Crazy Britain:They’re All Raising Me

"I mean, the moment I first saw this hairpin, I felt some indescribable connection to it... I knew I had to buy it, so I did. So honestly, it wasn't that I bought it because I wanted to wear it—do you understand?"

"Oh, oh, yes, yes, I understand," Artoria raised both hands in surrender as she watched Guinevere's earnest explanation.

In short, after much effort, Guinevere finally persuaded Artoria that he had no cross‑dressing fetish—he really wasn't some pervert. Whether Artoria truly believed him or not, he couldn't be sure. Her expression hinted at having learned some shocking secret, which only made Guinevere squirm.

"Sigh..." he sighed.

"Very well. I admit it. You guessed right from the start—I did buy that hairpin for a certain girl... for you."

He averted his gaze and scratched his cheek as he spoke softly:

"Although back then I hadn't yet resolved to journey with you... I had seen you from afar. When I then saw this hairpin, I felt from my heart it suited you. I just had to buy it."

"Eh?" Artoria covered her mouth, recalling something.

"Wait—when I first found you, you were bargaining with a shopkeeper in a store... Could that have been you buying this very hairpin?"

"Ah—were you there then?" Guinevere blinked in surprise.

"That's not important!" Artoria quickly waved it off, her gaze darting. "In any case, that 'pauper' comment you made while haggling—was about this?"

"No—that was me pushing back against their outrageous price! I didn't mean it!" Guinevere threw up his hands.

"Forget it... if you don't like it, I'll wear it myself—"

Before he could finish, Artoria's hand whipped out and snatched the hairpin. In a flash she had it in her hair—so fast he nearly hallucinated.

"Well, since it's your heartfelt gift... a pauper's trinket it may be, but I'm just a country girl!"

Muttering to himself, Guinevere watched her settle it in place.

"You..." he began, then laughed wryly and shook his head.

"Alright, if you like it."

Relief washed over him as Artoria walked off, but then a small head popped up where she'd just been.

"I missed something—why is Guinevere suddenly giving you gifts? I heard her call it 'pauper' and 'country girl' from afar... what's going on?"

Ffwanxi's arrival at that moment was ill‑timed.

She hadn't heard the more heartfelt preamble, but merely seeing him present Artoria with a gift was enough to make his scalp tingle.

"Um—this is a commemorative gift," he stammered.

"It's to celebrate our journey together—a small keepsake, nothing grand..."

"Oh..." Ffwanxi frowned. "But if it's your heartfelt gift, and she calls it pauper‑grade, that's too much!"

Even now, she couldn't resist another jab at Artoria—then turned expectantly to Guinevere:

"And what about me? What gift did you prepare for me?"

"Since you gave her a gift, I'm sure you have one for me, right?"

His heart sank.

Of course he had nothing else to give.

He rummaged pocket and found only that strange badge—obviously unsuited. He couldn't present that. And what else could he give?

As he panicked, Ffwanxi, still oblivious to his distress, asked softly:

"Guinevere... you didn't get me a gift, did you?"

"There—there is..." he stammered, sweat beading.

Silence spoke volumes. Ffwanxi's hopeful light faded. Without tears or tantrum, she whispered,

"How unfair..." and turned away.

He was left speechless and guilty—wishing he'd prepared something.

"Sigh..."

A quiet sigh sounded behind him. Turning, Guinevere saw Oberon gazing mournfully.

"And what about me?" he asked.

"Are you mad? Get out of here!" Guinevere snapped.

"But I'm your traveling companion too—why do I get nothing?" Oberon protested. Guinevere kicked at him—but Oberon just laughed and ran off, calling back,

"Alright, then I'll look forward to my gift!"

Watching him dash away, Guinevere's frustration gave way to relief.

"I'll make it up to Ffwanxi," he vowed.

…

For the rest of the day's journey, an awkward mood lingered. Their destination was Gloucester—not for its auction (since in the fourth simulation, after Guinevere had bested Lancelot to win the famed Sword 'Siming,' it never reappeared), but because Gloucester's bell was the easiest to ring. Compared to the exorbitantly priced Spriggan bell and the lord Aurora's demand to hunt the Norwich Calamity, Murien of Gloucester was the most reasonable. A promise of investment to improve the odds of defeating Woodworth would have her volunteering the belfry as a bonus.

And, after Morgan's disappearance, the other lords had grown bold enough to eye the throne—so letting a prophesied maiden ring a bell was a small matter indeed.

But before that—an even more important task awaited.

At dusk, Artoria and Ffwanxi simultaneously called a halt:

"It's night! Time to rest! I'm too tired—skip dinner!"

"I've walked far enough—let's sleep! Don't bother me!"

In that moment, each caught the other's eye and saw the same thought—

It's time for the next simulation.

Like two schoolgirls logging on Friday night, before Guinevere or Oberon could react, they each dashed off to set up insect‑and‑beast wards, then pulled out sleeping bags and dove in.

Though Ffwanxi wasn't used to such simple bedding, she followed Artoria's lead and zipped herself in.

Guinevere and Oberon watched, mouths agape.

"Are they really that tired?" Oberon asked.

"Doesn't seem so..." Guinevere replied, looking uneasy.

Indeed—Guinevere's system notification had just appeared:

[One or more players have entered Simulation Matchmaking and are waiting in the Genesis Hall. Would you like to log in now?]

[This simulation is confirmed as FATE/Singularity Mode.]

[Matching worldline...]

[Selected scenario: Fourth Singularity—Fogbound Demon City.]

[Please choose three to five character tags for this run. Your choices may yield rewards upon clearing the simulation.]

[If no response is received, the system will auto‑select tags and switch to AI‑managed mode.]

"..."

Guinevere hesitated, then looked to Oberon.

"So, they're asleep—what should we do? Cook dinner?"

"I don't mind," Oberon shrugged. "I'm not human and don't require food. But if you want something, I can help gather ingredients."

"Alright..." Guinevere nodded, rubbing his chin. "Honestly, I've snacked on rations all day. I'm not hungry—just tired."

"Very well." Oberon shrugged. "Rest, then. I'll watch first watch—but I do need to scout the neighboring towns for intelligence. I'll wake you when it's time to switch."

"No problem." Guinevere nodded and found a spot hidden by the sleeping‑bag ward to lie down—and, under cover of darkness, logged into the simulator.

[Detection: Player Guinevere is online. Cancelling random tags.]

[Please select your tags for the next simulation.]

[Based on your past performance, new tags have been acquired—please confirm.]

[——]