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

After all, all she has left is the very unreliable Merlin.

This guy doesn't care whether she lives or dies.

Ian's silence made Artoria somewhat flustered.

“Um, Mr. Ian, I didn’t mean to leave it untidy, I just…”

Halfway through her sentence, she realized she had no idea how to continue.

Because she really did it on purpose—everything about the royal court was too unfamiliar to her.

Whether it's imitation or observation in secret.

In essence, it's all because they don't know what to do.

Merlin and his adoptive father Hector both taught him the strategic vision that would be instilled in him after he became king.

But how to smoothly transition into that king—they never mentioned it.

"Artoria, don't be so nervous," Ian reassured the girl. "It's not a big problem if you don't clean up."

"However, loneliness is probably not so easy to dispel."

"..."

Knowing that Ian had completely guessed her thoughts, Artoria lowered her head.

After a long while, she finally managed to squeeze out a few words:

"Mr. Ian, do I look unworthy of a king?"

"Should I have been braver?"

Ian placed Artoria on her bed and then sat down beside her.

"Actually, compared to most people, Artoria, you are already brave enough."

"You just haven't gotten used to all of this yet."

“Mr. Ian, how long will it take me to get used to all this?” Artoria asked in return.

"I want to do what you said I would do."

The girl's determination was clear, and Ian knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"Don't worry, Artoria."

"You will do it."

"But before that—"

Ian flicked Artoria's forehead.

"Get some rest first."

"Eh--?"

Covering her slightly reddened forehead, Artoria nodded obediently.

"I see."

“Okay, then that’s settled.” Ian stood up.

"I'm going back."

"it is good."

As she watched Ian leave, Artoria seemed to remember something and spoke again when he reached the door of the room.

"Um, Mr. Ian!"

"What's wrong?" Ian turned around.

"Mr. Ian..."

Artoria used all her strength to cover her lower abdomen, looking very embarrassed.

"I don't actually dislike this way of drinking, so... can we continue next time?"

"..."

Ian smiled.

"I see."

Click.

The door closed gently.

Artoria's hand slid down little by little, then entered, touching the still-lingering effects of the alcohol.

It was a cool, refreshing feeling, but at that moment it stirred a warmth in the girl's heart.

Do I actually like this approach?

I guess they just don't like it.

but--

Artoria recalled that shameful scene.

And during that process, Ian gave me a very interested look.

She found that she didn't seem to hate it all so much after all.

What kind of wine will we taste next time?

The girl was actually thinking about such things in her dream.

You returned to the room you shared with Morgan.

Morgan appears to have gone to bed.

You prepare to quietly slip into bed, only to find that things are far from peaceful.

As soon as Ian lay down, Morgan's voice drifted over from beside him.

"Ian, where have you been?"

The voice was very calm, without even a slight inflection.

But Ian knew that the more Morgan acted this way, the more her true feelings would veer in the opposite direction.

Deception is pointless.

So--

Let me explain it a little more clearly.

"Your Highness, I've gone to take Artoria back to her room."

"what?"

Morgan rolled over.

A dark, ominous light suddenly shone from those deep blue eyes, as deep as the ocean.

"Ian, what are you doing?"

"Didn't you say you would swear allegiance to me for the rest of your life?"

"Princess."

Ian reached out and hugged Morgan.

"It is precisely because I swore allegiance to you that I chose to do this."

“Actually, during the time you were studying magic, I had already expressed to her my hope that she could get rid of Vortigern.”

Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly.

The once unmistakable black light gradually faded at the edges.

"You mean, you're urging her?"

“Yes, Your Highness.” Ian nodded without hesitation.

"Won't she doubt your opinion?"

"She hasn't even become the queen yet."

"Perhaps, but her enthusiasm is definitely much stronger than I imagined."

"as well as--"

Ian glanced at the wine glass that was still on the bedside table.

"Your wine also played an excellent role in this process."

Your explanation makes sense of the situation in the room.

Morgan eventually believed you, but she still had other questions.

"Did she sit on our bed?" Morgan asked coldly.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Ian didn't hide it.

"It may also be one of the secrets to the success of this conversation."

"But she'd already gone to bed—"

Morgan stared at Ian.

"Are you really just talking to her?"

"Knight, don't let me discover that your lance has ulterior motives."

"Your Highness, since you don't believe me..."

Ian raised his hands in surrender.

"I am willing to be inspected by you."

"..."

Morgan turned his head away.