat their child’s teacher this way?”

If the Duke of Duplain, the lord of the duchy, had decided so firmly, then no one could raise an objection to his will.

The shock of being slapped made her heart tremble.

From noble mtl dot com

As the Duke passed by Miriela, her legs gave out from the shock, and the nearby servants hurried to support her.

The Duke of Duplain, without giving her another glance, walked past with his hands behind his back, his steps resounding until he reached Derrick.

It was not the sight of him busy with a quill in his office, but rather the Duke, accompanied by a throng of servants, looking down sternly, an air of intimidation swirling around him.

In a low voice, he spoke to Derrick.

The following words made all the servants doubt their ears.

“The way to love a child differs for everyone. You must forgive humbly.”

“…”

Even Derrick, who always maintained his composure, had to close and then open his eyes, as if he hadn’t expected this.

For the Duke of a nation to offer an apology in such a manner was something no one could have anticipated. Especially since the other party was a mere commoner from the streets.

“No, it’s not.”

“Then, there are words we must share privately. Follow me to the reception room.”

With that, the Duke crossed the shock-filled scene and quietly headed towards the mansion.

As the Duke walked back towards the mansion, all the vassals gathered at the scene bowed their heads.

*

When Derrick entered the reception room, the Duke of Duplain was checking a document on a gold-embossed sofa. His posture, with crossed legs and a propped chin, was as familiar as ever.

He was a man so busy that he had to use even this short break for work. Managing this vast duchy was no easy task.

He glanced sideways at Derrick as he entered, then shifted his gaze, indicating the chair opposite him. It was a nonchalant invitation to sit.

Derrick quietly greeted him and then took a seat.

– Rustle, rustle.

For a while, only the sound of flipping papers filled the room.

Then, suddenly, the Duke asked as if throwing the words:

“Speak if you have something to say.”

“…”

The Duke threw those words at Derrick as if testing him. It was an invitation to speak first if he had something on his mind.

—

But Derek had no more words to say. He was a man who preferred to prove himself through results rather than stories.

“I don’t have much to say.”

“Good, that’s fine.”

The Duke of Duplain seemed to like that quality in him, as he showed no sign of anger.

Then, tossing the documents onto the table, he stroked his chin and spoke.

“Just so you know, I’m not particularly fond of employing commoners like you.”

“I am aware.”

“Nevertheless… credit must be given where it’s due.”

The Duke’s dry eyes turned towards Derek.

“You are competent.”

The Duke was neither unnecessarily emotional nor completely dry in his demeanor. It seemed to be his own way of leading people.

“A ruler is one who employs the capable and rewards them according to their achievements.”

“I have already been promised a reward.”

“Are you referring to the pittance promised by Aiselin?”

Only nobles could refer to fifteen pieces of Aidel gold as a pittance. Ironically, the man before him was a noble among nobles.

As Derek closed his eyes tightly, the Duke of Duplain let out a hollow laugh.

And then, as always, with a forceful voice, he said,

“You’ve taught Diella a splendid first-class magic. But such an achievement is not enough to survive in the harsh society of nobles.”

“That may be true. But there are not many in Duplain who can lead Miss Diella as well as you have. Now that she has a feel for magic, she will grow further.”

“What my daughter needs is not a magic tutor, but a mentor.”

There was a firmness in the Duke’s voice.

“But my eyes cannot be deceived. You harbor great ambitions, ambitions not even permitted to be dreamed by someone of common birth.”

“…”

The Duke’s eyes, trying to see through Derek, flickered.

He had spent his life judging and measuring people. He immediately realized that Derek was dreaming beyond a third-class, aspiring to the realm of fourth-class or higher.

“I’m not unaware of how insulting that would be to the proud nobles of Ebelstain. However, since you have accomplished something, I will turn a blind eye.”

“…”

“However, if you harbor such intentions, you surely cannot stay long in a noble house like this. I’m already aware that you’re ready to leave for Ebelstain at any moment. Perhaps you were always meant to be a wandering mercenary.”

“That is true.”

“I may know of your ambitions, but still, you must teach Diella a little longer.”

—

As the realm of magic grows ever higher, so too does the significance of Derrick’s talent shift, ever so slightly.

The Duke of Duplain was well aware of this, knowing exactly what to offer to keep a wanderer like him tethered.

“The highest domain permitted to a commoner is three stars, isn’t it? Do you aspire to reach that realm?”

“…!”

“Of course, at this point, it’s a reckless goal. But you’d still wish to lay the foundation, wouldn’t you?”

Observing Derrick’s reaction, the Duke let out a snort and pulled a small silver key from his pocket, tossing it casually onto Derrick’s table.

“Do you know what this is?”

“I do not.”

“It’s the key to the underground archive, accessible only to the direct lineage and high vassals of the Duplain family.”

The Duke, chin in hand, spoke quietly.

“There, three-star spellbooks worth hundreds of gold coins are strewn about as if they were nothing.”

At this, Derrick’s eyes couldn’t help but sparkle.

The Duke of Duplain was someone who, more than anyone, coldly discerned what needed to be done to keep Derrick within the walls of the ducal residence.