A Villainess pulled out the Sword instead of the Hero.

 

After listening to her, he bent over backward and quickly found a place for her to live alone.

 

Morgana’s new home felt like a cottage with a small garden. It was relatively clean, but as new places go, it was a bit empty and unfurnished.

 

The broker rubbed his palms together and explained,

“This is the best one we have for sale. It has plenty of guest rooms and a separate annex for the servants. It’s just a shame it’s all in the main house.” “Very well, I’ll take it.” 

Morgana tipped him handsomely and paid him a hefty sum.

 

It was a little more than market value, but he didn’t mind.

 

‘What is flex? I earned it, I should spend it!’

 

I didn’t want to haggle over the price, so I paid a lump sum.

 

She bought an empty house, no bed, no nothing. But what the heck, she never thought she’d own a house in her life!

 

‘Morgana, you made it!’

 

She clasped her hands together in excitement in the empty house.

 

Now that she had enough money, she could start decorating the inside.

 

But first, she had to decide when the heroine, Guinevere, would hire a servant.

 

In the original story, Morgana was already a servant, so I didn’t know how soon.

 

Later on, when the war broke out, it would be unfair if she was involved in the purge of the Fay, who were the main force in Avalon.

 

I didn’t receive anything from Fay. I had to look good in advance. At least as someone who had no connection to Avalon.

 

Morgana climbed the dusty steps of the house and looked around.

 “I’ve been away a long time from Britain, and I wonder if anyone has any news.” 

Morgana tugged at her memories.

 

In the original, she was a bit of a bad girl, even when she lived with her mother.

 

Living in the slums taught her to swear, and every neighbor was tomorrow’s rival. She didn’t have a single helpful friend.

 “Wow, how can someone be so…” 

Well, maybe not.

 

Morgana decided to hire a maid, a bright, cheerful woman wearing a saree and rumored to be quick on her feet.

 

Only noble families would apply for a maid if word got out, but Morgana was an outsider, a stranger to Britain.

 

There was only one thing she could do.

 

‘I’m headed to the Mercenaries!’

 

Normally, mercenaries would slay fiends and provide escorts for the higher-ups, but they would also arrange for people if they could.

 

Britain, in particular, was the only country with any remaining fiends outside its borders. Because of this, mercenaries were more active than in other countries.

 

If they were mercenaries, there would be a lot of them traveling around. Chances were, they knew a lot of people.

 

Morgana searched through her memory and found a small tavern a little further down the market alley.

 

It was daytime, and unlike the bustling main street, the alleyway was barely more than a few people passing by.

 

Morgana pushed open the door with a sign in the shape of a crumbling beer mug.

 

Surprisingly, it slid open without much effort.

 

Despite the daylight, the door was open.

 “Hello?” 

Immediately, the smell of alcohol wafted in, along with a strange mix of unrecognizable odors.

 

Inside, all sorts of humans were sleeping in a jumble.

 

‘So this is a tavern or an inn.’

 

The sight of all the huge, hulking, robust men sleeping in piles like towers was both spectacular and ridiculous.

 

As Morgana stared at the figure, he heard a stretched-out snort, a yawn.

 

A man emerged from the back door of a long table in what looked like a cocktail bar, scratching his head.

 “Drinking or eating in broad daylight?” 

Despite his sparse beard and seemingly friendly demeanor, the man’s whole body expressed annoyance.

 

Morgana spoke again, just in case the man was listening to her dryly.

 “No, not that, I’d like to hire a maid.” “A maid? Eh, wrong place, miss. You don’t need a mercenary, we’ve got enough bodyguards.” “I need an escort right now…” 

Before Morgana could finish her sentence. 

 Bam— 

The door she’d entered through opened and a man walked in.

 “Mister Raon, about that demon slaying yesterday…, ah, you have company.” 

A huge shadow fell across Morgana’s back.

 

Turning quickly, the man stared back at her, his face slumped with fatigue as if he hadn’t expected a visitor.

 

His brilliant blond hair was streaked with blood. His blue eyes were a little dull.

 

He was a sturdy man, but well-proportioned for a mercenary who slept in rumpled layers.

 

Morgana’s jaw dropped at the sight of the coldly handsome man.

 

‘I can’t believe we’re meeting at a place like this.’ 

 

She froze in disbelief, and the man brushed past her without a second thought.

 

As if she weren’t mistaken, a name that shouldn’t have been spoken came out of the mouth of the man who called himself Raon.

 “Arthur, did you have a good trip to Toval?” “Anything else?” “Hmm. I just had a visitor, and she’s looking for a maid. Do you know any maids?”“Not likely.” 

He gave her a quick, dismissive glance with his searching eyes, then turned away as if disinterested.

 

Morgana’s eyes sparkled with urgency, and she held up a hand.

 “I, I need an escort!” 

At her exclamation, Raon frowned at her haughtily, as if he had seen a strange person.

 “What do you mean, you just said you were looking for a maid.” “I’m looking for a maid, but I’m also looking for an escort. Aren’t they a set!” “Wait for the escort. What, do you have a particular style you’re looking for, ladies like things that look a little fancy to wear on the side.” 

He held up an arm from among the sprawled mercenaries as if he were making a selection.

 “How about this one? He’s a bit of a talker, so he’s not boring to have around. Though he’s a little haggard right now.” 

Raon slapped the slumped man across the cheek.

 “Hey, wake up. We got company.” 

But he wasn’t the one Morgana wanted. She pointed to the man’s back as he dragged his sword upstairs.

 “I want to hire him as my escort.” “Huh?” 

Arthur Pendragon.

 

The last of the ruined House Pendragon bloodline.

 

And the man who would take up the sword in the future.

 

The man of legend, the man whose name Morgana didn’t know but knew the tale.

 

Morgana wanted him to be her escort.

 

Raon’s gaze followed Morgana’s pointing finger, and he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

 “I’m sorry, miss, but he won’t accept.” “Why? I have the money!” 

Morgana jerked the sack of gold coins from her arms.

 

It was only a small portion of what she carried with her. She was willing to pay as much more as he wanted.

 

‘If this is the price of my life, money is no object!’

 

Morgana was in a position where he had to look good to Arthur.

 

Excalibur for Arthur. Arthur for Excalibur. He was the future king of Britain.

 

This was an established truth that could not be changed.

 

But when he later won the war against Avalon, all of Avalon’s nobles, especially those who had fought on Kellive’s side, died by Arthur’s sword.

 

They died one way or another, whether by the dew of their captors or by being swept away in the war.

 

Indeed, Britain’s interior was well-stocked with spies from Avalon.

 

Guinevere herself was regularly threatened with death.

 

So, by the end of the novel, Arthur has scoured Britain to find and kill anyone with Avalonian ties.

 

Morgana may have been born and raised in Britain, but that didn’t change the fact that she was a Fay.

 

‘But I am a renegade. Arthur, I am a traitor.’

 

Few would believe her if she later claimed she was not.

 

I’ve done everything in my power to protect myself, but if someone claims I’m the daughter of the Duke of Fay, a powerful man in Avalon, he’d kill me.

 

Morgana had planned to be diligent before the war, to show that she had no connection to Avalon.

 

It was no lie, for she had lived in Britain all her life, except for a few months in Avalon. But Arthur’s cold eyes didn’t seem to pay her any attention.

 

When Morgana reached into her pocket again, as if to ask, he replied coldly.

 “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in escorting you.” 

With a curt inclination of his head, he disappeared upstairs.