Chapter 12
“Is this your taste?”
At the question, Mary blinked slowly.
“Excuse me?”
“I asked if this is your taste.”
“What exactly do you mean by ‘this’?”
“Erotic literature.”
Mary’s eyes went perfectly round. With trembling hands, she scooped the fallen book off the floor and flipped it open.
“Oh…”
A breathless gasp escaped her lips, and her face instantly flushed a violent, tomato red.
“N-No! You misunderstand! I had no idea it was this kind of book!”
“Liar.”
At his accusatory tone, Mary shook her head frantically.
“I swear, I really didn’t know! The bookstore owner just told me it was a book men would like!”
Listening to her flustered excuses, Kite finally put the pieces together, realizing why everything had felt so profoundly bizarre until now.
“Hahaha.”
Kite burst into laughter. Ah, now I see why I was locked up. Judging by the maid’s frantic behavior, she clearly harbored no malice. If she had intended to harm him, she wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of lining his handcuffs with that embarrassing pink fur. A real captor wouldn’t have cared whether the metal chafed his wrists or not.
“And here I thought I’d finally rid myself of crazy, clinging bastards.”
Things were different now compared to when Saraen was around. Kite had truly awakened his talents while tearing through fields of slaughter, and by now, few men in the world could match his strength. Combined with his notoriously unhinged behavior, the sycophants and perverts who used to swarm him had vanished. Or so he had thought.
“You… you’re in love with me.”
He didn’t know if Mary’s supposed master actually existed. But one thing was certain: either this master, or Mary herself, was so infatuated with Kite that they had resorted to locking him up.
‘If that’s the case, wouldn’t they have tried to express it before now?’
Undoubtedly. But Kite’s mansion boasted ironclad security; letters from strangers were incinerated on arrival, and uninvited visitors were turned away without exception. No one crossed his threshold unless they belonged to a microscopic circle of genuine intimates. And because Kite routinely acted like a madman, that circle was practically nonexistent.
‘So the conclusion they arrived at… was confinement.’
It dawned on Kite that this woman, Mary, was likely the shadow that had been tailing him for months. Frankly, if he had ever cared enough to catch his stalker, he would have done so instantly. But he had let it slide, simply because he had never encountered anyone quite so relentlessly persistent.
Yet, to think he’d be caught off guard by such a clumsy trap and abducted so easily. It was utterly absurd.
Still, looking at Mary, he could almost understand her desperation. Even if his personality was a disaster, his face was, objectively speaking, a masterpiece.
Kite delivered his verdict with absolute certainty. “That’s why you locked me up, isn’t it?”
Granted, no sane person would imprison a Sword Master over a crush. But Kite harbored zero faith in humanity. Most people were ordinary, but a select few would gladly throw their lives away to possess what they desired. This woman was clearly one of them.
“A stalker. You’re a stalker, aren’t you?”
Kite fixated his gaze on Evelyin, his eyes glittering with genuine amusement. Of all the people who had thrown themselves at him over the years, he had never met anyone quite this exquisitely unhinged. To actually conceive the notion of kidnapping the Empire’s greatest sword?
His eyes curved into crescent moons as a brilliant smile broke across his face.
“Well then, My Dear Stalker. What do you plan to do with me next?”
Whatever it was, it promised to be a novel experience. The Empire was currently swept up in the frenzy of the Emperor’s birthday festival, but Kite’s calendar was blissfully clear. He figured he could afford to play along with her little game for a few days.
In every crisis he had ever faced, Kite had invariably broken free and overturned the board. This time would be no different.
‘Stalker?’
Evelyin’s jaw dropped at the word—a term she had never even heard in her entire life.
‘A stalker? He thinks I’m a stalker?!’
She had lived her life under the heavens with a perfectly clear conscience, yet here she was, enduring such outrageous slander! Furthermore, for reasons completely beyond her comprehension, Kite seemed utterly convinced that she was deeply infatuated with him.
‘I am not!’
Evelyin’s ideal type was most certainly not a gorgeous, toxic piece of trash.
‘I prefer someone upright and gentle. Someone like Grandfather.’
As far as looks went, average was perfectly fine. But character—character was everything. She wanted someone kind, someone who would patiently comfort a grieving granddaughter after she lost her parents, just like her grandfather had.
“A man like you, Your Grace, is entirely outside my preferences,” she snapped, the irritation bubbling over before she could stop it. Terrifying as the man might be, she refused to let such an absurd accusation stand.
“Oh, really?” Kite replied smoothly, though his tone made it glaringly obvious he didn’t believe a single syllable.
“I am entirely serious. I value personality over physical appearance!”
“Is there something wrong with my personality?”
“Pardon? Are you actually asking that in earnest?”
When she challenged him so bluntly, one of Kite’s elegant eyebrows arched upward.
“Then let me turn the question on you. Where, exactly, does my character fall short?”
“A person would only need to glance at a newspaper to answer that.”
“Ah, the papers. Half of what they print is pure fiction—nothing more than a journalistic conspiracy to paint me as a villain.”
Liar. Through the covert investigations Evelyin had conducted on Kite, she had uncovered incidents far worse than anything ever leaked to the press. She could only stare at him, utterly dumbfounded by his audacity.
“Besides,” Kite added, a smirk playing on his lips, “you’re the one who kidnapped me. It’s rather rich for a kidnapper to claim her ideal type is a righteous, good-natured citizen.”
“Th-That’s—that’s different!”
Everything she had done was solely to save his life. But if she told him that, would a man like him ever believe her? Moreover, her family had strictly warned her that her prophetic visions must remain a closely guarded secret.
Though the age of magic had long since passed, a rare few who inherited ancient bloodlines still manifested extraordinary gifts. Such individuals were fiercely hunted. A power like prophecy, in particular, was an invaluable, miraculous rarity.
Evelyin tightly sealed her lips. Only after a long, tense silence did she mumble in a small, deflated voice, “Even so… I still prefer kind people.”
“People always say the heart matters more than the face. Yet, without fail, everyone sings a different tune the moment they stand before me.”
Kite possessed a bulletproof confidence in his own looks. To be fair, he was breathtakingly beautiful—the kind of beautiful that could easily make a person lose their mind. But Evelyin was entirely immune.
Exasperated, she let out a heavy sigh, placing a hand over her heart as she silently repeated the name of God. If she didn’t find some way to ground herself, she felt as though her chest might actually burst from sheer frustration.
Calm down. Just calm down.
“So, Stalker.”
“I told you, I’m not a stalker.”
“A person who abducts someone and keeps them under lock and key is either a kidnapper or a stalker.”
Grandfather, do I really have to save a man like this?
Taking a slow, deliberate breath, Evelyin tightened her grip on the tray. Abandoning her original plan to serve the tea to Kite, she lifted the cup to her own lips and drank it herself. Perhaps because it was lavender—a blend specially chosen for its calming properties—the tight knot of tension in her chest loosened slightly.
“Where is my tea?”
Evelyin shot him a cold, unyielding look. “There isn’t any.”
“Didn’t you say you were bringing me tea? Are you going to keep me locked up and starve me of basic hospitality?”
As if he even drinks tea that often anyway. Grinding her teeth, Evelyin spun around and marched out, dragging the tray along behind her.
“Stalker.”
Apparently, that was her official title now. Weariness washing over her, Evelyin recalled the thought that had kept her sane through the hundreds of times she had replayed this scenario in her head.
‘Still, he’s my benefactor. He saved Grandfather.’
Summoning a feat of superhuman patience, Evelyin forced a polite smile onto her face. “I will go brew a fresh pot.”
The basement was equipped with a simple apparatus for heating water. Using it, she boiled a fresh batch and returned a few moments later to present the tea.
Kite promptly dumped the contents directly onto the floor.
“Ah, my bad. Slipped right out of my hand.”
Do not forget, she reminded herself fiercely, this man saved Grandfather’s life on the battlefield.
“Oh dear,” Evelyin managed, her voice tight but controlled. “Shall I bring you another?”
“If you insist.”
Watching his arrogant nod, Evelyin turned on her heel and exited once more. Yet, when she returned with a third cup, the result was exactly the same.
“I don’t like the teacup.”
What on earth did the cup have to do with pouring the liquid onto the floor?
“Besides,” Kite drawled, his voice dripping with mockery, “how can I possibly trust a cup of tea brewed by a stalker?”
At his sarcastic tone, Evelyin’s hands balled into tight fists. Benefactor or not, she wanted nothing more than to punch him square in his beautiful face. Her grandfather had always taught her to treat food with absolute reverence, yet this wretched man refused to show even the most basic shred of decency.
‘He’s doing this on purpose.’
He was trying to provoke her. He wanted her to lose her emotional composure, hoping she would make a careless mistake so he could exploit the opening and escape.
The realization acted like a bucket of ice water, instantly cooling her boiling blood. She had almost forgotten the vital lessons her grandfather had instilled in her.
“For dinner, I think a steak with a proper garnish and a cream of mushroom soup would do nicely,” Kite commanded smoothly. “Oh, and don’t forget the salad.”
“Understood. I will do my best to accommodate your request.”
Evelyin smiled again, completely burying her irritation. For now, she would bury her emotions entirely. No matter how atrocious his personality was, the man was still a Sword Master. If she wanted to keep him safely confined, she would have to adapt and play the game by his rules.
