Night. The moonlight shimmered, draping everything in the royal court in a white veil. Walking along the long path, Ian felt as if he too had turned white. The appointed room was Morgan's room, not far away.
Knock, knock— Ian knocked on the door. After this period of learning, he now understood how frightening his initial method of dismantling the door and then reassembling it after entering was. This, now, was behavior befitting a knight. "Big Sister Morgan. I'm here." "You're late—" Morgan's somewhat lazy voice came from behind the door. "Hurry and come in."
"Mhm." Click. The great door opened, then closed again. Everything was quiet. But— The moment Ian entered the room, he felt that something was off. No, it was more than just a little off. It was a blatant scent. A fragrance like that of flowers, but one that was far more exciting, more intoxicating.
"Do you like it?" Morgan asked, though she already knew the answer. "These are—the special flowers I prepared." The princess of Britain blew softly next to Ian's ear. "No, you're not allowed to dislike it. Otherwise, you won't get anything to eat today—" "..." Ian didn't answer Morgan, but only panted heavily. He could feel a very subtle substance in the air, constantly stimulating him. And this reaction, in turn, seemed to bring Morgan a great deal of pleasure. "It seems you like it very much. Come here, help me change my clothes." Saying this, Morgan walked over to the mirror herself.
"What are you standing there for? Hurry up and come here." The princess's words, in this moment, seemed like the bewitching charm of a witch. Ian nodded and quickly walked up behind her. But— When he touched Morgan's clothes, Ian realized she was dressed differently than usual. It was a very thin veil of clothing, an existence that could almost be disregarded entirely. Moonlight shone in, landing squarely on Morgan and Ian.
The Chief Knight of the Round Table quickly confirmed his thoughts. Because the Morgan in the mirror, though she hadn't changed at all, was already showing him everything. The high-quality dragon-feed rations, adorned with a few decorative sparks, were presented directly to Ian's eyes through the thin veil. If one were to sniff carefully, one could even sense a faint, alluring fragrance. A pair of long legs cast shadows in the moonlight, and as they rubbed together, one could see a shape similar to Artoria's.
"Why have you stopped? Hurry up and help your sister change—or is it that..." The Morgan in the mirror gently swayed her body up and down. "You need your sister to serve it up to you before you're willing to take big bites? You can't be so lazy, you know—otherwise, you'll definitely be punished." "Hahh..." A low sound rumbled in Ian's throat. "At a time like this, there's no need to control yourself in that way. You're a dragon, do what you want—otherwise, wouldn't it be a waste of your talent?" The moment she finished speaking, Morgan's eyes widened slightly. She knew—the fish had taken the bait. Oh, it should be called, the dragon has taken the bait. Ian's panting grew louder and heavier. The wild nature of the dragon was on full display.
"Don't turn into a dragon," Morgan said softly, looking at his reflection. "Tonight, I only want to see you like this. As for everything else, do as you please—with me, you are absolutely free." The moment she finished speaking, the "freedom" she mentioned delivered its judgment upon her. RRRIP— The special food packaging Morgan had prepared was torn in two by his powerful hands. Soon, she saw herself in the mirror being treated like food that could be ravaged at will. "How outrageous—" Morgan watched the dragon lower his head past her shoulder, then forcefully pull something upwards, putting on a helpless expression. "So impatient. I wonder if your mother is usually treated this way by you?" "..." "Hmph, ignoring me now—is this how you act once you have something to eat?" Morgan spoke as if she were disgusted, yet with a face full of glee, she felt the Little Ian she desired. "Heh." The princess of Britain let out a cold laugh, then quite cooperatively matched Ian's gnawing. Feeding this boy was no simple task. If she didn't make him feel like she was living prey, she couldn't even get him properly excited. But— Today, there was something else to do. Something very important. "Did you know, Ian, that the Round Table has two knights now? You are willing to help Artoria, I completely understand that. And that girl named Mélusine is also very willing to help Artoria. That won't do—" Morgan tilted her head up, looking at the Chief Knight of the Round Table who was fiercely feasting on her. "If this continues, won't the Round Table just be full of Artoria's people? And I... will once again have nothing." "..."
Ian temporarily released her. Morgan knew this was a sign that he was willing to listen to her. "You stopped this time? That wasn't easy. But, since you've stopped, it's time you listened to me—Ian, I do not want the Round Table to become Artoria's alone. If that happens, sooner or later, you too will belong only to her. Do you understand what I mean?" A blue light flashed in Morgan's eyes. In that moment, the floral scent in the room, as if driven by something, became even thicker. That was Morgan's magecraft. In fact, this scent had been her magecraft from the very beginning. Just as she could teach Ian how to restrain his instincts, she naturally knew how to make him temporarily lose that ability. "It seems... you understand what I mean—good."
Morgan's hand reached back. Soon, she felt what she was looking for. "How fortunate, this time it didn't just keep going without stopping. It seems your self-control isn't completely useless." "Urgh..." A low sound once again came from Ian's throat. "What? Are you asking me what you should do? That's simple—the Knights of the Round Table can't all be on Artoria's side. Your bloodline is excellent. Your abilities are outstanding. There is no existence more outstanding than the offspring you produce, is there?" Morgan's words echoed in the room like a spell, causing the intoxicating scent to assault Ian alone. She had to do this. Because he was a dragon, ordinary magecraft had no effect on him.
Morgan slightly lifted her leg. In the moonlight, standing on one foot, she looked like a ballerina. "Tonight—forget about Artoria. No. Remember her." Morgan kissed Ian's cheek. "With this desire for her, become as wild as a dragon—what the Round Table becomes depends on your performance."
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