There Are No Bad Young Ladies in the World

People (3)

Siern was hugging her knees and burying her head in a corner of the central tower of the Rochester mansion.

While Siern was away, the sheets of the soft bed had been changed to clean ones. Even in such a terrifying situation, the servants of the Rochester family were fulfilling their duties to the end.

Feeling that uprightness, Siern remained still with her head buried, not moving an inch.

In the silence, the only sound in Siern’s room was the rattling of the window glass in the blizzard outside.

The bleak scene was quite different from a place like the Duplain mansion in the middle of a rich grassland. This girl had always grown up in such a dreary atmosphere.

Thus, the girl recalls her earliest memory.

At an age when she couldn’t even read letters, she killed an entire pack of wolves in the middle of the northern snowfield.

At a preschool age, she had reached a level where she could kill beasts with only her immature magical senses.

Covered in blood on the snowy field, when she suddenly came to her senses, the whole world was filled with the smell of blood.

A cold-blooded body that doesn’t even feel the cold. Watching the barely alive wolf whimpering, her father Melberot rushed out and grabbed her wrist.

Thus, the girl was led by Melberot’s strength and walked out of the snowfield again. They just kept walking straight towards the Rochester mansion.

– Thud, thud.

The back of Melberot, which the girl looked up at, was firm. His expression was not visible.

The back of her father, who was just pulling her forward, was the earliest image Siern remembered.

*

“What a bold request you make. You should know better than anyone that titles in this era are not something that can be easily exchanged.”

“Yes. No one is unaware of that.”

“You know well how many years it took your master, Drest, to receive a barony without even a single estate, don’t you?”

“Yes, but Master Drest’s situation was quite different.”

Derek continued speaking without changing his expression. It seemed he had passed all his tension and anxiety to Aisellin, who was standing behind him.

In fact, Aisellin looked quite bewildered, as if she had not expected Derek to say such things.

“Master Drest was not on good terms with the nobility. However, I maintain relationships with several prestigious families, and my magical skills are not bad either.”

“You seem to be unaware of how closed the high nobility of the capital is,”

“I am very well aware. That is why I am asking for your help, Sir Melverot.”

No one would deny that this is the era of the nobility.

And magic was nothing less than a symbol of that privilege. Their survival strategy was to manage good bloodlines, maintain vested interests, and kick away the ladders of the unworthy.

To grab their ankles, you need a suitable backer.

If Derek could enlist the support of Duplain, Beltus, Belmiard… and even Melverot, then the idea of Derek receiving a title would not be so unrealistic.

Even a minor title, even the lowest of the low, would be fine.

Once he could invade their world, climbing up within that world would depend entirely on Derek’s abilities.

Melverot, who quickly grasped Derek’s intentions, let out a dry laugh.

The size of one’s ambition should be proportional to one’s abilities, but if it becomes too inflated, it invites disaster.

If the high nobility of the capital heard this, they would not hesitate to scold him for such blasphemous words.

However, Melverot, resting his chin on his hand, only gave a cold stare.

“I cannot promise you a title. Before my will, granting a meaningful title to a commoner from the slums would be an action that would fall out of favor with the old men of the capital. Not to mention His Majesty the Emperor.”

Melverot’s martial prowess was legendary, but not everything in the world could be achieved by brute force.

Especially in the world of noble culture, where justification and rules were strongly entrenched.

However, Melverot did not maintain a completely negative stance.

“But, I can support you.”

“…”

“In terms of political judgment and magical skills, you are far better than those with only good bloodlines. Yes. As long as there is justification, it is not impossible to secure a position. So, I will promise you this much.”

Melverot said in a decisive tone.

“If your proposal for a title is seriously considered, I will write a letter of support with the utmost courtesy. A letter written directly by Melverot of the North would be a powerful weapon.”

“…”

—

“Do you want to strike a blow against the arrogant high nobles of the capital? Or do you want to become a figure who dominates the era?”

“I have no such thoughts.”

Those who had spent a long time in poverty often harbored hostility towards the nobles, even if they pretended otherwise.

It was natural to curse the country and the era when one was suffering from destitution.

However, Derrick had no such petty thoughts.

“I just want to become a higher-level magician. The title is only necessary for that purpose.”

He was a man of remarkable consistency.

Melverot was a person who had lived as a monarch for many years. He had an eye for evaluating talent in his own way.

To achieve great things, one must be well-versed in the current situation and the era, but excessive enthusiasts often failed to fulfill their duties because they were too distracted by such things.

A swordsman must excel in swordsmanship, a magician must elevate their magical prowess, a chancellor must be knowledgeable about currency, and a servant must be adept at managing the household.

The current situation and the era, ambition and aspirations, broad vision, sociability, the study of kingship, backing… such miscellaneous things often followed naturally once one possessed the essential qualities.

A truly great talent does not require a lengthy introduction.

Derrick.

He was a magician.

“I see… I understand why you came to negotiate.”

“Thank you for considering it positively. Then, I will go back to my work.”

“Is this all you have to ask?”

As Derrick was about to leave after paying his respects, Melverot called him back.

When Derrick quietly looked at him, Melverot chuckled again, still resting his chin on his hand.

“You don’t ask the most important question. Aren’t you curious why I have monsters in the main room of the mansion?”

“I don’t pry into things that are not necessary for my work. However, if you think it would be good for me to know, I wouldn’t mind hearing it.”

“Well. Even if that’s the case for you, it seems the noble lady of the Duplain family thinks otherwise.”

Aisellin was glancing sideways, trying to gauge the situation.

In fact, it was strange that Derrick didn’t express any curiosity. In such a situation, anyone would be curious about Melverot’s intentions.

When Derrick remained silent for a moment, Melverot let out a hollow laugh and said,

“It’s a belated revelation, but Siern is not my blood daughter. She is the legacy left behind by my old friend.”

Aisellin was already swallowing dryly in surprise, but Derrick had somewhat expected it.

Just by sparring with her once, he could tell that Melverot’s way of handling magic was vastly different.

“Even though countless years have passed since the blood-soaked war ended, it still feels as vivid as yesterday. That damned great demon, ‘Noir,’ who killed my old friend Kalimford, and I fought the final battle in the Rosenhaven Great Snowfield.”

“…”

—

“The insane magic wielded by that great demon was far beyond the realm of humans. If you look at the scars still remaining in the Rosenhaven Great Snowfield, you can see that it unleashed such enormous magic that the map had to be redrawn countless times.”

Aisellin’s expression was gradually hardening. It seemed she had no idea what Melverot’s next words would be.

“Yes, the realm forbidden to humans… the ‘7-star’ level mentioned in the records of the great mage Adelbert… If it truly exists, it would look something like this.”

Melverot quietly stood up.

The ‘Dawn War’, recorded as the most horrific demon war in the continent’s history.

It was Melverot, the historical figure who marked its end, who was speaking directly.

“I’ll tell you a shocking fact. Even the high nobles of the imperial capital and Emperor Guttrel do not know this.”

Why was he telling her this?

It was to make it clear that they were already on the same boat, with no way to escape.

“I couldn’t kill Noir.”

*

The great demon Noir is a monster that parasitizes humans.

In the form of a spirit the size of a fist, it directly infiltrates a person’s soul, awakening the instincts of the demon, and even bestows magical talents far beyond human capabilities.

When its essential power fully blossoms, it begins to wield magic that truly surpasses human levels, and in the end, it transforms into a colossal demon visible even from the horizon.

When Melverot delivered the final blow to Noir… the monster turned into a spirit and possessed the body of the deceased Kalimford’s wife, Feria.

Feria, a renowned priestess, had joined the subjugation squad to contribute to her husband Kalimford’s revenge.

– Step, step.

Aisellin and Derek, who had come out of the office, walked down the corridor.

They descended the spiral staircase of the tower, crossed the cold garden, and returned to the annex without exchanging a single word.

Both of them were ruminating on Melverot’s words.

– ‘At that time, Feria, who was already pregnant, asked to wait until she gave birth to Kalimford’s daughter. As a high priestess, she could somehow withstand Noir’s influence.’

– ‘So… she gave birth to Lady Siern?’

– ‘Yes… And then, she entrusted Siern to me and left with an apology. When I later heard news of her… it wasn’t very pleasant.’

Melverot did not bother to explain the fate of the priestess Feria.

It was not hard to guess what kind of end she met, being the mother of Lady Siern. She would have wanted to end it herself.

In the end, only Siern was left behind.

A daughter with no blood ties, no connections.

In fact, for someone of Melverot’s status, taking responsibility for an unrelated child was not a big deal.

He had immense wealth, glory, status, and power.

Even if he couldn’t give her love, he could provide an environment that no one would envy.

—

—

However, Sierne was not an ordinary girl.

Before she even learned to read, she tore apart a pack of wolves. By the time she was old enough to understand, she began killing servants, and even before her coming-of-age ceremony, she started wielding 3-star magic.

Melverot must have sensed it.

The murderous impulse and the sense of slaughter engraved in her blood are not emotions of a human.

It is clear that she inherited them from the mythical demon Noir of the ‘Dawn War,’ who killed an uncountable number of humans.

─If he had realized that, he should have killed her on the spot.

He should have cut down that tiny girl who was standing blankly among the mutilated wolf corpses in the middle of the snowy field.

– ‘Why are you protecting Sierne?’

However, Melverot did not do so. His choice was entirely different.

Instead, he attached several teachers to her, trying to somehow integrate her into human society.

He is the legendary hero who saved the North. He was also the one who witnessed the great massacre of Noir up close.

Why did such a person, with such a history, not make a noble decision?

Was it because he felt weak-hearted as she was the daughter of his old friend, Kalimford?

Was it to honor the dead priest Peria?

Did he simply think it was not right to kill an innocent life from a humanitarian perspective?

None of these were true. None of them even came close to the correct answer.

─There are no sane 6-star magicians.

It was Melverot himself who said this.

– ‘Wasn’t it clearly written in Adelbert’s memoirs? That there is a limit to the level a human can reach.’

– ‘Then, if one wants to reach the realm of 7-star, what is the first thing they must give up?’

Magicians are those who reach out for a higher level, even if just a little.

No matter how grand the wall they face, their symbol is the near-mad curiosity that drives them to climb that wall.

– ‘Humanity.’

He was glimpsing a fragment of 7-star magic in Sierne.

– Whiiing

Before entering the annex, Derek and Aiseline looked up at the central spire in the distance.

The spire, which can be seen clearly from anywhere in the Rochester mansion, stands firm in the snowstorm today as well.

Inside, Lady Sierne would be quietly looking out at the snowstorm, her elegant hair flowing down and dressed in a gown.

“Mr. Derek.”

Finally, Aiseline spoke.

—

—

In the biting cold, Aiselin hesitated, pondering what to say, and finally spoke with difficulty.

“I… my thoughts are too complicated.”

“Don’t think too hard about it. The tasks at hand haven’t changed. However…”

Derek frowned as he looked up at the spire.

“That war hero… still seems to be hiding something.”

“…What?”

Aiselin asked with a puzzled expression.

“Even after laying everything out like this… you still think he’s hiding something?”

“He’s lived as a ruler at that level for countless years. We can’t take him lightly.”

Derek was never one to let his guard down.

Melverot seemed to have laid everything out openly, but there was still something he was hiding. Derek’s intuition seemed to be telling him that.

“It’s cold, let’s go inside.”

No matter the circumstances, the promised reward was fair, so the tasks at hand hadn’t changed.

Derek was a magic teacher.

The job of a teacher is to teach their students.

That essence hadn’t changed one bit.