Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch 82

82.

"Unknown said he can handle that."

"How?"

"The seer Ibelin's abilities haven't fully bloomed yet—so he can interfere with her use of them."

"Unknown can?"

Draven's gaze shifted to him.

"Yes—but my abilities have limits, so I need others' help."

"What kind of help?"

"A major incident—preferably several simultaneously, involving people connected to the seer. Since she's not adept at seeing the future yet, it's easier for her to glimpse the futures of those close to her."

At his words, Draven's expression twisted.

"Are there such people? Surely not Kite? The Black Scorpion doesn't have infinite resources either."

"Then we target others."

Pavltin continued.

"People connected to House Frillie—her relatives or acquaintances. And around that time, we'll move too, creating diversions."

"Is that possible?"

"We'll make it possible."

Pavltin looked confident.

"Tch."

Draven clicked his tongue but didn't press further—it didn't seem impossible.

"Is that all?"

"No—one more thing."

More?

He tilted his head—Pavltin continued.

"Originally, we planned to offer the second princess to Leonhardt—but since our target has changed, we need to adjust."

"How?"

"Duke Draven—how about the first princess?"

The first princess of Teyrin turned twenty this year—too old for Leonhardt. But Draven realized he wasn't talking about the Emperor.

"Duke—I'm suggesting you marry her. The first princess of Teyrin. She's of age, and there's an eight-year age gap between you—quite suitable."

He understood: when he became Emperor, he'd take her as Empress. It was a good offer—not just because she was said to be beautiful.

Since he was using Teyrin anyway, strengthening the bond was wise. If things went well, their child could be the heir—perhaps if the current princes killed each other off.

Not now, though—I need to become Emperor first.

Pavltin repeated, growing impatient. Draven enjoyed that.

"Fine."

He nodded arrogantly.

"Thank you—our alliance grows stronger!"

Pavltin smiled broadly.

---

"Ugh."

Pavltin sighed as he landed outside Draven's window.

"Having to please such a fool."

He clicked his tongue and brushed off his head.

"Let's go."

Still angry, but still in Draven's manor—creating a scene would be trouble. He gestured to Unknown, who followed silently.

So far, things were going as planned. Draven knew of Ibelin and would threaten her—Kite wouldn't stand by. Unlike Draven thought, Kite truly loved her.

Draven would be destroyed by Kite, and the fallout would reach Teyrin. He felt sorry for the innocent Ibelin, but it couldn't be helped—he'd suffered too long to be held back by such sentiment.

As he walked, his foot caught something—he looked down to see a rolled parchment. Familiar—he bent to pick it up.

"Unknown?"

Pavltin turned, puzzled, but Unknown had already concealed it.

"Yes?"

Feigning ignorance, Pavltin looked him over.

"Never mind—let's go."

He found nothing odd. Unknown followed, unrolling the parchment—inside was a lumpy pink candy.

His step nearly faltered.

I know this shape.

It was from his time as a test subject—a man who'd raided the lab had given it to the children.

"The shape is odd, but it's delicious."

He'd said that and told them to eat. Researchers were dying nearby, muffled screams filled the air—but Unknown was entranced, unwrapping the same candy.

"A-are you going to eat that?"

A frightened child asked.

"Yes."

"Now?"

That's why I should—maybe I'll die soon.

"It might be poison!"

He knew—but poison wasn't bad, so he ate it. The lumpy candy was surprisingly good—sweet and sour.

Raspberry.

As he chewed, another child unwrapped one too.

"It's good!"

Hearing that, others slowly ate—they'd only been given bland mush.

"Sweet!"

Happy voices. That small candy gave brief happiness to suffering children. Very brief.

The director and researchers died. The man wanted to save them but couldn't—his comrades stopped him. He shouted, regretful, gritted his teeth—then retreated.

Most test subjects died in the fire. A few survived, but later experiments killed them—only Unknown remained. Teyrin called him their sole success.

"Smile."

He obeyed, thinking—

If that man had saved everyone... or if the candy had been poison, ending the pain...

Everyone has different goals—he didn't have to save Unknown. But the resentment remained.

Wanting Teyrin's destruction, he sometimes thought of that man—wanting to kill him, seeking comfort from him. As he grew and honed his prophecy, he decided to learn the man's identity.

He only thought it.

What use is knowing? Would it be worth scarring his body further? What if he's dead—or alive—what would change? He'd wondered.

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