Lord Robain the Proud
Dereck, who had until now been staring at the elegantly titled book with grace and courtesy, finally shut it with a snap and placed it back in the drawer.
Still seated, lost in thought, a maid approached and spoke to him.
“It’s about Miss Denise.”
Bella, who had been quickly tidying the room while Denise was at the Diela estate, was the one who spoke.
She was a maid who had been by Denise’s side since childhood and was said to know her better than anyone.
When Dereck looked at her, she flinched and trembled slightly, but gathered the courage to speak.
“Do you think she can beco a good mage?”
Her words were full of concern.
Bella, who had always stayed beside Denise, was genuinely troubled by her many shortcomings.
Dereck, resting his chin on one hand, replied in a sowhat light tone:
“Perhaps.”
The most important factor in mastering magic was bloodline.
That’s why many sorcery masters strove to beco tutors for prestigious families.
Training a talented disciple raised a master’s reputation.
However, when it ca to the three great nobles of the Rose Hall, each possessed advantages due to their exceptional lineage.
To surpass that, re talent wasn’t enough.
Thus, Dereck glanced sideways at Bella and said.
“In the Rose Hall, the only one who could grow to rival Miss Denise is Lady Aiselin.”
That was the judgnt of Dereck, who had interacted with all three families.
Bella seed distressed by Denise’s shortcomings, but Dereck’s opinion was entirely different.
Flaws were the most essential fuel to ignite a person’s will.
In fact, Denise had better conditions than Aiselin, who had walked the traditional path in a more nurturing environnt.
She had endured an extrely long winter, but if she ever ignited, she would burn more fiercely than volcanic lava.
“…”
Dereck would go on to teach many students, but by this point, it was already clear who his “favorite disciple” would be.
He had a feeling.
Denise was, in all likelihood, the one who would raise Dereck’s na to the heavens.
T/N: This chapter isn’t cut or anything—this is literally where the MTL ends.
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