Night.
The moonlight shimmered, and everything in the royal court seemed to be draped in a white veil.
Walking along the long path here, Ian felt as if he too had turned white.
The appointed room was Morgan's room.
It was not far away.
Knock, knock—
Ian knocked on the door.
After learning over this period, he now understood just how frightening his original method of taking the door off, going in, and then putting it back on was.
Acting like this, on the other hand, was befitting of a knight.
"Sister Morgan."
"I'm here."
"You're late—"
Morgan's slightly lazy voice came from behind the door.
"Come in quickly."
"Mm."
Click.
The door opened, and then closed again.
Everything seemed so quiet.
But—
The moment Ian entered the room, he sensed that something was off.
No.
It couldn't be described as just a slight feeling.
It was an unmistakable scent.
It was a fragrance like that of flowers, but one that was more exhilarating, more intoxicating.
"Do you like it?"
Morgan asked, as if she already knew the answer.
"These are—"
"Flowers I specially prepared."
The princess of Britain blew softly by Ian's ear.
"No, you're not allowed to dislike it."
"Otherwise, I won't let you eat anything today—"
"..."
Ian did not answer Morgan, 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 sense of deep pleasure.
"It seems you like it very much."
"Come here, help me change."
Saying this, Morgan walked to the mirror herself.
"What are you standing there for? Hurry up and come here."
The princess's words, at this moment, seemed to become the bewitchment 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 thin, sheer garment.
An almost negligible presence.
The moonlight shone in, falling precisely where Morgan and Ian stood.
The First Knight of the Round Table quickly confirmed his thoughts.
Because Morgan in the mirror, though she hadn't changed a thing, had already let him see everything.
The high-quality provisions, meant for a dragon's palate, adorned with a few decorative sparks, were presented directly before Ian's eyes through the sheer fabric.
If one were to take a deep breath, one could even sense a faint, alluring fragrance.
A pair of long legs cast shadows in the moonlight; as they brushed against each other, he could see a shape similar to Artoria's.
"Why have you stopped?"
"Hurry up and help your sister change—"
"Or is it that..."
Morgan in the mirror gently swayed her body up and down.
"You need me to serve it right up to you before you're willing to take big bites?"
"You can't be so lazy, you know—"
"Otherwise, you will surely be punished."
"ROAR..."
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 as you please—"
"Otherwise, wouldn't that be a waste of your talents?"
The moment her words fell, Morgan's pupils widened slightly.
She knew—
The fish had taken the bait.
Oh, she should say the dragon had taken the bait.
Ian's panting grew heavier, the wild nature of a dragon on full display in this moment.
"Don't turn into a dragon, now."
Morgan looked at him in the mirror and said softly.
"Tonight, I only want to see you like this."
"As for everything else, do as you please—"
"Here with me, you are absolutely free."
The moment her words fell, the "freedom" Morgan spoke of brought down its judgment upon her.
RRRIP—
The food packaging Morgan had specially prepared was torn in two by those strong hands.
Soon, she saw herself in the mirror being treated, as always, like food to be ravaged and despoiled at will.
"How cruel—"
Morgan looked at the dragon who had lowered his head past her shoulder and was now forcefully pulling something upwards, putting on a helpless expression.
"So impatient."
"Don't tell me you treat your mother like this too?"
"..."
"Heh, ignoring me now—is this how you get when you have something to eat?"
Morgan spoke as if in disgust, yet her face was filled with delight as she felt the little Ian she wanted.
"Heh."
The princess of Britain let out a cold laugh, then cooperatively matched Ian's devouring pace.
Feeding this guy was no simple matter.
If she didn't make him feel like she was a living thing like this, she couldn't even get him properly excited.
However—
Today, there was another matter to attend to.
And it was a very important matter.
"Did you know, Ian."
"There are two Knights of the Round Table now."
"You are willing to help Artoria, I understand that completely."
"And that one called Mélusine is also very willing to help Artoria."
"This simply won't do—"
Morgan tilted her head up, looking at the First Knight of the Round Table who was holding her and devouring her fiercely.
"If this continues, the Round Table will be filled with Artoria's people, won't it?"
"And I will be left with nothing again."
"..."
Ian paused his assault.
Morgan knew it was a sign that he was willing to listen to her words.
"You actually stopped this time?"
"That's quite something."
"But, since you've stopped, it's time you listened to me—"
"Ian, I don't want the Round Table to become something that belongs to Artoria alone."
"If that happens, sooner or later, you too will belong only to her."
"Can 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, grew even thicker.
That was Morgan's magecraft.
In truth, this scent had been her magecraft from the very beginning.
She could teach Ian how to control his nature, so naturally, she also knew how to make him temporarily lose that ability, leaving him helpless.
"It seems you understand my meaning—"
"Very good."
Morgan's hand reached back gently.
Soon, she touched what she was looking for.
"How fortunate. This time you didn't become unstoppable like before."
"It seems your self-control isn't completely useless after all."
"Urgh..."
Another low sound came from Ian's throat.
"What?"
"Are you asking me what you should do?"
"That's simple—"
"The Knights of the Round Table cannot all be on Artoria's side."
"Your bloodline is excellent."
"Your abilities are also outstanding."
"What could be a more excellent existence than an heir produced by you?"
Morgan's words echoed in the room like a spell, causing the intoxicating scent to rush towards Ian alone.
She had to do this.
Because he was a dragon.
Ordinary magecraft had no effect on him at all.
Morgan lifted her leg slightly.
In the moonlight, standing on one foot, she looked like a ballerina.
"Tonight—"
"Forget about Artoria's existence."
"No."
"Better yet, remember it."
Morgan kissed Ian's cheek.
"With that craving for her, become as wild as a dragon—"
"What the Knights of the Round Table will become... all depends on your performance."