What did Morgan le Fay's lips taste like?
Staring into the breathtakingly beautiful face of the golden-haired woman in front him, at her seemingly casual question, Alvin felt somewhat dazed for a moment.
Well...
Artoria and Morgan le Fay, in truth, the pair of sisters were far too alike in appearance, even in figure.
However, their personalities were polar opposites... At the very least, Artoria would never say anything particularly sharp-tongued.
But Morgan was different... As a "genius" blessed with peerless beauty, arrogance ran deep in her bones.
And Morgan never bothered to hide that arrogance.
Of course, though she could be cutting with her words, the time spent with her had indeed been... wonderful.
Thinking of the white-haired beauty, a faint trace of nostalgia and emotion flickered in Alvin's eyes.
"It must have been such a wonderful time that even when you're with me, you still think of her?"
Until the sweet voice of Altria sounded, breaking the nostalgia and warmth of the past.
"It was a delightful experience, wasn't it? Sneaking kisses with your lover's elder sister while already in a relationship..."
Artoria tilted her head slightly, smiling. "That thrill of taboo must have been exhilarating, Alvin."
Her expression was gentle at the moment, her clear, beautiful eyes gazing at him tenderly. Yet in that moment, Alvin felt cold sweat trickling down his back.
To be honest, even if he were given another chance, he probably still wouldn't have been able to resist.
After all, this was Morgan le Fay we were talking about—wasn't living basically about Elder Sister?
If she decided to seduce someone personally, who on earth could resist that kind of temptation?
Well… certainly not Arvin.
Of course, it worked both ways.
If he had been with Morgan from the start and Artoria had come after him with that kind of intent, he wouldn't have been able to say no either.
After all, she was Artoria, probably his all-time favorite character.
Two sisters. Both breathtakingly beautiful. Both with mesmerizing figures. Total opposites in personality.
As a man of culture, how could he possibly choose?
Why give one up… when he could have both?
After all, it was just a game so, he didn't care much about it.
Of course, Artoria would never seduce someone as shamelessly as Sister Morgan.
But looking at the mature beauty standing in front of him now…Well, this version of her just might.
Fortunately, Artoria didn't press further on the topic. Or rather, before she could delve deeper, Alvin sighed and deftly shifted the conversation.
"Lily, do you remember when your relationship with Elder Sister began to deteriorate?"
Hearing his words, Artoria paused briefly, then quickly fell into quiet reflection.
After a long moment, a hint of nostalgia surfaced in her eyes as she murmured, "It was probably from the moment I pulled the sword from the stone and was confirmed as Father's successor to the throne."
In the very beginning, Morgan le Fay had also been an innocent noble girl... It was only after Artoria became king that Morgan began her descent into darkness.
Looking back now, Morgan had indeed caused her no small amount of trouble back then... During the "White Dragon Campaign," if not for Alvin willingly stepping forward to die, perhaps she would have been the one to perish instead.
At this thought, Artoria's gaze returned to the boy before her, and she suddenly asked in a low voice, "Why did you help me back then?"
Artoria still remembered that night before the White Dragon War"—how she had unwittingly drunk the elixir Morgan had brewed, how the "Oath of Fate EX" had sealed her powers… It had been an inescapable death trap.
Had Alvin led the Saxons into the palace that night, using the contract's power to restrain her… the throne of Camelot might have truly changed hands.
And Morgan le Fay would have become Queen, she'd always wanted at last.
However, faced with a crown and a beauty both within his grasp… he had instead chosen a path of certain death.
Even now, Artoria was haunted by that question.
Or perhaps it wasn't confusion, after all, she already knew the answer in her heart.
She just wanted to hear him say it himself.
"Does loving someone need a reason?"
And then, she heard the very words she had been waiting for.
Artoria froze for a moment before awkwardly averting her gaze.
"Such sweet talk won't work on me…"
Her voice was deliberately calm, but the faint blush dusting her noble cheeks betrayed her.
'Lily's entire body is soft except for that mouth of hers…' Alvin mused silently.
Then, Artoria whispered, "Do you… regret it? That throne could have been yours."
"Why would I? I never cared about power," Alvin answered without hesitation.
Not everyone craved authority, at the very least, he had no interest in ruling.
But for some reason, his response seemed to strike a nerve.
Artoria suddenly pressed down on his shoulders, reversing their positions in one smooth motion, pinning him beneath her as she straddled his waist.
"Don't worry, I'm not blaming you."
As if noticing Alvin's startled expression, she smiled faintly.
"My sister was once called the empire's greatest beauty. Men and women alike were captivated by her."
"I was just… curious."
'Yeah, right.' Alvin barely held back his sarcasm.
His instincts screamed that one wrong answer just now would have landed him in the dungeons ahead of schedule.
Artoria's voice softened. "But thinking back, I suppose I was greedy."
She had already been King Arthur.
She had known full well how her sister felt about him.
Yet she had kept Alvin by her side anyway.
Back then, she had everything, while Morgan had only her workshop and her schemes.
"Greedy about what…?"
Alvin's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Artoria gazed down at him, her expression tender.
Then, quietly, she admitted:
"If I could choose again… I might have left the sword in the stone."
"But it's too late for that now."
It wasn't for the sake of power, it was because of all the sacrifices made along the way.
Now, what she carried wasn't just the empire, but also the hopes of those in the royal palace.
"I never planned to ask you to give up the throne either."
Alvin grinned. "If you abandoned it now, the empire would plunge into chaos."
Hearing this, Artoria fell silent for a moment.
Then, with one hand braced against the couch behind him, she slowly leaned down.
Her golden hair cascaded like silk, framing a face so breathtakingly beautiful it seemed unreal as a soft smile touched her lips.
*Thump. Thump.*
As she drew closer, Alvin's heartbeat quickened, his gaze helplessly fixed on her noble, exquisite features.
Her warm breath, her slightly parted lips—
Their breaths mingled, the air between them thickening with tension.
And then, finally, she closed the distance, pressing her lips gently against his.
The kiss was tender at first, but soon grew deeper, their breaths growing ragged.
The sensation was so overwhelming that Alvin's mind briefly went blank.
But before he could fully savor the feeling, Artoria pulled away.
"...Sorry."
Her voice was low, almost reluctant.
"What are you apologizing for?"
Still feeling dazed by her passion, Alvin asked.
"At this point… I can't abandon my duty as king," she murmured softly.
"I know—"
But before he could finish, she added, "But I don't want to let you go, either."
Her head tilted slightly as she looked at his face and spoke in an unwavering tone.
"Being this greedy… I really am sorry."
Alvin stared at her feelings a bit speechless for a moment.
Her gentle eyes, the stray locks of hair brushing against her fair skin, the way her crimson lips contrasted with her usually regal demeanor, adding an indescribable allure.
For some reason, his pulse raced even faster.
Suddenly, Alvin reached up, gripping Artoria's shoulders, and before she could react, he flipped their positions, pressing the dignified queen back into the couch.
"Alvin, you—!"
Her eyes flew open in surprise, but his lips captured hers before she could protest.
At first, her body stiffened, then, gradually, she relaxed into the kiss.
The room filled with the sound of their mingled breaths, the atmosphere thick with desire.
.
.
.
Afternoon, Camelot Empire
In a secluded mage's workshop, Morgan le Fay lounged lazily on a plush divan, idly swirling a freshly brewed potion in her hand.
Her gaze occasionally flicked toward an enchanted mirror nearby.
Though her face was veiled by a sheer black scarf, her elegant figure alone was enough to betray her unparalleled beauty.
She wore an ornate court gown, its bodice and sleeves embroidered with intricate, luxurious patterns.
One slender, snow-white arm propped up her chin, while her other hand toyed with the vial.
Her long, shapely legs were sheathed in black stockings, the fabric subtly emphasizing the soft curves of her thighs.
Every movement exuded grace, her presence both noble and intoxicating.
With the tip of her toe, she absently hooked a pearlescent high heel, swinging it back and forth.
"How amusing."
A smirk curled her lips as she recalled recent events.
This batch of Transmigrators… Morgan had encountered a few of them already.
Most were magi, though their skills were laughably crude.
Compared to the magecraft of the Age of Gods, or even to Morgan's own arts, most modern magecraft could indeed only be called "inferior."
And yet, it was among these very same inferior magi that someone had managed to destroy her masterpiece.*
The Silver Knight—a homunculus infused with the blood of the White Dragon.
To defeat it, the culprit had to be among the strongest of the transmigrators.
However, strangely enough, Morgan le Fay wasn't angry.
If anything, she was quite intrigued.
'I wonder how Gareth is faring with her task—'
Knock.
Knock, knock, knock!
Just as the thought crossed her mind, a series of rapid knocks echoed from the door.
"Gareth? What's the rush?"
Morgan's brow arched slightly, but her voice remained calm. "Enter."
.
.