37. Artoria's Corruption Begins

He didn't come home last night. The stain on her clothes. The other woman's evasiveness. Artoria felt like she had all the necessary conditions to catch a cheating partner. But— Artoria touched her hair. It was blond. According to the people in the village where she used to live, people with this hair color weren't supposed to encounter this kind of situation. No, wait. Why am I thinking about strange things again? Artoria clutched her head and shook it for a good while to clear her thoughts.

Asking Morgan was probably out of the question. Well then—I'll just ask Ian. Artoria quietly shifted her position, moving away from Morgan and over to Ian's side. "Ian." The moment the girl spoke, she froze. Because she found Ian staring at her. While this wasn't unusual, his gaze this time was clearly different. It was as if... he felt guilty? A bad premonition grew in Artoria's heart. But just as she was about to say something more, she saw Ian's hand reach out. And then, the little gesture. Squeeze— Squeeze—

Artoria's face instantly turned red. Just a moment ago, she thought something had truly happened, but in the next second, he had reverted to his old ways. "Ian, what are you doing?!" Artoria exclaimed, yet she didn't push his hand away. "My sister is still up ahead, at least wait until we..." Before the girl could finish, she heard another devastating sentence. "They're small. Completely different from Morgan's." "..." Artoria felt her mind go completely blank.

"What... did you just say?" "What do you mean, 'completely different from Morgan's'?" Artoria's green eyes began to darken. She spoke, her voice filled with resentment. "Are you that familiar with my sister? Or is it that... you just like big ones from the start? In that case, I'm so sorry for only being this size—"

"..." Ian didn't answer Artoria's words. He just waited quietly for her to finish. However, the topic he brought up next was something else entirely. "Artoria, you said yesterday that it wasn't the right time, didn't you?" "Eh?" With a single sentence, Ian pulled Artoria back from her resentment. Recalling his confession, she hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes... it's not time yet."

"Then when will it be time?" Ian moved closer. "I want to know." "..." Artoria's hand went to the Sword of Promised Victory, Caliburn, at her waist. Everything she had thought of when she drew the sword once again flooded her mind. "A future where everyone is smiling... that can't be wrong, can it—" Artoria's mind was still thinking, but her body had already spoken:

"Wait until I become a King worthy of Britain! Ian, you know why I drew this sword!" The moment the words left her mouth, Artoria felt a pang of regret. She had no idea how long it would take for her to become that kind of King. A shameless life with him on a haystack seemed like a much happier prospect right now. But— Caliburn was a constant reminder that she could not. He who draws the sword is King. And the King must be responsible for all of Britain. Artoria found she had a much deeper understanding of that phrase now.

"I completely understand." Ian removed his hand from the girl's cute curves. In that moment, Artoria felt a deep emptiness in her heart. "You can touch them a little longer... no one's noticed yet..." But this silent plea did not receive Ian's usual agreement.

"Artoria is a girl who will become King. I know that." The boy's gaze shifted back to Morgan. "I'm going to go to her now. Artoria, if you have any problems, you can come find me immediately." "Eh..." Watching Ian walk towards Morgan, Artoria wanted to say something. She had come over to find out what the stain on Morgan's skirt was. But... she hadn't managed to ask a single question about it. But why... why does it feel like I already know the answer? The light in Artoria's eyes dimmed.

On the other side, sensing Ian approaching, Morgan felt an indescribable joy. "Ian, what did Artoria want with you?" she asked nonchalantly. "She didn't ask anything," Ian answered truthfully.

"Oh?" An unexpected answer. Morgan let out a cold laugh. "She's not even concerned about what you and I did last night?" "She didn't ask about that. But—" The boy's gaze fell to Morgan's chest. "She is very concerned about the fact that her chest is smaller than yours."

"..." "Is that so?" Morgan's eyebrow arched. "Well then, Ian—do you like them big, or small? Don't worry, you can say it. I won't mind." Morgan was very confident in herself, especially after experiencing Ian's terrifying "feeding." Without exaggeration, if anyone saw the marks on her body, especially on her chest, Ian would probably be thrown in a dungeon immediately. But—no one was qualified to see. Even this boy was only afforded such a blessing because he was a part of her plan. Her gaze returning to Ian, Morgan found that she was actually quite eager to know the answer. After all—no one had ever asked her before.

"I like the ones I can eat." "..." After three seconds of stunned silence, Morgan confirmed she hadn't misheard. She wanted to refute him, to point at his nose and say, "You just like them big, like mine." But she couldn't. This boy was the scion of a dragon, an existence that could never be measured by common sense. A night of madness didn't necessarily mean he was that invested. What a difficult creature to handle. But, it is a fun challenge. And Artoria looks so affected by it all. Is there any downside to this? This is wonderful. Seeing her look so dejected, at any time, brings me immense joy. Her mood lifted, Morgan no longer cared how incomprehensible Ian's answer was. "So for you, being edible is what's best, is that right? What a hungry dragon you are. Do you lose all interest if you're not feeding?" "Can't be helped—" Morgan looked at him, her eyes filled with a bewitching smile. "Then I'll just have to find a chance to let you eat something even more delicious. My greedy little dragon."

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