No return last night.
Marks on clothing.
Another woman hesitating to speak.
Artoria felt like she had all the clues needed to catch someone cheating.
But—
She touched her hair.
Blonde.
She remembered people in her village once said: people with this hair color don't run into this kind of thing.
No, wait—what was she thinking?
Artoria held her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
No way Morgan would give her a straight answer.
So—
She'd ask Ian.
Quietly, Artoria moved away from Morgan and made her way over to Ian.
"Ian."
The moment she spoke, she froze.
Because Ian was staring at her.
He'd done that before—but this time, it felt very different.
Something felt... off.
Artoria had a bad feeling rising in her chest. She was just about to say something when Ian suddenly reached out his hand.
And then came the mischief.
A soft squeeze—once, then again.
Artoria's face turned crimson immediately.
Just a moment ago, she'd been full of suspicion and gloom, but in the blink of an eye, it felt like things had gone back to how they used to be.
"Ian! What are you doing?!"
Though she spoke up, she didn't move his hand away.
"My sister is just up ahead! At least wait until..."
She didn't get to finish her sentence before hearing something even more shocking.
"Small. Totally different from Morgan's."
Artoria's mind went blank.
"What... what did you just say?"
"What do you mean, totally different from Morgan's?"
Her emerald eyes darkened slightly as she glared at him.
"You know my sister that well, huh?"
"Or is it... you've liked bigger all along? Then I guess... I really can't compare—"
Ian didn't answer.
He simply waited patiently for her to finish venting.
Then, unexpectedly, he changed the topic entirely.
"Artoria, yesterday... you said it wasn't the right time yet, didn't you?"
"Eh?"
The question caught her off guard, instantly pulling her back to that memory.
After thinking for a second, she nodded. "Yeah... not yet."
"Then when will the right time be?"
Ian stepped a little closer.
"I want to know."
Artoria reached down and touched the sword at her waist—Caliburn, the Holy King Sword.
All the thoughts she'd had when she first pulled that sword from the stone surged back into her mind.
"A future where everyone smiles... That must be the right path, right?"
Still deep in thought, her voice moved faster than her mind:
"When I become a king worthy of Britain!"
"Ian, you know why I drew this sword!"
But the moment she said it, regret hit her.
She had no idea how long it would take to become that kind of king.
Honestly, going back to cuddle with Ian in the haystack sounded way more appealing right now.
But...
Caliburn reminded her constantly—this path wasn't just about her own happiness.
The one who draws the sword becomes the king.
And a king must carry the weight of all of Britain.
She realized she finally understood what that meant.
"I get it," Ian said quietly, removing his hand from her.
That left Artoria feeling unexpectedly empty inside.
"You could've left it there a little longer..."
"No one would've noticed…"
But Ian, unusually, didn't give in to her request this time.
"Artoria is a girl who's going to be king."
"I know," she replied softly.
Ian's gaze shifted back toward Morgan.
"I'm going to her now."
"If you need anything, just come find me."
"Wait—"
Artoria opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but the words stuck.
She'd originally come here to ask Ian about the strange stain on Morgan's skirt.
But in the end...
She hadn't asked a single thing.
Yet somehow, she felt like she already knew the answer.
Her eyes dimmed.
Meanwhile, Morgan, sensing Ian approaching, felt an unspoken joy rise inside her.
"What did Artoria want with you?" she asked casually.
"She didn't ask anything," Ian replied truthfully.
"Oh?"
That wasn't what she expected.
Morgan gave a sly smile. "She really didn't care about what we did last night?"
"She didn't ask about that."
"But—"
Ian's eyes briefly shifted downward.
"She was bothered by the difference in your chest sizes."
"...Is that so?"
Morgan raised an eyebrow, amused.
"So Ian... do you prefer big or small?"
"Be honest—I won't mind."
Morgan was confident.
Especially after last night, when Ian's... enthusiasm had left marks that still hadn't faded.
If anyone saw those, especially the ones on her chest, Ian would be thrown straight into a dungeon.
But no one else had the right to see them.
Not even Ian—it was only because he happened to fall into her plan.
Still... she really did want to know the answer.
No one had asked him this directly before.
"I like whatever's edible."
Morgan blinked, stunned into silence for three full seconds.
She thought about firing back, pointing at him and saying, "So you do like me this way!"
But she couldn't.
He was the descendant of a dragon—someone who couldn't be judged by normal standards.
A single wild night didn't mean he was emotionally invested.
He was a difficult one to figure out.
But also... kind of fun to challenge.
Artoria definitely seemed affected too.
Isn't that great?
Morgan smiled to herself. There was nothing better than seeing Artoria discouraged.
As long as she wore that defeated expression, it filled Morgan with joy.
Feeling satisfied, she no longer cared about Ian's strange answer.
"For you, anything edible is the best, huh?"
"You really are a hungry dragon. Without something to eat, you lose all interest?"
"Well then..."
She turned to glance at him, her eyes gleaming with charm.
"I guess I'll just have to give you something even tastier sometime."
"My greedy little dragon."