Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch5

5.

"Huff... Hah!"

The information broker, who had been acting like a dying man, drew close to Ibelin and spoke with fierce intensity.

"Are you insane?"

"Excuse me?"

Me? Not you? Ibelin swallowed the question she wanted to ask. She didn't wish to pry into such sensitive matters with a stranger. Wasn't that basic consideration one should have as a person? Though the other party showed no intention of observing the same manners, she could not stoop to his level.

"You are insane, aren't you? No sane person would ask for that kind of information!"

The broker hopped about in place and continued.

"Of all things—of all things, that information!"

"That information?"

"Him."

The broker glanced around nervously and whispered with a fearful expression.

"Archduke Gracias?"

"Shh! You mustn't speak that name. It's taboo. Look at this!"

Opening his mouth wide, the broker showed Ibelin the inside of his oral cavity. She didn't particularly want to see someone else's mouth. Thinking that, she leaned her head back, but the broker showed no sign of letting her off.

He asked Ibelin again.

"See?"

"Uh... yes."

Why on earth is he showing me this? As Ibelin tilted her head in confusion, the broker continued.

"Not many teeth left, are there?"

Indeed—there were several gaps. As Ibelin nodded, recalling that, the broker's eyes reddened. He looked as if he might burst into tears at any moment, which left her flustered.

"You see, we information brokers have an unwritten rule. And that rule is: we do not buy or sell information about that person. Why? Because if you get caught, this is what happens to you. And I'm one of the lucky ones—just a few teeth knocked out and both legs broken!"

"Excuse me?"

It seemed that that person the broker was referring to was Archduke Gracias. But if this was the lucky version, then what had happened to the worse ones? Curiosity stirred within her, but she decided to hold back for now. The broker's face had turned deathly white.

She already knew the Archduke was a scoundrel, but she hadn't realized he had done this to information brokers too. At that thought, a chill ran down Ibelin's spine. Could she end up like that in the future? Clasping her hands tightly, she lowered her voice.

"So, you got caught buying and selling information about Graci—"

"Shh! Call him that person."

"...Right. So that person came and did this to you?"

"Exactly. So go home. I'm not selling you any information."

The broker stood Ibelin up and immediately began shoving her back by the shoulders. Since he was larger than her, she was helplessly pushed along.

"Wait, just a moment!"

"There is no moment!"

Before she knew it, she was outside the tavern. From beyond the closed door came a loud clatter.

"Hmm."

Ibelin stood there blankly for a moment, then resumed walking.

Just in case, she visited other information brokers as well—but their reactions were all the same.

Some held up holy objects and chanted prayers; others sprinkled salt on her. One even fainted.

"Oh? Hmm?"

Witnessing all of this only deepened her unease.

Grandfather, do I really have to save Archduke Gracias? She looked up at the sky and sighed.

"A debt of gratitude must be repaid."

Her grandfather's oft-spoken words during his lifetime came to mind. Along with the voice in her dream that had urged her on.

"I have no choice."

It was frightening—truly frightening—but she couldn't give up. At this point, she had no option but to gather information herself.

It'll be dangerous.

If she got caught, she might end up walking the same path as the broker. So she decided to start small, with things unlikely to get her discovered, and take it step by step. Surely a way would present itself. That was what Ibelin thought.

And this thought was the starting point of all the hardships that would follow.

---

Sometimes, talent blossoms in unexpected ways.

The information brokers had refused to sell, and so Ibelin had to move on her own. At first, it was difficult. Day after day, she fell countless times, got bruised, and chased leads only to come up with nothing but dust.

In that process, Ibelin blossomed a talent she hadn't known she possessed. Yes—she had an aptitude for information gathering superior to anyone else!

The naive Ibelin, who at first could barely keep up, gradually grew more adept at digging out information.

"Ah, another miss."

Rummaging through the trash bins from the Archduke's estate.

"Today he stopped by the smithy to have his sword maintained, and dined at that restaurant over there. Hmm, the Archduke has an unexpected sweet tooth. And it seems he values the feel of his strikes when he hits someone."

Each day, she wrote down the information she had gathered about the Archduke. His routes, what he ate, what he wore, the severity of his punishments—everything. She began accumulating information that no one had ever properly obtained before.

Everything felt smooth. But the Mad Dog wasn't called a mad dog for nothing.

---

"Foul mood."

Kite frowned and grumbled. He was always a man of many complaints, but lately he had grown even more irritable.

"What has put you in such a bad mood?"

Seren, his vice-commander, asked cautiously. Who's been acting up this time? Should I look up a physician in advance? As he pondered, Kite continued.

"Someone's been following me lately."

"Excuse me?"

Seren blurted out involuntarily. Kite was certainly a man of admirable skill—but his personality was atrocious. Seren often regretted becoming his subordinate. And now someone was following him?

"Lord Orland?"

It would take a deep-seated grudge to dare such a thing. Naturally, the name of the young lord whose arm he had broken last time came to mind.

"I doubt it. The man pissed himself back then—he'd have to be insane to try something like this."

In response to Seren's question, the red-haired man beside him, Alex, spoke up. But if not him, then who?

There were too many suspects to single anyone out. Still, one thing was certain: whoever it was, they had remarkable nerve.

Kite had put the fear of god into every information broker in the capital simply because he disliked their gossiping—yet here was some audacious bastard! At the time, he had even strung up a few brokers on the famous fountain in the capital's plaza as an example. Half-dead, of course.

"Good heavens!"

Naturally, the knights were not hiding their astonishment. What madman would still dare such a thing? Did he have nine lives? As they whispered among themselves, Kite admitted frankly:

"I still don't know who it is."

At that, Seren's expression changed.

"Shall we have him captured?"

If they deployed enough men, even a shadowy figure could be caught. But Kite clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"No."

There were too many things that bothered him about capturing them immediately.

At first, the tail had been clumsy—but they had grown more skillful over time, and now occasionally slipped out of his sight. Their improving tracking ability was remarkable, and yet he sensed no killing intent.

So he decided to hold off until he understood their purpose. The problem was that this piqued the interest of the other knights.

"Not a professional, apparently."

"So not a trained tail, then."

"Maybe it's a woman who likes the captain?"

"Where would such a crazy woman—oh, there was one, wasn't there."

In the past, there hadn't been a complete absence of women who followed him around. No matter his behavior or reputation, his looks were exceptional. But most normal women dropped out before long, and even the abnormal ones couldn't hold on.

"How long has it been?"

At Seren's careful question, Kite answered.

"Over two weeks now."

That was long. Against Kite, even a week was long. And yet they were still following him. He couldn't yet tell if the pursuer was male or female—but it was intriguing.

Then one of the men let out a whistle. His name was Alex—a sworn rival of Lucen. With a personality different from his appearance, he was often said to be a bit cracked.

"Anyone want to bet with me? I say three weeks—one gold coin!"

At Alex's words, Lucen furrowed his brow.

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