Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator

"My dear sister, my witch sister, are you truly afraid of that little Red Dragon?" Kaelar's words were sweet, his expression serious as he continued, "The greatest Lady Morgan in the world—don't you have any confidence in yourself?"

"Hmph, the same old flattery—I'm immune to it!"

Morgan was unmoved. She had heard these words before, and without a fresh reason, she wouldn't teach him anything. Absolutely not. Even if he said "Morgan is the cutest in the world," she still wouldn't teach him!

Morgan was Uther's daughter, the rightful ruler of the Isle of Britain. The throne was hers by birthright.

But—

Morgan was the savior of the fairies, a daughter Uther claimed through a ritual. Both Uther and Merlin deemed her unfit to rule.

At least, she wasn't the 'perfect king' Uther and Merlin envisioned.

Uther sought Merlin's counsel, asking what made a "flawless king." Merlin, lacking human emotions and ignorant of human nature, could only search human history for a ruler who met Uther's criteria.

Finally, Merlin found one: Solomon, the King of Magic.

And so, Merlin answered Uther—

A perfect king must be a tool without blood, tears, heart, love, hatred, or fear. A ruler whose only concern was the nation, who would even let his own family perish if it meant the country's survival—that was a true king.

Morgan could never be that. She felt joy and sorrow, was swayed by hatred and anger, and drawn by love and passion...

That wasn't Merlin's ideal ruler. It wasn't Uther's vision of a perfect king.

Now, Uther was the rightful king of humans on the Isle of Britain, with Merlin as his court mage and leader of the Celtic Druids. Together, they controlled the throne and the narrative of Britain.

In terms of power and influence, Morgan couldn't rival Uther or Merlin.

Her deep blue eyes fixed on Kaelar, and though her voice was defiant, her heart said otherwise. She still wanted Kaelar's praise.

Or rather, she longed for recognition.

As a potential ruler, Morgan yearned for the acknowledgment of her people.

Especially from nobles like Kaelar, who formed the essential support base for any ruler.

So, if I desire and acknowledge him, it doesn't mean I'm betraying my own principles.

Fine, I'll humor her, Kaelar thought to himself. Clearing his throat, he began his speech: "Why is Lady Morgan a goddess? First, for the sin of pride—"

...

After delivering a long monologue, Kaelar concluded, "In short, Lady Morgan is the cutest in the world! She's my favorite witch sister. Since the day I was born, I've been a loyal fan of Morgan—with utmost conviction!"

In the modern era, Kaelar's words might have gotten him labeled a fanboy worthy of execution, but in the Age of Gods, when facing a rural witch who had never seen the outside world, his words were a devastating blow.

Eh... Ehh...

Gulp—

How could anyone say something like that with such sincerity?

It's so embarrassing...

But... give me more!

Morgan's gaze remained cold and distant as she sat there, appearing calm, though in reality, her mind had gone blank for a while.

It took her a long time to regain her composure.

"Whew... Is my veil still intact?" Morgan had the urge to touch her cheeks to see if they were burning, but she had to maintain her mystique and dignity as a great witch.

Damn it, he's just a little knight, yet he's so good at sweet-talking!

If Morgan knew that Kaelar still had a stash of heartfelt essays in reserve, she might not have felt this way. Perhaps tearing Kaelar to pieces would have been a more suitable option?

Years ago, following a prophecy, Morgan had come to Maple Ridge.

Unlike Merlin's prophetic dreams, Morgan's visions were both clear and obscure—guiding her to Maple Ridge but leaving the details for her to uncover.

After all, it was the power of peering into fate; it would never be straightforward.

Shortly after her arrival, Morgan discovered that the little Red Dragon—hidden away by Merlin and Uther—was growing up right here with the boy standing before her.

Morgan wasn't a fool. She immediately realized that this was Uther's plan—preparing a support base for his 'perfect king.'

But by the time she figured it out, she had already taught Kaelar quite a bit. If aiding the enemy was a done deal, a little more teaching wouldn't make much difference... right?

Oddly enough, though Morgan harbored deep disdain, even hatred, for both Uther and her younger sister, she never entertained the thought of killing Arthur.

Perhaps, without even realizing it, Morgan—the fairy savior and one of Avalon's Nine Queens—had already been assimilated into the Celtic way of life.

For the Celts of Britain, blood and clan were their most cherished bonds. Every Celt took pride in the honor of their clan and family name.

Sigh... Morgan took a deep breath, thinking to herself, One more day. I'll leave tomorrow and seek out Vortigern. That guy would never pass up a chance to crush Uther's chosen successor!

Vortigern.

Uther's elder brother, who had drunk the blood of a cursed dragon and transformed into the White Dragon of calamity, the embodiment of Britain's will.

Vortigern understood that the Age of Gods was ending in Britain.

Uther's solution was, "I can't explain it to you, so I'll raise a perfect king to handle it," while the fairies opted for, "The Age of Gods is over—let's sink Britain into the Inner Sea of the Stars before it's too late!"

If Uther was the conservative faction and the fairies the escapists, then Vortigern was the faction of scorched earth.

As the embodiment of Britain, Vortigern's stance was: "If Britain is destined to be corrupted by mainland human civilization, then I'd rather turn it into hell myself."

No wonder, despite being a handsome White Dragon, Vortigern was reviled as the "Dragon of Calamity, Devourer of Light."

Resolute, Morgan calmed herself and said, "Kaelar, your martial prowess is impeccable, your command in battle outstanding. As a follower of the Red Dragon, you are already worthy."

"What else do you want to learn?"

"Magic!" Kaelar's response was immediate and emphatic. Whether in 1990 or in the Age of Gods on Britain's Isle, Kaelar never forgot that humanity's fate was sealed. Whatever he aimed to achieve, he first needed knowledge and power.

And as far as supernatural power was concerned, magic was the most crucial knowledge he needed.

"Magic...? Very well." Morgan, who had already taught him so much, figured one more lesson wouldn't matter. She nodded in agreement.

"But remember—why do you seek magic?"

Kaelar's smile was pure and natural, a smile that seemed foolish but in that instant felt eternal, embedding itself in Morgan's heart, never to be forgotten.

"Morgan... my witch sister, I want to learn magic. I want to wield a power that surpasses the natural."

Kaelar's tone was gentle but firm: "I want to save Britain... I want to save the Celts... I also want to save the Saxons."

"Morgan, there's something wrong with this world. They're all wrong, all of them..."

Kaelar's voice was calm, "So, I will show them what is right."

"...I do not understand what you mean by right or wrong," Morgan chuckled, shaking her head. "But I will teach you. Don't ask why... I will stay for ten days. Learn what you can during that time."

Maybe it was his sweet words, or maybe that smile, or the potential for some amusement, or perhaps it was simply that Kaelar was easy on the eyes...

In any case, for a witch of ill-repute, does it matter what deeds she commits?