Night.
The weather was unexpectedly good.
Artoria and Ian walked through the village.
Because of Morgan's magic, the land had temporarily regained its vitality.
The rekindled bonfires undoubtedly added a glimmer of hope to this village.
But—
Recalling the words Morgan had said to her, Artoria felt her heart could not calm down, no matter what.
Is my relationship with him the source of the problem?
Artoria desperately wanted to deny this fact, but there was a voice in her head that she couldn't get rid of, no matter how she tried.
"Artoria."
"W-what is it?"
The young woman looked at him beside her, her heart filled with a guilty nervousness.
"You..."
"I..."
Artoria felt her heart pounding.
He hasn't noticed something, has he!?
However...
"Your eyes are so beautiful. You're the most beautiful British girl I've ever seen."
"..."
"What was that!"
Artoria pouted.
"I won't be happy with that kind of compliment that sounds so perfunctory."
"Eh, is that so?"
Ian scratched his face.
"I learned this today. I thought you would like it."
"You..."
Artoria wanted to speak, but stopped herself.
Her true nature was telling her this was something to be very happy about.
But the voice in her head was rejecting it all.
Become the King.
Become the king everyone expects you to be.
Become...
The king he hopes for.
Artoria felt her mind at war with itself once again.
The last time it had been like this was when she was deciding whether or not to save him.
"..."
"Artoria, are you unhappy today?" Ian suddenly asked.
"Of course not!"
"I'm very happy!"
As if to prove this, Artoria twirled in front of Ian.
"See? Am I not perfectly fine?"
Artoria didn't want him to worry.
Even now, with her mind a complete mess, this was still true.
But what she didn't expect was—
After she said this, the boy took the initiative to hold her hand.
The warmth of their palms became one at that moment.
"Ian."
"What are you trying to do..."
Artoria asked cautiously.
She could feel that tonight, he didn't want to eat, but rather wanted to do something different from usual.
She was a little expectant, yet also a little afraid.
"Let me think."
Recalling Morgan's instructions, Ian quickly made his next move.
While still holding her hand, he drew closer.
Soon, their gazes met and locked.
Fiery.
Sincere.
Without a single trace of concealment.
Feeling the boy's gaze upon her, Artoria had already subconsciously looked away.
"What exactly are you trying to do?"
"You're being strange, not like your usual self at all."
"Why aren't you looking at me..."
Ian muttered.
With his other free hand, he gently "twisted" the evasive Artoria's face back towards him.
"That's right."
"What are you—mmph!"
Her cheeks cupped in Ian's hand, Artoria began to struggle.
"Can't you just say it!"
"If other people see..."
"It will be strange."
"I like you, Artoria."
Ding.
The air suddenly became incredibly quiet.
After a good while, as if waking from a dream, Artoria spoke in a daze.
"What did you say?"
"I like you, Artoria."
"Say it again—"
"I like you, Artoria."
Ian held Artoria's face, looking at her with an incredibly focused gaze, all while maintaining an absolutely serious tone.
That's right.
This was Morgan's formulaic confession lesson.
"If you care about someone, you have to tell her."
Ian had completely memorized this rule.
However—
Artoria's reaction was not the same as Morgan's.
She was, of course, aware that this was a confession.
A confession made as the village was returning to normal.
But...
This is wrong, isn't it?
At a time like this, I can't accept a confession, can I?
Although she really did like this idiotic, fight-loving dragon, this was not right.
The knight-princess touched the weapon at her hip named Caliburn, the Sword of Promised Victory.
I am a king.
The king who represents the future of Britain.
If I covet his affection like this, I will be doing a disservice to Caliburn.
"That's right, Artoria."
"Reject him—"
"After you become a true king, you can come back and appreciate his feelings."
"You can do that, right?"
The voice in her head was crystal clear.
To become the king.
To protect everyone.
She had made that vow when she drew the sword.
He had done nothing wrong; it was just that she was not yet worthy of the title of king.
For the first time.
The young woman pulled her hand away from the young man's.
"Ian, not now."
"I..."
"Still have many things to do."
"Your affection... it seems a little too soon for me."
"I..."
She couldn't bring herself to say anything that would hurt Ian, nor could she be as affectionate with him as she usually was.
Because she was not yet a true king.
"I'm sorry."
In the end, this was the only answer the young woman could give.
And then she turned and left.
Leaving Ian standing there all alone.
He looked at the hand Artoria had let go of, and his eyes seemed to change slightly.
He turned, preparing to follow in the direction Artoria had left.
It was always like this—
So today should be fine too—
"You'll be disliked if you chase after her."
From the shadows of the path nearby, Morgan emerged.
"She already said 'not now,' didn't she?"
"If you still chase after her, you'll seem a bit insensible."
"But Artoria said 'I'm sorry' to me."
Ian looked in the direction the young woman had gone.
"Why would she say that?"
"Because it seems she doesn't like you to that extent yet. In other words—"
"Perhaps she doesn't care about you that much?"
"..."
Morgan's words seemed to strike a nerve with Ian.
The boy clutched his chest, and then said softly.
"It hurts here."
"It's strange, it never did before."
"That's because you were rejected."
"So you feel hurt."
Morgan walked up to Ian.
With a grace far surpassing Artoria's, she took the strange knight's hand.
Seeing his confused look, a trace of triumph flashed in the princess's eyes.
It was the kind of expression one only had when they had finally won against Artoria in something.
"Let's go—"
"Since you couldn't have Artoria's affection tonight."
"Then... would you like to try mine?"