Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch 41

41.

"I thought Uncle liked strong people."

With that, Leonhardt straightened his slouching posture. By then, a physician had arrived—an elderly man who had served the palace since the late Emperor's time.

"Apologies for the delay."

The physician approached Ibelin with a weary expression. Why did he look so tired? Looking past him, she saw Alex behind him, slightly out of breath.

It seemed Alex had carried the physician here—exactly like his master.

"I'm sorry for the trouble."

Ibelin spoke on Kite's behalf, since he hadn't apologized.

"No—running to a patient is my duty. Though today I borrowed someone else's legs."

The physician smiled warmly and examined her.

"I was worried when you collapsed, but you seem better than expected. It should be fine to move to another location for the full examination."

At that, Kite carefully lifted Ibelin.

"I can walk on my own!"

She protested in a small voice, but he ignored her.

"I really can go alone—you need to guard His Majesty!"

"A moment won't hurt."

Leonhardt, having overheard, spoke up.

"How could I ask you to stay by my side when your fiancée is ill?"

No—if the gift presentation resumes, it's dangerous. Ibelin hooked her arm around Kite's neck and whispered in his ear.

"Lontree. House Lontree!"

Only then did Kite's expression shift. He looked at the nobles waiting their turn to present gifts, then spoke to Leonhardt.

"Your Majesty—since this has happened, how about receiving the remaining gifts later?"

"Later?"

Leonhardt looked at his uncle in disbelief.

"Do I look like someone who can't do anything alone?"

"No, that's not it."

"Then?"

"Because of what I mentioned yesterday."

"Ah—that."

Before the banquet, Kite had told Leonhardt that an incident might occur—that among the gifts presented by the nobles, one might be dangerous, likely the Eastern ceramic. But that ceramic had been safely moved to the treasury.

"It seems the plan was revised."

"I see—then it can't be helped."

If they couldn't predict where the danger lay, it was best to avoid risks. Leonhardt ordered an attendant to summon Draven.

"You called, Your Majesty."

Soon, Draven arrived alone—his fiancée nowhere in sight.

"Yes—I did."

"Has something happened?"

Draven's gaze fell on Ibelin, held in Kite's arms.

"Something did. I must leave suddenly—I'd like you to handle the remaining gifts on my behalf."

"Me?"

"You are certainly qualified, aren't you?"

Clever. Leonhardt seemed certain that the one behind this was Draven—so he entrusted him with sorting the remaining gifts.

Gifts presented to the Emperor were immediately moved to the treasury after his inspection. Now Draven, newly tasked, would inspect them once, and the Intelligence Department would check again for safety. If any trick had been planted, it would be exposed.

So what would Draven do?

If I were him, I'd remove the danger from the gift.

That way, he could avoid suspicion and plan for next time.

Here, Leonhardt's knowledge of the situation was an advantage. Draven still didn't know what the Emperor knew.

"I accept Your Majesty's command."

"I'll leave it to you."

Leonhardt raised his voice.

"Listen!"

The music stopped, and even more gazes fell on them.

"I must leave for a while—so I entrust management of the banquet hall to Duke Draven. May you all enjoy yourselves to the end."

At his words, many nobles bowed respectfully. It was a magnificent sight, but Ibelin had no energy to admire it—she just covered her face with her hand. Unfortunately, she was standing behind the Emperor.

She was mortified—but she couldn't escape Kite. She had to endure.

"Let's leave here first—is there an empty lounge?"

The attendant answered Leonhardt's question.

"Yes, there is."

"Then guide us there."

Though her room wasn't far, moving a collapsed person there seemed too much.

"Shall we go?"

At Leonhardt's words, Kite asked.

"Will Your Majesty be coming too?"

"Since someone collapsed at my banquet, it's right that I see the outcome."

At that, Seren and Alex exchanged subtle glances.

Liar.

He usually paid little attention when someone collapsed at banquets. He was just curious about Kite's unusual behavior.

Thus, Ibelin ended up moving with Leonhardt against her will.

The lounge wasn't far—but since the banquet was ongoing, they met a few people in the corridor, all with blank expressions.

"Good heavens!"

"Hah!"

Some gasped, others whispered.

"Are my eyes working?"

"Look at mine—is the Archduke Gracias really carrying a woman?"

Someone even pinched their own face.

"Hmm."

Covering her face had its limits, but Ibelin endured. For a provincial noble who had never even attended a small tea party, it was harsh.

Upon reaching the empty lounge, Kite laid Ibelin on the bed. Then, along with everyone else, he was shooed out by the physician.

"Now—please call one maid, and everyone else leave."

"Why?"

At Kite's question, the physician smiled warmly.

"To examine her, I need to loosen her clothes—and you two aren't married yet, are you?"

"We're close enough—I've already seen her—"

Before he could finish, Ibelin threw whatever she could grab—her remaining lace glove, balled up—which he caught.

"Ibelin."

"Stop right there—just leave!"

When she glared fiercely, Kite obediently stepped out.

That man—he was about to say I'd seen him naked in front of everyone. As if she wanted to see it! Who told him to be undressed in his room? She didn't know why he was trying to ruin her future.

After everyone left, Ibelin sighed in relief and lay back. A maid came to help her undress.

In the meantime, the physician arranged his tools in the adjoining room and returned.

"Let's see."

He examined her more carefully than at the banquet—checking her pulse, eyes, and chest. His conclusion was brief.

"You're healthy."

"Excuse me?"

"Very healthy."

Usually, noble ladies collapsed from overexertion due to excessive dieting to fit their dresses—so he had suspected that. But Ibelin was remarkably healthy. Re-examining, he found nothing wrong.

"Then why did you collapse? Is it psychological?"

This time, he was right. Ibelin had no physical issues. As a child, she had been frail, but living with her grandfather had made her strong. The cause was likely the intense desire for a prophetic dream—it seemed that to see a vision, the body had to enter a state akin to sleep.

"It must have been nerves—this being my first banquet."

"Oh—a debutante, then. That would be nerve-wracking. I'll prescribe something to help you relax—take it for three days and you'll recover."

"Thank you."

The matter of her collapse at the banquet seemed to be settled.

It would have been—if not for Kite showing up unannounced the very next day.

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