Without hesitation, the youth raised both hands in surrender and said at once:
"Spare me, lady warrior! I was ignorant and did not know this was your domain. I've offended you. Please give me a chance—I'll leave right away!"
There was no need for him to think twice. In this era, the wilderness was teeming with wild beasts, which was why—even while washing the armor—he had checked his surroundings over and over. Yet this woman had managed to get behind him unnoticed and press her nails against the artery in his throat. Even a fool could see she was far beyond anything he could handle.
What unsettled him further was her mention of "polluting my lake." The words sparked unsettling associations, making him even more wary.
So he chose to beg for mercy.
But rather than his submissive tone, it was something else in his words that caught her attention:
"…Lady warrior? What's that? It's the first time I've been called that."
"Uh…"
For a moment, he was tongue-tied. One of the quirks of his transmigration was that his words and writing seemed to automatically translate into the local tongue. But how exactly some words from his homeland were rendered here, he couldn't tell.
"Never mind. What matters is this: I am the spirit of this lake. And you dared foul my waters with your filth. That displeases me greatly… Tell me, how do you plan to make amends?"
She released his throat and stepped into view. A cascade of silver hair spilled before his eyes.
Lowering her gaze, she studied the armor he had been scrubbing. Her eyes fell on the noble's crest still affixed to it. Suddenly, she demanded:
"Do you know whom you've killed?"
"I don't," he admitted honestly. "But I'd guess someone important. He certainly acted arrogant enough."
"You didn't know, and yet you killed him?" Her voice held a trace of surprise. "Are you not some assassin sent by an enemy house?"
"No. And I hadn't meant to kill him at all," he said.
Her back was to him, so he could not read her expression. He could only answer truthfully and gauge her tone.
"I only wanted to win his armor, horse, and weapons through a fair duel. He was wearing too much plate—I misjudged my strike."
"And what would you do with those things?" she asked.
"Become a knight, of course. With these, I could pose as an impoverished heir of nobility and seek my fortune."
"Bold," she remarked, then added with a shake of her head, "to the point of recklessness. You even let his servant go. Aren't you afraid his family will hunt you down?"
"I'm not afraid. They don't know who I am. At best, they'll issue a warrant with a description nothing like my real face. And I planned to cross the sea anyway. The world is vast—they'd never find me."
"Heh… A little cunning in you after all." She let out a soft laugh, then fell silent before suddenly saying:
"The man you slew was Prince Lot, heir to the throne of Orkney. The king lies gravely ill. Upon returning, Lot would have inherited the crown." She paused, then added sharply, "—And he was my betrothed."
"…Oh."
Her words froze the youth in place.
He did not ask why a lake spirit would be bound to such a marriage. Instead, after two seconds of silence, he carefully asked another question:
"Judging by your tone… you weren't fond of your fiancé?"
"Oh?" She sounded amused. "And why do you say that?"
"If you truly cherished him, you would have killed me the moment I confessed. Instead, here we are—conversing. I'd even wager you're rather pleased."
"Not bad. You're not a fool."
She nodded slightly.
"You're right. I disliked him. From what I'd seen, he was lecherous, frivolous, talentless, and arrogant. A dreadful match. But…"
Her voice chilled.
"—But I needed the power and lands our union would bring. By killing him, you've ruined my plan."
Suddenly, the air grew cold. The youth shivered as if a blade pressed against his throat, though she hadn't moved.
Death itself seemed poised above him.
But in that dire moment, a spark lit in his mind. A thought surged forth.
"No—that death wasn't mine alone to cause… It was yours as well!"
The invisible blade seemed to fade. The killing intent lessened, though the cold remained.
"Go on," the lake spirit said evenly.
He swallowed and pressed on:
"You knew everything that transpired. You must have been watching. At first, he meant to refuse my challenge. Then suddenly, he lost his wits and agreed. I thought it luck. Now I see—perhaps that foolish decision was not his own."
He gritted his teeth.
"In truth, we're accomplices. Why bother killing me? You wouldn't be speaking with me now unless you thought I might still be useful. Just say what you want."
"…Not bad." She chuckled softly. "Quick-witted, and not a bad candidate at that."
She turned at last, extending a hand to lift his chin, tilting his face upward so she could study him. After a moment, she nodded.
"Smart. Pleasant enough to look at, too. You'll do."
But he barely heard. For the first time, he saw her face—and was utterly entranced.
Never in his life had he seen such beauty. She seemed a flawless creation of the gods: features exquisitely wrought, skin pale as snow, hair like silver moonlight, each strand glowing faintly, swaying with the breeze. Her eyes, blue as the lake, shone with both purity and veiled allure. He could not look away.
One glance, and he knew: no matter what path lay ahead, this vision would be etched into his soul forever.
"Oh? Staring so intently—do you find me beautiful?"
Seeing his dazed expression, she smiled, clearly pleased. As a woman, how could she not enjoy such a reaction?
"You're clever and bold. So I'll give you a chance."
Her smile deepened.
"You planned to flaunt your stolen spoils to play at nobility. Why not think bigger? Why not seize his domain outright?"
"…Huh?" He blinked, still half-lost in her beauty.
"I can weave a little disguise magic, reshape your face."
She pinched his cheek lightly.
"You called yourself my accomplice. Very well—be one properly. I'll remake you as Lot. His servant is already in my custody, under enchantment. He will teach you every detail of Lot's habits. Then you'll take his place, inherit his lands, and fulfill the marriage. Through you, I will control Orkney. And you, in turn, will serve as my puppet. Well?"
"…Do I have a choice?" he said with a bitter smile.
"Let us hope you stay this clever," she replied coldly. "If ever you betray me—"
She flicked her fingers. Pain wracked his stomach, forcing him to his knees.
"What… what did you do to me?" he gasped.
"That apple you so carelessly accepted. It wasn't meant for you, but I found another use. The gift of a witch is never so easily swallowed."
Realization dawned on him.
"You… you were that village girl?"
She laughed softly, then once again lifted his face in her hand.
"Tell me—your name?"
"I'm…"
But she cut him off with a shake of her head.
"Not important. Your face betrays you as no local. From the East, perhaps? Your foreign name matters not. You'll never use it again."
Her eyes gleamed as she spoke half to herself:
"Merlin's prophecy says Britain's future belongs to my brother Arthur, who will wed Princess Guinevere. If that is so—"
Her gaze returned to him.
"…Then I, too, shall crown my husband as king."
She leaned closer, her voice like silk.
"When others are present, you will be Prince Lot. But when it is only the two of us…"
"—You shall be Guinevere."