The Unacceptable King Selection Scam [long chapter continues]

"..."

"..."

It was noon, and the sun of Britain was shining over Camelot.

The white porcelain ground in the city was a little hot, but no one cared about this kind of thing.

Because—

All eyes were focused on the boy in front of them.

At his feet, there was a broken rock, and the broken lines silently declared its former impregnability.

He held a sword high in his hand.

The sunlight of Britain shone on the sword, making it glow with the afterglow of glory.

Silence, and then uproar.

"Did you see that? He pulled out that sword!"

"How is it possible?! He doesn't look very strong! He doesn't look like someone who can pull it out, right?"

"Something's wrong! Something's wrong! There's an inside story!"

The crowd was noisy.

The onlookers expressed their doubts in various ways.

But there were also exceptions.

For example, Gawain.

He stared wide-eyed at the boy who pulled out the sword in front of him, and his blue eyes, inherited from Morgan, were filled with unbelievable emotions.

Of course.

That so-called emotion was not the same suspicion as those around him, but an exclamation of a fantasy coming into reality.

Gawain was the one who tried the most times in front of the Sword of Kingship.

He knew the difficulty of pulling out this sword—but now someone had done it.

Is this real?

Or a dream?

Gawain covered his head and couldn't tell the difference between them for a while.

He had to vent his unreality to Ian beside him.

"Father, what should we do?"

"..."

Ian's face was livid.

Because, unlike Gawain and the others present.

What he was thinking about was something else that had been logically sorted out.

The royal descendant who could never find proof no matter what, might be the Artorius in front of him.

Because he was worried that Morgan would be detrimental to Artorius during her growth, King Uther asked Merlin to hide her name with magic and send her out of the royal capital;

Because she is essentially a woman, she must change her perception of herself from an early age and educate her as a knight.

Because he had hardly appeared in the royal capital, he had to arrange a real enough return.

This is a scam.

A complete scam.

The so-called king selection is just a process!

"Father, he's here."

Gawain's words brought Ian back from the feeling of being deceived.

[You looked ahead.]

[You saw Artorius walking towards you.]

[She was still holding the sword that had just been pulled out of the rock.]

[Everyone's eyes moved with her.]

[You realize that something unexpected may happen next.]

Ian's eyes reflected Artorius's figure.

She walked over step by step, straight and firm.

Ian clearly felt that some things had been changed in her, but at the same time, some other things were still retained.

Did magic do it?

Or something else?

Before Ian could figure out this question, a touch came from his waist.

Artorius buried her head in Ian's chest.

Her two hands wrapped around his body from left to right, and with the sword that had just been pulled out, they closed behind his back.

That's right.

This is a hug from Artorius.

After pulling out the sword, the first thing she chose to do was this.

"Mr. Ian, thank you for coming."

"I... seem to have really succeeded."

[People around did not hear this sentence.]

[You realize that this is a secret word from Artorius that only you can hear.]

[But this is a great irony for you who have just figured out everything.]

[Your hand slowly moved to the sword on your waist.]

"Father."

Gawain's call interrupted Ian's anger again.

"You seem—"

Gawain looked at the boy Artorius hugging his father.

"Do you know him?"

Before Ian could answer this question, Artorius took the lead.

But what was completely different from the gentle look in Ian's arms was that when facing Gawain, her tone was obviously much colder.

If you want to describe it in some way—

That is, the wind that rolls forward will not stay for half a moment because it touches the branches in the forest.

In their hearts, there is only the sea they want to return to.

This metaphor may be too complicated.

Then—

It's easier to understand if you simply understand that Artorius only retains the girl's feelings for Ian alone.

Because there is no feeling for others, even the way of speaking becomes a little impersonal.

"Yes, he is an important person to me." she said.

[Gawain was shocked.]

[He didn't expect that this boy, who was obviously far inferior to him in physique, could have this kind of aura.]

[He seemed to have vaguely touched something.]

[But he knew it was not his turn to speak.]

[He looked at you.]

"..."

Ian calmly took his hand back from the hilt of the sword.

He found himself impulsive.

In this case, there is no way to attack Artorius.

It's not that he's afraid of paying a painful price after he's done, but he doesn't want Morgan to be implicated because of himself.

It is also impossible to reveal her female body.

The magic applied by Merlin is obviously still effective—even Gawain has not noticed the abnormality.

Then the only way to choose is to endure.

Ian suppressed all the anger in his heart and squeezed out a hypocritical smile to look at Artorius in front of him.

He broke free from her embrace and said with a smile:

"This has nothing to do with me. It is your own efforts that have created all this."

"Artorius, congratulations."

"You are the first knight to pull out the sword."

As the nominal King Lot, Ian's recognition had an obvious inciting effect.

The atmosphere of whispering was ignited into another look in an instant.

Artorius became the focus of everyone's attention—the people on the streets of Camelot were watching the boy who pulled out the sword.

They didn't realize that the fate of Britain had begun to rush.

Not even Ian's clenched fist.

[You left the focus of attention quietly.]

[You ran towards the royal court.]

[You came to Morgan's private workshop, where she studied magic.]

[Only you know how to get in here.]

"Princess."

"Huh?"

Morgan turned her head and saw Ian's figure. Her tightly frowned brows eased a little.

"Foolish knight, you better take care of your proud spear."

"If something unexpected happens one day—"

Morgan's finger lightly brushed across Ian's chest.

"That's a loss for us."

"Princess, I am very grateful for your concern."

"But—"

"But what?"

Morgan, who noticed that the tone was not right, looked up at Ian.

"Ian, you should know that I don't like procrastinators."

Ian's expression was a little dignified.

He tried to find some words that could make what he was about to report less harsh, but found that it was impossible.

There is no other choice but to be frank.

"Princess."

"Artorius... pulled out the sword inserted in the rock."

"..."

Morgan was stunned.

The extremely elegant blue pupils on weekdays lost their original color at this moment, replaced by bottomless doubts.

"Ian, what did you say?! I order you to repeat it!"

Since he had started, Ian knew that he could never suddenly extinguish the fire at this moment.

"Princess."

"Artorius... pulled out the sword inserted in the rock."

"I witnessed it all."

The time around Morgan seemed to stand still.

Her white skin could not see any red, as if the blood in her body was drained in an instant.

Wordless silence enveloped the entire room, extinguishing all sources that might cause communication.

After a long time, Morgan opened her mouth with a trembling voice:

"Why is it her?"

"Why can she pull out that sword?"

"This is unreasonable!"

"Princess." Ian looked at Morgan, who was trembling with anger in front of him, and felt a pang of sadness in his heart.

"Artorius may be the descendant we failed to find back then."

"..."

Morgan was stunned again.

Her eyes were already empty, and her blue eyes also fell into darkness.

"Ian, you should have killed her on the city wall!" she roared.

"Yes, Princess, you are right."

Ian lowered his head and half-knelt in front of Morgan.

"This is my dereliction of duty."

"Please punish me."

[You decided to lead all the problems to yourself, hoping to let Morgan vent her depression.]

[But she was not so easily led by you.]

[She soon noticed something was wrong.]

"No, Ian."

Morgan's hands were trembling.

"Merlin will never let you do this!"

"You can't kill her."

Paper eventually can't contain fire.

"..."

Facing Morgan's question, Ian could only remain silent.

But this was enough to answer everything.

"How could this happen... how could this happen? How could this happen?!"

Morgan covered her forehead, repeating the same sentence over and over again.

The obsession deep in her soul made her feel dizzy.

She fell.

[Morgan fell ill again.]

[As her nominal husband, you guarded her side every step of the way.]

[You could hear her crying in the middle of the night every day.]

[You felt your internal organs were about to shatter.]

[But you knew you could only accompany her silently now.]

[Because you are her most loyal knight.]

[A knight will not complain to the princess.]

"Good night, Princess."

Ian tucked Morgan into the quilt and then lay half on the position next to him.

This was the state he had been maintaining these days—as long as Morgan needed it, he could react immediately.

However, honestly.

Ian felt that he was also quite tired.

His soul had been closely wandering with Morgan's long-cherished wish, like a journey without an end in sight.

There was no turning back.

But he didn't regret it.

Ian's eyelids closed little by little, which was a state of falling asleep.

And at this moment—

"Ian." Morgan's voice came from the darkness.

"I'm here, Princess."

"I want to hear you say you love me." Morgan asked truthfully after receiving a response.

"I love you, Princess." Ian answered without hesitation.

"Why don't you hesitate at all?"

"Because I am thinking about how to express my love to you every moment, Princess."

"Ian, this makes your love sound cheap."

"Princess, you are right. Many things are always cheap."

"Can you not answer so well?"

"That's because Princess, you asked well."

"..."

Morgan sat up and leaned against Ian's shoulder.

Her smooth silver hair fell on the strong arm of the man beside her.

She took his arm and whispered.

"Ian, you've been tired these days, right?"

"Am I making you a little annoyed?"

"Princess, I do feel a little tired."

Ian held Morgan's hand, trying to make it warmer.

"But I have never felt annoyed—your body has always been a maze that I have not fully explored."

"You really dare to say that, aren't you afraid of making me angry?"

"Afraid."

"But I can wait until Princess, you are not angry."

"What if I'm always angry?"

"Then I'll always wait."

Hearing this, Morgan pinched Ian's hand—this was the little temper she would lose when she couldn't beat him.

But this little movement didn't last long.

Morgan spoke again.

"Ian, if I say..."

Before Morgan finished speaking, Ian had already said the second half of the sentence.

"Are you trying to say that you are not willing to give up yet?"

"It's good that you understand." Morgan turned her face away.

"Of course I understand."

"Because I am not willing to give up either."

Ian's eyes showed unprecedented firmness.

"I will never recognize any king other than you."

"Not to mention a fraud who relies on this kind of scam to take the throne."

"I will spread rumors in the city, create trouble, cause incidents, and do everything I can to stop her."

Morgan looked up at the man beside her.

"Ian, this sounds very despicable."

"Yes, it is indeed very despicable." Ian nodded, "So I'll do it."

"Princess, you don't need to touch anything despicable."

"..."

Crystal liquid flowed from the corner of Morgan's eyes, and then disappeared into the darkness.

She slowly lifted the quilt, separated her legs slightly, and then sat on him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered:

"Ian, be a resting horse tonight."

"I—"

"Suddenly I want to ride a horse myself."

"Alright your highness". Ian doesn't shy away from becoming a horse.

Morgan had a satisfied expression when she saw his readiness.

"Then Ian~ be sure to be a good horse as always"

And then with a plop.

Morgan started riding her favourite horse.

Ian also didn't stay still.

He started milking her breasts and sucking on those precious cherries.

Morgan moved her hips skillfully and hugged his head which was glued to her breasts.

Loud sounds of flesh clapping echoed in their room.

Fortunately the room was sound proof.

Or else their Poor little children wouldn't be able to sleep.