(This chapter is from Jeanne dArc’s first-person perspective.)
What does that mean?
What kind of nonsense is that?
She killed herself?
It wasn’t self-harm to seek liberation, but rather using oneself as an enemy to…
What kind of joke is this?
Even lying has to have a limit, right?
How can it be like this?
I cannot understand it, I cannot accept it, and I truly cannot wrap my head around what is going on here.
I looked at Mordred.
She lowered her head, her bangs obscuring her eyes, making it impossible for me to see her emotions.
But I didn’t see her crying—she had clearly been crying in her room for a long time, so why wasn’t she crying now that she had heard the answer?
I wanted to look at that woman.
But for some reason—perhaps I was truly afraid—I didn’t dare to look directly into her eyes and could only analyze her from her subtle movements.
She…
was actually calm inside?
But why would she be calm at a time like this?
Shouldn’t her emotions be volatile?
Shouldn’t she be filled with sorrow, melancholy, and loneliness?
I cannot understand it; I truly cannot understand it.
Looking at the completely abnormal reactions of these two people from Britain, I reached a conclusion.
They’re crazy.
Both of them are crazy, and even all of Britain is crazy.
Two parties who love each other slaughter one another; those who are loved want to kill themselves.
This thing called love only brings suffering to everyone, until, in the end, one cannot tell if it is love, hatred, or something else entirely, pushing everything toward destruction.
In the end, everyone dies, nothing remains, and even history turns into legend.
‘Let’s eat first; it’s all in the past anyway.’
This woman, this terrifying woman, could actually still say such things so calmly.
And what about Mordred?
She actually started eating with peace of mind, as if nothing had happened.
The atmosphere made me very uncomfortable—shouldn’t something be said at a time like this?
No matter what, something should be said, right?
Thinking this, I took a deep breath and finally looked that woman directly in the eyes.
Her exhaustion had completely disappeared.
Those golden, slit-like pupils were like a windless lake—too calm, abnormally calm.
It was as if she had become a different person…
as if she had transformed from a broken individual back into the normal King Arthur.
‘Past things?
If it were truly all in the past, would you have been like that today, just a moment ago?’
My tone couldn’t help but carry sarcasm.
Because I felt I had the right to mock.
I was the one who had been burned to death, yet the woman before me was more burnt out than I was, lacking even the strength to sustain her own soul—it was simply ironic.
The woman chuckled—it was a fake smile, as fake as it could be, like a mask hiding her inner self.
‘What else?
What else could I do?
What could any of us do?’
‘Who are you trying to fool!
No!
You’re fooling yourself, aren’t you?
Talking about being reincarnated, talking about moving on!
You’re just running away from your own past, refusing to face it!
Those things have indeed passed, but you know very well that they are still ongoing, and you no longer have the ability to resolve them.
So…’
‘What do you know!’ Mordred stood up immediately, glaring at me fiercely, as angry as a bristling little lion.
‘Who do you think you are?
Do you have the right to speak to Father King in that tone!?’
‘You, do you really think I wouldn’t dare to kill you?’ Mordred was aggressive, acting as if she meant it.
My words became even more mocking: ‘Killing me would be better, wouldn’t it?
If you kill me, you’ll be disobeying your father’s orders.
If you kill me, you’ll truly become that rebellious knight.
Do you have the guts to do that?
You don’t, do you?
You brat who has always hidden behind your father and never grown up—what right do you have to say that to me?
This is a conversation for adults, go stand aside!’
Mordred gritted her teeth, her face—so remarkably similar to that woman’s—twisted in anger.
Regardless, that woman was still sitting there, and Mordred couldn’t do anything about it, so I shrugged and looked toward the woman.
The woman sighed and said, ‘Enough, I already know, I understand. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
There is no need to continue.’ She paused, then added, ‘I appreciate your good intentions, Witch.
But this is my own affair.
It may have some connection to you, but ultimately, it is not a major one.
There is an old Chinese saying: “Even an honest official finds it hard to settle family disputes.” The rights and wrongs of this are difficult for me to explain to you clearly.’
To appear more arrogant, after hearing the woman’s words, I leaned back, resting my arms against the back of the chair, and even crossed my legs, sitting in a way that I could fall backward at any moment.
‘You haven’t forgotten that I’m a Witch, Arthur?
But you only know that I’m a Witch; you don’t understand what a Witch is, do you?
Well then, let me tell you—every Witch has her own special ability.
My Witch ability is mind-reading!
Of course, not true mind-reading, but the ability to perceive the other person’s emotions.
Artoria Pendragon, regardless of what you think, your emotions are completely undisguised; I can see them clearly!’
As long as I gaze into a person’s eyes, I can feel their emotions.
Although I cannot yet understand exactly what the other person is thinking, understanding their emotions is enough.
After all, how does that saying go…
humans are creatures driven by emotion.
But after hearing my words, the woman actually laughed, and her laughter was even contemptuous!
‘But, Witch, those are ultimately just emotions.
Facts and emotions do not necessarily align.’
‘Fine.
Since you say so, I’m moving out tomorrow anyway.
You Pendragons can settle your own affairs.’ I then looked at Mordred, employing a Witch’s unique method of sowing discord: ‘However, I still want to offer one piece of advice.
Mordred, if you keep acting like this—doing nothing and only obeying that person’s orders—then just wait to see that outcome: she will definitely choose a building over thirty stories high and jump off the edge.
That is the most convenient way.’
Although Mordred was still glaring at me, her eyes eventually became fearful and unfocused.
I shrugged again, brazenly continued sitting there, picked up a piece of cabbage with my chopsticks, and ate it.
‘Ah, the food has really gone cold; I must eat it quickly.
I didn’t expect your cooking to be quite good, even though you were once a King who commanded a country.’
As I said this, I finished my portion and returned to my room.
Before I left my seat, this pair of close relatives—who looked more like mother and daughter than father and son—had not touched their chopsticks.
Of course, I’m not an idiot.
After returning to my room, I did close the door.
But I stood right behind it, arms crossed and leaning against the wood, eavesdropping on what those two were saying—well, it wasn’t exactly eavesdropping.
With their strength, they definitely knew I was listening.
If they really didn’t want to talk, I certainly wouldn’t have heard a thing.
Besides, the soundproofing of this building is surprisingly good; if they had intentionally lowered their voices, I definitely wouldn’t have been able to hear clearly.
After a long time—I had been standing there for at least five minutes—Mordred was the first to lose patience.
“Father…”
“Mordred…
don’t tell me you believe what she said?” That woman paused for a moment before continuing, “I already said everything that needed to be said on the first day we arrived here, didn’t I?
Do I have to repeat myself?”
“Just now…
what exactly happened to you, Father?”
“It’s just as I said, I’m a bit exhausted.
My body is fine, and my mind is fine as well.”
“Then tomorrow…”
“Tomorrow, I’ll rest at home for a while.
If you want to go out, Mordred, then go.
I might not be able to keep up.”
“I understand, Father…”
“Eat your food first.
Even though it’s cold, you should still finish it.”
After that, the two of them stopped talking.
I lay down on the bed, turned on the TV, and aimlessly flipped through the channels.
When it was almost eleven at night, I opened my bedroom door.
The front door was open, and Mordred’s door was open too—as expected, she couldn’t sleep.
Walking through the hallway to the elevator waiting area, I saw Mordred wearing a short-sleeved shirt and denim shorts.
She was standing by the balcony, her arms resting on the railing, gazing into the distance, lost in thought.
I walked up to her side, casually resting my left arm on the railing, and gazed out at the city late at night just as she was.
Mordred had known I was there long ago, but she didn’t look at me, remaining motionless.
Despite having been as ferocious as a hungry lion before, Mordred was now unexpectedly easy to get along with.
At least, that’s how I felt.
So, watching the lights of the constantly moving cars and feeling the finally cooling breeze, I posed a question to Mordred: “So, can you tell me now?
What exactly was the situation at Camlann?”
I waited for a long time, but she didn’t say a word; it seemed she didn’t want to talk about it.
That didn’t stop me.
“I remember in the legends, you and Arthur killed each other, right?
You wounded Arthur’s head, and Arthur pierced your body with a spear.
Then both of you died at Camlann.
Although there’s a legend about King Arthur going to Avalon to heal, the authenticity of that story is quite doubtful—I came here because I died, and I think it should be the same for you two.”
“That has nothing to do with you.”
Mordred’s voice held only coldness, not anger, which put me at ease.
If she really wanted to kill me here, I wouldn’t have any ability to resist.
If I really provoked her and lost my life because of it, I’d be at a huge loss.
So, my attitude became arrogant again, just like during dinner: “Who was it that insisted on dragging me into this the night before last?
I didn’t agree, but did my disagreement matter?
Didn’t you pin me to the ground and say a bunch of mocking words?
Oh, now that you’ve run into trouble, you can just brush me off and think I’m dispensable?
If that’s really the case, fine.
Anyway, I’ve already learned how to use bank cards and credit cards; I won’t starve to death no matter what.
At worst, I’ll just leave, okay?”
“…I can’t explain it clearly.” As expected, Mordred didn’t feel she could resolve that woman’s inner turmoil on her own.
“Can’t explain it?
Ha!
Since you want to brush me off like this, I’ll go ask Arthur.” But then I reconsidered; it was eleven o’clock now, and that woman was exhausted to death, so she must have fallen asleep as soon as she lay down.
Thus, I intentionally provoked her a bit more: “But she’s probably dreaming right now, isn’t she?
Ten to one it’s a nightmare.
Even for her sake, I should wake her up, right?”
I even waited specifically for Mordred.
But this stubborn, foolish kid didn’t react at all.
Having no other choice, I left the balcony, truly prepared to go wake that woman up.
“…It was Father who asked me to do it.
At the very end, she didn’t resist.”
After I had only taken two steps, Mordred couldn’t help but reveal the truth.
I froze for a moment.
Only then did I understand what that woman meant by ‘killing oneself’.
“Then how did you die?
Don’t tell me you thrust Arthur’s spear into your own chest yourself.”
“That is exactly what happened…
that’s right…”
“So, the exhaustion she mentioned is actually that she doesn’t want to live anymore, right?”
“…Yes.
Since a long time ago, Father would often stare blankly into space.
That must be the exhaustion she spoke of.”
“What is wrong with you people, nearly driving your own King mad?
Or does your Britain just specialize in producing Mad Kings?”
“Because Britain drives the Kings who rule it mad.
It has been like this since long ago.
Britain is an island outside the continent, the land where the Anchor of the World is placed.
The people of Britain have possessed the bloodline of fairies since ancient times.
This bloodline, along with the decline of Mystery, evolved into a curse.
It was only because the Anchor of the World locked away a portion of the Mystery that it barely lasted until the Fifth Century…
But no matter what, the destruction of Britain was destined.
This reality, this destiny, drove generation after generation of Kings mad.
Some discarded their emotions, some accelerated Britain’s destruction.
Only Father…
only Father wanted to strive for a moment of prosperity.”
Now I truly understood—I understood why that woman was exhausted and why she was dissatisfied with herself.
Of course, as one of the parties involved, there were some things Mordred shouldn’t say, or at least not at this time.
Thinking of this, the corners of my mouth curled up involuntarily.
I nodded at Mordred and said, “I think I understand…”
“What do you understand?”
“I understand how to save your Father!
If we leave her like this, she really will die.”
“You…
really know how?” A light flashed in Mordred’s eyes, a light called ‘hope’.
“Don’t believe me?
If you don’t, just watch tomorrow!
Although you father and son are quite fierce toward me, who am I?
I am Jeanne dArc!
Even if I am a witch, I wouldn’t really do anything to you…
Besides, the food that Arthur fellow makes is actually quite good; he’s qualified enough to be a court chef.
For the sake of my future life, I should lend a hand!”