Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch 88

88.

He wasn't like this before— Martin thought—does he really find his granddaughter that adorable?

"A real thief, a thief! What if Kite truly falls for Ibelin? His reputation is a mess! I can't entrust her to someone like that."

He nodded solemnly.

"Surely not."

Martin answered firmly, cutting off his lament.

She knew Kite had fallen for Ibelin and that they were of the same mind—her intuition was excellent.

Well, young men and women spending time together can develop feelings.

The problem was Kailun wouldn't accept it. Though he'd cherished young Kite, his granddaughter was another matter. Perhaps it was best they didn't meet—who knew how he'd react?

"Anyway—focus on work."

He nodded and changed the subject.

"Yes—this isn't the time."

With Martin's support, Kailun was monitoring Unknown. He hadn't returned to Teyrin, staying undercover in Pabeln. Surveillance showed he mostly visited ordinary places—bookstores, meetings with fellow countrymen.

But sometimes, he went out at night—to a familiar place.

"Viscount Treen."

A minor noble running a small trading company, who'd lost most of his land and was more merchant than noble.

"He visits often."

"Hmm—I know him. He's been trying to build connections in the capital by offering certain pleasures to nobles."

"Unlawful services?"

"Introducing servants to nobles—practically slave trading."

"Didn't the Empire abolish slavery long ago?"

"Yes—but he does it."

"With backing—likely Duke Draven. He's been troublesome since childhood; proper education is wasted on him."

Kailun clicked his tongue.

"So Unknown visits to contact Draven?"

"Likely."

"Meaning you have someone inside?"

At that, Martin narrowed her eyes.

"Why—don't you?"

"No—you're right. Protecting His Majesty is our duty, so we monitor all threats—including Draven."

Kite was also a danger, but his reckless behavior lowered his threat level; they only watched him within his permitted bounds.

A Swordmaster wasn't to be trifled with; even with a ruined reputation, he could seize the throne if he wished. But Martin knew he didn't want it.

Draven was different—he didn't hide his greed. Though he tried after Kite returned, it was futile.

"First, we need solid evidence of Draven's collusion with Teyrin. To do that, we need your seer—Unknown."

"Capture him?"

"Extract information."

"Not easy."

"Nothing in Intelligence is."

"Hmm."

His brow furrowed.

"I know you want to save the pitiful child from the past—but rationally, it won't be easy. Even if he's captured, if he changes his mind, we might spare him—but you know, once we know he sees the future, we can't free him."

"...I know."

"Really? You're too soft with children."

He smiled bitterly.

"Even so—if he's alive, something good might happen?"

A fool's hope—but Martin didn't say that. There was work to do.

"Maybe—now move!"

She slapped his back again.

Intelligence watched Unknown during his visits to Treen's—and Kailun planned to infiltrate while he was away.

But Unknown might foresee it all.

"My intuition says it's not bad."

"You said it was bad earlier!"

"That was something else—wouldn't you worry if your beloved granddaughter was with some scoundrel?"

At this point, Martin decided to ignore him.

"Just get back safely."

"At least I have friends—I'm not useless yet."

She shuddered as he pretended to wipe tears.

"Get out! Who's your friend?"

"See you!"

He saluted casually and slipped out the window, vanishing into shadows—still skilled.

Time hasn't changed him.

She turned back to work.

---

Most nobles stay in their own country, but exceptions exist—diplomats or spies are sent abroad for information.

Teyrin was no exception.

Hidden in shadow, Kailun watched the count's mansion—where most Teyrin visitors came. Its master was Unknown, officially the count's nephew.

He approached using unobserved paths. Unusually many guards, but to Kailun, they meant nothing—age hadn't stolen his skills.

Infiltrating was easy, aided by Martin's intelligence.

Where to start?

Those hiding secrets fall into two types: those who keep them close, and those who don't. The count was the former.

Unknown was elsewhere; the count remained—a mild-looking middle-aged man, but his hidden past was far from ordinary.

Many such existed. Teyrin and Pabeln had fought bitterly, both openly and in secret. Most from that era died, but some survived—including the count.

He'd changed his appearance, but the scent lingered—iron and blood. The past couldn't be fully buried.

Inside, security was lax—servants absent. Suspicious, but he didn't retreat.

Yes.

He moved toward his goal—the count's bedroom. By now, he knew it could be a trap—but his intuition urged him on.

Open the door.

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