Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch9

9.

As the bullets came flying in succession, Kite tried to catch one with his hand. The moment it touched his palm, the magic took effect. Among the enchanted bullets, this one carried a sleep attribute—so it left no physical wound on Kite.

Grandfather!

What kind of bullet was this, to put even a Swordmaster to sleep? There weren't many sleep bullets, but she never imagined they would be this effective.

Ibelin took a deep breath, climbed down from the rooftop, and approached Kite. Lying unconscious, he looked as delicate as a flower—but she couldn't let her guard down. He was closer to a beast than a blossom.

After fastening the restraints she had brought onto Kite, Ibelin immediately pulled a teleport scroll from her bosom. Those who used guns could usually use scrolls as well—both operated on magical power.

Ibelin quickly tore the scroll in half.

---

That had been the full sequence of events.

When she was firing the gun, she had been fairly composed—but after returning to the mansion and imprisoning Kite, reality came crashing back. And so, leaving Kite to grind his teeth in frustration, Ibelin began to pray. But no matter how much she prayed, her heart would not settle.

Still, I can't let my benefactor starve.

Ibelin slowly made her way to the kitchen. Listlessly, she made a tomato stew loaded with meat and vegetables, and paired it with round, soft white bread.

"No, this won't be enough."

Her opponent was none other than an Archduke of the Empire. There was no way he would be satisfied with such a humble meal.

Ibelin began making stock from scratch. She put wine and beef into a pot and started to simmer it. It was a time-consuming recipe—but that made it good for escaping reality.

Thump!

If she hadn't heard the noise from the basement, she would have surely finished the tender braised dish.

"He—he must be hungry."

Ibelin reheated the finished stew, added bread and a drink, and hurriedly went down to the basement. She stopped at the last room in the corridor, from which sounds came at regular intervals.

"Hoo."

Even with deep breaths, her tension did not ease. After exhaling several times, Ibelin opened her eyes wide and threw the door open. Kite, who had been about to strike the wall, turned around.

Why—why is he smiling?

One might expect irritation at being kidnapped, but Kite was smiling like a fully bloomed flower. Seeing that, Ibelin felt a sense of dissonance and instinctively stepped back.

"Wait."

Kite crooked his finger at Ibelin.

"Are you the kidnapper?"

At his low, questioning voice, Ibelin unconsciously shook her head.

"No!"

Her original plan had been to feed him a delicious meal, soothe his foul mood, and confess the truth. Her grandfather had told her never to reveal her abilities carelessly—but she couldn't think of any other way. That had been the plan.

Yet when the moment came, a lie slipped out instead. It was fine—her grandfather had also said that in an emergency, lying was permissible.

"Ibelin. You're too honest, just like your father. You can't be like that—you'll only lose out. A certain amount of lies is necessary for living. It's better than speaking the truth and hurting someone's feelings."

That might sound like a strange philosophy, but Ibelin trusted her grandfather. He had lovingly raised her, an orphan, until she came of age. Without him, the Ibelin of today would not exist.

"I'm not."

"Then what are you?"

"A—a maid."

Kite's gaze swept over Ibelin. Then, as if convinced, he gave a light nod.

"Then where is your master?"

"Out."

"When will they return?"

"I don't know. Sometimes they come back quickly, sometimes not."

"How many days is the longest they've been out?"

"...Ten days."

By then, the Emperor's birthday would have passed. In three days, the celebration festival would begin—and it lasted a full week. So if she could just hold out for ten days, the danger to Kite would disappear.

"Mad bastard."

Kite said that and chuckled.

"So you can't let me go?"

"I—I cannot."

Normally she spoke well enough, but with Kite acting like this, she kept stammering. Right now, Kite looked like a madman by any measure. So this was the state in which he went around snapping people's limbs. Ibelin trembled slightly.

"Fine. Fine, then. I'll just have to get out myself."

Kite raised his fist again. Even bound by shackles, the wall he struck bore marks from the blow.

"Meal!"

Ibelin raised her voice.

"Please eat first."

"Do I look like I'm in the mood to eat?"

Kite sneered, but Ibelin held her ground.

"You need strength to eat."

He already seemed overflowing with strength, but she needed some means to stall him—even for a moment.

Kite appeared to think for a moment, then sat back on the bed.

"Bring it."

It worked. Ibelin was about to sigh in relief when she realized—she had brought the food on a tray. To hand it to the bound Kite, she would need to get closer.

To him?

If she made a mistake, he could grab her and kill her.

"P-please wait a moment!"

Ibelin quickly retreated, placed the tray on a nearby trolley she had found, and pushed it with force toward Kite.

"Huh?"

Kite stared at her as if dumbfounded, but she looked away.

"Enjoy your meal!"

Having shouted that, Ibelin shut the door again. But soon, the sound of knocking on the wall came again. Startled, she cracked the door open—and Kite pointed at his bound hands with his chin.

"You expect me to eat like this?"

"...You seem like you could manage?"

His wrists were restrained, but he could move them up and down. It didn't look like it would interfere with eating at all.

"You wouldn't know, being of low birth, but nobles do not dine alone without attendants or maids."

I'm a noble too! Ibelin wanted to retort but held back. On reflection, she was a noble from a small territory in the provinces, while Kite was an Archduke living in the capital. His mansion, though not ostentatious, was quite large, with many servants—some of whom surely attended to his meals.

I never thought of that!

How troublesome nobles could be.

"So you come and attend me."

Kite commanded arrogantly.

"Otherwise, I won't eat."

That threat wouldn't normally work on a kidnapper—but for Ibelin, it was different. She had abducted him to save him; if he refused to eat, that was a problem.

Still, a person can survive over two weeks with just water.

Since she only needed to confine him for about ten days, did she really need to risk approaching him just to feed him? Her hand on the door twitched.

Kite was a Swordmaster—he had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship, which meant his body was far superior to others. He could likely last much longer without food than an ordinary person.

It was a rather cruel thought, but Ibelin didn't want to die.

---

She's not coming, is she? Kite watched the girl who claimed to be a maid. At first, she wore a hesitant expression—but soon it changed. Her body, which had been facing inward, began to shift toward the exit.

She was signaling that she wouldn't approach, knowing the danger of Kite.

The burden of being famous.

There wasn't a soul in the capital who didn't know how Kite acted like a madman. As a maid of someone who had gone so far as to kidnap him, she must know all about it. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been entrusted with this. That meant threats wouldn't work on her.

Kite thought coolly. Then he'd have to try another way. He relaxed the stern expression he had been holding, half-lidded his eyes, and let out a slow, melancholy breath. He knew the power of his own appearance—and he knew how to use it.

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