Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch 49

49.

"After the opera, a meal?"

The box offered light refreshments and champagne, but Kite insisted that didn't count as a proper meal.

"I've reserved a table at a famous restaurant in the capital."

The restaurant he led her to was grand.

"I've never seen a three-story restaurant before."

"It's common in the capital—after the road improvement project, taller buildings increased. Space is limited."

The reservation under Kite's name was on the second floor.

"Who uses the third floor?"

"People with secrets to keep—most nobles only use the second floor."

Few nobles wanted to climb to the third floor—but among those few was someone familiar.

Draven.

They met him coming down from the third floor.

Kite's gaze passed Draven to the man beside him—who glared at Kite with fury.

He looks familiar.

Ibelin stared, then remembered—Rundt, the second son of Marquis Hiese, who'd had his leg broken for bumping into Kite.

So that's why he was so angry—though his body leaned back slightly, showing fear.

Draven spoke first.

"How odd—meeting Archduke Gracias here. I thought this restaurant wasn't your taste—or is it your fiancée's?"

Draven's gaze swept over Ibelin. She smiled demurely and thought—how long will he stand looking down? It was natural on the stairs, but Kite wouldn't accept it quietly.

She wanted to suggest moving down, but would Draven listen? Though Kite's fiancée, she was still a baron's daughter—far beneath a ducal house.

Then, as expected, Kite acted.

"Draven—how long will you look down on us?"

He sneered and reached out—looking ready to grab Draven by the collar and throw him down.

That's too much! Ibelin quickly grabbed Kite. Sharp eyes turned to her.

"Lord Kite—why don't we talk downstairs?"

Kite's gaze lingered on her, then on his caught hand. He shook his head.

"No—I've nothing to say to him anyway. This is supposed to be a date."

Draven's eyes gleamed darkly.

"A date—you must truly love your fiancée. But unfortunately, even if you have no business, I do."

He tapped Rundt's chest.

"Remember?"

Having his leg broken—if he didn't, he'd have no conscience. But Kite was rarely conscientious.

"I don't."

Rundt, behind, flared up.

"You don't remember me? I'm Rundt of House Hiese!"

"I know Marquis Hiese—but why should I remember every foolish child of a marquis?"

His words were sharp. Rundt stammered with rage.

"I—I was in the newspapers because of you!"

"That's because you did something stupid."

"And you broke my leg!"

"Oh—did I?"

At this point, Ibelin admitted—this couldn't be ignored. She stepped back, waiting.

"I—I challenge you to a duel!"

Rundt tore off his glove and threw it at Kite. Kite tilted his head, dodged, and smiled—but it wasn't a nice smile.

Following the schedule was already impossible.

"Fine—shall we settle it now?"

A flustered waiter ran over.

"You can't fight here."

His trembling voice was barely understandable—but he was trying to do his duty.

"Right—can't cause trouble. How about this—I hear there's an open space behind the restaurant."

Originally a resting area for diners—but Draven smiled and suggested it as a dueling ground.

"Pay for any damages."

The waiter looked ready to cry. The manager arrived, but Draven and Kite were untouchable—so the duel was decided.

"Will there be seconds?"

Kite asked. Draven answered.

"It's lunchtime—there are plenty of people here. We'll find someone."

He meant to interrupt others' meals. Kite wasn't normal either, but Draven seemed worse—provoking and forcing a duel. With rumors already spreading, Kite couldn't refuse.

So two Imperial knights, peacefully eating, became seconds.

"Sorry to disturb your meal."

Ibelin, the only normal one, apologized.

"It's fine—we get to see Lord Kite's swordsmanship up close. Are you alright, Lady Ibelin? Dueling can be unpleasant to watch."

At last—a normal person like her!

"Yes—it might not be good for you."

Kind advice—but she had to refuse.

"No—it's better I stay."

She was ready to jump in and stop Kite if needed—or shoot if it came to it. She hadn't revealed her abilities yet, which was stressful, but she had to prevent a death. Last time it was a broken leg—this time could be worse.

She resolved herself and stood behind the knights—though they firmly blocked her from going forward.

As the duel began, diners crowded the windows—others stopped eating and gathered. Rundt stood before Kite.

Draven had brought a sword for him, patting his shoulder in encouragement.

It won't help.

Rundt was trembling too much, occasionally glancing around as if to flee—but there was no escape. Draven was ruthless to push him into this.

"I believe they're ready."

Draven stood beside Ibelin. She didn't want to talk to him, but he persisted.

"Lady Ibelin—aren't you worried about Archduke Gracias?"

Worried? Ask anyone here—they'd all answer the same.

They'd worry about Rundt.

"He might get hurt."

"Yes—what if Lord Kite gets hurt?"

She feigned concern, and one of the knight seconds smiled.

"That won't happen—Lord Kite is the Empire's finest."

"He's never lost a duel."

Ibelin knew—her earlier investigation had shown that. It was always the opponent who suffered. Still, as a fiancée, she should show some worry.

"Is that so?"

She nodded in relief, clasping her hands—with Draven watching beside her.

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