The cool water splashed her cheeks, and the icy stimulation instantly sobered her up.
The mirror above the sink reflected the face of a spirited young woman, her golden hair, dampened by the water, softly clinging to her cheeks, lending her a touch of fragility.
She pressed her hand to her forehead, feeling her slightly elevated body temperature, and gave a nervous laugh.
"What a joke… Am I really this mentally fragile?"
Merlin Ambrosius was dead, having died in the Fourth History, dismembered under the King's gaze; her mother had personally told her of this scene.
Mordred raised her eyes, staring at her own pupils in the mirror.
Her body, which had begun to adapt to modern life, started to ache faintly again; her fingertips felt as if they were once again soaked in blood, bringing an unpleasant, sticky sensation.
"Damn it, my head is starting to—"
The calming spell her mother had placed on her was still effective, but memories began to surge uncontrollably from the depths of her mind.
…
Who am I?
Am I an artificial human, a poison created by my mother to destroy Albion, or a sword wielded by my father?
"Your blood comes from Arthur; it will bring you the noble blood of the Red Dragon and the Lionheart, and you are destined to walk the path of authority."
"Your body was shaped by me, so your desires are similar to mine."
"Your spiritual body was brought back from the wilderness by Merlin Ambrosius, and with her guarantee, you will have a very good future."
Mordred's father was King Arthur, who ruled all of Albion, and her birth mother was Morgan le Fay, crowned by the island.
Mordred had known for a long time that she was merely an artificial human, a tool Morgan intended to use to achieve a certain plan.
—No family affection, no love, no care, no self… no problem.
If her mother's plan could be realized, then that would be excellent.
When she completed her mission, would her mother praise her as a good child?
If she could become the sword in her father's hand, that would be even better.
A tool doesn't need ideals; after it's used until it's worn out, it can simply be discarded.
What's more, from a long time ago, Mordred had already begun to admire King Arthur; if she could fight under the King's banner, even if she eventually fell apart, she would still be joyful.
If everything were to continue like this, just rushing headlong into an endless abyss… she would have no complaints.
Because, ultimately, Mordred had never seen light.
Since she had never witnessed the beauty of the world, she naturally wouldn't cling to the so-called suffering.
Until, outside London, she saw that young girl wearing a Magus of the Court's robe, with flaxen hair and beautiful green eyes.
"Who are you?" Mordred asked.
The other person, however, didn't answer her question immediately, but instead scrutinized her: "Are you a knight who has sworn allegiance to the new King, or a new recruit coming to enlist?"
"Why can't I be a knight who voluntarily follows the King?" Mordred was quite displeased.
When Mordred spoke her name, the young girl's beautiful green eyes widened.
It was both like shock and a kind of relief.
"Since you say your name is Mordred," the Magus of the Court replied, "then I have a duty to teach you how to be an adult."
"Hey! Don't make decisions for me! And who exactly are you, don't act so matter-of-factly!"
"You'll know who I am later," she smiled, and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Little Mo, you wouldn't want everyone to know that you're Arthur's child, would you?"
A single sentence instantly calmed the furious Mordred, who then obediently followed the young girl away.
It wasn't a beautiful beginning, but when Mordred recalled it, she still felt happy.
Because that was the only person, besides her mother, who cared about her… No, in "Mother's" eyes, she was merely a convenient tool, her fate already sealed.
More importantly, that young girl acknowledged her identity as "King Arthur's child." Although Mordred was initially surprised and angry, she quickly felt joy from "being acknowledged," like a stray cat being petted.
In the secret garden, that young girl and she made a semi-forced agreement.
—After every battle, Mordred would always come to the garden first, and in the secret garden, the flaxen-haired young girl would always be there, quietly waiting for her.
Mordred's mood also gradually changed from initial restlessness to anticipation.
This was a secret she had never even spoken to "Mother" about; for Mordred, those days spent with the green-eyed young girl were like a cherished candy, sweet to the taste.
No one had ever taught her how to live like a human being.
No one had ever smiled at her, telling her it was okay even if she didn't achieve great success.
"No matter when, there will always be a place for Little Mo here, and I will always be by your side," said the young girl with beautiful green eyes.
On that Day, Mordred, who had never been understood, respected, or loved by others, learned that she was not a wild dog, and did not have to run wildly across the wilderness under the night sky until she ran out of breath and rotted away.
After that Day, Mordred still strived towards the goal of becoming a Round Table Knight under King Arthur, but what was different was that she no longer wielded her weapon with an empty, mechanical heart.
Everything proceeded smoothly; Mordred, no longer empty inside, was personally received and knighted by King Arthur for her outstanding military achievements, taking her place among the Round Table Knights.
Facing "Mother's" commands, Mordred no longer blindly obeyed; facing the King's decrees, she also had her own thoughts.
"I am a child created by Mother, and also the King's knight, but without the trust and support of the green-eyed young girl, I would never have achieved what I have today." Every night, Mordred would remind herself, "The green-eyed young girl is a woman who could be my mother."
If time could stop there, how wonderful that would be.
However, the cruelty of time is that it never stops for anyone, nor can it flow backward.
Mordred had always known that "Mother's" purpose in creating her was not simple; she had always instilled hatred in her, but held it back, waiting for the perfect opportunity.
This moment finally arrived one Day, when Morgan le Fay found her and presented a series of horrifying plans, demanding Mordred execute them; if Morgan's plan succeeded, Albion would collapse like a tall tower, and Arthur's life would end along with her rule.
Mordred left, distraught.
Morgan didn't suspect her reaction; Mordred's behavior was entirely within her expectations.
But she hadn't expected that Mordred's reaction was fake; she no longer wanted to be "Mother's" pawn, and even less willing to continue this life as a tool.
Mordred wanted to find the green-eyed young girl, to make her leave this troubled place quickly; then, she would rush to see her father, confess her identity to him, and reveal "Mother's" conspiracy in its entirety.
"However, it doesn't matter. Perhaps I, who was born with an insignificant fate, also deserve a Day to act like a hero." Mordred thought as she ran, "Even if I'm in a desperate situation, dying in battle with my father is better than rotting on the bed of a conspiracy."
She had never felt so close to being a "hero," to the point where her blood was boiling with fervor.
Mordred arrived at the agreed garden, where the green-eyed young girl was waiting as usual.
She told the green-eyed young girl all of her mother's schemes.
"So that's how it is. It really is about time, isn't it?"
The green-eyed young girl said calmly, looking at Mordred and smiling.
"In that case, would you die for me, and for Albion?"
"…Right here, right now."