Chapter 51 :

Value (5)

"Certainly, what Young Lady Denise said might make sense. However, I can also give plenty of reasons why I don’t need to leave the Beltus family. After all, if you try, you can always come up with a reason."

The Beltus family was, in a way, in a position where it could compare its reputation even with the Duplein Ducal House that ruled over the southwestern part of the continent, but no matter what, Young Lady Denise could not wield influence on the level of Young Lady Aiselin or Young Lady Delia.

As far as raising successors was concerned, even if one searched the entire continent, it would be hard to find a place that did it better than the Duplein Ducal House.

However, Derrick continued as if that did not matter.

"There are three reasons why I don’t need to leave the Beltus family."

"… What are they?"

"First, Young Lady Denise is a person who is far more valuable than she herself thinks."

"Thanks."

"I’m not saying it just to sound nice."

Denise had offered a hollow thanks, thinking it was just a perfunctory remark, but Derrick refuted her with a serious face.

She knew that this white-haired mercenary did not speak empty words. Still, from Denise’s perspective, it was not easy to accept his words at face value.

"Young Lady Denise has achieved results in her own way even within the cold family traditions of the Beltus family, and she has maintained that position. It’s hard to compare that with the Duplein Ducal House, where family relationships are warm."

"What meaning does that have?"

"Steel is forged in blazing heat, but people only become truly strong in cold chill."

Derrick was someone who had grown up at the cold bottom.

His values were different from those of Aiselin or Delia, who had grown up in the perfect environment of the Duplein Ducal House, showered with love.

"Flowers that bloom in a greenhouse may look beautiful at first glance, but they have unavoidable limits. I think true value lies in weeds that endure harsh environments."

"… Are you saying I’m like a weed?"

"The nuance is a bit strange, but… yes, that’s right. Young Lady Denise has the nature of a weed."

"… Wow. That’s a bit too raw an expression to take as a compliment…"

"I don’t use empty words."

"I know."

What this mercenary said was probably truly sincere.

Denise felt some kind of inexplicable trust welling up inside her.

This mercenary genuinely felt great value in that side of Denise.

That was why, no matter how much she disliked it and tried to push him away, he never ended this training.

A famous master only teaches disciples whom he believes are worth teaching.

It felt as though Derrick had discovered some kind of value in Denise that even she herself did not know.

"Second, no matter what, I need to keep my ties with the Beltus family a bit longer."

"You’re already close enough to the Duplein or Belmiard families. There’s no particular reason to keep a point of contact with the Beltus family…"

Denise suddenly fell silent.

She stared quietly into Derrick’s eyes, then swallowed her dry saliva.

"Are you trying to become a noble?"

"If necessary, I wouldn’t mind earning merits and receiving even a lower-rank title, but in truth, I don’t have that kind of ambition for social advancement. My goal is simply to maintain ties with many prestigious families so that there won’t be any major obstacles to my magic achievement."

Commoners often detested nobles who were obsessed with their sense of privilege, but Derrick neither liked nor disliked them in particular.

He simply knew that, when it came to learning magic, there was nothing to gain from setting oneself against nobles.

If he wanted to become a mage of a higher realm someday, he would ultimately need to have as many prestigious families backing him as possible.

Thinking about Drest’s life story, this was an element that could never be taken lightly.

"… That’s just like you. In the end, you just want to learn higher-level magic, right?"

"Yes. If I can maintain smooth relations with the three great families, then at least there won’t be any family that can nitpick my magic achievement. Though that probably only applies in the southwestern part of the continent."

"Are you really thinking of reaching even the realm of 3-star…?"

"I’m already 3-star."

"—What?"

Derrick casually dropped a bombshell.

He himself did not seem emotionally affected at all, but Denise could not help but have her pupils tremble once.

She had thought that at most he was just proficient in 2-star magic.

Even within the 2-star realm, the difference between someone who had just entered that realm and someone who had fully matured in it was like heaven and earth.

And the realm that was far more distant than even that gap was the realm of 3-star.

Even among the noble class, in a generation there were only one or two people who reached the 3-star realm around the time of their coming-of-age ceremony.

But it was the first time she had ever seen a commoner reach such a realm at this age.

She felt as though she finally understood why Derrick was clenching his teeth and trying to maintain smooth relations with the three great noble families.

Denise swallowed her dry saliva once more and recalled the magic skill Derrick had shown so far.

They were powers that would not be strange at all to call those of a 3-star mage.

"Derrick. You’re really crazy about magic."

"I’m still lacking."

"Yeah. That makes sense too. You really are someone who would want to stick with the Beltus family."

Denise nodded while sitting perched on an old display shelf.

At some point, she was even letting out a hollow laugh.

Anyway, this mercenary’s words had never once strayed from the correct path.

No matter how much Denise tried to rack her brain to control this mercenary, he always completely broke through her sly way of dealing with things using nothing but straightforward words.

He was sticking with the Beltus family for his own safety and advancement.

He just said it plainly like that.

There was no gentle consideration in Derrick’s words.

He was not even considering offering any consolation to the wing-clipped Denise.

He was simply conveying the facts as they were.

‘......’

However, sometimes, after going around in a circle, that could become consideration and comfort.

Derrick likely knew that well too.

Someone like Denise was not the type who would be moved by commonplace words of comfort or perfunctory rhetoric.

"You are not a worthless person. You are beautiful and precious."

She was not such an emotional person that she would be encouraged by that kind of comfort that felt like punching the air.

Rather, when someone like Derrick said with a grim face, "No, that’s not it," she ended up receiving a strange kind of comfort.

By giving truly convincing reasons and affirming the value of Denise’s existence, and by the fact that those reasons were actually hard to refute, she ended up feeling a strange sense of comfort.

"I’ve really become a pretty easy woman. To feel relieved by words tossed out like that."

Denise thought with a self-mocking smile.

This boy named Derrick judged people simply as people, before status or family.

For Denise, who had lived her whole life pressed down by the authority of the Beltus family, that was an unfamiliar kind of person.

Come to think of it, throughout all the time he taught her, he had never once shoved in those stereotypical noble ways of thinking, like saying it was for the glory of the Beltus family or that she had to strive for greater honor and authority.

He truly just wanted to teach Denise magic.

In that intention, not even a grain of things like the glory of the Beltus family was mixed in.

Thinking that far, Denise began to see this magic master named Derrick in a different light.

Teaching people is the job of an instructor.

And leading people is the role of a master.

She could understand why Aiselin had evaluated him as both a good magic instructor and a good master.

"He really is a strange person."

In this noble world where everything revolved around authority and discipline, someone who taught people purely without being bound by that kind of status consciousness was probably only Derrick.

If one were to speak of that rarity, then for Denise, who had lived her whole life pressed down by her family’s status, it would be something as precious as a thousand gold.

Only now did it start to become clear why so many noble Young Ladies had been trying to take this magic master into their own families.

"Derrick."

While quietly looking at him, Denise closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and said with a smile.

"So, what’s the third reason?"

She suddenly became curious.

Derrick had said there were three reasons why he was sticking with the Beltus family instead of going to the Duplein Ducal House.

She had only heard two so far.

He was not some famous noble family’s Young Master, just a mercenary from the slums.

What was so important about being affirmed by a boy like that…

She could have just thought it didn’t matter and let it go.

But suddenly, Denise became unbearably curious about the remaining reason.

She had more or less been convinced by the first two reasons, but now she felt embarrassed at herself for pressing further, like a child seeking praise.

She thought to herself that she was acting like a puppy wagging its tail while pretending to be aloof.

"Ah, the third one?"

Derrick said it lightly, as if it were nothing.

"I was just curious about what comes next."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

For a moment, Denise had to ask again what he meant.

"If I move to another family, I won’t be able to see what comes next. It cuts off at such an important part, it’s hard to endure."

"… What are you…"

"Yes. <Sir Arrogant Robein>."

"What in the world is that ridiculous nonsense?!"

Denise jumped up from her seat and shouted almost like a scream.

Then she realized that she had just thrown away all sense of dignity with her behavior, and her face turned bright red as she sat back down again, looking awkward.

She was panting, as if it were hard to breathe.

"Y-you were waiting for what comes next?"

"Yes. Weren’t you writing it every night?"

"After causing such a fuss, how could I shamelessly move my quill?!"

"Is it shameless? I don’t really think so…"

This man was serious.

Denise was staring at Derrick with a dumbfounded expression.

He had not the slightest intention of digging into Denise’s dark past and stirring her up.

That was what made it even more frightening.

At times like this, purity was the most lethal poison of all.

"I-I’m going to throw that away! I only wrote it for a bit of idle amusement in the first place…! Did you really think I was seriously writing something that childish?"

"… Is that so? I thought the detailed descriptions and the changes in the characters’ values were impressive, and that a lot of effort had gone into it…"

"Ugh…"

"As I said, denying it outright just because you’re embarrassed is a bit too harsh. Didn’t you write it while staying up all night, Young Lady Denise?"

Even as her face burned red like a radish, Denise somehow managed to speak.

"You’re making fun of me."

"Me?"

"Don’t pretend you’re not."

"I really am not."

Derrick was still serious.

He brushed the dust off the hem of his pants and spoke without changing his tone at all.

"Young Lady Denise said that she was someone who had been tossed around like a chess piece by the Beltus family and had become empty, but if you look at the facts, that’s not really the case, is it?"

"What?"

"No one told you to, but you wrote something like that, and you even studied by reading the writings of other great masters. Why do you think the servants quietly pretended not to notice while you stayed up all night moving your quill?"

Denise’s pupils widened once.

She felt as though she understood why Derrick had been so serious about teaching her.

The image of a girl sitting properly at her desk every night, exhausted, with moonlight settling over it, passed through her memory.

In long, grueling days, she had lived being swept along by the family’s overwhelming authority like great waves.

Even so, at night, the girl would sit by the window, look up at the stars, and fantasize about the love of fictional characters.

She would write down the life stories of people who did not let go of their own value even in the face of harsh reality.

The characters living and breathing in the girl’s writing never once had their hearts broken, no matter how many waves came.

Sir Robein, who was swept up in his family’s crisis, and Tracy, who ran up against the limits of her status, both stretched their hands toward a higher place in the end to seize their own happiness.

After the raging waves with the storm passed, she always described scenes where sunlight would seep in through the rain clouds.

Foam shattering between half-destroyed piers.

It was a bleak-looking sight at first glance, but the girl never forgot to write that there was always hope even in such a place.

Because that was what she wanted to say more than anything.

That was why the girl moved her quill even while sacrificing sleep.

And that was why a white-haired mercenary who read it while resting his chin in his hand could not, in the end, mock those writings, even though the content was rather embarrassing and made his back feel hot.

"Those writings you poured your nights into are proof that Young Lady Denise is not someone who is empty. Do I look like such a cold-hearted person that I would make fun of even that?"

"It seems like you think I’m just saying empty words, but even so, to keep saying it, I liked it."

Derrick was always speaking with the same consistent attitude.

From the first time they met in the Laspa Great Cave until now, it had always been the same.

Had she come to understand the value of that straightforwardness?

Denise quietly looked at Derrick, and then suddenly let out a small laugh.

It was a laugh that popped out like a flower bud blooming.

"Derrick, you… I really can’t tell what kind of person you are."

In the underground warehouse filled with darkness, even though there was no one watching, Denise brushed back her hair for no reason.

Whether it was embarrassment, shyness, or some other emotion, she could not tell…

But in any case, it was very hard to meet Derrick’s eyes.

Even so, it did not seem to be an unpleasant feeling.

*

"Young Lady Denise is here in the annex."

"Already? That was fast."

"Shall I ask you to go down as soon as you finish preparing?"

"No. Tell them to wait a bit."

Several maids were clinging to Delia to tighten the collar of her dress.

Delia, dressed in a frilly dress in the dressing room, was deliberately dawdling instead of going out right away.

Making the guest wait was a kind of battle of nerves.

Quite some time had passed since they had their tense exchange at the meeting.

Today was the day of the spar that Delia and Denise had agreed upon.

The condition Delia had put forward was something that could not help but feel unprecedented even from the Beltus family’s point of view.

She was saying she would take on the risk by buying a painting that did not even exist and even pay cash, so there was no reason to refuse.

It was an absurdly generous condition to put up just to take one commoner mercenary, but in the first place, the reason Duke Beltus had been so desperate to bring Derrick over was also to obtain this kind of benefit.

"Young Lady Delia… I hesitate to say this, but…"

"I’m sick of hearing it. You’re saying I should show respect to Young Lady Denise, right?"

“.....”

When head butler Delron spoke with conviction, even the tyrant-like Delia only responded by letting out a deep sigh.

No matter how much she was a Young Lady of the Duplein Ducal House, she could not recklessly mistreat the head butler who was responsible for the entire main house.

But whether she actually listened was a separate matter.

"I can tell. She puts on a pretense with that angel-like, benevolent look, but she’s the type who could flip her attitude at any time if it suits her."

"Young Lady Denise of the Beltus family is a person with such a good reputation that she has many followers even at the Rosea Salon. If, by any chance, she really is just as she seems, wouldn’t that be a great burden even for you, Young Lady Delia?"

Head butler Delron gathered his courage and offered his advice.

Of course, there was his own basis for saying that.

"As that mercenary said, if you become hostile with Young Lady Denise, your relationship with the Rosea Salon may not remain smooth either."

"Ugh… When things are unfavorable, you always bring up Derrick…"

Delia said that, but she still let out a groaning sound.

In any case, whenever Derrick was involved, her heart weakened, so Delia could not help but think even more deeply.

What if, by any chance, Denise truly did not harbor any hostility toward Delia?

What if, by any chance, the letter Denise had sent truly contained nothing but her honest feelings, without even a grain of falsehood?

What if, by any chance, Denise was really just a kind noble Young Lady, with not the slightest intention to deceive?

It was not as if such possibilities did not continue to torment her mind.

Even as Delia finished preparing and headed down toward the annex, she remained lost in thought.

In any case, all of that was just idle speculation.

What mattered now was not that.

Today’s magic spar was scheduled to take place at the private sparring ground in the annex of Delia’s mansion.

It was a newly built building, so she wanted to check out its facilities, and also because she did not want to display her skills in a public place while worrying about others’ eyes.

Young Lady Denise had readily accepted that proposal and had been visiting Delia’s mansion as an honored guest since early morning.

With a guest of that status, it would have been proper for the lady of the house to go out and greet her personally, but Delia left Denise waiting in the audience hall for quite some time.

She intended to poke at her nerves with this kind of petty mind game.

After quite a while, when she finally entered the audience hall with a leisurely air, Young Lady Denise was already sitting at the reception table.

She was quietly flipping through a book and humming, and as always, she looked relaxed.

Compared to the meeting at the Rosea Salon, she seemed even more at ease, as if she had made various preparations in her own way.

Delia frowned deeply and strode over to the opposite side of the reception table to sit down.

Then Young Lady Denise closed the book she had been reading, placed it to the side, and offered a dignified greeting.

That smile was bright like the sun.

"Have you been well, Young Lady Delia?"

"Yes. Well."

Delia answered bluntly, but Denise did not seem to mind at all.

She simply lifted the now-cold teacup, took a sip, and smiled in her usual elegant way.

"Your new mansion is truly beautiful. It seems like a mansion worthy of the prestige of the Duplein Ducal House."

At the sight of Young Lady Denise smiling and exchanging such formal pleasantries, Delia felt an inexplicable, strange pressure.

Despite all the rudeness, the other party did not even show any sign of being offended.

From her silver-gray hair and clear eyes, to her gentle impression and the boundless benevolence and dignity she exuded…

If one were to imagine a noble Young Lady, this was exactly the kind of person that would come to mind.

She did not get angry or raise her voice, but… strangely, she gave off an atmosphere that pressed down on people.

Even fairly high-ranking noble Young Ladies often lost their nerve in front of Delia, but Denise did not seem like someone who could be so easily crushed.

That said, there was no need to be nervous.

Delia let out a small sigh and then gave a snort of laughter.

Beautiful roses always have thorns.

The same goes for people.