Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch2

2.

Her parents had looked at young Ibelin with troubled expressions.

"Ibelin, it is not ordinary that you can know such things. So you must never speak of it in front of others."

"What would happen if I did?"

"They would take you away and torment you."

From that day on, Ibelin kept her mouth shut. She did not know how they might torment her, but it surely would not be anything good. Perhaps they would lock her in the attic and force-feed her vegetables she hated, or steal her snacks. She disliked all of those possibilities, so she decided to act just like the other children.

But even so, the dreams continued. Try as she might to stop them, Ibelin was becoming someone extraordinary.

Yet Grandfather never once pointed out my strange behavior.

Her grandfather had already known what kind of ability she possessed.

It's not even a perfect ability, either.

She had prevented the cookie jar in the cupboard from falling, but she could not stop her grandfather's death. Her father had been the same—and that was why he had died.

The ability made Ibelin's life difficult. Staring blankly at the cabin ceiling, she closed her eyes. Her body was fine, but her mind was weary—she wanted to rest a little.

And then, once again, she dreamed.

"Let us celebrate His Majesty the Emperor's birthday!"

Someone raised a tankard of ale and shouted. The bustling crowd all seemed joyful, and the streets were filled with festival cheer.

"Long live the Pabeln Empire!"

Only upon hearing the responding cheers did she realize where—and when—she was.

The timing must be around the Emperor's birthday.

She carefully surveyed her surroundings. Prophetic dreams always carried a meaning they wished to convey, so she instinctively tried to read into it.

Then, before her, stood a man wearing a hood. A portion of his hair peeked out from beneath the fabric—striking golden locks that caught the sunlight and shimmered.

"His hair glitters like sunlight."

Suddenly, her grandfather's words came to mind. Almost entranced, Ibelin found herself staring at the man. And then he began to move. Chasing him was no easy task, but the surging crowd could not stop her.

Because this is a dream.

The man left the complicated main streets and headed into an alley. With each step he took, the shadowed backstreets revealed themselves.

So fast!

And just as she barely managed to catch up to him, several people cloaked in dark auras attacked him. The murderous intent that filled the space seemed as if it would devour even Ibelin herself.

And then the dream that showed the future closed.

"Hah!"

Ibelin's eyes flew open. Her surroundings were dark and quiet. She rubbed her face with her hands and blinked.

Let me think.

She had seen a man with golden hair in the dream, but there was no guarantee it was Archduke Gracias. After all, the world was full of people with blond hair.

But what if it is him?

Her grandfather had wanted to repay the Archduke's kindness. He had wished for it earnestly, always. And she wanted to fulfill that wish—even if it was already a departed hope.

"Let's move."

Ibelin rose to her feet. The drive that had vanished after her grandfather's death seemed to have returned, at least a little. Her first thought was to leave this place.

Since she had taken nothing from the manor, her relatives would not pursue her. In fact, they would likely be glad she was gone.

She did not want to hand over the manor filled with memories of her grandfather, but there was nothing an ordinary noble lady could do. Ibelin understood reality well enough.

Perhaps I actually might be able to save the Archduke.

She shook her head. Still, it was better than doing nothing.

First, let's confirm whether that man really is the Archduke.

She would think about the rest later.

And so Ibelin set out toward the imperial capital. Since the Emperor's birthday was still some time away, she could make it in time.

Yes—that was how it began.

---

"It was madness."

Ibelin let out a deep sigh. Heading to the capital had not been difficult. There had been a few incidents along the way, but nothing particularly serious—just the sort of things that might happen to anyone traveling alone, and not hard to resolve.

The real problem came much later. Namely, when Ibelin learned more about the Archduke.

Once she arrived in the capital, contrary to her worries, she was able to find information about Archduke Gracias quite quickly. In the capital, where printing technology was advanced, newspapers were sold—and as it happened, a story about the Archduke was prominently featured on the front page. And the person in the photograph there looked exactly like the man she had seen in her prophetic dream.

I worried for nothing.

Thinking that, Ibelin lingered near a general store selling newspapers. And before long, she came to a realization.

"Archduke Gracias is a famous person, isn't he."

If Ibelin had valued interacting with others even a little, or if she had ever read a newspaper, she would have known. But she had never quite managed to take an interest in genteel socializing—she had always found it far more enjoyable to go hunting outdoors with her grandfather.

The same went for newspapers and magazines. Her grandfather had not been fond of subscriptions, so he had never taken any. Naturally, Ibelin had followed his example and shown no interest in such things.

And yet.

[Why Was the Second Son of Marquis Hiese's Leg Broken?]

Perhaps she should have paid a little more attention. The front page featured a sensational headline alongside the Archduke's face.

Why was it broken?

Half curiosity, half unease. Wondering what on earth had happened, she bought a newspaper and sat down on a nearby bench. The article read as follows:

Rundt, the second son of Marquis Hiese

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