Several days later.
In the wake of Artoria's powerful declaration, the work ethic in Camelot had improved dramatically.
"Work hard, and life will get sweeter and sweeter!"
"The good days are still ahead of us!"
The citizens encouraged one another, then threw themselves into their work with frantic energy.
However—
What they did not know was that for the past several nights, the same event had been repeating itself.
That was Mélusine's tryst.
At this very moment, the moonlight was bright.
On the unguarded, half-finished new city wall, Mélusine and Ian had come together.
She leaned against the wall, her hands resting on top of it.
And behind her was the First Knight of the Round Table, Ian.
Except right now...
His hand was not, as it usually was, gripping Excalibur Morgan, but was instead wrapped around Mélusine's waist.
"So slender."
"You say that every time—"
"Can't you find some new words?"
Mélusine, with most of her body pressed against the wall, complained in a low voice.
"I'd like to hear you praise me in other ways sometimes."
"Then—"
"Is this okay?"
As Ian spoke, he placed a soft, gentle kiss on Mélusine's exposed back.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
Being kissed so suddenly, Mélusine naturally shivered.
"Because it looked so slender, I couldn't help but kiss it."
"This should count as a new way of praising you, right?" Ian replied.
"..."
Feeling the earnestness in Ian's words, Mélusine knew that saying anything more was useless.
His thought process could not be measured with normal logic.
"Forget it, stop praising me."
Mélusine bit her lip.
"Let's just do what we're supposed to be doing—"
"..."
"Okay, if you're willing."
In truth, despite both being dragons, Mélusine could still feel a physical disparity between herself and Ian that was almost impossible to overcome through external means.
Take right now, for example.
Although she had been trying very hard to prove that this was not something one should worry about during a secret tryst, in practice, she had inevitably run into a Waterloo that made her question her existence.
Because he was truly...
Too...
Too magnificent...
To give a practical example, imagine a small bamboo tube, perfectly fine on its own. But one day, a very hard stone insists on stuffing itself inside the bamboo tube, no matter what. As everyone knows, a bamboo tube cannot possibly compare to a stone in terms of hardness. Thus, the fate awaiting the bamboo tube is obvious—to be stretched wide open until the stone can finally enter.
This was the one and only outcome, though it wasn't so easy to accept at first.
But over time, the bamboo tube adapted to this situation.
After all, as time went on, there was no way for the bamboo tube to return to its original state, was there?
Mélusine looked back at him behind her.
Although it was an extremely forbidden tryst, a betrayal of the King's promise, she could feel a joy that came from the bottom of her heart.
*It seems—*
*I'm not completely without charm, am I?*
As Mélusine thought this, the muscles in her waist couldn't help but start moving.
She looked like she was working hard to grasp something she had once missed.
After a long time.
A few stray clouds drifted across the night sky.
Mélusine lowered her skirt, covering the traces that should not be known by anyone.
She was no longer as disheveled as before.
Having a "tryst" with Ian was, in essence, far more beneficial to her body than regular knightly training.
"You seem especially happy today."
"Did something good happen?"
Mélusine asked as she considerately helped Ian get dressed.
"Can you tell me?"
"I don't know if it's a good thing, but I suppose it is."
Ian took Mélusine's hand.
"Artoria hopes that you can help maintain order at the wedding ceremony."
"She trusts you very much."
"..."
Ian's simple words sent Mélusine's heart into a panic.
"Um, you're about to marry Artoria, and you're still doing this kind of thing with me..."
"Isn't this a little wrong?"
"I don't know."
"But—"
Ian's hands cupped Mélusine's cheeks.
"Mélusine looks very sad."
"If I ignore that, I think I would probably become sad too."
"You..."
Mélusine's face flushed.
Her legs were trembling uncontrollably.
"Are you a philanderer, or are you devoted?"
"You're obviously so dedicated to Artoria, willing to do anything for her before she became king."
"But..."
Mélusine looked down at her own legs.
"You also do this kind of filthy thing with someone else."
"You're so strange."
"Am I?"
Ian nodded.
"Although I don't really understand everything you're saying, I suppose I must have done something wrong?"
"I'm sorry, Mélusine."
"..."
"Idiot!"
"If anyone should be sorry, it should be me!"
Mélusine playfully pounded his chest.
"I was the one who asked you to come out, wasn't I?"
"I'm the one who made you do something to betray Artoria."
"I... I'm such a bad woman."
"But you smell very good—"
Ian sniffed gently at Mélusine's hair, as if he were savoring some kind of treasure.
"Is that also considered bad?"
"Idiot, someone who smells good isn't necessarily a good person!"
Mélusine glared at Ian.
"But a bad person definitely smells bad."
"I'm sure of that."
"..."
Mélusine was speechless.
In front of others, she could always hold her own in an argument, but with Ian, she could never finish a single sentence.
"You..."
Mélusine pressed herself against Ian's chest.
"Then, can I still do this with you in the future?"
"Mélusine, do you want to?"
"It's not that I want to, I just..."
Mélusine grabbed Ian's arm.
"I just think it would be such a pity."
"Mmph—"
Just as Mélusine finished speaking, she felt his lips press against hers.
"You won't have to feel like it's a pity."
"Mélusine will always be my accomplice."
"..."
"Idiot..."
Mélusine buried her head in his chest.
"It's lover. How many times do I have to say it before you remember!"
The petite swordswoman did not know.
Everything she was doing at this moment was being watched by a woman in the shadows.
It was Morgan.
"So there's this kind of relationship too—"
She had originally just wanted to see what Ian would do before the wedding, but she never expected to see something like this.
"So that's how it is..."
Morgan bit her lip.
Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
"Artoria, since I'm not the only one who wants to ruin the wedding—"
"Then don't blame me."