Chapter 175 – The Light That Dares to Touch My Shadow
The winds over the northern hills of England whispered of something impossible.
Alex stood under a pale sky, fresh rain misting his shoulders. The world shimmered faintly — like the echo of a spell collapsing in reverse. His coat fluttered in the wind, and beside him…
Morgan.
She was silent, unmoving.
Her silver-white hair spilled past her shoulders, her eyes wide but sharp — as if still unsure whether this was dream or betrayal.
Because he hadn't chosen to return.
He hadn't tried.
The spell had ended.
And time had taken him from her — again.
"You're here," she whispered. Not a question.
Alex turned, looked at her — and nodded slowly. "I didn't mean to leave you."
Her lips pressed into a line. She looked away. "You didn't choose to stay either."
Before Alex could answer—
Another presence cut across the air.
Light shimmered near the cliff's edge, warping softly like the bend of a feather caught in time.
Ciel stepped through it.
Her silver scarf fluttered. Her feet touched stone as if descending from a thought. She walked without urgency, without warning, as though this moment had already happened in a dozen futures.
Morgan's shoulders tensed.
Of course it would be her.
Ciel approached with calm eyes — gold and luminous, reflecting neither challenge nor apology.
She stopped several paces away and bowed her head slightly. "I sensed the reversal collapsing. I came to see if he returned safely."
Morgan didn't speak.
Alex stepped forward. "I did."
He smiled — tired, but real. "Ciel… thank you. If you hadn't taught me even the basics…"
"I should've warned you better," Ciel said. "But I'm glad you're home."
Her eyes flicked toward Morgan — soft, unreadable. "You… are Morgan Le Fay."
"I am," Morgan replied coolly. "And you're the reason he vanished in the first place."
Ciel didn't flinch. "Yes. That's true."
Morgan narrowed her eyes. "You speak like you don't regret it."
"I regret that he suffered," Ciel replied. "But not that he met you."
Morgan's breath caught.
Not from anger — but because the words landed too close to the truth.
She looked at Alex. "Would you have ever remembered me if the spell hadn't ended?"
"I never truly forgot," Alex said quietly. "Even if I didn't know why… I remembered how you made me feel."
Ciel smiled faintly.
Morgan stepped between them.
"Do you still love him?" she asked Ciel, voice like a needle wrapped in velvet.
Ciel nodded. "Always."
"Then know this—" Morgan's voice dropped — no longer cold, but jealous, almost desperate in its intensity. "I lost him once because time has no mercy. I will not lose him again to someone who treats love as something patient."
Ciel blinked, gently. "I don't treat love as patient. I treat it as faithful."
Morgan's hand clenched at her side.
Alex stepped forward, placing one hand on Morgan's — the other brushing Ciel's shoulder.
"You're both wrong," he said. "Love… doesn't belong to time. Or patience. Or possession."
He looked at Morgan.
"You were the shadow I found light in."
Then at Ciel.
"And you were the light that taught me how to stand still."
The two women looked at him — and for a moment, at each other.
Morgan's expression was bitter and guarded, but beneath it: pain.
Ciel's gaze was serene, but not soft — it held conviction.
"I don't need your blessing," Morgan said, "and I don't want your friendship."
Ciel nodded once. "I didn't come for either."
"…Then why?"
"To see if you were worth the love he gave you," Ciel answered.
She turned toward Alex.
"You are," she said. "Even if you hate me."
And with that — with perfect grace — she stepped back through the light and was gone.
Morgan stood in the silence she left behind.
Alex looked at her.
"Are you angry?"
"…No," she said.
Then softer:
"Only afraid."
He reached out.
And she stepped into his arms.
Not like a queen claiming territory.
But like a girl who once sat alone beneath a white tree and waited for someone to remember her name.
The light shimmered one last time — then vanished completely.
The air was still.
Alex and Morgan remained in the quiet courtyard, surrounded by wind-scoured stone and mist curling at the edge of the cliffs.
He didn't speak yet.
Neither did she.
Morgan's arms were around him — but not tightly. As if she wasn't sure he was solid, or if this moment would vanish too.
"…Do you love her more than me?"
The question came so softly that the wind nearly stole it.
Alex didn't flinch.
"I don't compare you," he said. "You're not measured. You're remembered."
She pulled back slowly, looking up at him.
Her pale blue eyes — still flecked faintly with gold — held something raw and ancient.
"I hated her," she whispered. "For standing there so calm. For looking at me like she understood."
"She does," Alex said gently. "But she doesn't know everything."
"No," Morgan agreed. "She doesn't know what it feels like to be forgotten by you."
The words cracked like frost breaking underfoot.
Alex froze.
Morgan's voice trembled — just once. "You looked at me. You smiled. And then… you called me one of the staff."
She turned from him, arms folded tightly around herself.
"I told myself it was the spell. That you didn't mean it. But do you know what I heard in that moment?"
She looked over her shoulder, voice sharp as broken glass.
"That I wasn't worth remembering."
Alex stepped closer.
"I never chose to forget."
"I know," she said — almost spat it. "But it still happened."
She stared at the cliffside.
"They turned me into a monster in stories. A warning. A curse. And I endured it. But when you forgot me…"
Her voice dropped.
"That's when I believed them."
Silence.
The kind that feels like it belongs to ruins and memories, not to the living.
Alex said nothing.
He simply walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist — carefully, but firmly, like anchoring someone mid-fall.
She didn't resist.
He whispered:
"I remember now."
Morgan's fingers twitched.
"I remember the koi pond. The snowroot tea. The sound of your voice when you said my name like it hurt to speak."
"I remember the ribbon."
She turned toward him slowly.
He raised his hand — and there it was.
The black ribbon.
Frayed slightly at the edge.
But whole.
"I never threw it away," he said. "Even when I didn't know why… I kept it."
Morgan looked at the ribbon.
Then at him.
Then — quietly, almost with shame — she pressed her forehead to his chest.
"…I would've burned the world just to hear you say my name again."
"I know," he whispered.
She was shaking.
He let her.
"You don't have to fight for my memory anymore," he said gently. "You don't have to prove anything. You're not a myth, Morgan."
He touched her hair.
"You're real. You're mine."
"…Say it again," she whispered.
He cupped her face — cold against his hand, yet so alive.
"You're mine."
She kissed him — fiercely, hungrily, as if to bind the words into blood and breath.
And when they finally broke apart, Morgan leaned into his shoulder and whispered one last thing:
"If time tries to take you again… I'll follow."
Alex didn't smile.
He just held her tighter.
Because he knew:
She meant it.
Chapter 176 – The Room with No Windows
The hotel room was still.
Muted light spilled from a tall floor lamp, casting soft shadows across polished wood and pale curtains drawn tightly shut. A tea tray rested untouched by the window. Outside, the early evening hush of countryside roads curled around the inn like a forgotten breath.
Alex had stepped out briefly.
Leaving only two people behind.
Morgan stood near the writing desk — back straight, arms folded, silver-white hair cascading like starlight over her shoulders. The black ribbon she wore caught a faint shimmer from the lamp.
Ciel sat quietly in the chair across the room, hands folded in her lap.
She had not spoken.
She had not moved.
She only waited.
And eventually, Morgan spoke.
Her voice was low, measured. But every word rang like steel drawn slow from its sheath.
"You know what I am."
Ciel nodded once. "Morgan Le Fay."
Morgan stared at her.
"You're not surprised."
"No," Ciel said softly. "I felt your awakening the moment it happened."
Morgan's gaze tightened. "And you came here anyway."
"To see you."
"To judge me?"
Ciel shook her head. "No."
"…To fight me?"
"No."
Morgan's voice dropped. "Then why are you here?"
Ciel answered, simply:
"Because he's important to both of us."
Silence.
A longer one this time.
Morgan turned slowly, pacing toward the window.
She didn't look at Ciel.
"I've hated you since the moment I saw you," she said, her voice like ice edged with fire. "Not because you hurt me. But because you didn't."
Ciel didn't interrupt.
"You look at him like you've always had him. Like you know he'll come back no matter what. Like time can't take him from you."
Morgan's voice cracked slightly. "But it did take him from me."
She turned.
"I held his hand as the world pulled him away from me, piece by piece. I screamed inside spells and carved sigils into my own skin, just to try and hold on. But he still vanished."
Ciel looked up.
Her gold eyes were calm. But not cold.
Morgan's next words were quieter.
"He forgot me. Not because of you. Not because of anything anyone did. Just… because that's how fate works when you're born with too much magic and too little mercy."
She stepped closer.
"He remembered you. He remembered others. But I had to watch him look into my face and ask if I was a servant."
Ciel said nothing.
Morgan kept speaking, voice sharper now — brittle.
"I was seven years old. I tied a soul-knot ribbon to him because I was afraid. I loved him before I even knew what the word meant."
Her hand clenched at her side.
"I waited. Centuries passed. The stories twisted me into a villain. I accepted that."
"But then he returned," she whispered. "And I remembered everything."
She stared at Ciel.
"And I don't want to share him."
The room held its breath.
Ciel, still seated, didn't flinch.
She replied — only after a moment:
"Then don't."
Morgan blinked. "What?"
Ciel smiled faintly. "Love isn't a competition. It's a decision. If you don't want to share… don't. Love him with everything you have. Just know that I will, too."
Morgan's mouth tightened.
"I want to be enough for him," she said. "Alone."
"I think you already are," Ciel said gently. "But he's not just one man. He's thousands of memories. Thousands of moments. And we each found a part of him."
Morgan looked down.
Her voice came smaller this time. "I still wake up afraid he'll forget me again."
Ciel nodded. "I understand."
"No… you don't."
"I do."
Ciel stood, finally.
She didn't move closer. She didn't reach out.
She simply looked Morgan in the eyes.
"I know what it's like to be made of light and still feel like a shadow. To want to be remembered, not because you're bright, but because you're real."
Morgan didn't speak.
Her fingers brushed her ribbon.
"…Do you hate me?" she asked quietly.
"No," Ciel said.
"Why not?"
"Because he doesn't."
Morgan looked away.
She stepped toward the window, voice almost a whisper.
"I don't know how to exist next to someone like you."
Ciel's reply was soft — but sure.
"Then don't stand next to me."
Morgan turned back in surprise.
Ciel's expression didn't change.
"Stand with him."
And she walked to the door, pausing just before stepping out.
"Morgan," she said, without looking back. "If time ever tries to take him from you again… you won't be alone in fighting it."
Then the door closed gently behind her.
And Morgan stood in the quiet.
Still unsure of everything.
Except one truth:
She had not lost.
Not to fate.
Not to time.
And not to Ciel.
Not this time.
Ciel's hand rested on the door handle.
She hadn't opened it yet.
Morgan stood still near the window, her fingers brushing the dark ribbon at her nape — the ribbon Alex had once returned to her without understanding what it meant.
Ciel spoke again, her voice softer now, but no less certain:
"You know this isn't just between us."
Morgan's eyes flicked toward her.
Ciel turned slightly, just enough that the light grazed the edge of her scarf.
"He has many lovers."
Morgan didn't reply.
"Hanabi. Airi. Mircella. The Queen. Me." A pause. "And maybe more."
Morgan's lips parted — but no words came.
"In the future," Ciel continued, "I believe his other childhood friends will return to him as well. Some might still love him. Some might not know they do yet."
Morgan's hands slowly curled into fists.
"And when they come," Ciel said gently, "you'll have a choice."
Morgan's voice cracked like splintered glass: "What choice?"
"To accept that he can love many," Ciel answered, "and still love you completely."
She stepped away from the door.
"Or," she said, stepping closer, "you can try to make him choose."
Morgan's breath caught.
"Do you want him to hate you?" Ciel asked — softly, without malice. "Because that's what will happen if you force him to deny a part of himself."
The words struck harder than any spell.
Morgan's heartbeat echoed in her ears.
Ciel looked directly at her — not with challenge, but clarity.
"He loves you. Fiercely. Eternally. And that love doesn't shrink just because it shares space."
Morgan's voice came low, bitter. "I don't want to share space."
"I know."
Another beat of silence.
Then Ciel stepped even closer, until they stood nearly face to face — light and shadow, legend and myth, neither willing to move first.
"But ask yourself this," Ciel whispered. "Do you want him… or do you just want to win him?"
That question lingered like a breath held too long.
Morgan looked down — not in defeat, but in turmoil.
Her voice was quiet.
"…I don't know."
Ciel reached out — not to touch, but to place a single folded note on the desk between them.
A piece of paper.
Written in Alex's hand.
"I found this in his pocket," she said. "He wrote it the night he came back from the past. Before he even saw me again."
Morgan hesitated… then picked it up.
It read:
"If she's still out there…
If Morgan remembers me…
Then whatever life I have left is hers too."
Her breath trembled.
Ciel turned to the door once more, opening it this time.
Before stepping out, she said:
"You were never forgotten."
Then she left.
And Morgan, alone in the room now, stared at the paper like it was both a promise and a curse.
She didn't cry.
But her hands shook as she folded the note and pressed it against her chest.
"…Then I'll learn to share," she whispered.
"If that's the only way to keep him… I'll learn."
Chapter 177 – The Vow of a Jealous Heart
The fire crackled softly in the corner of the inn's lounge.
Outside, mist drifted along the country road, curling around lamplight like ghosts that had forgotten their way home. But inside the room — warm, silent, lit by amber-glow lamps — three people sat.
Alex.
Ciel.
And Morgan.
None of them spoke at first.
Alex sat at the edge of the low couch, one hand curled around a half-filled tea cup. His eyes were focused — not wary, not defensive. Just waiting. Listening.
Ciel sat nearby, relaxed but observant. She said nothing. She'd already said everything that mattered.
Morgan stood by the window.
Her arms were crossed.
Her gaze, distant.
Then—she turned.
And stepped forward.
Her voice, when it came, was steady.
"I've made a decision."
Alex looked up.
Morgan met his gaze.
"You have a harem," she said bluntly. "You love many women. They love you."
He opened his mouth — but she held up a hand.
"I hated that," she said. "Still do, in a way. I wanted you for myself. I wanted a world where you belonged to me and no one else."
She stepped closer.
"But that world doesn't exist. And if it ever did… it would mean taking something from you. Tearing out the pieces of your heart that love them. And I know you. You'd smile through it. You'd carry the wound."
She stopped in front of him.
"I don't want to be the reason you bleed."
A long pause.
Then she inhaled softly.
"So this is my vow."
"I'll accept your harem."
"I'll stand as one of them. Not above. Not beneath. Just… one of the ones you love."
Alex's breath caught.
But she wasn't done.
Her tone cooled — just slightly.
"But don't mistake this for surrender," she added. "I'll never be close to them. I don't want to share tea. I don't want to braid hair or gossip or play harmony in your garden."
Her eyes flicked to Ciel.
"…With one exception."
Ciel blinked.
Morgan said quietly:
"You… I can speak to."
"You don't pretend to be soft. You don't lie to be kind. You let me say everything and didn't flinch."
She looked away for a moment, then added — low, almost embarrassed:
"You're the only one I could ever call a friend. If you'd allow that."
Ciel smiled.
"Of course."
Morgan exhaled slowly.
Then turned back to Alex.
"You don't need to say anything. Not yet. I didn't say this for thanks or pity. I said it so you'd understand that I'm staying. That I've chosen this — chosen you — even when it hurts."
Alex stood.
Walked up to her.
And held her — arms warm and protective, no words needed.
Morgan let her forehead rest against his chest, just for a moment.
"I'm selfish," she whispered. "But I'll carry this with you. So you don't have to carry the pain alone."
He nodded against her hair.
And when Ciel stepped beside them, saying nothing — only offering presence — Morgan didn't move away.
She didn't smile.
But she didn't leave either.
And for now…
That was enough.
The evening passed without incident.
Alex eventually left to prepare for the next day — a message from Hanabi had arrived, and something awaited them back in Japan. Ciel, too, quietly excused herself, leaving Morgan alone in the room, seated near the window, arms folded loosely as the fire dimmed into glowing embers.
She stayed there for a long time.
Still.
Quiet.
Until the world settled.
Then she stood, reached into her coat, and retrieved a small sealed charm.
With a flick of her fingers, the air bent.
A private teleport sigil — not tied to coordinates, but to a person.
A mother.
Morgan stepped through.
The Astrelle estate was as silent as always — but the moment she arrived, the wards shimmered faintly in recognition.
They had missed her.
Or perhaps feared her return.
She walked the familiar halls without ceremony. The servants — those still awake — froze in place, heads bowed low, none daring to speak. They had learned long ago: Morgan Astrelle did not welcome small talk. Or eyes that lingered too long.
Only one door received her knock.
It opened before the second tap.
Her mother stood there, still regal even in night robes of charcoal grey and starlace trim. Her eyes — pale like Morgan's, but with age behind them — softened just slightly.
"Morgan," Lady Astrelle said. "I felt your presence."
"I came to speak."
The woman stepped aside.
No questions.
Morgan walked into the sitting room. The fire was still warm. A book lay open on the table — a grimoire on court-bound enchantments.
Lady Astrelle closed it.
"Sit," she said simply.
Morgan did.
The silence between them was not cold.
Only practiced.
And then Morgan said — without prelude, without looking up:
"I remember everything now."
Her mother blinked once.
Morgan continued. "Not from this life. From before. From Camelot. From exile. From him."
Lady Astrelle said nothing.
But her gaze sharpened.
Morgan looked into the fire.
"I cursed the world once," she whispered. "Because time stole him from me. And I was too proud to grieve like a girl. So I broke kingdoms instead."
Her mother's expression didn't change. But her fingers stilled.
"I was Morgan Le Fay," she continued. "And I still am. But I love someone now — again. Truly. And I'm going to stay with him. Even if it means living beside people I don't like. Even if it means sharing space I want to keep for myself."
Lady Astrelle studied her for a long moment.
Then asked:
"Does he love you?"
Morgan nodded.
"Enough to remember me through time."
"Good," her mother said.
No praise.
But approval.
Morgan sat straighter.
"I don't like people," she added. "Still don't. Not most of them. Not the other girls he loves. But I don't hate them either. I just don't want to waste breath on politeness."
Lady Astrelle gave a faint smile. "That hasn't changed."
Morgan hesitated.
"…Except for one."
Her mother raised an eyebrow.
"Ciel," Morgan said. "The one made of light."
"She must be rare."
"She is."
Morgan turned to her mother at last.
"I think she's the only one I could ever trust to understand what I've done. And what I haven't said."
Then, softer:
"…The only one I'd be willing to call a friend."
Her mother nodded once. "Then hold onto that."
Silence again.
Then Morgan asked — voice quieter than before:
"Would you like to hear about him?"
Lady Astrelle blinked.
Morgan continued, suddenly unsure.
"I could tell you about the ribbon. The pond. The way he smiled at me the day before he forgot me. And the way he gave it back — even without knowing why."
Her mother's voice came gently.
"I would love that."
Morgan smiled — faintly, briefly.
Then began to speak.
Of Alex.
Of the boy who reached for her in a forgotten life.
Of the man who remembered her in this one.
Of love that endured curses, memory, and time itself.
And for the first time in centuries — across two lifetimes — Morgan Le Fay sat beside someone and spoke not as a legend, not as a witch, not as a feared prodigy…
But as a daughter.
And as a girl who had once waited beneath a white wisteria tree, hoping he would come back.
Chapter 178 – The House That Waited
The light shimmered, folded, and vanished.
Three figures stepped out of the teleportation seal engraved behind the Elwood residence — a quiet pulse of magic humming into the late afternoon air.
Alex lowered his hand.
Beside him, Ciel stood with serene composure.
And on his other side…
Morgan.
Her boots clicked softly on the stone path as she looked up at the quiet wooden structure ahead. The Elwood household. Humble by royal standards. Modest even by noble ones. But it carried something the Astrelle estate never had.
Warmth.
Alex stepped forward. "This way."
Morgan followed in silence.
The door opened before he could knock.
Hanabi stood there, still in her red training shirt, a rice cracker in one hand and a spell tag half-folded in the other. She blinked.
"Whoa."
Then her eyes flicked to Morgan.
To the silver-white hair.
To the pale blue stare.
To the utterly unreadable expression that radiated do not test me.
"…We expecting royalty or a final boss?"
Alex smiled. "She's not here to fight."
Behind Hanabi, Airi stepped into view, arms crossed in her dark blue cardigan.
Her gaze locked instantly on Morgan — not hostile, not polite.
Just sharp.
Alex stepped between them.
"This is Morgan Astrelle," he said calmly. "She'll be staying with us for a while."
Ciel entered quietly behind him.
Morgan gave no bow, no nod, no smile.
She stepped forward, cool and regal, and looked at both girls with complete composure.
"I understand who you are," she said flatly. "Hanabi Fushikawa. Airi Tachibana. You are part of the harem."
Hanabi blinked. "Uh. Yeah. That's… one way to say it."
Morgan continued:
"I am also part of it now."
No hesitation. No apology.
"I don't expect your approval. I don't need your affection. I'm not here to take your place, nor do I care for hierarchy."
She glanced toward Ciel.
"She is the only one among you I will speak to as a friend. That may change one day. But I doubt it."
Airi raised an eyebrow. "You're not interested in diplomacy, I take it."
"I'm not interested in false warmth," Morgan replied. "If you dislike me, that's acceptable. If you challenge me, that's… unfortunate."
There was no threat in her tone.
Just truth.
Hanabi tilted her head. "So what do you want?"
Morgan looked directly at Alex, then back at them.
"I want him. That's all. I'll stand beside you, if that's the price."
She folded her arms.
"And if it must be shared… then I'll share."
"But don't mistake me for someone who enjoys it."
Hanabi let out a slow whistle. "Okay then. Ice Queen settings: maxed."
Airi didn't smile, but there was a flicker of grudging respect in her eyes. "At least she's honest."
Ciel stepped lightly between them before the tension could thicken.
"She's not here to make enemies," Ciel said. "Only to make sure she doesn't lose him again."
Alex said nothing — just watched as Morgan stood in the center of a home that wasn't hers, with people she barely tolerated… and still chose to stay.
That meant more than any vow.
And she hadn't finished.
Turning to face them all, Morgan added:
"I will not betray him."
"I will not divide him."
"But I will not pretend this is easy."
A pause.
Then she said — quieter, but steady:
"I am not here to be liked."
"I am here to stay."
And with that, she stepped past them into the house.
Not with entitlement.
But with resolve.
The days passed.
Not many.
Just enough for the household rhythm to adjust — or at least, try to.
Morgan didn't argue. She didn't complain. She ate quietly, moved gracefully, kept her things in flawless order, and answered questions only when asked directly.
But she didn't initiate conversation unless it was with Alex… or Ciel.
Hanabi tried once — something lighthearted about flame-resistant boots.
Morgan replied with a look that could freeze lava.
Airi didn't try at all.
The Living Arrangement
They had a schedule now — loose, but established.
Mornings were training or errands.
Afternoons were study, spell maintenance, or low-tier missions.
Evenings, they ate together — or in silence.
And at night…
That was when things became complicated.
It happened quietly — as most chaos does.
Morgan stood in the hallway, wearing her deep blue nightdress and a loosely tied robe. Her silver-white hair spilled down her back, the black ribbon still in place.
She tilted her head.
"The light's on."
Ciel was already brushing her hair by the window. "Mm. Yes."
Alex looked up from his bed. "We usually all sleep in the same room now."
Morgan blinked. "...Why?"
Hanabi, flopped on the far end of the mattress in shorts and a loose shirt, yawned. "Warmth. Trust. Harem stuff."
Airi, seated neatly with a book on the floor nearby, didn't look up. "Efficiency of mana alignment. Protection. And yes, harem stuff."
Morgan stared at them.
Then at the bed.
Then at Alex.
"You… sleep together."
Alex cleared his throat. "It's not what it sounds like."
"It is exactly what it sounds like," Hanabi mumbled into her pillow.
Ciel stood, setting her brush aside, and walked over to Morgan.
"You're welcome to join."
Morgan's brows drew in. "All of us. In one bed?"
Ciel smiled faintly. "It's warmer that way."
Morgan gave her a very slow, skeptical look.
Then exhaled.
"…Fine. But—"
She raised one gloved finger and pointed at Hanabi.
"You. Don't touch my ribbons."
Hanabi sat up, blinking. "What?"
Morgan turned to Airi. "You. Don't even think about hugging me."
Airi looked over the rim of her book, unbothered. "I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
Then, softer — barely above a whisper — Morgan looked toward Alex.
"…You can."
And to Ciel:
"You as well."
Ciel nodded. "Thank you."
Hanabi made a strangled noise. "Wait, wait — they can, but not us?"
Morgan slid under the blankets without looking at her. "Correct."
She turned to the side, silver hair cascading across her pillow.
Alex looked a little stunned.
Airi turned a page.
Ciel turned off the lamp.
Hanabi groaned. "I'm going to have a boundary complex."
Morgan, eyes closed, replied calmly:
"You'll live."
And somehow — despite it all — they did.
Chapter 179 – The First Time That Belonged to Her
Morning light spilled softly through the kitchen windows of the Elwood house, casting quiet shapes on the polished floorboards. The air carried the scent of tea and fresh bread. Peaceful. Ordinary.
But the mood was subtly… different.
Morgan sat at the table, perfectly dressed as always — high-collared blouse, charcoal skirt, gloves buttoned to the wrist. She was sipping her tea with calculated grace when Ciel spoke.
"You two should go on a date today."
Morgan's hand paused mid-air.
Alex blinked. "A date?"
Ciel nodded, gold eyes calm. "You've never gone out together. Not just the two of you."
Morgan set her teacup down. "We've been alone before."
"Not like this," Ciel said. "Not as yourselves. Not as the man who remembered her… and the woman who waited."
For a moment, silence.
Then—
Morgan turned to Ciel.
"...Thank you."
She didn't smile.
But her voice had a rare softness in it — rare enough that even Hanabi peeked over from the couch.
Ciel simply tilted her head.
"You don't need to thank me."
Morgan looked down.
Just briefly.
In truth, she felt something strange beneath her ribs — not guilt exactly, but something close. Regret, perhaps. Regret for how sharp her tongue had been. For how much colder she'd acted toward Ciel than the other girls deserved.
She had been selfish.
Especially toward her.
But before she could say anything more, Ciel stood and walked over to Alex.
"I'll come too," she said. "But I won't intrude."
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't make any sense."
Ciel smiled — and touched the back of Alex's hand.
A golden shimmer ran across his skin, blooming into a radiant symbol — delicate, layered, shaped like a tiny folded sun.
And then she was gone.
Disappeared.
Into the mark.
Morgan stared.
Alex held up his hand casually. "She does that."
Hanabi waved lazily from across the room. "Yeah, she lives in there sometimes. We're used to it."
Airi didn't even look up. "Efficient. Very Ciel."
Morgan looked at the golden symbol.
Then lowered her gaze.
"…I see."
She didn't say more.
But in her mind, something settled. Unexpected. Warm.
She didn't feel mocked.
She didn't feel overshadowed.
She felt…
Supported.
Like an older sister had quietly handed her something precious — and then stepped aside.
No claim. No competition.
Just kindness.
The kind that said:
This time belongs to you.
Morgan stood and turned to Alex.
"Where are we going?"
He smiled. "Anywhere you want."
She thought for a moment.
Then — without hesitation — replied:
"Somewhere that never existed in my time."
Teleportation shimmered beneath their feet.
The first stop was Venice.
They arrived on a quiet bridge just before dawn, the canals still veiled in mist and the lamplight flickering across the slow-moving water like melted gold.
Morgan stood in silence.
The stone beneath her wasn't old in the same way Dunhyre Keep had been — it was alive with history, not isolation. The air smelled of river salt, wood polish, and warm pastry rising from early cafés.
She looked around slowly.
"No guards. No wards. No enchantments."
Alex smiled beside her. "Just gondolas and overpriced espresso."
Morgan narrowed her eyes. "…Is it safe?"
"Safe enough."
He held out his hand.
She hesitated — then placed hers in his.
They walked.
Across bridges. Through narrow alleys. Past colorful laundry hanging between buildings like streamers left behind by a sleeping festival.
Morgan didn't say much.
But when she saw pigeons scattering from the edge of Saint Mark's Square, her lips twitched.
Just once.
Next was Cairo.
She stared up at the Great Pyramid from a floating platform, her silver hair brushing against desert winds.
"This is absurd," she muttered. "You're not supposed to stand on the pyramid."
"We're not touching it," Alex said cheerfully. "Just hovering."
"…Blatant disrespect."
"You're smiling."
She turned away quickly. "Am not."
But she was.
A little.
They went to Tokyo next.
It was chaos.
Morgan clung to his sleeve through the Shibuya crossing, eyes narrowed in visible horror as digital billboards screamed above them and crosswalks lit up in ten colors at once.
"Why are there this many people?"
"It's lunchtime."
"Why is there a giant dancing cat on that building?"
"It's an idol group."
"…I don't understand this century."
He offered her melon bread.
She took one bite, chewed slowly, and nodded.
"I approve of this, at least."
In Santorini, she removed her shoes.
Just for a moment.
They sat on the edge of a blue-domed rooftop as the sun dipped into the Aegean Sea. Morgan's pale feet dangled off the edge, wind threading through her hair. The skies glowed like coppered silk.
"I used to think the world was only England," she said softly. "Stone, rain, salt… and a single cursed tower."
Alex looked at her.
"You know better now?"
She nodded.
"But I still can't believe it."
Then, quieter:
"Thank you."
He didn't answer — just reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She didn't pull away.
Instead, she leaned against him, just a little.
The golden symbol on the back of his hand shimmered once — softly, silently.
And though she didn't speak to it…
Morgan knew Ciel was still there.
And she was thankful.
Because today — the world that had once forgotten her…
Was finally hers to see.
Chapter 180 – The Shape That Stays With Him
The stars were still visible when they returned home.
The others had already gone to bed. Only the faint scent of lemon tea lingered in the Elwood kitchen, along with a half-finished charm scroll left curled on the windowsill.
Alex had retired to his room, exhausted from teleporting across continents.
But Morgan wasn't tired.
She stood in the hallway, arms folded behind her back, staring at the soft glow on the back of Alex's hand — the mark that shimmered like a golden sun.
Ciel's presence.
Ciel's gift.
Ciel's way of staying close, quietly and without intrusion.
And for the first time, Morgan wanted that too.
She knocked lightly on Ciel's door.
It opened almost immediately.
Ciel stood there in a soft blue nightgown, her long silver hair falling loosely down her back.
Morgan hesitated — then looked her in the eyes.
"I want to learn," she said.
Ciel tilted her head. "Learn what?"
"The symbol," Morgan said. "The transformation you use. I want to enter the mark on his hand like you do."
Ciel blinked once — then nodded.
"No objections?"
"You love him," Ciel said simply. "You want to stay close. That's not something I own."
Morgan's fingers brushed the edge of her own sleeve.
"I thought you might say no."
"I wouldn't," Ciel said gently. "It's not in me."
Morgan nodded, then looked away — her voice softer now, almost unguarded.
"…Thank you."
Then she added:
"...Sister."
Ciel didn't speak for a moment.
Then smiled.
"I'll teach you everything."
They sat across from each other on the floor of Ciel's room. Pale moonlight slanted across the tatami, catching on the pages of a floating spell diagram Ciel summoned between them — soft gold lines twisting into an elegant circular pattern.
"This is the basic weave," Ciel said. "It's not teleportation. It's soul compression. You reduce your physical and spiritual form into a bound essence… and tie it to someone's mana thread."
Morgan studied the pattern.
Her eyes narrowed — not from confusion, but precision.
"I see."
"You can copy my seal if you like," Ciel offered. "Or make your own."
Morgan didn't hesitate.
"I'll make mine."
Within minutes, her fingers were already weaving a mirror structure into the air — same framework, but different flow. Where Ciel's glyph was golden and warm, softly glowing with a celestial aura…
Morgan's was silver.
Cool.
Intricate.
Threaded with ancient Carpathian knots and faint script from the lost courts of Avalon.
Refined.
Quietly powerful.
Ciel watched with growing respect.
"You learn fast."
"I'm not trying to impress you," Morgan said.
"I know," Ciel replied. "That's why I'm impressed."
Morgan touched her newly drawn symbol. It shimmered in silver light, resonating quietly with Alex's mana in the next room.
Then she stood.
And reached for Ciel's hand.
"Show me how to anchor it."
Ciel smiled and placed her palm over Morgan's.
Together, they pressed the combined mark onto the back of Alex's hand — just above the golden one already there.
It glowed softly beneath his sleeping skin.
First gold.
Then silver.
Two emblems, interwoven — not overlapping, but side by side. One warm. One cool.
And together…
Unshakable.
As the glow dimmed, Morgan let her form shimmer — just like Ciel had done — and compressed herself into light.
Her body vanished.
And a second mark now joined the first.
A silver sigil, resting beside Ciel's gold.
Intricate. Elegant. Unmistakably hers.
On the back of Alex's hand…
They both stayed.
Not as rivals.
But as women who loved him.
And who, in their own quiet way, had chosen to stand side by side.
Alex
The morning light filtered through the curtains in soft ribbons of gold, stirring the quiet room with a warmth that belonged to no particular season.
Alex blinked.
Then stretched his right arm across the blanket, rubbing his eyes with the other.
It was only when he sat up that he saw it.
The back of his hand.
Not one symbol.
Two.
Interwoven.
The first was familiar — a smooth, radiant mark of soft golden threads coiled like the rays of a rising sun. Ciel.
But now, next to it — touching, but not eclipsing — was a new design.
Silver.
Intricate. Sharper in detail. Less gentle, more precise. A pattern of lunar spirals, starlit branches, and delicate knots that pulsed faintly with cold beauty.
Morgan.
The two sigils didn't compete.
They danced.
He turned his hand slowly in the light, watching the gold and silver lines shift together like breath.
"…So this is how they stay with me."
His voice was quiet.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He placed his palm against his chest — directly over his heartbeat.
And whispered, "Good morning."
Morgan
Inside the symbol, there was no form.
Only feeling.
Not emptiness — but compression. Like her entire soul had been folded gently into a ribbon of silver light, resting just under the skin of the one she loved.
She felt him move.
Felt his breath. Slow, steady, warm. She could sense the shift of his mood — that subtle flicker of surprise, then peace, when he noticed the new mark.
It made something inside her tighten.
Not possessiveness.
Not pride.
Just… joy.
She could feel him.
And more than that—
She could hear him.
His thoughts weren't words, not exactly — more like ripples of meaning. Impressions. And they reached her with perfect clarity.
"...Morgan?"
Yes, she answered, without speaking. Her response shimmered across the link like the flick of moonlight on water.
He paused.
Then: "You're beautiful like this."
She didn't respond at first.
Then:
Of course I am.
His laughter — quiet, amused — echoed across the tether between them.
And then—
A second presence stirred beside her.
Familiar.
Soft.
Light curled like petals.
Ciel.
You're awake too? Morgan asked.
I never truly sleep while bound to him, Ciel replied calmly. You'll get used to the rhythm.
Morgan was silent for a moment.
Then admitted, without hesitation:
I like this.
Feeling him. Feeling you. Thinking together.
It's… peaceful.
She could almost feel Ciel's gentle smile through the tether.
I'm glad.
Morgan let herself settle more deeply into the rhythm of his breath. His heartbeat. The faint rush of blood through his veins. Her thoughts brushed against Ciel's now and then — not words, but presence. Shared awareness. No pressure.
No expectations.
Just being.
For someone who had lived in towers and silence, it felt like being wrapped in a sunlit ribbon. Quiet. Close.
Mine, Morgan whispered, not to assert it — just to feel it.
And from the warmth that answered back — from both of them — she knew:
They agreed.
The warmth of Alex's hand wrapped around the sigil as he got dressed for the day, but Morgan lingered within the symbol just a little longer — not because she needed to, but because she wanted to. She liked this closeness. This transparency. This feeling of being part of his every breath.
But even as she rested in the fold of silver light beside Ciel's gold presence, a small, private thought stirred inside her.
She didn't say it out loud.
But Ciel felt it.
You want to return to your body sometimes, Ciel said gently.
Morgan hesitated.
Then, in a soft ripple of thought: ...Yes.
When?
At night, Morgan admitted. When we lie beside him. When it's quiet. When it's just us. I like being the symbol, but… sometimes, I want more.
Ciel's presence shimmered faintly — not teasing, not judgmental.
You mean, she said with remarkable clarity, you want to feel his warmth directly. To hold him. To breathe beside him.
Then, after a pause:
And… to reach under his clothes. Touch his skin. Explore what's his. Including—
Morgan's silver presence flared for a half-second — startled.
Ciel!
His private area, Ciel finished calmly.
How—how do you—
I accidentally woke up once, Ciel replied serenely, and saw you doing it.
Morgan's energy pulsed, the magical equivalent of a flushed face.
You saw and said nothing?
You weren't hurting him. He was asleep. You seemed… careful. Focused. It was a little endearing, honestly.
Morgan didn't respond for several seconds.
Then: …You're not angry?
No.
Another pause.
Then Ciel added, Actually… the next night, I tried it too.
Morgan's entire magical pattern surged in shock. You—?!
Just once, Ciel said. For comparison. I was… satisfied. It won't interfere with your moments. I simply wanted to understand.
Morgan's voice turned flat. You really are a saint.
Hardly. But I understand longing.
Morgan's presence dimmed for a moment — thoughtful.
Then, with reluctant honesty:
...I plan to do it again.
Every night?
If I can.
She expected judgment.
But instead, Ciel only said:
Then you should return to your body at sunset. I'll adjust my resonance field so you don't wake the others when you rematerialize.
Morgan was quiet for a long moment.
Then:
...Thank you.
You're welcome.
And as the day began — as Alex moved through the Elwood house with two quiet lives tucked into the back of his hand — Morgan smiled silently from her silver mark.
Because she knew:
Tonight…
She would be beside him again.
Exactly how she wanted.