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

Chapter 60. "Becoming a king means no longer being human."

"Goodbye, Sir Ian!"

Artorius clasped her hands in front of her knees and bowed seriously to Ian.

"I hope… to see you tomorrow!"

Without waiting for Ian's response, Artorius quickly ran off.

By avoiding hearing a reply right there, she could fill herself with hope, waiting for the next day.

This was the kind of sentiment typical of girls around Artorius's age.

But for Ian, such trivial thoughts were somewhat unnecessary—he would decide what he should do.

[You settle the bill and leave the tavern under the gaze of the crowd.]

[You return to the palace.]

[You enter your room with Morgan.]

[This is the time the two of you had previously arranged.]

Morgan was standing by the window, looking out at the scenery.

The moonlight illuminated her eyes, as though it had fallen into a deep blue pond.

The thin silk on her body was dyed with the light, softly highlighting the curves of her chest and the delicate waist, creating a perfectly painted image in a dreamlike scene.

Ian was the only one who could behold all of this.

"Princess."

Upon hearing Ian's voice, Morgan turned around.

When she saw his dazed gaze, the corners of her lips curled into a small smile.

With her slender fingers, she gently lifted the silk on her shoulder, pulling it down slightly to reveal a white shoulder like morning mist.

"Ian, come here."

"The night is so beautiful, I want to enjoy it with you by the window."

"Understood, Princess."

Ian stepped behind Morgan, gently extending his arms to interlace his hands together over her abdomen, pulling her into his embrace.

"Ian, am I beautiful?" Morgan asked softly, letting her hair down.

"Princess, you are not beautiful at all."

Ian felt the warmth from Morgan's waist, lowering his head to rest his forehead against her bare shoulder.

"Because if I were to use the word 'beautiful' to describe you, there would be too many things like that on this land of Britannia."

"It would be an insult."

"Ha." Morgan smiled seductively. "But clearly, your mind is full of thoughts that 'insult' me, isn't it?"

"Princess, I don't deny it. You always captivate me."

"Your sweet words are becoming more and more frequent."

Morgan placed her hand on Ian's, her fingers gently gliding between his fingers.

"But I like it."

[You notice that Morgan's mood is unusually good today.]

[But this doesn't seem like the kind of emotion one should have at this time.]

[You feel that something is wrong.]

[You decide to investigate further.]

"Princess, you seem to be in a really good mood today," Ian asked respectfully.

"Really?"

Morgan gently pinched Ian's index finger.

"Do I seem happy?"

"At least, happier than a few days ago," Ian answered honestly. "That makes me happy too."

"..."

Morgan smiled gently—she didn't seem to intend to hide her thoughts from Ian.

"Perhaps I've found some reason for it."

"A reason?"

"Yes." Morgan turned her gaze outward, looking at the moon.

"The selection of a new king for Britannia, the knights are all eager, but no one has shown enough ability to inherit Britannia."

"Perhaps the king who will lead Britannia was never meant to be chosen. Even our children are not qualified for that."

"Then—"

Morgan lifted her head, her slightly moist lips revealing words from deep within her heart.

"I am still the one closest to the throne, right?"

"..."

Fairly speaking, although Morgan's tone wasn't much different from usual, Ian could clearly sense the madness in her words.

The fact that she had Gawain and some of the other children try to draw their swords might not have been meant to prove their skills.

It was likely to assert that neither they nor she were chosen by the fate of Britannia.

If viewed this way—

Gawain's repeated attempts might have frustrated her, while someone like Agravain, who barely touched his sword, might be the one deserving of favor.

This was an obsession so deep it had become twisted.

But Ian couldn't bring himself to despise Morgan—he had seen her struggle with everything she had, only to be continuously discarded by fate.

Those were experiences enough to break anyone's heart.

And so, he understood her.

"Yes, Princess."

Ian bowed and placed a soft kiss on Morgan's lips.

"You are the one closest to the throne, and you will eventually sit upon it."

"Then let me experience that joy first." Morgan leaned back, looking at the knight standing behind her.

"Before the sun rises, I want you to be as strong as ever."

"That is a given, Princess."

[So, you didn't speak Artorius's words.]

[A night song of the princess echoed by the window, pure yet full of desire.]

[You and Morgan had an enjoyable night.]

[The next day, you arrived as promised amidst chaos and unease.]

Gawain's mood at this moment was rather complex.

As the eldest son, he had long been aware of the blessing he received from his mother.

It was a physical enhancement related to the number "3."

During the three hours from 9 AM to noon, and the three hours from 3 PM until sunset, his strength would be greatly enhanced during this period.

So—

This was the best time to meet the expectations of his parents.

However, in reality, Gawain realized he was completely unable to do this.

He was indeed stronger during these hours, but this newfound strength didn't translate into the power to draw the sword.

Gawain found that simply touching the sword embedded in the stone would trigger a mysterious voice in his head.

"Gawain, you are indeed strong."

"But that is not the reason you should draw this sword."

It was a voice that Gawain felt somewhat familiar with. He had the impression he'd heard it somewhere before, but couldn't quite place it.

Still, even with that, he couldn't give up.

That would go against the spirit that a knight should have.

Move forward.

Reach out.

Try once more to draw the sword.

Once again, Gawain heard that familiar voice.

He chose to ignore it all—what mattered most now was not disappointing his parents.

"Come on—!"

Gawain used all his strength.

But the sword still didn't budge in the stone.

As expected, once again, failure.

He would try again this afternoon!

Gawain released the grip on the hilt of the sword.

Despite the repeated failures, he absolutely refused to give up.

However—

As he stepped down from the stone pedestal, Gawain stared at the sword embedded in the stone.

It had been many days since the Magus named Merlin announced the "evidence of the red dragon."

During this time, many knights had attempted to draw the sword, but all had failed in the same manner.

If—

If only—

If someone truly could draw the sword from the stone, what kind of person would they be?

Would they be as courageous as his father?

Or someone with the same noble aura as his mother?

Gawain didn't know which one was right—but he found there was a faint hope within him.

[Gawain seems a bit distracted.]

[You approach him.]

[He notices your presence.]

[The two of you step away from the sword embedded in the stone.]

"Father…" Gawain says hastily, "Why are you here?"

"Father…"

Realizing that Gawain had failed once again to draw the sword and was feeling embarrassed about it, Ian reached out and gently patted his shoulder.

"It's alright."

"Although you haven't succeeded, it's still a good challenge."

"I'm proud of your effort, Gawain."

"Father…"

Gawain felt deeply grateful—though his father was often strict, at times like this, he displayed the softness of a man of steel.

However, this did not make him forget the doubts he had harbored for so long.

"Father, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, my boy."

"It's about—"

Gawain looked at the sword embedded in the stone in front of him.

"Didn't you say before that the red dragon in the future would become a great enemy to you and mother?"

"So if that's the case, why are you and mother supporting this?"

Indeed, the eldest son was the most exceptional among all his siblings.

Gawain noticed the contradiction between what had been said before and what was happening now.

However, Ian was not afraid of these questions—he had thought everything through in advance.

"Gawain, you are right."

"The red dragon may indeed become an enemy to your mother and me in the future, but before that happens, we need to think about the safety of all of Britannia right now."

"Safety right now?"

"Exactly." Ian nodded, "Compared to the difficulties that may arise in the future, the current situation cannot be overlooked."

"The white dragon are still rampaging across the kingdom, and we need someone who can deal with these issues."

[Your words seem to have a significant impact on Gawain.]

[He falls into deep thought.]

[You don't say anything more on the matter.]

[Because you know Gawain will understand everything in his own way.]

Moreover, your purpose for this trip was not to lecture him as a father.

Ian quietly observed the sword embedded in the stone.

He couldn't forget Morgan's face when she peacefully slept, knowing that no one could draw the sword.

He didn't want to spoil her good mood, so he chose to come here alone.

Ian didn't believe Artorius could draw the sword, but he was also concerned about the slim possibility of that happening.

If—

If she truly could draw the sword from the stone, what would happen to the future of him and Morgan?

Ian couldn't predict it at all.

[What is meant to happen will happen.]

[The figure of Artorius appears not far away.]

[Unlike the youthful appearance she showed in front of you, she now looks much more resolute.]

[Though still carrying a sense of grace, it's enough to leave a strong impression of a heroic aura.]

[However, upon seeing you, she once again reveals the youthful energy typical of a young girl.]

[She smiles at you.]

[And you respond with a fake smile.]

[But you don't know that—this encounter will change the future for all of you.]

[The bitter, thorn-covered fruits are now beginning to sprout new buds.]

Ian has arrived.

Artorius feels her heart pounding erratically.

In truth, after saying those words yesterday, she hadn't been able to settle her mind.

Having Ian witness her efforts was a good thing.

But what if he hadn't come?

What if he hadn't cared at all about the invitation she had sent? How would she face that situation?

Honestly—

Artorius realized that she hadn't really thought everything through.

She had acted impulsively, like a squirrel stumbling upon a nut, like a fawn discovering a new sprout.

Fortunately, the outcome had met her expectations.

Artorius felt a surge of strength coursing through her entire body.

Her gaze shifted back to the sword standing firmly in the stone, her emerald eyes reflecting the light like a forest, filled with the image of the blade.

In fact, Artorius had another name.

That was her true name—

Artoria.

It was the name she had been called in her dreams while training long ago.

At first, she hadn't understood why she had to hide this name.

Until a few days ago, when Ector revealed the secret that he wasn't her biological father, but merely the one entrusted with her care.

Artorius, or rather, Artoria, had finally realized that the fate she carried within her might not be as simple as she once thought.

Thus, she entered the city and shared her thoughts with Ian.

The young woman moved toward the sword and discovered something even more astonishing.

She saw that the sword was exactly like the one she had seen in her dreams, and even the patterns on it were unchanged.

She was familiar with the sensation of gripping it, and she knew exactly what the part hidden in the stone looked like.

She could feel the sword calling her name with a wordless summons, so much so that even the ground beneath her feet began to tremble in response.

Then, the gaze from the sword—more intense than any call—looked at her.

The girl realized that this was the sword she had to draw.

She steadied her emotions and reached out for the sword.

Just as her hand was about to touch the hilt—

The voice that had always cautioned her in her dreams sounded again.

"Artoria."

"Have you really thought this through?"

"Once you draw the sword from the stone, your life will take a different path."

"You will gain many things, but you will also lose many things."

"In the end, what awaits you might be countless regrets, or a lifetime of curses."

"Becoming a king means no longer being human."

"Even so, do you still want to draw the sword?"

"If you had told me these words sooner, perhaps I would have given up."

"But not now."

A multitude of smiling faces that she had seen along her journey flashed through her mind.

"Everyone is smiling... that must be the right thing."

"However—"

A flicker of doubt briefly appeared in her resolute eyes.

"Because if I can gain something, then please, let me hold onto my feelings for Sir Ian."

"What?!"

The voice sounded frantic—seemingly unable to fathom this turn of events.

But it was too late to stop all of this.

The stone shattered.

The sword revealed itself.

The girl had drawn the sword that no one had ever managed to, and she pointed it toward the sky above.

---------------------------

Yorokobe, gourmet readers, from now on the chapter length will be doubled, muahahahaha