chapter 17
His anger had finally cooled, but it seemed to have been replaced by an entirely different train of thought. Kyte swept back his stray, fallen bangs with one hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“So, I’m his benefactor?”
“Yes. So please, I beg of you, just stay here until the Emperor’s birthday!”
As Evelina clasped her hands together in desperate entreaty, Kyte perched casually on the edge of the bed.
“Fine.”
“Please! Even if you hate it, just this once—!”
“I said fine.”
“P-please—wait, what?”
Mid-plea, Evelina’s eyes went wide and round. “You’re really staying?”
“Yeah.”
Before she knew it, Kyte’s expression had reverted to its usual state—brimming with that familiar, nonchalant self-assurance.
Evelina stood there dazed, lightly pinching her own ear. Did I hear him right? As she questioned her own senses, Kyte spoke again.
“On one condition.”
“A condition?”
“If I get bored while staying here…” Kyte pointed toward the wall. “…I’m breaking through that and leaving.”
Evelina blinked blankly. “So… you’re telling me to keep you entertained?”
“Interpret it however you like.”
Grandfather, your benefactor really has a dreadful personality. To demand entertainment from the very person turning herself inside out to save his life!
Yet, it wasn’t as if she could refuse him now. Deflating entirely, Evelina managed a weak nod.
“Understood. Then, what should I do so you won’t be bored?”
“That,” Kyte replied smoothly, “is for you to figure out.”
For a split second, a surge of sheer indignation took her breath away, but Evelina successfully kept it from showing on her face.
“Right… of course.”
“Think of something as fast as you can. Time is ticking away as we speak.”
Forcing an awkward smile, Evelina backed out of the room and closed the door behind her. The moment her back hit the hallway wall, she let out a heavy, defeated sigh.
Kyte, that absolute rogue… what on earth would a man like him find entertaining? She had spent plenty of time tailing him to gather information, but he didn’t possess anything resembling a normal hobby.
At most, he practiced swordsmanship. But she couldn’t exactly hand him a blade. The man was already threatening to demolish walls with his bare fists; giving him a sword would be akin to handing a torch to an arsonist. Evelina bit her lip anxiously.
“No, I can do this!”
She couldn’t afford to back down now. What did ordinary people find pleasure in?
“Food.”
Evelina decided to approach the problem from the most primal angle. She would elevate the quality of his meals.
At the butcher’s shop, she purchased a cut of high-grade meat far pricier than her usual selection.
“Now, this right here is milk-fed veal,” the butcher boasted, wrapping the meat with practiced ease. “The nobility love this stuff. Stew it until it’s nice and tender, and the flavor is simply exquisite.”
He glanced up, his eyes lingering on her with a hint of suspicion. “Mind you, this is quite expensive. And I don’t think I’ve seen your face around here before.”
Evelina didn’t look like a high-born maid, yet a plain, ordinary young lady was asking for premium veal. It was bound to look strange.
“It’s fine, I have the coin,” Evelina reassured him with a soft smile. “I just wanted to prepare a delicious meal for someone back home.”
“Ah… I see. A relative who doesn’t have much time left, then?” The butcher sighed sympathetically. “Sometimes, before they pass, folks want to taste things they never got to try in life.”
Realizing the butcher had completely misunderstood the situation, Evelina chose not to correct him. A young woman living alone, buying an excessive amount of groceries every day, was bound to arouse suspicion eventually. She had heard that the capital was cold and indifferent, but that wasn’t entirely true; the neighbors were surprisingly nosy. It was better for them to think this instead.
“Yes, something like that,” she murmured, putting on a deliberately melancholy smile.
The butcher wiped the corner of his eye with the back of his hand. Moved by her feigned sorrow, he even scribbled down a veal recipe on a scrap of paper and handed it over.
“Hang in there, miss.”
“Thank you.”
Leaving the butcher shop, Evelina continued her routine rounds through the market district. Her final destination was the blacksmith shop she had visited once before. She checked over her shoulder several times along the way, hyper-vigilant for anyone who might be tailing her.
Her caution wasn’t unwarranted; that morning, the tabloid newspapers had run a massive, front-page headline detailing the sudden disappearance of the Grand Duke. Fortunately, because it was a sensationalist rag known for printing scandals, the general public didn’t seem to take it seriously.
“The Grand Duke is missing?”
“Who could have managed that?”
“Is there anyone even capable of pulling it off?”
“What about the current Emperor’s maternal family?”
At that suggestion, the gossiping voices dropped to a hushed whisper.
“They aren’t in a position to pull a stunt like that right now.”
“A foreign power, then?”
“Why would they risk it when things are peaceful? There were rumors of them preparing for war, but that’s old news.”
In short, the public was entirely unsure whether to suspect an internal traitor or a foreign adversary.
From Evelina’s perspective, the trashy newspaper had miraculously stumbled upon the absolute truth, but since few believed it, she could breathe a sigh of relief.
When she arrived at the blacksmith’s shop and knocked, there was no response from within.
Knock, knock.
She tried again, pausing to ensure the street was clear of passersby. After a brief hesitation, Evelina pulled a long, slender piece of metal from her pocket. Yes—among the many things her grandfather had taught her, lockpicking was one of them.
“You never know, Evelina. One day you might stumble upon an ancient ruin. It could come in handy then. When the time comes to open a treasure chest, you can step up and save the day!”
Thinking back on it now, it was absurd. There was absolutely no reason for an ordinary noble lady to go exploring ancient ruins, let alone step forward to pick open a chest of pirate gold. Yet, trusting her grandfather completely, a naive Evelina had learned every trick he offered.
Click.
With a deft twist of the wire, the blacksmith’s lock gave way with ease.
“Sigh…”
She stepped inside, only to find the shop entirely deserted. All that remained was a cold, extinguished hearth and a few discarded, rusty tools. Everything she had seen during her previous visit had vanished. The vacant forge held nothing but a chilly, biting draft.
What was he really up to?
What kind of man had her grandfather actually been? Evelina shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, and turned around.
To the world, he was Baron Frilly—a man who ruled over a small, sparsely populated estate in the countryside. In his youth, he had fought against the barbarians in the north and earned a medal for his service. It was an honorable feat, but because most soldiers who distinguished themselves back then received one, it wasn’t particularly unique.
To Evelina, he was simply a kind, deeply knowledgeable grandfather. But was that truly all? Lately, Evelina was beginning to realize that the things she had taken for granted were anything but ordinary.
The oddly constructed two-story house. The basement packed to the brim with peculiar weapons and long-term provisions. And the reinforced room where Kyte was currently held—a cell so secure that even a Sword Master would struggle to break free.
Kyte had slammed against the walls earlier in an attempt to escape, but the structure hadn’t yielded. In fact, even if he had kept striking them, the walls might never have broken. It was clear this was no ordinary masonry.
Lost in thought, she soon found herself back on her own street.
“Oh, hello there! You’re the young lady who just moved in, right?”
A neighbor happened to pass by and called out a greeting.
“Hello,” Evelina replied politely.
“How come we barely see you outside?”
“It’s a house I inherited, so I’ve been cooped up inside trying to get everything organized and settled.”
“Ah, I see. Well, make sure to come out more often. The weather has been lovely lately.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
With a polite bow, Evelina slipped inside her house.
Only when she had unloaded all the groceries onto the kitchen table did her frantic mind begin to settle. Now, shall I begin cooking?
Armed with the butcher’s recipe, she felt reasonably confident she could whip up something that would satisfy Kyte.
Probably.
Meanwhile, Kyte lay flat on his back in the secure room, staring idly at the ceiling.
“Benefactor… a benefactor, huh.”
In all his life, he had never once imagined he would be considered Baron Frilly’s benefactor. If anyone had done any life-saving, it was the Baron who had plucked Kyte from danger, not the other way around.
Simply because Kyte was young. Simply because he was around the same age as his own grandchild.
Baron Frilly had meddled in Kyte’s life in every conceivable way. He made sure Kyte ate every meal, constantly trying to stuff him with delicious food. Whenever Kyte was assigned a perilous mission, the old man would inevitably force his way into the operation.
“Why are you doing this? You stand to gain absolutely nothing from looking after me.”
“Sometimes, a man must move without a calculation of profit, young man. And right now is one of those times.”
The old man had been an insufferably sly, silver-tongued eccentric. Yet, Kyte hadn’t hated him for it. In an environment where his life was under constant threat, the Baron was the single person he could genuinely trust. It was for that very reason that Kyte had chosen to honor the old man’s final wishes and refrain from breaking out.
“Even from beyond the grave…” Kyte muttered to the empty room.
It seemed Baron Frilly intended to protect Kyte even in death. If that weren’t the case, he would never have left such bizarre instructions for his granddaughter. Though the old man’s ultimate motives remained shrouded in mystery, Kyte found himself thoroughly ensnared by them.
