SWNOVELXO Chapter 42: 42. Just Because It Has Always Been That Way, Does That Make It Right?
The sky had cleared after the rain. Droplets of water, not yet dry, trickled down from the eaves, falling onto the streets of Camelot. The air had become fresh and clean; a single breath felt rejuvenating. But... More than the post-rain Camelot, Morgan was currently focused on something else. Her gaze shifted slightly downwards, landing on her hand, intertwined with Ian's. Right now... does this really count as a date?
"Big Sister Morgan." "I told you to call me 'Your Highness' when we're outside!" Morgan shot Ian a resentful glance. "What is it?" "I think... everyone is looking at us." "Wh-What?" A moment ago, she had been completely focused on her hand being held by Ian's, totally oblivious to her surroundings. After the rain, Britain had returned to its usual state, and the streets were naturally filled with people. They were whispering amongst themselves, their words sounding rather sharp and cruel.
"Isn't that the Princess? Why is she holding hands with another man?" "Nonsense—that's the man who drew the sword with King Arthur." "Oh?! So that's him?" "That's not it." "I hear this princess isn't much favored by King Uther." "Well that's not surprising then, is it."
"..." This was why Morgan disliked going out. Her status was simply too awkward. She was King Uther's eldest daughter, yet she had no right of succession to the throne. From a commoner's perspective, that naturally meant she was the eldest daughter despised by the King. These words were like sharp arrows piercing Morgan's heart. She turned away, looking deeply embarrassed.
"Wait for me—" Before Morgan could even respond to Ian's words, she saw him rush forward with a speed she never could have anticipated. In the next instant, the image of him lifting a person up with one hand entered her vision. "You-you, what are you doing?" "I want to kill you."
The boy's tone was cold and serious. His eyes were already a blood-red. It was a look that would make anyone who saw it know, without a doubt, that he was not joking. "Don't joke around!" "Even if it's you, you can't..." The man who had been shouting the loudest just moments ago was now unable to utter a single word, because Ian had him by the throat. "..." Realizing what was happening, Morgan quickly rushed to Ian's side. "Stop!" "Ian, you stop right now!" "..."
Glancing at Morgan, Ian's eyes gradually began to calm. The man fell to the ground, clutching his throat and gasping for air. "Th-Thank you." "Don't thank me. Just get lost," Morgan said coldly. "I wasn't trying to save you—" "..." Her tone was even colder than Ian's. The man who had narrowly escaped death quickly scrambled to his feet and ran, and the others who had been jeering at Morgan moments before immediately scattered like birds.
The street was quiet once again.
A few minutes later, back within the royal court of Camelot, Morgan and Ian returned after a rather dull walk. The moment they reached the top of the stone steps, Morgan rapped Ian on the head. "Do you have any idea what you did wrong?" "No." The knock had no effect on Ian; his physical durability was already dozens, if not hundreds, of times that of a normal person. "But, since you're saying so, I must have done something wrong." "..." Morgan sighed helplessly, then began to explain carefully. "Next time, don't be so direct. You... are supposed to become a knight, aren't you? If you always act like this, you certainly won't be very popular, and that will be troublesome." "But you really disliked hearing what they said," Ian said, looking directly at Morgan. "So, I had to act."
"It's not that I disliked it..." Morgan turned her face away. "You did," he insisted. "And you disliked it very much. Your Highness, you had already clenched your fist." "..." Only then did Morgan realize that since their hands were tightly clasped, he could instantly feel her body's reactions. This feeling of being so thoroughly understood made her a little uneasy. Next came her rebuttal.
"I'm already used to it. It's always been this way." "Just because it has always been that way, does that make it right?" "Because someone is used to being bullied, does that make it okay to say terrible things to them?" "Because someone is used to being lonely, is it right to mock them no matter what?" "I don't accept it," Ian stated firmly. "I absolutely do not accept it." The temperature of Ian's palm rose slightly. For a moment, even the sunlight shining around them seemed to grow a few degrees hotter.
"So, I had to act. Anyone who dares to speak to you like that again, I will kill them." Fierce. Savage. Willful. A torrent of words to describe Ian flashed through Morgan's mind. But in the end, only one remained. Heart-stirring.
Many people had mocked her, sneered at her. But no one had ever defended her like this. "You idiot, you really are—" Morgan, holding a loaf of bread she had just bought under the astonished gaze of the baker, shouted at Ian. She looked as if she was angry, but her eyes were full of joyous light. "Open your mouth." "I said, open your mouth!" "Ah—"
"There, you get it?" "..." The boy looked at Morgan with some confusion, but he still mimicked her and opened his mouth. However, what Ian didn't expect was— The moment he opened his mouth, Morgan, who had been holding the bread in her hand, instead put it between her lips. Before the boy could react, she pressed forward, pinning him against a stone pillar. In that instant, the bread was split in two between their mouths, and then swallowed by each. What followed was a natural, inevitable kiss.
However, Morgan, for all her bewitching charm, was not entirely pleased. She found that Ian's reaction was a bit too calm. The princess of Britain glared at his composed face. She felt a little indignant. To be this calm, even at a time like this. When he's biting me, he looks like he wants to swallow me whole. You greedy little monster... I'll have to show you what's what today. As she thought this, Morgan cupped Ian's face, preparing to show him what's what once more. She didn't realize that when she thought of Ian now, she was no longer thinking about how to get revenge on Artoria. She cared more about the knight in front of her who liked to bite her chest.
The loaf of bread fell to the ground. The round roll tumbled a good distance away, finally coming to a stop in front of someone. "What are you two doing?" Witnessing the scene before her, Artoria asked.
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