Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch3

3.

The man her grandfather had praised—Archduke Gracias—was, without equal in all the world, an absolute scoundrel.

"Cold and sharp on the outside, but truly gentle and kind," she recalled.

What kind of gentle person broke someone's limbs over a trifle? What kind of kind person demolished another's manor simply because he disliked it?

"Could it be a different person with the same name?"

She checked several times, but reality did not change. Surely her grandfather hadn't had dementia even back in his battlefield days? She had heard that some people suffered memory confusion from a young age due to the traumatic shock of war.

No, that can't be it.

Ibelin shook her head. Her grandfather, whom she had lived with all those years, had been far too lucid for that. Toward the end of his life, he had repeated the same things often—but that was all. If so, the answer was one: even that scoundrel of an Archduke must have some decent side to him, like anyone else. But still—wasn't this a bit much?

How was she supposed to repay a favor to someone like this? She would end up ruining her own life trying to repay a debt.

The person in my prophetic dream is definitely the same man, though.

Ibelin's eyes narrowed. She trusted her grandfather. Very much. Very, very much. But the world was calling Archduke Gracias a mad dog of a bastard.

Grandfather, what am I supposed to do?

A favor—what was it worth, really? Ibelin pondered for a long time.

Even after returning to the shabby lodgings she had found on the outskirts of the capital, the deliberation continued.

And then she dreamed again.

The setting was the same. Archduke Gracias was in danger once more. He was supposedly the Empire's greatest swordsman, yet strangely, he seemed unable to use his full strength.

Perhaps he was poisoned?

Unlike before, she watched him crouched down, being attacked—then woke from the dream.

"I've never had the same dream twice."

It was strange. But that strangeness continued for several days. And later, she even heard a strange voice.

"Save him."

It was her grandfather's voice.

"You must save him."

At that, Ibelin made up her mind.

Alright. I'll save him.

And so she stepped onto the path of regret.

---

But how was she supposed to save the Archduke?

Ibelin thought seriously about it. Archduke Gracias—what kind of man was he? One of the Empire's finest swordsmen, a man of power, wealth, with a knightly order under his command.

And then look at herself. An ordinary country noble's daughter—no strength, no influence. She had a little money, but the capital's prices were murderous.

"I don't even know what these other coins are."

Besides the imperial currency, there were a few oddly shaped coins mixed in, and she had no idea what they were for. At first, she thought about taking them to an antique shop to ask, but she held back.

Her grandfather had said that in the capital, swindlers were as common as breathing. Remember—this was a place where you could get your nose cut off if you closed your eyes.

That won't do.

Ibelin racked her brains over and over. Still, nothing specific came to mind. So, for now, she decided to go to the house her grandfather had supposedly prepared in the capital.

At present, Ibelin was staying briefly at an inn near the library. The inn wasn't expensive, but she couldn't stay there forever.

In that situation, the one saving grace was the house in the capital mentioned in her grandfather's letter. House prices in the capital were normally exorbitant—and yet he had kept a place here.

Her grandfather had said he was a soldier in his youth, and it seemed he had earned a fair amount of money back then. Thinking simply, Ibelin headed to the address written in the letter.

The place she arrived at was a well-kept street on the outskirts of the capital. A moderately clean street where moderately well-off people gathered. On both sides of the neatly paved road stood similar-looking houses—and one of them was her grandfather's.

The two-story house with a green roof was not large, but it was tidy. There was even a caretaker managing the property.

"Who's there?!"

The moment Ibelin knocked on the door, a man came running out breathlessly and shouted at her. With a fierce expression, he looked her over and narrowed his eyes.

"You look like someone I know..."

"Hello. I'm Ibelin, granddaughter of Baron Frillie."

"Baron Frillie? That bastard's—that bastard's granddaughter?"

"...Yes."

The first meeting was not a pleasant one. Calling her grandfather that bastard—she could forgive the shouting, but this she could not. Just as Ibelin was about to get angry, the man cried out.

"The owner has finally come! Now my work as caretaker is done!"

The man—the caretaker—wore an expression of deep emotion and raised his arms in victory. Then, with trembling hands, he pulled a key from his pocket.

"Take this. It's the house key."

As Ibelin took the key in bewilderment, the caretaker raised both hands and shook his body violently.

"I am free! Free! Freed from that damn old man!"

It was quite an unsightly spectacle—she found herself gaping blankly at him—and then the caretaker started running. He dashed down the street and vanished into the distance before Ibelin could even chase after him.

"What in the world...?"

Ibelin stared after him blankly and let out an awkward laugh. That damn old man couldn't possibly mean her grandfather, could it?

Fiddling with the key, Ibelin inserted it into the lock. The door opened smoothly, as if someone had indeed been maintaining it all along.

Inside, she saw furniture covered with white sheets. Cloths meant to keep dust from settling—and there was no dust atop them either. For someone who had longed for freedom, he seemed to have cleaned quite diligently.

"Let's see."

Passing through the living room and further inside, she found a kitchen of moderate size. A small pantry was attached beside it, and it was stocked full of foodstuffs.

Did the caretaker even do all this?

She was puzzled, but seeing this set her mind at ease. It seemed she wouldn't have to worry about food for a while.

Ibelin then went up to the second floor. There were three rooms and one bathroom on the upper floor, in a similar state to the lower level.

With just the sheets removed, everything could be used right away. She should get moving quickly—since she would be sleeping here tonight anyway.

Rolling up her sleeves, Ibelin removed all the white sheets, folded them, and stored them in the pantry. Then she unpacked her belongings in the room.

Since there was hardly anything to clean, her opinion of the caretaker changed. He must have been close to her grandfather to have maintained the house to this degree. Even her grandfather's friends who sometimes visited the manor would curse him whenever they saw him. They tried to be careful in front of Ibelin, but they were loud enough that she heard most of it.

Yes—that's the kind of relationship it was.

She understood. Nodding to herself, Ibelin went back down to the first floor. She intended to check the place her grandfather had urged her to see.

Actually, she hadn't looked everywhere yet—but the kitchen had two pantries. One, as she mentioned, was for foodstuffs. The other was filled with old stacked boxes. Opening the boxes revealed well-preserved wine, but the important part was beneath them.

After pushing the boxes aside and lifting the worn mat on the floor, a fairly large door was revealed. A door leading to a basement.

[Go down to the basement. Everything you need will be there.]

Her grandfather had written that.

How would he know what I need?

She had no idea what might be there, but somehow her heart was racing. It was the feeling of exploring an attic for the first time as a child.

Ibelin carefully descended into the basement, and before long, she understood the meaning of her grandfather's words.

On both sides of the long corridor were several rooms, filled with all sorts of things—from familiar objects to items that made her wonder why they were here.

At the end, one room was empty, but its appearance was suspicious. Unlike the others, it had a solid metal door, and the interior walls were fitted with rings for attaching chains.

"Grandfather, what on earth is this place for?"

Ibelin let out an involuntary groan. No matter how she looked at it, the basement was larger than the house above. And the facilities built into it were somehow deeply dubious.

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