Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch1

1.

In the powerful empire of Pabeln, one of the foremost nations on the continent, there lived a rather peculiar member of the imperial family.

His name was Kite von Gracias.

Younger brother to the late Emperor and the Iron Wall Archduke of the North, he was famous for three things. One was his peerless swordsmanship—so great that he was called the Empire's Sword. Another was his angelic beauty. And the last was—

the Empire's Mad Dog. A walking calamity. His vile disposition.

He looked like an angel on the outside, but every act he committed was closer to that of a demon—hence the nicknames. He would break a person's limbs over the pettiest quarrel, or pick a fight with a foreign envoy and stir up a bloodbath. Truly, a personality that did justice to every one of his epithets. Because of this, even those who had approached him drawn by his looks eventually fled.

And yet.

It seemed there was still some fool out there with nerves of steel.

Kite stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling and muttered.

"What kind of perverted bastard is behind this?"

He had no idea what trick had been pulled, but he seemed to have been unconscious for a while. Normally, he suffered from insomnia and barely slept at all—so waking up after a proper rest left his head feeling clear.

Of course, that had nothing to do with the fact that his mood was foul. Because sleeping had not been his choice.

He sat up first and examined his own body. The first thing that caught his eye was the hideous pair of shackles tightly binding his wrists. Made of thick, solid metal, the inside was lined with soft fur—and the fur was a garish shade of pink.

A bizarre pink that would stand out no matter where you mixed it. He could hardly believe such a color existed in the world—let alone that he was currently wearing it.

A curse escaped his lips.

Not the sort of language befitting an imperial prince and archduke, but Kite had no qualms about it.

Only after he had unleashed more than half the profanities he knew did he finally calm down.

Let's get out of here first.

So thinking, Kite put force into his arms without hesitation. But no matter how much strength he exerted, neither the shackles nor the chains attached to them budged an inch.

Those who mastered the sword inevitably trained their bodies as well. And Kite had been confident in his physical strength since childhood. Yet even with all his power, the restraints did not move.

It seemed the restraints themselves were not made of ordinary metal.

This isn't something you can just find anywhere.

Whoever it was, they had planned this abduction thoroughly. Until now, every scoundrel who dared cross him had been utterly crushed. It seemed there was still someone out there with enough audacity to try.

"Is that so?"

His reddish lips curved upward, and a smile bloomed across Kite's face. It was a smile so beautiful it seemed to brighten the room—but it was pure poison. Anyone who knew him would have fled, screaming that the devil had descended.

Because his smile was always followed by hell.

More than a few had ruined their lives because of it. Hence, they said: no matter how beautiful, one should never—never—have dealings with Kite, that mad bastard.

---

A low, murmuring prayer echoed through the empty corridor.

The one praying was named Ibelin. She was the only granddaughter of the late Baron Frillie.

"Grandfather in heaven, Grandmother, Father, Mother. Lord Arunda who created the world, Lord Grasen who is the origin of the Empire. And—well, all the gods that exist in this world. Please, grant me your protection."

Grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, the Creator God, the Founding God—every deity name she knew came spilling out.

But no matter how earnestly she prayed, reality would not change.

Ibelin knocked her head against the wall. Thump! Pain shot through her, but right now, that was almost preferable. She didn't want to acknowledge reality. Because beyond that thick wall—he was there.

The Empire's Mad Dog. Archduke Gracias.

I was lucky.

After all, a lone woman with neither power, money, nor strength had managed to abduct him. Or perhaps she was unlucky. If she were truly lucky, the kidnapping would have failed! Why on earth did that man have to get caught? Ibelin felt like she could only weep.

"Grandfather, was this right?"

She wanted to ask her grandfather, now peacefully buried in the earth.

---

Ibelin's life had been peaceful. There had been painful times after losing her parents, but not long after, her grandfather came for her. And he raised her.

Baron Frillie was not wealthy, so they could not live like proper nobles—but that didn't matter. Her parents had never been well-off either.

Ibelin was content. Besides, her grandfather knew so many things, and she learned all sorts of things from him.

How to catch wild animals for meat, how to distinguish edible plants, how to dispose of carcasses, how to set traps—practical, useful knowledge for living.

He also taught her letters and learning.

A kind and gentle grandfather.

Ibelin loved her grandfather dearly. But good times never lasted as long as one hoped.

Her grandfather was very old. She had bought and fed him everything said to be good for health, but that could not stop the passage of time.

"I don't have much time left."

Whenever she heard those words, her heart crumbled. She would stroke the back of his hand, now thin as a dry branch, and hold back her tears.

"No. Grandfather will live for a long, long time."

At times like that, her grandfather would smile with a subtle expression.

"Come to think of it, have I ever told you that story?"

"What story?"

Even though she had heard it over a hundred times, she asked as if she didn't know. Her grandfather continued.

"The story of Archduke Gracias."

"No."

"Then I must tell you. This is from when I was on the battlefield. I received a great favor from Archduke Gracias. A profound one."

His eyes closed as he sifted through his memories.

"Yes, it was winter. A snowy day, when we were fighting the barbarians at the Iron Wall."

The story went on for quite a while. She had heard it so many times that it was tiresome, but she didn't mind—not when her grandfather was so pleased. There were inconsistencies in the tale, but it didn't matter.

"But wasn't the Archduke quite young back then?"

"He was young. But the imperial family carries the blood of the gods. And the Archduke's blood was especially strong."

Whenever she asked a question, her grandfather answered with excitement. Then, as if suddenly remembering, he brought up something new for the first time.

"If I die, you must leave this place. I've left our belongings in the cabin we used to visit. I don't have much wealth, but others will still covet it. I want you to be free. And if you can help Archduke Gracias someday, all the better."

"Grandfather isn't going to die!"

Ibelin protested, but her grandfather only smiled. And those days, too, eventually came to an end.

On the day her grandfather was laid in the earth, relatives came. Their eyes red with greed, they scrutinized Ibelin and ransacked the manor, searching for hidden treasures.

Their avarice-stricken faces were hideous. And Ibelin understood.

I must do as Grandfather said.

Ibelin found the cabin. Inside a hidden bag were money, various tools, and a letter.

[We are special people.]

So began the letter. Long ago, before the Empire was founded, there was a tribe. Those who served the god of prophecy possessed the ability to see the future.

As the tribe crumbled under the tides of time and their blood mixed with others, the ability weakened—yet its lineage persisted. One in every generation. A child who could see the future was born.

[In my generation, it was your grandmother. And after her, it was my son.]

Only then did Ibelin grasp the meaning of the dreams she occasionally had.

What she saw in her dreams appeared in reality. Sometimes not—when the setting was far from where she lived. In those cases, young Ibelin had no way of knowing.

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