Morgan's clothes were all very beautiful.
Every piece, if not full of texture, was at least splendid enough to make one feel its magnificence.
If any girl could own such a wardrobe, she would probably be happy enough to die, right?
However—
Faced with it, Artoria hesitated again.
"Sister, this isn't very suitable."
"I... shouldn't wear these."
Although she said this, Artoria still secretly glanced at the clothes inside several times, as if looking at a lost dream of her own.
But what Artoria didn't know was that Morgan had long expected this reaction from her.
She said directly:
"What if I said that this is an essential preparation for the journey?"
"Essential preparation?"
"Yes."
Morgan casually picked up a piece of clothing and placed it on the bed.
"If you go on a journey in your capacity as King, you will only see a limited part of things."
"You are the King, everyone fears you, so how could they possibly let their most true selves appear before you?"
"Only by disguising yourself, so that others don't recognize you."
"Will you then know—"
Morgan looked directly at Artoria, her gaze growing more and more serious.
"What the title of 'King' truly has to face."
"..."
Morgan was clearly explaining her reasoning in a very gentle tone, but Artoria felt as if she were facing immense pressure.
Even breathing became a little difficult.
Suddenly—
"Try this one."
Ian took one of Artoria's hands and pointed to one of Morgan's dresses.
"Eh?"
As soon as she saw him, the young woman was instantly reminded of the boy's "dragon looking up."
Huh?
Has it been hidden?
Before Artoria could understand, Ian spoke again.
"If you think it's suitable, just try it—"
"Artoria, why are you afraid to try?"
"You are the one who pulled out the sword, after all."
Drip—
Ian's words fell like a drop of water into Artoria's heart, sending ripples through it.
"Alright, then I'll give it a try!"
Artoria began to pick through Morgan's pile of clothes.
She didn't notice that while she was doing this, Morgan was watching her with a resentful gaze.
It was a look of some jealousy, yet also with a hint of envy.
"Um, how about this one?"
After rummaging for a good while, Artoria finally took out a long robe.
It was a blue robe, with white trim as decoration.
Putting it on, Artoria happily spun around a few times.
"Is it pretty?"
"..."
"Ian, what's with that look!"
Noticing that the boy's gaze seemed a little strange, Artoria asked with great concern.
"If you have an opinion, just say it—"
"..."
Ian was silent for a moment before giving his answer.
"I think you'll be very unhappy if I say it."
"Of course not!"
Artoria pouted.
"I'm not that kind of unreasonable person, okay?!"
"Hurry up and say it—"
"This outfit of yours..."
Ian looked Artoria up and down.
"Looks like you're wearing a comforter."
"Eh!"
"How could you say that!"
Artoria, as if petrified, stood there and said blankly.
"But this is the one I thought was the prettiest!"
"..."
Although she didn't really want to admit Ian was right, once the preconceived notion was there, Morgan found that her own perception of Artoria had become similar to that of a "comforter."
No.
I can't keep thinking like this.
"That outfit is indeed a bit old—"
"Artoria, why don't I help you pick one?"
"..."
"No!"
Artoria became stubborn.
"Today, I must choose an outfit that he thinks is okay!"
"Otherwise, wouldn't that be the same as saying my taste is questionable?"
"Oh... please, go ahead."
And so—
For the next while, Morgan just watched as Artoria took her clothes out from the wardrobe, one by one.
"Still like a comforter."
"Like a cake."
"Like a chicken leg."
"Like..."
Listening to Ian's descriptions, which were clearly quite ridiculous but also unbelievably accurate, Morgan covered her lips.
She really wanted to laugh.
And it would be a genuine laugh.
But—
She couldn't laugh.
If she laughed, wouldn't that be the same as saying that everything the two of them were doing was actually very interesting?
It wasn't interesting at all.
She was only doing this to harm Artoria.
"Which one on earth will meet your approval—!"
Looking at the mountain of clothes piled on the bed, Artoria was getting a little unhappy.
"This is almost all of them, isn't it?"
"Is there not a single one you like?"
"I didn't say I don't like them."
"Huh?"
Ian's sudden reply made Artoria pause for a moment.
"What do you mean?"
The young woman said, somewhat confused.
"Didn't you say they look like a comforter, a cake, a chicken leg?"
"But those are all things I like—"
Ian replied with utter frankness.
"Artoria, I like whatever you wear."
"Eh?"
I misunderstood.
But Artoria felt a warmth spreading in her heart.
From beginning to end, in his eyes, she was always beautiful.
How could she have only realized it now?
Artoria felt her cheeks burning.
She turned her head back in embarrassment and found that there was one last piece of clothing in the wardrobe.
Only—
"Sister Morgan, and Ian, could you please turn around?"
"..."
"..."
With two rustles.
Morgan and Ian both turned around as Artoria requested.
Soon, only a soft rustling sound remained in the room.
It was the kind of sound that is only made when a young woman's fair skin comes into contact with clothes.
"Alright~"
"You can turn back now."
"This one, how is it?"
Artoria had already taken off the rough linen clothes she had worn when she left home.
In their place was a white one-piece dress.
It was a flawless garment, which perfectly showcased the young woman's gentle curves, like a flower blooming in the mortal world.
"This should be okay, right—"
As soon as Artoria's voice fell, she seemed to see something incredible, and her face instantly turned red.
She hurriedly ran in front of Ian, shielding him behind her.
"Um, Sister Morgan!"
"I want this outfit, is that okay?!"
"..."
Morgan's heart was in turmoil.
That was the dress she had prepared for herself.
If it weren't for Artoria, she would have been the one wearing this dress on her journey.
That was why she had placed it at the very bottom.
A plan can have sacrifices, but shouldn't I at least have the right to choose what is sacrificed?
But the reality, it seemed, was not so—
"Mm," the princess's voice trembled as she spoke.
"Take it."
"It looks... quite suitable for you."