He didn't come home for the night.
The marks on her clothes.
The other woman's evasiveness.
Artoria felt she had all the necessary elements to catch a cheater in the act.
But—
Artoria touched her hair.
I'm the blonde one.
According to the people in the village where she used to live, people with this hair color weren't supposed to run into this kind of thing.
No, wait.
Why was she thinking about strange things again?
Artoria clutched her head and shook it for a good while before her mind cleared a little.
It was unlikely she could get anything out of asking Morgan.
In that case—
I'll ask Ian.
Artoria quietly shifted her position, moving from Morgan's side over to Ian's.
"Ian."
The moment the young woman opened her mouth, she froze.
Because she found Ian staring at her.
Although it wasn't as if this had never happened before, the look in his eyes this time was clearly not right.
It was as if...
He was feeling guilty?
A bad premonition began to form in Artoria's heart.
But just as she was about to say something more, she saw Ian's hand reach out.
And then, the familiar little gesture.
Squeeze—
Squeeze—
Artoria's face instantly turned red.
A moment ago, she thought something had really happened, but in the next instant, he had gone right back to his old self.
"Ian, what are you doing!"
Artoria said this, but she didn't push his hand away.
"My sister is still up ahead, at least wait until we..."
The young woman hadn't finished speaking when she heard something truly shocking.
"They're small, completely different from Morgan's."
"..."
Artoria felt her mind suddenly go blank.
"What... did you say?"
"What do you mean, 'completely different from Morgan's'?"
Artoria's green eyes began to darken.
She said with a voice full of resentment:
"Are you that familiar with my sister?"
"Or should I say..."
"Did you just like big ones from the start? In that case, for only being this size, I'm truly sorry—"
"..."
Ian did not answer Artoria's question.
He just waited quietly until she was finished.
However, the topic he brought up afterward was something else entirely.
"Artoria, you said yesterday that it wasn't the right time yet, is that right?"
"Eh?"
With a single sentence, Ian pulled Artoria back from her resentment.
Recalling that confession, she hesitated for a moment, but still nodded.
"Mm... it's not time yet."
"Then when will it be?"
Ian moved a little closer.
"I want to know."
"..."
Artoria's hand went to Caliburn, the Sword of Promised Victory, at her waist.
Everything she had thought of when she drew the sword once again flooded into the young woman's mind.
"A future where everyone is smiling, that can't be wrong—"
Artoria's mind was still thinking, but her body had already spoken:
"Wait until I become a king worthy of Britain!"
"Ian, you know why I drew the sword, don't you!"
The moment the words left her mouth, Artoria felt a pang of regret.
She had no idea how long it would take for her to become that kind of king.
It seemed that going back to the haystacks with him right now to live a shameless and carefree life would be much happier.
But—
Caliburn, the Sword of Promised Victory, was a constant reminder that she could not do so.
The one who draws the sword is the King.
And the King must be responsible for all of Britain.
Artoria found that she seemed to have a deeper understanding of this sentence now.
"I understand completely."
Ian removed his hand from the young woman's lovely curves.
In that moment, Artoria felt an emptiness inside her.
"You could touch them a little longer..."
"No one's noticed yet..."
Such a request did not get Ian's usual agreement.
"Artoria is a girl who is going to become a king."
"I know that."
The boy's gaze returned to Morgan.
"I'm going to go to her now."
"Artoria, if there's any problem, you can come find me right away."
"Eh..."
Watching Ian walk towards Morgan, Artoria wanted to say something.
She had originally come over to find out what the marks on Morgan's skirt really were.
But...
She hadn't been able to ask a single question about it.
But why...
Why did it feel like she already knew the answer?
The light in Artoria's eyes dimmed.
On the other side, feeling Ian walking towards her, Morgan's heart was filled with an indescribable joy.
"Ian, what did Artoria want with you?" she asked nonchalantly.
"She didn't ask anything," Ian answered truthfully.
"Oh?"
An unexpected answer.
Morgan sneered.
"She doesn't care what you and I did last night?"
"She certainly didn't ask about that."
"But—"
The boy's gaze fell on Morgan's chest.
"She's very concerned about the fact that her chest is smaller than yours."
"..."
"Is that so?"
"Then Ian—"
"Do you like them big, or small?"
Morgan raised an eyebrow.
"Feel free to speak your mind, I won't mind."
Morgan was still very confident in herself.
Especially after experiencing Ian's terrifying "feeding," this was even more true.
It was no exaggeration to say that if anyone saw the wounds on her body, especially the ones on her chest, Ian would probably be thrown in jail immediately.
But—
No one was qualified to see.
Even this guy was only blessed with such fortune because he happened to be part of her plan.
Her gaze returned to Ian, but Morgan found that she was actually quite curious to know the answer to this question.
After all—
No one had ever put it like that before.
"I like the ones that can be eaten."
"..."
After being stunned for three seconds, Morgan confirmed that she had not misheard.
She kind of wanted to refute Ian's words, to point at his nose and say, "You just like them big like mine."
But she couldn't.
This guy was a descendant of a dragon.
An existence that absolutely could not be measured by common sense.
A night of madness didn't necessarily mean he was that invested.
What a difficult thing to deal with.
But, it is quite a challenge.
And from the looks of it, Artoria seemed quite affected.
Was there anything wrong with that?
This was wonderful.
No matter when, just seeing her looking dejected would bring her immense joy.
In a cheerful mood, Morgan no longer minded how incomprehensible Ian's answer was.
"To you, edible is best, is that right?"
"What a hungry dragon you are. If you're not feeding, you lose all interest, is that it?"
"It can't be helped—"
Morgan looked at him beside her.
Her eyes were filled with a seductive smile.
"Then I'll just have to find a chance to let you eat something even tastier."
"My greedy little dragon."