After finishing the meal hastily, Mordred went out.
As for what she went out to do, she didn’t say at all.
Considering she had always been a relatively obedient child, I only said some meaningless words about being safe and actually let her go.
Then
Even when walking on the street, the Witch actually linked her arm with mine, strolling through the thoroughfares.
This naturally drew the attention of passersby.
After all, my appearance is above average.
While the witch isn’t quite on the level of Helen, whose beauty could topple nations, she is still superior to the actors and singers on screen.
Fortunately, the times have changed; the gazes of passersby held no malice or disgust, only pure curiosity and admiration—I, of course, didn’t feel very comfortable, but the witch was enjoying it, relishing the attention of others.
I didn’t say anything, letting the witch have her way for now.
“Arthur, what kind of clothes do you think look best on me?” Shortly after leaving the house, the witch asked me.
“Let’s get this straight: phrases like ‘anything looks good’ or ‘whatever you like is fine’ won’t cut it.
You are, at the very least, a king of a country, right?
You should have some taste, shouldn’t you?”
I moved my lips, thinking it over, but didn’t know what to say.
Actually, the witch was right; I am a person with absolutely no taste.
I usually appear in armor and have never studied clothing, let alone understand fashion trends.
Now that the witch was asking about clothes, I naturally didn’t know what to say.
The witch raised an eyebrow, seemingly not surprised.
But her words remained as merciless as ever: “I say, Arthur, you really are a block of wood, aren’t you?
Well…
never mind, I won’t make things difficult for you this time.
I’ll pick them out myself.”
Then, this witch, as if she possessed inherent knowledge in this area, began to educate me on the basics of clothing.
It was truly, genuinely basic knowledge.
Things like fabric selection, color combinations, style pairings, and so on—she didn’t stop for a single moment, leaving me completely bewildered as I listened.
This knowledge, which lay far beyond my known domain, made me quite uncomfortable, to the point where my head began to spin.
I was only catching half of what the witch said, and I doubt even a quarter of it remained in my brain.
Seeming to notice my condition, the witch became even more enthusiastic.
It was as if she were bombarding my brain to get back at me.
She spoke faster and faster, her smile growing wider with every word.
The morning sunlight spilled over her, making her silhouette appear hazy and dreamlike.
My brain, meanwhile, was overloaded; I truly felt as if I were in a dream.
After finishing her lecture on the impact of Impressionist painters on Rococo-style clothing, her mouth finally stopped.
“Arthur…
do you know why I call you Arthur, and not Artoria?”
The witch tilted her head up.
The summer morning sun was becoming increasingly dazzling, and with the sun positioned directly behind her, I instinctively squinted.
Consequently, I couldn’t see her eyes, only the smile at the corners of her lips—a gentle, charming smile.
Combined with her nearly translucent lips and the sunlight behind her, she felt like a cloud in the sky, and I couldn’t help but lose myself in the moment.
Then, she turned her head to look at the road ahead.
Her lips parted slightly, and soft words escaped her mouth: “I suppose you don’t know either.
After all, a name is something given by others; they call you whatever they want, right?
As long as they are talking about you, it’s fine—actually, I think that if you really were a boy, you wouldn’t overthink things so much.
Maintaining a woman’s delicate sensibilities while simultaneously bearing the responsibilities and pressures of a man—the result is bound to be a distorted version of yourself, right?
You’re doing alright; having played the part for so long, you usually don’t seem abnormal.
It’s much more apparent in Mordred.”
Perhaps it was because her previous words about clothing and trends had brought my brain to the verge of a system crash, or perhaps the morning sun had blurred my consciousness, but I asked, as if possessed: “So, do you want me to treat you from the perspective of a man?”
“If that’s what you really think, that’s fine too.
I don’t have any objections to that.
It’s entirely up to you.”
“You…
are much smarter than when I first met you…
Was that a disguise back then?”
“A disguise?
That word isn’t in my dictionary…
but, I suppose it was, wasn’t it?
I was walking down the street and got followed by you.
Being followed was one thing, but you also acted all high and mighty, dragging me away against my will.
And then, instead of the various contracts or agreements I expected, you gave me a place to stay and food to eat.
If it were you, wouldn’t you be just as confused?”
Thinking about it now, it does seem quite confusing.
The times have changed, yet I was still using the old ways.
People of that era knew what “King Arthur of Britain” meant; just mentioning the name would make them kneel and beg for mercy in fear.
I had clearly mentioned this to Mordred before, telling her not to be too high and mighty, yet when I did things myself, I completely forgot and unconsciously reverted to the past.
I couldn’t help but feel dejected—but this feeling was quickly terminated, interrupted.
The witch was still holding my arm, leading me forward along the street.
“Alright, shopping is supposed to be a happy thing.
Let’s not talk about such unhappy things…
By the way, it’s getting a bit hot.
Do you want to try something sweet and cold?
That stuff is delicious; once you start, you can’t stop.”
“That’s called ice cream; it’s usually made of milk and frozen into an ice block.”
Although this witch surprisingly knew a lot of things I completely didn’t understand, she was still very lacking in common sense.
The witch nodded excitedly, her voice becoming expectant: “Yes, yes, that’s it—ice cream.
Shall I buy you one?
It’s said that no matter how bad your mood is, if you eat some delicious sweets, your mood will improve.”
I really wanted to say that this was all just a biological reaction.
But before I could say it, I held back.
After all, no matter how you look at it, such profound statements belong to the category of “unhappy things.”
However, despite saying that, the witch didn’t let go of my arm.
It wasn’t until she started urging me that I understood why: “Hey, Arthur, what are you standing there for?
That’s all my money in there!
How am I supposed to buy anything without money?”
“Oh, oh…”
Her bank card was indeed being kept with me for safekeeping.
I had no choice but to take my wallet out of my pocket and hand her the bank card.
She casually clamped the card between her right index and middle fingers, waved it at me, and walked into the convenience store by the roadside.
In less than two minutes, she walked out—unexpectedly fast.
In her hands were two servings of Häagen-Dazs, not the kind I had bought for Mordred before.
Judging by the pink packaging, it was nine times out of ten strawberry-flavored—this was the flavor I liked the least.
“You try yours first; if it’s not good, just throw it away.
It’s no big deal anyway; it costs less than a meal.”
Although it was a flavor I didn’t like, I still took a tentative bite.
How should I put it…
although there was still a sour taste I really didn’t like, overall, it wasn’t inedible.
It was, after all, one of the more expensive types of ice cream; it would be inexcusable not to finish it—thinking this, I continued to eat.
I had only taken a few bites when the witch, right beside me, asked expectantly: “How is it, Arthur?
Is there a feeling of it being so delicious it’s explosive, to the point where you can’t help but shed tears?”
“…I don’t really like strawberry flavor.
Sweetened milk flavor is better.” I replied.
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
“You didn’t ask…”
“Does something like that need to be asked?” The witch’s eyes widened, looking a bit angry, but mostly helpless.
Her eyes rolled, and then she smiled and said: “Ah…
I understand.
It’s just because you are a king; others didn’t ask you much, and if they did, they were cut off by a few words, which is why you ended up in this state, right?
If it were just you, that would be fine, but you also dragged Mordred into becoming that kind of sullen clam.
Honestly, you aren’t a very successful father, are you?”
After saying this, she began to take big bites of her strawberry-flavored Häagen-Dazs—it was clear she quite liked the sourness of the strawberry.
I couldn’t be bothered to explain.
After all, it involved my past.
Plus, I wasn’t really unable to eat it, and the witch didn’t say anything else.
She and I just walked aimlessly along the street, eating ice cream, and time passed by very quickly.
As the morning rush hour passed, the pedestrians gradually thinned out.
Even in the downtown area, there weren’t many people.
Although Misaki Town had declined, there were still quite a few shops in the downtown area—decline has its benefits; at least the rent isn’t that expensive, so if merchants want to struggle on, they can barely manage to do so.
This is much better than the satellite cities of Tokyo.
Here, the witch found her target.
“Oh, that shop looks good; let’s go to that one.”
She pointed casually at a clothing store.
Looking at the logo of that clothing store, my eyes…
“That’s a men’s clothing store; it only sells men’s clothing.”
“I know.
You can tell by the icon above it.”
“Are you saying you’re interested in wearing men’s clothing?”
“Me?
How is that possible!
Of course, it’s for you.”
“…Me?
Buying for me?
Men’s clothing?”
This caught me completely off guard.
I even felt a bit nervous.
The witch smiled gently; her smile was soft but held warmth.
“I just think men’s clothing suits you better.
Is there a problem with that?”
“But…
wasn’t this shopping trip supposed to be for buying you clothes?”
“That was the plan, but I suddenly changed my mind.” Pausing for a moment, she continued, “Isn’t that how shopping goes?
You wander around, look at everything, buy what fits, and move on if it doesn’t.
Now I’ve found something that suits you and I want to buy it for you, just like that ice cream earlier.
If you don’t like it, you can just leave it in the closet and never wear it.
Besides, it’s my money, so just consider it a gift from me, okay?”
“…Are you French people always like this?
Have you not changed at all after all these years?”
“Hmm?
Am I really that similar to the French people from your time?”
“Not at all.
I’m talking about the French people of today.
Despite being the birthplace of rationalism, romanticism prevails.
Everyone yearns for a better life, and it seems everyone knows what they should…”
For the first time, I was interrupted mid-sentence, and by the Witch before me: “Arthur, didn’t we agree?
No thinking about unhappy things today.”
“…I never promised that, did I?”
It was just a casual mention before buying the ice cream; I didn’t take it seriously, much less make a promise.
The Witch raised an eyebrow, her brow lifting pridefully as she began to nag and lecture.
“I’m telling you, Arthur, can’t you stop dwelling on those nonsensical things?
You’re just Arthur now—not a king, not a knight.
The past has nothing to do with you anymore.
The dead won’t come here for your life, and the living have vanished into the past; everything was severed completely with your death.
This city has a slow pace, so just enjoy your life now—at least for today, don’t think about so many unhappy things, okay?”
Sunlight fell into the Witch’s golden eyes, sparkling and radiant, as if all the sun’s light had converged within them.
It was beautiful, truly beautiful.
I was like the Evil Dragon Smaug who had plundered the Heart of the Mountain, staring blankly in a daze.
“…Alright.”
Then, in a daze, like a puppet being manipulated, I walked into the clothing store.
Looking at the dazzling array of men’s clothing, I fell into a prolonged state of stupor, having no idea how to choose.
By the time I came to my senses, I had already left the clothing store and was walking down the street.
“Well?
It looks great, doesn’t it?”
The Witch’s voice pulled me back to reality.
Only then did I finally realize that I had changed into a different set of clothes.
It was an ordinary suit, also known as “formal wear.” A black jacket, black trousers, and black leather shoes; only the shirt was as white as snow, and only the tie was as red as blood.
The jacket was a long-collared men’s formal coat, intentionally left unbuttoned to look extremely imposing.
Combined with my calm expression and golden slit pupils, the overall sense of pressure was immense, easily intimidating others.
Having regained my clarity, I gave my evaluation based on my true feelings—
“It’s alright…
just a bit hot.
It’s summer now, and black clothes absorb heat easily.”
“Then wear it when the weather gets cooler?
Or just don’t wear the jacket normally; look, people on the street aren’t wearing jackets either.
However, you still have to wear the tie.
It feels like something’s missing without it.
I’m sure you feel the same way, right?”
I really didn’t have much of a feeling for clothes.
However, I did have a very strong feeling about something else.
“…Witch, do you know how much this outfit cost?”
“About a hundred meals?
Calculating based on last night’s dinner.”
The corner of my eye twitched again.
Last night, I cooked twelve dishes in total, and the ingredients added up to about four thousand yen.
A hundred times four thousand yen is four hundred thousand yen, which was exactly the price of this suit.
It wasn’t that the clothing store didn’t have cheaper suits, but this Witch never chose what was right—only what was expensive.
The Häagen-Dazs from before was probably the same; she only bought it because it was the most expensive, without considering flavor, packaging, weight, or price.
In my mind, besides “idiot” and “illiterate,” the label “spendthrift” was added to this Witch.
“…Your calculation is quite accurate.” I was almost speechless.
“So what if it’s expensive?
Food in this era is so cheap anyway.
Of course the money should be spent elsewhere.” The Witch looked relaxed, completely unaware of the value of money.
“But with only one set, you’ll surely get tired of it easily, right?
Want to try some other clothes?”
“One set is enough.
There are a few other outfits in the house.
I’ll just rotate them,” I said dismissively.
“Don’t you want a set of women’s clothes?”
The Witch asked again, forcing me to shake my head quickly.
“I have no interest in clothes.
What I have now is enough.”
“You only had three sets of clothes before?
That’s way too few.
You were a king, after all, weren’t you?”
“That really is quite dull.”
“To unify Britain and bring prosperity to Albion, one must be frugal.
My first bit of funding came from spoils obtained by ambushing the saxons.
Later, as the nation grew, so did the taxes.
But ceremonies and rituals increased, and court expenses rose as well.
Since the army is the foundation of Albion, I had to save as much as possible to balance the budget.”
The Witch didn’t react.
She just smiled, gazing into my eyes.
Sunlight refracted endlessly in her pupils like brilliant golden diamonds, exuding a charm I had never felt before.
“There’s no need for that anymore, you know?
Arthur, you’re no longer a king.”
“But…
the money in the card is limited.
Mordred and I eat a lot, and we’re both students.
If we don’t spend carefully, it’ll run out quickly.
Once the family finances collapse, things will get troublesome.
Not to mention, the money in your card is much less than ours.”
“Then we’ll talk when the money runs out.
You and Mordred are so powerful; isn’t making money simple?
You could work as part-time bodyguards during the weekends or take on jobs that others find hard to handle—wouldn’t that bring in a lot of money?”
True as that may be, I ultimately shook my head.
“If possible, I would prefer my life to be peaceful.”
“Pfft…”
For the first time, the Witch couldn’t hold back her laughter.
This annoyed me a bit.
I narrowed my eyes, my face falling as I whispered to her—
“What are you laughing at?
What’s so funny?”
“Cough, cough…” She was actually laughing so hard she started coughing!
“I’m telling you, Arthur, why are you still thinking about living a peaceful life?
Do you think it’s possible for us, the dead of the past, to have a peaceful life in this era?
I am a Witch, and you are an Evil Dragon; hell is where we belong.
Do you think this remote little city is heaven?
Do you think we would even be allowed into heaven?
We might as well enjoy ourselves while the city is still relatively peaceful; that way, our time here won’t be in vain.”