Chapter 3: When the Sun Rises, You Will Die
The moonlight bathed Ian's rugged skin, outlining it in pristine white and accentuating the most flawless contours of his muscles.
Along with his candid, unfiltered words—
Even Morgan couldn't help but steal a few more glances at the knight who dared to remove his armor before her.
She adjusted her posture, regaining the icy composure befitting a princess as she faced Ian.
Despite her lingering intoxication, Morgan did not lose the commanding presence of royalty.
"You, a foolish knight, do you even know what you're saying?"
"Princess, of course I do." Ian did not shy away from her question. "If you didn't catch my words clearly, I can repeat them."
"Princess, if you desire it, I can give you a night of pleasure."
"But you're just a lowly knight."
Morgan fixed her gaze on Ian.
"How could you possibly understand the level of pleasure I require?"
"Princess, what I rely on is not an understanding of your expectations, but—"
Ian paused for a moment before continuing.
"It is my willingness to give everything I have to bring you the greatest pleasure I am capable of."
"If I fail to satisfy you, then it is proof of my incompetence, and I am naturally unworthy of the title of knight."
"But I would like to avoid such an outcome."
[Activating ability: Affinity.]
[Morgan begins to contemplate your words—clearly, they are beyond inappropriate and reek of vulgarity, yet she feels they reflect the absolute loyalty of a knight.]
[She hesitates.]
[She starts to think that perhaps a bit of pleasure could help her momentarily forget the pain of the banquet, and you, standing bare before her, are not a terrible option.]
[However, Morgan has not yet agreed to your proposition.]
[She has harsher ways to test loyalty.]
"You, foolish knight, your honesty is fleeting, not true courage."
Morgan spoke as she stepped down from the bed.
She, the Princess, walked barefoot to the side. The luxurious black gown from the banquet trailed on the floor, leaving uneven traces behind.
Reaching out, she grabbed a golden goblet from a high pedestal. The fine wine inside nearly spilled over from the motion.
Under Ian watchful gaze, Morgan gently bit the tip of her finger, letting blood drip into the surface of the crimson-purple liquid.
Drip.
The once-calm wine rippled, resonating deeply within Ian's heart.
Morgan stepped closer to him, extending the goblet in her hand. Her voice, cold and devoid of emotion, rang out:
"You, foolish knight, if you speak of loyalty, then surely you are ready to embrace death."
"Drink this cup to the last drop, and at sunrise, you will die."
"Of course, I offer you an alternative—admit that you lack true courage, that you are merely blinded by fleeting temptation."
"In that case, you may refuse this wine. But from this moment onward, you will no longer be a knight of Britannia."
"And the next time I see you, if your feet still stand on Britannian soil, I will kill you with my own hands."
Everything continued in motion.
[Morgan is not merely bluffing.]
[With the noble blood of the Britannian royal family, she, a princess, is also a powerful Magus.]
[She can ensure the prophecy of death at sunrise will be fulfilled without fail.]
[She does not believe you have the courage. Knights, after all, are just ordinary men.]
Gazing at the dark red wine and the nearly mocking expression in Morgan eyes, Ian simply smiled. Without hesitation, he took the goblet from her hand and drank it dry.
He upended the goblet, not a single drop remaining.
"Are you not afraid?!" Morgan stared at the empty cup, her expression twisting.
Her prediction could not be said to have entirely failed, but clearly, it no longer bore any relevance to the present.
"I am not joking with you—drink this wine, and you will die at sunrise!"
Hearing this, Ian burst into hearty laughter.
"Ha ha ha, Princess, I am well aware that you have no interest in joking with me."
"That is why this is my most sincere response—I fear death, but I fear even more not being able to die at the Princess's side as a knight."
"My life is fleeting, but if it can be traded for a single night of joy for the Princess, then death is a price well worth paying!"
Under Morgan astonished gaze, she felt herself fall back onto the bed.
No matter how intricate its craftsmanship, the splendid gown seemed fragile, tearing effortlessly at just the right moment.
Reality and fantasy intertwined, creating a vivid and surreal tableau.
[Morgan does not reject your words.]
[As a princess, a primal reaction surged from deep within her.]
[It seemed as though she truly needed something to release her burden, to forget the pains you could never fathom.]
[Though she tried to restrain herself, aware of how indulgent this moment was, she found herself unable to stop, caught in rapturous enjoyment.]
"Princess, it seems you are not resisting as much as I thought…"
"Say no more."
Morgan touched Ian hand resting on her waist, but her gaze remained regal, imbued with undeniable authority.
"You, foolish knight, before me, you have no right to speak."
"As you command, Princess."
[Morgan discovered immense pleasure from you.]
[She began to worry that you might die before providing her with enough satisfaction and secretly prepared to channel her Mana into you.]
[But she quickly realized it wasn't necessary; you were far more enduring than she had anticipated.]
[Talent "Energetic" activated.]
[Before Morgan, your energy is inexhaustible.]
[Being "dominated" by Morgan in this way did not leave you fatigued.]
[Morgan's gaze upon you changed.]
"You don't get tired, do you?"
Morgan gazed at Ian, who showed no sign of exhaustion. She sensed there was something extraordinary about him—after all, even she was beginning to feel drained.
"Princess, a knight will never feel weary in the presence of the one they serve with unwavering loyalty," Ian replied respectfully. "Only when you no longer need me will I rest."
Morgan did not respond to Ian's words.
She turned her gaze to the window.
Dawn had arrived. The sun was about to shine over Britannia once more, signaling the moment Ian was fated to die.
"Do you have no regrets?"
Morgan asked again.
"Your life is about to end, and all of it was traded for a fleeting moment of joy for me."
"I have no regrets," Ian replied firmly.
"..."
Silence. A profound stillness enveloped them.
"Kneel." Morgan suddenly commanded.
Uncertain of her intentions, Ian nonetheless knelt before her with the decorum of a knight.
"What is your name?"
"Ian."
"Ian," Morgan repeated coolly.
"I do not care for anyone—not even my own knights—so I will discard you whenever I deem it necessary."
"Even so, do you still wish to remain my knight?"
"Day after day, night after night," Ian replied without hesitation.
"Is that so… It seems I need to let you live, at least until the day I abandon you."
Morgan spoke and extended her hand toward Ian.
The sun shone once more over Britannia.
The princess, her bare figure illuminated by the morning light, performed a simple ritual of a hand-kiss, thereby acknowledging the most loyal knight she had ever known.