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

Chapter 86. A Midsummer Night's Dream Woven from Intertwined Memories

[This is a world where you cannot exist as a "human being."]

[But at the same time, this is also the world you have longed to see.]

[The fates of everyone are quietly shifting toward the direction you desire.]

"King, are you truly serious?"

Gawain stared at the teal-colored sword Artoria handed to him, utterly astonished.

"You wish to entrust me with this Excalibur Galatine?"

"Indeed," Artoria nodded.

"I want to give it to you."

"But this is the Holy Sword from the lake, isn't it?" Gawain found it utterly unbelievable.

"Why would you give it to someone like me?"

"Sir Gawain, do you wish to hear the truth?"

"Of course, my King."

"Very well—"

Artoria gazed at Gawain before her, her green eyes filled with complicated emotions.

"Truly, I have no compelling reason to give this sword to you."

"It's just that I feel, for this sword, this is the best outcome."

"..."

Sensing the sorrow in Artoria's gaze, Gawain ceased his objections.

"I understand."

"If the King has said so, I shall treasure this sword."

[Artoria returned to Camelot as a victor.]

[Everyone welcomed her return.]

[Yet she always felt the absence of a figure she should have seen.]

[But the more she searched, the more elusive the result became.]

[The entirety of the Knights of the Round Table was alive, each one moving toward a bright future of their own.]

As if the goal had never changed.

"King, you have triumphed completely. I wish to continue my journey in search of the Spear of Longinus."

"Very well."

"Britannia will forever protect you, Sir Percival. You will undoubtedly find that Holy Spear."

Like the flow of sweet love.

"King, I must return to France. I will tell the people that you are a great and courageous monarch."

"Moreover, I have a request that I hesitate to voice."

"What is it?"

"May I ask if you could attend my wedding to Guinevere? I wish to formally bring her back to France."

"Of course, Sir Lancelot. I will bless the two of you as your King."

Like a challenge beginning anew.

"King, it seems I have lost a goal I must surpass."

"In the coming years, I wish to reflect on everything along the road ahead."

"If that is your desire."

"Then go, Sir Palamedes."

Like a perspective that completely transforms.

"King, it seems you have come to understand the hearts of people."

"No, Sir Tristan."

"I still do not understand."

Like a Family Growing Closer.

"Brother Gawain, Brother Gaheris, the King is over there!"

"Gareth, don't be so rude!"

"It's fine, Sir Gawain."

"At her age, a young lady ought to have this kind of liveliness."

"But if possible—"

"I hope that next time, Sir Agravain can be by your side as well."

"He is your brother too, isn't he?"

Like Familiar Frugality

"Artoria, the military expenses for this month have severely exceeded the budget again!"

"Even though, for some reason, crops have been growing abnormally fast lately, and the fish in the river are unimaginably plump, we still can't afford such wastefulness!"

"I'm sorry for troubling you."

"But rest assured, very soon, there will no longer be any budget overruns because of me."

Like Unwavering Loyalty

"King, are you truly a woman?"

"I'm sorry, Sir Bedivere, for hiding this from you for so long."

"No, there's no need for the King to apologize."

"Even as a woman, you have elevated Camelot to unprecedented heights; this is something that deserves to remain a secret forever."

"It will no longer be a secret, Sir Bedivere."

"I am tired."

[Another year of abundant harvests.]

[The faces of Camelot's people were filled with joy, and their respect for King Arthur grew even greater.]

[But no one could have anticipated what would happen next.]

[The revered and admired king stood atop a newly repaired wall, letting her long, silky golden hair blow freely in the wind, and revealed the truth: she was a woman.]

[This was a shocking revelation.]

[The people were frightened.]

[The people were confused.]

[Even the Knights of the Round Table experienced internal unrest.]

[Yet, the final outcome was unexpectedly calm.]

The people of Camelot were not fools.

They all saw clearly how life under Artoria's rule had been.

If everyone could continue to live good lives—

Then whether the king was a man or a woman truly did not matter.

As long as everything remained as it was before, that was enough.

But Artoria could not accept this kindness.

She no longer wished to be this king.

Of course, she wasn't irresponsible enough to abandon Camelot.

After arranging all matters for a smooth transition—

Artoria personally placed the crown on Morgan's head.

"May you rule long and peacefully," she sincerely blessed her successor.

"The Knights of the Round Table will forever protect you."

This marked the end of the legend of King Arthur, but it was also the beginning of a new chapter for Camelot.

[Artoria abdicated not just because she felt tired.]

[She had things she wanted to experience.]

[Namely, to continue living in this world as "a human being."]

[Then, as her first step—she decided to return the Sword of Promised Victory and Avalon to the lake.]

[The young woman, riding on Dun Stallion, made her way back to the village of her youth.]

[After learning of Ector's passing, she placed flowers on his grave and wept deeply.]

[She adjusted her emotions and continued on her journey, heading toward the sacred lake from long ago.]

[The very place where she had once borrowed the Holy Sword.]

The World Will Not Stop for Anyone

The wind continues to blow as it always has.

The water flows as it always does.

The forests remain lush, and the meadows verdant.

Artoria, dressed in white, brought her horse to a halt.

She dismounted and ventured deeper into the forest.

The area, blessed by the spirits of the lake, exuded an unparalleled sense of serenity.

With every breath, her body felt lighter and more at ease.

And yet—

Artoria couldn't explain why a faint sadness lingered within her.

The deeper she went, the stronger that feeling grew.

But it didn't last long—

Because that sadness was soon replaced by surprise.

At the lake nestled deep in the forest, Artoria saw someone she hadn't expected to find there.

It was Morgan.

She was sitting by the lakeshore, her gaze contemplative as she stared into the still, mirror-like water.

The crown, the symbol of Camelot's supreme authority, lay silently on the grass beside her.

"..."

After a moment of hesitation, Artoria decided to greet her.

"Morgan."

"Hmm?"

Hearing the somewhat familiar voice, Morgan turned her head.

The moment she saw Artoria, her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she quickly regained her composure.

Camelot was entirely in her hands now.

Artoria hadn't even requested any title or privilege she could have rightfully claimed.

To continue hating her now would be utterly shameless.

"So, it's you, Artoria."

"I didn't expect to meet you in a place like this."

"I should be the one asking you that," Artoria replied. "How did you know about this lake, the place where one can borrow the Holy Sword?"

"This is where I was born, of course I know about it."

"..."

"..."

Artoria and Morgan gazed at each other in silence.

The resemblance in their features made them feel the unspoken regrets hidden in each other's eyes.

"Shall we sit and talk for a while?"

Morgan shifted to the side, making room.

"You must have a little time to spare."

"Yes, of course."

Artoria gently gathered her dress and sat beside Morgan.

She looked at the lake and smiled faintly.

"It seems that for you, the pressure of being a ruler is virtually non-existent."

"It's manageable."

Morgan's slender fingers delicately traced the crown beside her.

"After all, I've always thought about things like this."

"And when I finally held it in my hands, it turned out to be far simpler than I had imagined."

"Is that so?"

Artoria hugged her knees to her chest.

"Is this what it means to achieve what you've always wanted?"

"..."

After a brief silence, Morgan let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"Not exactly."

"When I sat on the throne, I realized my desire wasn't really about the throne itself."

"I just didn't want to be forgotten."

"The throne was merely a means to that end."

"But what about you—"

Morgan turned to look at Artoria beside her, her eyes filled with curiosity as she observed Artoria's white dress.

"I've never seen you like this."

"Abandoning the throne seems to suit you better, doesn't it?"

"Maybe a little."

A flicker of complex emotion passed through Artoria's eyes.

"But not as much as I had imagined."

"It's just that my mind feels a bit clearer compared to before."

"Is that so?"

Morgan gave a bitter smile.

"Then I guess I've done you a favor."

"Perhaps." Artoria shrugged. "At least for now."

"..."

"..."

The atmosphere once again fell into silence.

Neither knew how to continue the conversation, but the quiet brought an unexpected sense of peace.

After a long pause, Morgan finally spoke again:

"Artoria."

"What is it?"

"It's nothing. I just hope that when you have time, you'll return to Camelot."

"Why?"

"Because—"

Morgan's voice carried a hint of melancholy.

"I want you to take Mordred, my youngest daughter, as your adopted child."

"Consider it an exchange for giving Excalibur Galatine to Gawain."

"..."

This was clearly a lie.

Artoria remained silent for a moment before asking the question that had always puzzled her:

"And what about Mordred? Would she agree?"

"I think she would." Morgan explained, "She and I can't get along."

"If it's you, I believe things might turn out differently."

"But I have no experience raising children," Artoria gently refused.

"Yet if things stay the way they are now, you'll never have the chance anyway, will you?"

Morgan didn't hesitate to point out Artoria's situation.

"Why not take this opportunity to try?"

"..."

At this point, Artoria no longer refused.

"I understand."

"As long as Mordred doesn't object, I'll take her in."

"But I have one question."

"What question?"

"Who is her father?"

Artoria gazed intently at Morgan.

"You've never mentioned who your husband is."

"..."

Morgan lowered her eyes to her hands, a profound longing reflected in her expression.

"I can't even remember who he is anymore."

"I only know that he was someone very important to me."

"He would whisper sweet words in my ear, tell me I was more beautiful than flowers, as beautiful as flowers, or even less beautiful than flowers."

"He would hold my waist and greedily inhale my scent by my ear."

"He was a stiff, foolish man—clearly still infatuated, yet if I told him to stop, he'd actually stop."

"It was amusing to torment someone like that. Watching him want to move but not daring to, I felt an inexplicable thrill."

"But he betrayed me."

"I told him not to leave, and yet he left."

Morgan's genuine nostalgia stirred something deep within Artoria.

Unable to resist, she also revealed a deeply hidden part of her heart.

"I too had someone very important, yet I can no longer remember who he is."

"His body was strong, and his voice was incredibly warm."

"He liked to drink wine in strange ways, yet never once got drunk."

"He was deceitful—always saying he was happy, yet every time I wanted to feel his warmth, it was exceedingly difficult."

"He thought I didn't know anything, but in truth, I knew everything."

"Then, Artoria, you must have hated someone so deceitful, didn't you?" Morgan asked.

"No."

Artoria shook her head.

"I miss him deeply."

"Even though he deceived me, I still miss him."

"I want to see him again."

Morgan was silent for a moment, then nodded.

"I feel the same."

"I miss him too."

"If only we could see him one more time."

Hope gradually flowed between their conversation.

The sisters, once as opposed as fire and water, now sat on the grass by the lake, reminiscing about someone the world had forgotten.

New aspirations intertwined between the new king and the former king.

The forest by the lake, which had witnessed countless miracles, once again became the gathering place for countless spirits.

Like flickering firefly lights, they collected fragments of a forgotten world shaped by the heartfelt memories.

If they could no longer exist as "humans,"

Then—

Let them respond to the midsummer dreams of Britannia's twin kings as "spirits."

With that thought, a figure emerged on the forest path.

"Morgan."

"Artoria."

"It's been a long time."

"And—"

"I've missed you both."