Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch 48

48.

Ibelin pleaded pitifully, unlike her usual self—and Kite found his resolve wavering.

"Please!"

He cleared his throat involuntarily.

"What if I reduce it to once a week?"

"Still no—it's dangerous!"

She hadn't been this defiant before. Ibelin was growing more comfortable with Kite—anyone else would have faced consequences, but with her, he couldn't be harsh.

Because she's a valuable seer?

Or maybe because she was a woman—but his order had female knights who trained alongside the men. So that wasn't it—though he didn't realize it.

"Fine—I'll remove the sparring."

In the end, he gave in.

"Thank you!"

"Instead, you'll follow the rest of the schedule."

Only then did she look at the other sheet and sigh. It listed not lessons, but her duties—including attending other nobles' parties with him.

Did he really intend to follow through? All this would do is announce to everyone that she was his fiancée.

No—

Kite had never intended to marry. Even if he did, he'd choose a woman from a low house to avoid threatening Leonhardt's position. So he had nothing to lose—only Ibelin would suffer. But she couldn't defy him, so she slumped and answered.

"Yes—I will."

Thus, Ibelin's position as Kite's fiancée was solidified.

---

The next day, Ibelin followed the top item on her schedule.

She was beautifully dressed with the maids' help and escorted by Kite out of the residence—to the capital's famous opera house.

"How is watching opera helpful?"

Ibelin clung to Kite and whispered—but instead of answering, he just smiled again.

Frustrating—she glared at him.

"Today's opera is 'The Spring of the Fairy Queen Lirus,' I'm told."

He bought her a pamphlet with the cast and story. She decided to think positively—she'd never been to an opera like this.

The provinces had opera houses too, but she'd never visited—sitting still in a dress wasn't her style. She'd rather roam the mountains with her grandfather.

"This way."

He led her to a box seat—the most expensive in the house, usually reserved for high nobles and left empty if unused.

Once seated, she opened the pamphlet—then wondered.

"Do you like opera?"

"No."

His immediate answer left her dumbfounded.

"Then why are we here?"

"Rumors spread well here too—I need to solidify my fiancée's position."

Ridiculous. She crumpled the pamphlet, then realized and smoothed it out.

"Actually, this is my first time too—Seren arranged the box seat."

"I see."

So this was a first for both of them.

The theater lights dimmed, music filled the space, and the actress playing Queen Lirus began.

"The Spring of the Fairy Queen Lirus"—a story of a fairy and a human in love. A shepherd named Sam who met the Queen by chance, and Lirus who fell for his pure kindness—but their love didn't end beautifully.

The story turned tragic as a hunter who coveted fairy tears—the most precious jewels—became entangled with Sam. Though Sam loved Lirus, he was weak; his goodness was corrupted by greed, and Lirus was endangered.

At first, Ibelin watched casually—but soon she was absorbed.

"That villain!"

She blurted out, and a small laugh came from beside her—but she was too engrossed to notice.

Sam begged Lirus for fairy tears; Lirus realized he had changed. Then came the hunter, threatening her life—yet she protected her love to the end.

The hunter attacked Sam to silence him, and Lirus shielded him and died. Too late, tears fell from her eyes and turned to jewels—but Sam couldn't bear to pick them up.

Regret always came too late. Sam sang a sorrowful song of remorse.

Ibelin's tears began to fall.

"Sniff."

A handkerchief was offered from beside her. She wiped her eyes and glanced at Kite—his face showed no emotion. Just stillness.

She reached out and took his hand.

Had she been in her right mind, she wouldn't have done something so foolish—but her emotions were heightened by the performance.

He looked at their joined hands and smiled—color returned to his pale face.

"My fiancée is quite tearful."

He gently lifted her hand and kissed it.

Just then, the opera ended and the lights came up. Some weeping women looked up and saw them.

"Oh my?"

Others followed their gaze.

"Huh?"

More gasps followed—some rubbed their eyes.

"Did I see that right?"

"I think so—good heavens!"

"The Archduke Gracias at the opera with his fiancée!"

"And did you see that? He kissed her hand!"

Their objective seemed achieved. Ibelin noticed the commotion below and flinched, quickly pulling her hand back.

"Aaah!"

She let out a small cry, grabbed the pamphlet, and rose.

"Let's go—now!"

"There'll be crowds—better to wait."

"Ugh."

She made a strange sound and sat back down.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Who knows?"

In truth, kissing her hand hadn't been planned—he'd simply felt like it. He rested his chin on his hand and looked down.

He seemed to have developed considerable fondness for her. The question was what kind—but watching her rub her hand, he smiled.

He'd figure it out. After all, she couldn't escape him anytime soon.

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