Simulator in Type-moon, Starting with becoming Morgan husband!

Chapter 67: Chapter 67: The Princess Keen Intuition



Chapter 67: The Princess Keen Intuition

The last drop of wine had been drained.

Artoria collapsed onto the bed as if all her strength had been completely sapped.

It was the first time she had tasted wine, and also the first time she had drunk so much.

The girl felt her legs trembling, utterly devoid of strength.

The sweet, irresistible wine seemed like it might spill out at any moment onto a bed that wasn't even hers.

"How are you feeling now?"

When she felt Ian's hand—a hand that always brought a sense of security—gently stroking her forehead, Artoria could hear her heart pounding rapidly.

"Fine," she replied awkwardly.

"Cool, and… full."

"Really?"

"And now?"

Ian reached out and gently pressed downward on the slightly protruding lower abdomen of Artoria.

Her usually calm pupils instantly widened slightly.

Her legs trembled, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears—it was clear she was trying her best to suppress her emotions.

"S-Sir Ian, please stop! If this continues, I… I won't be able to bear it anymore."

Seeing her reaction, Ian withdrew his hand in time.

"Sorry, it seems I let you "drink" a bit too much."

Hearing that, Artoria quickly shook her head.

"No, not at all."

"I chose to drink that much myself."

"Umu… Anyway, let's end things here for today."

Ian spoke with an exceptionally tactful tone.

Artoria naturally understood the meaning behind his words.

"Sir Ian, I understand. I'll leave right away."

However, despite saying so, the girl suddenly realized something incredibly embarrassing.

She couldn't stand up.

Her mind was clear, but her limbs simply wouldn't respond.

"..."

"..."

"Sir Ian, please, let me try again!"

Feeling Ian's gaze, Artoria continued to try—but the result was predictable.

Seeing her like this, Ian hesitated for a moment, then bent down and scooped the petite blonde girl into his arms.

"S-Sir Ian, this… this…"

"Don't be afraid."

Ian looked at the small girl in his arms.

"You had the courage to come here, so I have the resolve to take you back."

Hearing this, Artoria said nothing more.

She leaned into him, nodding lightly.

Under the moonlight that illuminated the long corridor, the two walked silently down a path that was neither too long nor too short.

Click—

The door to Artoria's room swung open.

What Ian saw inside was a mess, as if no one had cleaned up in ages.

He suddenly realized how much pressure a young girl like Artoria must bear, living alone in the royal palace.

After all, the only person by her side now was the "dick magus" Merlin, an utterly unreliable figure.

That man never cared about her well-being.

Ian's silence made Artoria feel a bit uneasy.

"Ah, Sir Ian, it's not that I deliberately didn't clean up, it's just that I…"

Halfway through her explanation, she realized she didn't know how to continue.

Because, in truth, she had deliberately left it like this—everything in the royal palace felt so foreign to her.

Whether it was imitation or quiet observation,

At its core, it was simply because she didn't know what to do.

Merlin and her foster father, Ector, had only taught her the grand vision of becoming a king.

But how to transition smoothly and truly become that king—they never mentioned a word about it.

"Artoria, don't stress too much," Ian comforted her. "Not tidying up isn't a big deal."

"But the loneliness of one person, I'm afraid, isn't so easily alleviated."

"..."

Knowing that Ian had completely seen through her thoughts, Artoria lowered her head.

After a long silence, she finally forced out a sentence:

"Sir Ian, the way I am now… am I unworthy of the image a king should have?"

"I… I should be doing better, shouldn't I?"

Ian placed Artoria down on her bed, then sat beside her.

"In truth, Artoria, compared to most people, you've already done very well."

"It's just that you're not used to all of this yet."

"Then, Sir Ian, how long will it take for me to get used to all of this?" Artoria asked in return.

"I want to accomplish the things you've talked about."

The determination in her eyes was unmistakable. Ian knew this was an opportunity he couldn't miss.

"Don't worry, Artoria."

"You'll manage."

"But before that happens—"

Ian gently flicked Artoria's forehead.

"First, get some proper rest for me."

"Eh—?"

Holding her slightly reddened forehead, Artoria obediently nodded.

"I understand."

"Good, then." Ian stood up.

"I'll be heading back now."

"Yes."

Watching Ian walk away step by step, as he approached the door, Artoria suddenly seemed to remember something and called out to him.

"Sir Ian!"

"What is it?" Ian turned back.

"Sir Ian…"

Summoning all her courage, Artoria placed a hand over her stomach, looking extremely shy.

"Actually, I don't dislike that way of drinking, so… could we do it again next time?"

"..."

Ian gave her a faint smile.

"I understand."

Click.

The door closed softly.

Artoria's hand slowly slid down, brushing against the "lake" of spilled wine still faintly laced with its intoxicating scent.

That cold sensation now stirred a warm current in the girl's heart.

Did she really enjoy this?

Perhaps not.

But—

Artoria recalled the awkward moments, paired with Ian's amused gaze throughout the evening.

She realized that maybe she didn't dislike it all as much as she thought.

What kind of wine would she taste next time?

The thought unexpectedly lingered in her mind as she drifted into a dream.

[You return to your room shared with Morgan.]

[Morgan seems to already be in bed.]

[You plan to quietly slip into bed, but quickly realize things won't go so smoothly.]

As soon as Ian lay down, Morgan's voice drifted from her pillow.

"Ian, where have you been?"

Her tone was calm, entirely devoid of emotion.

But Ian knew better—when Morgan spoke this way, her true feelings often lay in stark contrast.

Lying would be pointless.

So—

He decided to offer a straightforward explanation.

"Princess, I just escorted Artoria back to her room."

"What?"

Morgan turned toward him.

Her deep, ocean-blue eyes suddenly glimmered with a shadowy intensity.

"Ian, what are you doing?"

"Didn't you once swear eternal loyalty to me?"

"Princess," Ian said as he reached out to hold Morgan.

"It is precisely because of that oath that I acted as I did."

"In truth, while you've been immersed in your Magecraft studies, I've expressed to her the expectation that she must defeat Vortigern."

Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly.

The darkness that once lingered clearly in her gaze gradually receded.

"You mean, you're pushing her forward?"

"Exactly, Princess." Ian nodded without hesitation.

"Does she not suspect your intentions?"

"She hasn't even ascended as king yet."

"She might, but her determination is far greater than I anticipated."

"And more importantly—"

Ian's gaze shifted to the wine glass still resting on the bedside table.

"Your exquisite wine played an indispensable role in this."

[Your explanation eases the tension in the room.]

[Morgan ultimately accepts your words, though she still has a few lingering questions.]

"Did she sit on our bed?" Morgan asked coldly.

"Indeed, Your Highness."

Ian didn't conceal anything.

"That might have been one of the key factors in ensuring the conversation went well."

"But she was on the bed—"

Morgan stared sharply at Ian.

"Are you absolutely sure you only talked to her?"

"Knight, don't make me discover that your 'long spear' had other intentions."

"Princess, if you doubt me..."

Ian raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I am entirely willing for you to inspect me."

"..."

Morgan turned her face away.

"Then arrange for the servants to replace all our bedding, burn it to ash, bury it in some cemetery, and weigh it down with the heaviest stone available."

"I don't want to see it again."

"Understood, Princess," Ian nodded. "However, I doubt that can be done tonight."

"Then let it be done tomorrow."

"And furthermore—" Morgan added.

"Even if we delay until tomorrow, tonight you're not staying here."

"Princess, then where shall we rest?"

"You foolish knight."

Morgan wrapped her arms around Ian's neck and whispered in his ear:

"Do you really think I wouldn't inspect you myself tonight?"

[You and Morgan engage in a fiery battle through the night.]

[Talent "Blessing of the Lake" has activated: The proud princess severely underestimated the strength of your body. Alone, she stands no chance of defeating you.]

[You achieved an overwhelming victory, asserting yourself indirectly.]

[Still, Morgan refuses to acknowledge your reasoning.]

[Though you were the victor, she, as the loser, was the first to fall asleep.]

[She rested in your embrace, as snug as a chair, sleeping soundly.]

[You, however, felt no anger—this has always been Morgan's peculiar nature.]

[Besides, her bare form still stirred something in you.]

[This, after all, was your original goal.]

[For now, matters seemed settled.]

[Camelot, in preparation for upcoming challenges, entered a new phase of development.]

[Merlin fulfilled his promise—he replaced the degenerated rye from the Age of Gods with better seeds.]

[Morgan, though reluctant, eventually accepted all of this.]

[Of course, she was quietly planning other schemes.]

"Mother, the mentor you arranged for me was good," Agravain reported his progress to Morgan.

"I used the assassin skills he taught me to personally kill him."

"Very good," Morgan said with a smile and nodded.

"Wait for my orders, Agravain."

"And remember—"

"Don't speak of this to your father. He already bears too much."

"I understand," Agravain replied before departing the palace.

The reserved young man gazed at the temporarily revitalized outskirts of Camelot, his expression a mix of emotions.

[Time continued to pass.]

[You never forgot the burden Artoria was carrying.]

[You sent people to the village where Artoria once lived to find her foster father, Ector, and her brother, Kay.]

[You invited them to settle in Camelot.]

[Ector declined the invitation, citing poor health, though you knew well he simply didn't want to impose on Artoria.]

[Kay, on the other hand, eagerly accepted.]

[After a long journey, Kay arrived in Camelot.]

[You welcomed him at the city gates.]

"Kay, it's been a while."

"Yeah, it's been a while, Ian."

As soon as he said that, Kay slapped his own mouth.

"Ah, I almost forgot."

"I should call you King Lot now."

"It's fine," Ian replied with a polite smile. "With your status, calling me Ian is perfectly acceptable."

Artoria was the future king.

Kay would be the brother of that king.

Compared to Ian's current title of "king," it was hard to determine who outranked whom.

Of course, these words were merely pleasantries.

After all, Kay hadn't accomplished much, while Ian was a king who had made significant contributions.

If one were to truly compare, it would only bring embarrassment.

Kay understood this well and didn't overstep any bounds.

"Got it. Where's Artorius?"

"Where is she?"

Ian maintained his calm smile.

"She'll be here shortly."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Artoria appeared not far behind Ian.

Kay felt a slight pang of emotion.

After all, back then, when she mentioned pulling the sword from the stone, he had tried to dissuade her.

Yet, she had succeeded.

It had been months since they last met—surely she was doing well, wasn't she?

Artoria walked toward Kay, step by step.

A long-awaited reunion at the city gates was about to unfold.

But—

Would it truly be that way?

Artoria approached Kay.

However, the scene Kay had imagined—his little sister rushing into his arms, overcome with emotion after so long apart—didn't happen.

Instead, Artoria, dressed in attire with a neutral flair, took Ian's hand and said,

"Brother, I'm glad you've come to Camelot."

"However, I have some matters to discuss with Sir Ian."

"So—"

Artoria turned to Kay, her gaze devoid of much emotion.

"Please rest temporarily at an inn in the city. I will make arrangements later."

"Of course, you don't need to worry about the cost."

"Yes, that's about it."

In front of anyone other than Ian, Artoria rarely showed any emotion.

Without waiting for Kay to respond, she pulled Ian away.

Kay was left standing there awkwardly.

Even the guards seemed unsure how to react.

"Lord Kay, so now—"

"What are you standing there for? Didn't you hear what she said?!"

Kay growled through clenched teeth.

"Get me the best inn! Spare no expense!"

"Y-Yes, my lord!"


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