"Merlin, don't ever do that again. Artoria's life is already difficult enough as it is; don't make her life even harder," I reminded him sternly.
"What exactly do you mean by that, Your Highness?" Merlin inquired, feigning ignorance as if he didn't understand the weight of my words.
I silently clenched my fist, feeling anger bubble up inside me at his blatant pretense.
Is this the legendary Sage in the story?
Is this how he truly treats Artoria?
He shows her no respect, nor does he obey her as his rightful king. Instead, he treats her as nothing more than a puppet under his control.
Is this Merlin's true face?
Why did he even bother to crown Artoria as king if he never trusted her in the first place?
Why did he go to such lengths—setting up the Sword in the Stone, training her from infancy as a savior and king—if he could never place his faith in her?
What is the point of all of this?
As the thoughts swirled in my head, I suddenly loosened my clenched fist, recalling something that made me pause.
"You wanted entertainment, didn't you, Merlin?" I spat, my voice sharp with resentment. "Well then, I'll give you the grand performance you want. But don't you dare treat her like that again! She is neither your puppet nor your toy! She is your king!"
In a fit of anger, I grabbed his collar, pulling him close, my fury palpable.
Yet, despite my outburst, Merlin simply grinned—a grin so unsettling it bordered on predatory.
"So be it, then," he replied, his tone infuriatingly calm. "I'll be looking forward to this grand performance of yours, King Arthur."
With effortless ease, he loosened my grip from his collar, his grin never faltering. "But for now, let's focus on more pressing matters, shall we? Your knights must be worried by now. We've been gone for nearly a week, and no doubt they've been searching for us everywhere."
His voice, so calm and composed, irked me, but I nodded in agreement, as if pretending the previous confrontation had never happened.
Side by side, we walked under the night sky, admiring the beauty of the stars.
They didn't appear in the future, after all—where the sky was masked by the dull veil of pollution.
The air was purer here, fresher, a stark contrast to the toxic atmosphere of modern times.
I could have enjoyed this peaceful night much more, if not for Merlin's presence beside me, his smug expression still plastered across his face. There was no guilt, no shame, no hint of regret for what had happened—only that insufferable grin.
His smugness made me realize just how dangerous and depraved this man truly was.
How could I trust someone like him?
He was supposed to assist Artoria, not control her.
Yet here he was, showing no remorse for his past actions.
If he could treat Artoria this way—Artoria, whom he had raised since she was a child—what might he do to me, a mere stranger in his eyes?
Would he toy with me as well? Make me his puppet, just like her?
There was a high possibility of that, especially considering he didn't even treat Artoria, the rightful king, with any respect.
No matter the answer, I would never allow Merlin to overstep his bounds when it came to Artoria or the crown.
Even though the atmosphere around us seemed serene, there was no denying the lingering tension.
It hadn't dissipated—it was merely lying beneath the surface, waiting to erupt again.
Just as I found myself thinking that this would last forever, the rhythmic sound of horse hooves abruptly interrupted my thoughts, drawing my attention as the knights dismounted gracefully from their steeds.
Then came the pretty boy with green eyes and pale platinum, or maybe blonde hair—I couldn't quite tell. It was already midnight, and I couldn't clearly make out his appearance. The only thing I could see was that the man had suddenly knelt before me.
"My king, where have you been lately? We have searched for you everywhere, but found nothing. I'm glad that we've finally found you."
I couldn't help but feel suspicious. Could they really not distinguish between Artoria and me? My eyes were blue, not green like Artoria's.
"His name is Bedivere, my king," Merlin whispered to me.
I nodded and extended my hand to help him rise.
"Stand up, Sir Bedivere. I've simply been taking a walk with Merlin and encountered a nun. She's someone I'm quite interested in hiring at the castle," I said, making up an excuse without missing a beat.
"Where is your horse, my king?" Bedivere asked cautiously, scanning the area but finding nothing. His gaze returned to me, filled with concern.
"Stolen," I replied nonchalantly.
"How could that be? Who would dare steal the king's horse?" Bedivere's hand clenched around the hilt of his sword, his expression filled with anger.
I took a step back, slightly startled by his overreaction.
Of course, I quickly gathered myself and calmed down when I realized Bedivere mean no harm.
"We'll deal with the horse thief later, Sir Bedivere," I said, patting his shoulder to signal him to calm down. "For now, I'm hungry, thirsty, and in dire need of a nice hot bath."
Whether he understood or not, I left it to fate to decide.
"Oh, and let me share something good with you. After all, I really do appreciate your coming."
At that moment, I began rummaging through my bag for the potato chips I had. Opening the bag, I picked up a chip and offered it to Bedivere. He eyed it warily, his calm composure faltering. He gulped as the aroma of barbeque-flavored chips filled the air around us. I couldn't help but smile as the growling of our stomachs echoed in the silence of the night.
"My king... Are you absolutely sure this is safe?" Benivere hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on the potato chip with drooling anticipation.
"If you don't want it, then I'll eat it myself." I said. Without giving Benivere a chance to react or snatch it from me, I hurriedly shoved the potato chip into my mouth, my growing hunger and uncontrollable craving for the crispy snack overwhelming any sense of patience.
Benivere awkwardly stepped back, trying to mask his discomfort. He glanced at the nearby knight and, with a subtle wink, signaled him.
The knight nodded and reached for the horse's reins.
"Since there's no other horse available, how about using this one for now, my king?"
"Thanks, Benivere," I replied with a nod.
As a playful gesture, I tossed the last remaining potato chip at him, mounted the horse, and seized control of the reins.
"Think of it as a reward. Woah—! What the hell?!"
Without warning, the horse took off, galloping uncontrollably as I clung desperately to its neck.
"My king!" Benivere's voice echoed behind me, laced with genuine concern.
The wind whipped against my face with such intensity that it nearly knocked the breath out of me.
Over the roar of the wind, I could barely hear the sound of hooves thundering behind me, and Benivere's frantic shouts grew louder.
No matter how hard I pulled on the reins, the horse refused to slow down, galloping faster and faster as if possessed. It seemed like it had no intention of stopping anytime soon.
Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, the horse reared up, lifting its front hooves high into the air, attempting to throw me off.
But I clung desperately to its neck, refusing to let go. I wouldn't give in so easily. With every ounce of strength I had, I kept choking the reins, determined not to fall.
Despite my efforts, we both eventually crashed to the ground, the force of the fall knocking the wind out of me.
My head slammed hard against the cold hard ground, and in that moment, everything faded to black.
.
.
.
When I awoke from my fall, it felt as if I had ascended to the heavens themselves.
A profound sense of peace enveloped me, especially in my head, despite the recent fall from my horse.
I can't quite find the perfect words to describe this sensation, but it was as though my mind had been unshackled from a heavy burden.
The constant, throbbing headache that had plagued me for so long had vanished, replaced by an extraordinary lightness, a weightlessness I had never before experienced in my life.
Instinctively, I let out a groan of satisfaction, unable to contain the relief coursing through me.
"Are you awake, Your Highness?"
The soft voice of a woman reached my ears, and I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my vision.
"You are...?" I asked, my voice groggy as I struggled to focus.
My vision was blurred, and I found it difficult to make out the identity of the girl who cradled my head on her lap, gently massaging my temples with her soft, tender hands.
"Do you not remember who I am, Your Highness?" she asked, a hint of playful amusement in her tone. "I am Francesca Prelati."
"Francesca Prelati... Francesca Prelati... Ah, yes! I remember now," I exclaimed, surprise flashing across my face as I finally recognized her. "You're that nun!"
I tried to sit up, but the moment I moved, a wave of pain swept through my body, making me wince in discomfort. It felt like every muscle and bone in my body was screaming in protest, aching from the fall.
Sensing my pain, Francesca Prelati spoke again, her voice filled with calm reassurance.
"You should rest for a little longer, Your Highness. Allow me to take care of you."
With those words, her hands began to glow with a soft, white light that spread warmth throughout my body. As the light swept over my head and down my shoulders, the tension and pain melted away, and my muscles relaxed.
The sensation was so overwhelming, I nearly moaned again from the sheer pleasure of it. It was as if I were on the verge of an otherworldly release, like I could ascend to heaven itself, but it was merely a feeling. What I truly meant was that, after her healing touch, I felt comfortable and at peace, as though I had been reborn.
Unknowingly, I found myself rest on her thigh once again.
"Thank you, Francesca Prelati," I murmured, gratitude in my voice. "Are you not tired from letting my head rest on your lap for so long? Help me sit up; I don't want you to become uncomfortable on my behalf."
"It's no trouble at all, my king," she responded gently. "I could do this for half a day without tiring. Besides, it's only been two hours."
Two hours, and she's not even tired?
I was astonished. In the past, whenever I rested my head on my childhood friend's thigh, she would start complaining after just five minutes, insisting that she was both tired and uncomfortable.
Is this truly heaven?
A place where women are not only likable and gentle, but also possess incredible endurance and far better attitudes?
This must be heaven.
Yes, that had to be the explanation for my current circumstances.
"Hmm... You seem quite pleased about something, King Arthur," Francesca chuckled softly, her hands still working their magic on my temples, massaging with delicate precision.
"If you enjoy this, you may rest as much as you want," she added with a smile in her voice.
Yes, this must be heaven.
I couldn't help but accept her suggestion as I closed my eyes and rested on her soft thigh once again. Her hand continued to massage me gently, and she let out a soothing, unknown humming tone that filled the air around us.
The unfamiliar melody was one I had never heard before, yet it brought me a sense of peace the moment I heard it. It felt as if the song itself was a lullaby meant only for me.
She was no longer massaging my head, but instead, she began caressing my hairs, stroking them delicately as if she were handling something incredibly precious.
I couldn't understand why she went to such lengths just to ease my burdens, but her tenderness was undeniable.
Regardless of my confusion, I accepted her kindness.
With my eyes closed, I drifted off into a deep, comfortable sleep in her lap, feeling completely at ease.