Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch 39

39.

As Ibelin let out a small sigh, her eyes met Kite's. He smiled warmly at her and gave a light wave.

They had agreed to acknowledge each other at least once during the banquet, so Ibelin waved back.

How awkward.

But that awkward gesture seemed to impress someone.

"So the Archduke of Gracias is human after all."

"That he could love someone—how remarkable."

All sorts of opinions poured from people's lips.

"I thank you all for attending this banquet celebrating My birthday. Please, enjoy yourselves at ease."

With the Emperor's brief greeting, the banquet began in earnest. The music, which had been low and relaxed, grew livelier. Some young couples took to the center of the hall, dancing hand in hand.

They looked quite happy.

But I don't want to dance.

This was her first time at such an event—she had learned a few dances, but she didn't want to participate. Fortunately, her fiancé was right there, so she wouldn't have to go to the center with Seren. And Kite would be busy guarding the Emperor all night.

As the dancing began, people's attention on Ibelin subsided somewhat. Then some older nobles approached—but Ibelin was quicker, slipping onto the nearest balcony.

"Hah."

Seren, who had let her onto the balcony, said he'd fetch some champagne and briefly left. It was considered polite not to intrude on someone alone on a balcony.

"Let's be grateful for noble etiquette at times like this."

Leaning on the railing, she looked down at the garden. The scattered lanterns faintly illuminated its shape. Due to the banquet, no one was outside—only an occasional knight or soldier passed by.

"The breeze is nice."

A cool wind blew from somewhere, and Ibelin closed her eyes. When she opened them, someone was offering a champagne glass from beside her.

"Thank you."

She accepted without thinking—then realized the hand was unfamiliar. Today, Seren wore black gloves matching the Gracias uniform. So this was a stranger's hand.

Clink.

She stepped back instantly and eyed the stranger warily.

"Hello."

He was a man with long hair loosely tied back, wearing glasses. Ordinary reddish-brown hair and black eyes—tall, but not the type to have trained extensively. Yet something about him put her on guard.

Was it his voice? A rough, scraping tone—he tried to speak gently, but it was distinctive.

"Who are you?"

She kept one hand near her thigh, the other holding the glass, ready to throw it and draw her weapon if needed.

"Does it matter who I am?"

"It does. Are you saying someone who disregards etiquette also hides their identity?"

At her sharp remark, the man shrugged.

"If I reveal myself, will you talk with me?"

"I don't need a conversation partner."

"I do."

He's impossible. She had heard that some rude people intruded on balconies—he must be one of them. Ibelin set the glass on the railing and headed for the closed door.

Behind her, his voice came.

"How cold. And we've met before."

Met before? Ibelin stopped and turned. His eyes, black until a moment ago, were now silver.

It was the man whose gaze she had met in her prophetic dream.

She hesitated. He was suspicious, but she couldn't label him an enemy and attack—he might be a noble, since he was with Draven.

There was only one thing she could do.

"Your eye color is unique."

Play dumb.

"Unique?"

He didn't ask why she pretended not to know.

"Yes—I've never seen silver eyes before."

"So, what do you think of them?"

The question came back strangely.

"Are they like a beast's? Or repulsive?"

But the question was odd—he freely disparaged his own eyes. Aside from his suspicious identity, he was handsome, and his silver eyes sparkled like stars under the night sky.

She couldn't agree with him.

"They're like stars."

At her casual reply, his doll-like expression shifted subtly.

"Stars?"

"Yes—they sparkle like the stars up there."

He stood silent for a long time before finally speaking.

"I've never heard that before."

"Really?"

Just then, the music from the banquet hall changed through the closed door—a slow, mysteriously enchanting tune.

"The Waltz of the Fairy Queen."

He identified it at once, then stepped toward her.

"May I ask you to dance?"

May he? She hadn't even danced with her fiancé, and she had no confidence in her skills.

"I'm sorry."

She refused firmly—but he didn't back down.

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"I've never once danced of my own will."

"Excuse me?"

"So please—just this once, grant me your grace."

He bowed elegantly and offered his hand.

What now? Should she flee—through the door or over the railing? As she hesitated, he made a tempting offer.

"If you dance with me, I'll tell you what you most want to know."

She couldn't refuse. She wanted answers. Kite might call it foolish, but she wanted to save the Emperor and Kite and leave this place quickly—that wish grew stronger each day.

Because.

Kite frightened her.

When had it started? Her heart pounded whenever she saw him—and she interpreted that as fear. No matter how beautiful, his personality was what it was. It was only natural.

"Fine."

She took his hand. He pulled her close and moved to the waltz. Though unfamiliar with dancing, she soon found herself following his lead.

What had begun with tension soon held a trace of enjoyment. She hadn't expected dancing to be fun—but moving to music was quite enjoyable.

The Waltz of the Fairy Queen ended before long.

"Now tell me."

She hadn't forgotten her promise.

"The ceramic presented to His Majesty won't explode. Look for something else."

"...!"

What? Startled, she opened her mouth—just as the balcony door burst open.

An explosion?

As she spun around, something flashed past her eyes.

"Huh?"

If her eyes weren't mistaken, it was a sword—the Empire's treasure, granted only to the Emperor's most favored knight—embedded in the balcony railing, trembling violently. The cracked railing began to crumble.

"Hm?"

Unknown looked at the sword and twisted his lips.

"Archduke Gracias's sword—your fiancé seems quite jealous."

Ibelin couldn't answer.

Normally, one would think that—but were they close enough for that? The question remained. So she thought Kite had sensed Unknown's suspicious nature.

But how?

Could a Swordmaster hear sounds from this distance? Or had he seen a shadow through the curtain?

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