In the world of Type-Moon, it all begins with becoming Morgan's husband!

Ian's gaze swept across the buildings on the street, and he immediately caught the traces of magic echoing in the air.

He continued to explain.

"because--"

"These are all things projected through magic, so they will naturally look much better than the original buildings."

"Eh?"

Joan of Arc was initially surprised, but soon fell into a kind of sadness.

There was even a hint of sympathy in her eyes.

"elder brother."

"Is the other 'me' living in this ethereal and unreal environment all along?"

"..."

Ian knew what Joan of Arc was thinking.

He gently patted Joan of Arc's head and said tenderly:

"Alright, Jeanne."

"This isn't your fault... You didn't want this to happen, did you?"

"Hmm~" Jeanne nodded, knowing that Ian was trying to comfort her.

"Brother, let's hurry up!"

"it is good."

With thoughts completely different from when he left, Ian led Jeanne back to the door of the bridal chamber where he had slept with the Dragon Witch.

At this moment, something unexpected happened.

Joan of Arc reached out to stop Ian, and then spoke:

"elder brother."

"Can I go in alone?"

"..."

This is yet another request that sounds utterly absurd.

This time, however, Ian did not rush to reject his sister.

"Jeanne, I don't object to you having your own ideas."

"but--"

"You at least have to tell me your reasons for doing this, right?"

Hearing his brother's question, which was already quite polite.

Joan of Arc lowered her head and explained in a voice that was not loud, but firm enough:

"I don't know how to say it."

"but--"

"I think if I could go in and meet her alone, things would probably be much simpler."

"..."

Although it doesn't sound like a valid reason at all.

But seeing how determined his sister was to try it, Ian ultimately couldn't bring himself to refuse her request.

"I see."

Ian crossed his arms and leaned against the wall by the door.

"Since you want to go in alone—"

"Then let one of you go in."

"But let's make it clear first, if anything goes wrong, shout it out immediately."

"I'll go in as soon as possible."

"Ok!"

With her brother's support, Joan of Arc took a deep breath and then pushed open the door that separated the inside from the outside.

It was as if it were destined by fate.

The moment the saintess stepped into the room, she made eye contact with the dragon witch who had just woken up.

"..."

"..."

"Ugh—!" A roar came from Jeanne Alter's throat.

That was the most primal form of anger.

"How dare you show your face in front of me!"

Saying this, Jeanne Alter disregarded the revealing outfit she had specially changed into for Ian, and conjured a flag to stab at him.

Looking at the weapon that was almost identical to the Holy Banner, Joan of Arc felt a mixture of fear and pity.

The saintess has confirmed that the Jeanne d'Arc Alter before her is nothing more than a pitiful "avenger" who has taken her place as the Dragon Witch.

She... doesn't really understand anything.

“That one—Qing”

"Can we sit down and talk for a while?"

Hiss.

The flag stopped before Joan of Arc's brow.

The Dragon Witch frowned, her tone full of doubt.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Shall we...sit down and talk?"

Knowing that the other party wasn't completely deaf to her words, Joan of Arc continued without hesitation:

"Yes."

"We... don't actually need to be enemies."

"What nonsense are you spouting?!" Jeanne Alter caused the banner to vanish. "We are natural enemies!"

"Do not."

"We have never had any real conflict."

Joan of Arc looked at the face before her that was almost identical to her own.

"and--"

"You keep saying you hate France... but do you know why you hate it?"

"That's because—!"

Jeanne Alter stood there, stunned.

Yes.

Why do I hate France?

What exactly is the reason?

Seeing that Black Joan of Arc's voice abruptly stopped, Joan of Arc knew that she had indeed grasped the blind spot in her thinking.

Her eyes were a little moist—a sign of sadness for another version of herself.

"Look."

"You don't really know why you hate France, do you?"

"..."

Seeing that she couldn't think of any reason to refute the other party, Jeanne Alter suddenly became anxious.

"I'm sick!"

"Hate is hate, it doesn't need any reason!"

“No.” Joan of Arc shook her head. “Even the smallest hatred has its reasons.”

"You... don't actually know what you're doing."

"so--"

Joan of Arc looked at the "herself" before her.

“Stop, other ‘me’.”

"This is the wrong time; we can't continue like this."

"..."

"what are you talking about!"

"I don't believe such a thing."

Enraged by being touched on a sore spot, Jeanne d'Arc Alter threw a punch at her other "self".

But before the punch could land, it was blocked.

The one who stopped her was none other than Ian.

Upon seeing him, Jeanne Alter grasped at a straw.

"Come quickly!"

"She said I had no idea what I was doing! You have to help me refute her!"

"..."