” By the time they returned to the Matou Residence…
no, it should be called the “Fairy Palace” now, it was already late at night.
Morgan remained silent throughout the entire journey.
She simply held Arthur’s arm tightly, her grip so firm it nearly dug into his flesh.
Though her stunningly beautiful face remained expressionless, the surrounding air temperature had dropped to the freezing point.
They had just entered the hall.
Sakura, who was waiting while rubbing her sleepy eyes in her pajamas, was about to greet him with a cry of “Brother,” but she was frightened back by the terrifying low-pressure aura emanating from Morgan.
“Sakura, go back to your room.” Morgan’s voice was frighteningly calm.
“Practice those magecrafts you aren’t familiar with a few more times.
You aren’t allowed to sleep until you finish.” “Y-Yes!
Sister Morgan!” Driven by a strong survival instinct, Sakura scurried back to her room like a startled rabbit and thoughtfully locked the door behind her.
In the hall, only Arthur and Morgan remained.
“Um, Morgan…” Arthur was just about to speak to ease the atmosphere.
Thump!
A massive force suddenly struck him.
Arthur felt his vision spin, and he was shoved down onto the sofa covered in heavy velvet.
Immediately after, a soft body carrying a cold fragrance pressed directly onto him, pinning him down firmly.
Morgan sat astride Arthur’s waist, looking down at him from above.
In those eyes that were originally cold, a black flame named “jealousy” was now burning.
“Explain yourself, my Majesty.” Morgan extended a finger, her fingertip tipped with a sharp magecraft nail, and lightly traced it across Arthur’s Adam’s apple, bringing a tingling sting.
“Whispering in the ear of that Artoria, who acts like a pure-hearted little girl…
Did you have a pleasant conversation?” “You seem to have forgotten exactly who the ‘wife’ you summoned is, and who you should be looking at.” Looking at the queen on the verge of a breakdown, Arthur didn’t panic; instead, he gave a helpless smile.
He reached out, took the hand Morgan was using to gesture at his neck, and gave it a light kiss at his lips.
“Are you jealous?” “Ha?
Me, jealous of that little girl who knows nothing?” Morgan let out a cold laugh as if she had heard a joke, but a faint blush crept onto her cheeks.
“I am merely maintaining my ownership as the Queen of Britain.
You are my property.
I will not allow you to flirt around outside, especially when the other party is that ‘person I hate most’ from Pan-human History.” “She is a shadow of the past, while you are the reality of the present.” Arthur looked directly into Morgan’s eyes, his gaze incredibly sincere.
“Inviting her was for an alliance, and also to let you see clearly—you, who possesses a human heart, are far more vivid and beautiful than that’Saint’ who only knows how to sacrifice for her country.” “Smooth talker…” The murderous intent in Morgan’s eyes dissipated slightly, but her paranoid possessiveness grew even stronger.
She leaned down, her red lips almost touching Arthur’s, her breath like orchids.
“Save those pretty excuses to deceive little girls.” “Since you still have the energy to provoke others, it means…
the pressure I’ve given you isn’t enough.” “Prepare yourself, Arthur.” Morgan suddenly lowered her head and kissed Arthur squarely on the mouth!
At the same time, a violent mana circuit was instantly connected.
“Ugh…” Arthur let out a muffled groan.
This wasn’t mana replenishment; this was practically sucking the marrow from his bones!
Morgan was frantically claiming the mana within him, using this crude method to deeply entwine their spirit origins, as if to brand “Property of Morgan le Fay” into the depths of his soul.
[Ding!
Detected that the Servant ‘Morgan’ is performing high-intensity mana plundering.] [Bond level between both parties has increased significantly.] [Due to the ‘King Arthur’ template possessing the ‘red dragon’ constitution (vigorous energy), the host has not been drained, but instead triggered ‘Mana Backflow’.] That night, in the master bedroom of the Fairy Palace, mana surged.
That was Her Majesty’s “punishment,” and also the unique “way of communication” for this twisted royal couple…
The next day at noon.
When sunlight spilled into the dining room, Arthur was busy in the open kitchen wearing an apron.
Although he had been tossed around by Morgan until midnight, he was still full of energy thanks to his 25% fusion rate physical constitution.
Morgan, on the other hand, was sitting languidly at the dining table holding a cup of black tea, with several obvious hickeys on her neck.
She seemed to be in a good mood; her usually furrowed brows had smoothed out, and she radiated a languid beauty that came from being “well-fed and satisfied.” “Brother, it smells so good…” Sakura leaned on the table, drooling as she stared at the baking tray Arthur had just brought out.
It was freshly baked English roast lamb chops, along with a portion of golden-brown gratin mashed potatoes that emitted a rich milky aroma.
Though they were British dishes, Arthur had improved them with Eastern spices, creating a scent so domineering it could drift two streets away.
“It’s not time to eat yet, Sakura.” Arthur smiled and stuffed a freshly cut piece of apple into Sakura’s mouth.
“The guests haven’t arrived yet.” “Guests?” Sakura blinked her large eyes in confusion.
Just as he finished speaking.
“Ding-dong—” The doorbell rang.
The languor on Morgan’s face vanished instantly, replaced by her high-and-mighty Queen’s mask.
“Hmph, that lion that doesn’t know its place actually dares to come.” She set down her teacup with no intention of opening the door; instead, she crossed her legs, adopting a posture that said, “I am the mistress of the house, waiting for a subordinate’s audience.” Arthur shook his head helplessly, took off his apron, and went to open the door.
The door opened.
Standing outside was a somewhat uneasy Irisviel, and Artoria, who was wearing modern casual clothes (a white shirt and blue skirt) and looked both serious and expectant.
Today’s Saber had clearly put some effort into her appearance.
Although she still looked dignified and inviolable, those emerald eyes couldn’t help but glance into the house—more precisely, toward the kitchen.
“Welcome.” Arthur gave his signature warm-guy smile and stepped aside.
“Just in time, the lamb chops are fresh out of the oven.” Upon hearing the words “lamb chops,” Artoria’s throat visibly bobbed, and the ahoge on her head instantly stood upright.
“Ahem…
Excuse the intrusion.” Artoria tried her best to maintain her royal dignity, saying solemnly, “I have come this time to confirm the information regarding Caster that you mentioned last night, and incidentally…
incidentally…” “…incidentally for dinner,” Irisviel chuckled from the side, completing the sentence her Servant couldn’t say.
“Irisviel!” Artoria blushed.
The two entered the house.
As soon as they entered the dining room, the air froze.
Morgan sat at the head of the table, coldly glancing at Artoria as she walked in.
“Since you’re here, find a corner to sit in.
Don’t expect me to get up and welcome you, sister.” Seeing Morgan—especially seeing the ambiguous red marks on Morgan’s neck and her posture as the mistress of the house—Artoria felt an inexplicable tightness in her chest.
It was an unpleasant feeling, like watching someone use her favorite precious sword to chop vegetables.
“Morgan…” Artoria took a deep breath and pulled out a chair to sit across from Arthur, her eyes sharp.
“I am not here to argue with you.
I have come at the invitation of the other ‘Arthur’.” “Alright, alright, talking about war is forbidden during mealtime.” Arthur walked over with the final dish of thick soup, interrupting the tense atmosphere.
He placed the choicest piece of lamb chop on Morgan’s plate (survival instinct), and then placed a mountain of mashed potatoes in front of Artoria (the lure).
“Give it a try,” Arthur said, looking at Artoria.
“If it’s not to your taste, I’ll go remake it.” Artoria looked at the steaming mashed potatoes before her.
That familiar, warm aroma—as if she had returned to the banquet hall of Camelot Castle—instantly shattered her defenses.
She picked up a spoon and carefully took a bite.
It melted in her mouth.
The dense texture mixed with the aroma of butter and the perfect amount of black pepper.
This wasn’t just food; this was…
nostalgia.
Artoria’s eyes suddenly lit up.
The way she looked at Arthur changed completely.
If she had been curious before because of their “shared source soul,” now it was complete recognition!
Even Gawain among the Knights of the Round Table couldn’t produce this flavor!
“Delicious!” Artoria simply couldn’t stop; her cheeks were puffed out like a feeding hamster, completely abandoning her royal poise.
Watching this, Morgan curled her lip in disdain but didn’t stop her.
She cut the lamb chop on her plate and said in a voice only Arthur could hear: “Using such means to win over your past’self’…
Arthur, your wicked sense of humor is truly getting worse.” “However…” Morgan forked a piece of meat and held it to Arthur’s lips, a flash of playfulness in her eyes.
“Seeing as her eating manner is so foolish, I’ll magnanimously forgive you this time.
Ah—” Arthur obediently opened his mouth and ate it.
This meal, despite the undercurrents, was surprisingly harmonious.
Until Arthur wiped his mouth and brought up the main business.
“Alright, the meal is finished.
Saber, Irisviel.” “Next, we should talk about tonight’s ‘hunt’.” “That Caster, Gilles, who kidnaps children and desecrates life everywhere, must die tonight.” Artoria, who was blissfully drinking black tea, immediately set down her cup upon hearing this, her expression turning serious and filled with killing intent.
“Of course!
I will never tolerate such an evil presence that violates the knight’s code!” (A well-fed Lion King’s combat power is now at 120%!) [Ding!
Hidden plotline unlocked: Crusade against the Cultist.] [Mission Reward: Template fusion rate increased to 30% (Unlocks Noble Phantasm True Name Release).]