Morgan's clothes were all beautiful. Each piece, if not brimming with texture, at least felt magnificent. Any girl who possessed such a wardrobe would probably die of happiness.
However, faced with it, Artoria hesitated.
"Sister, this isn't appropriate. I... I shouldn't wear these."
Even as she said this, Artoria couldn't help but steal several glances at the clothes inside, as if looking at a lost dream. But what she didn't know was that Morgan had already anticipated this reaction.
She said directly, "What if I told you these are an essential part of your journey?"
"An essential part?"
"Yes." Morgan casually picked up an outfit and placed it on the bed. "If you travel as a king, you will only see a limited part of the world. You are the King; everyone fears you. How could they possibly show their truest selves to you? Only by disguising yourself, so that others don't recognize you, will you learn—" Morgan looked directly at Artoria, her gaze growing more and more serious, "—what the title of 'King' truly entails."
"..."
Morgan was speaking in a gentle tone, but Artoria felt as if she were facing immense pressure. Her breathing became somewhat difficult.
Suddenly—
"Try this one."
Ian took one of Artoria's hands and pointed to one of Morgan's outfits.
"Eh?" The moment she saw him, the girl was immediately reminded of his draconic arousal. Huh? Has it hidden itself?
Before Artoria could understand, Ian spoke again. "If you think it's suitable, just try it. Artoria, why are you afraid to try? You are the one who drew the sword."
Drip—
Ian's words fell into Artoria's heart like a drop of water, creating ripples.
"Mmm, then I'll give it a try!" Artoria began to pick through Morgan's pile of clothes. She didn't notice that as she did so, Morgan was watching her with a resentful gaze, one filled with a mix of jealousy and a trace of envy.
"Um, how about this one?" After rummaging for a while, Artoria finally pulled out a long robe. It was a blue robe with white trim. After putting it on, she twirled around happily. "Do I look good?"
"..."
"Ian, what's with that look?!" Noticing something was off with the boy's gaze, Artoria asked with concern. "If you have an opinion, just say it—"
"..." Ian was silent for a moment before giving his answer. "I think you'll be very unhappy if I say it."
"Of course not!" Artoria pouted. "I'm not an unreasonable person, you know?!"
"Hurry up and say it—"
"This outfit of yours..." Ian looked Artoria up and down. "...looks like you're wearing a quilt."
"Eh! How could you!" Artoria looked as if she had turned to stone, standing there stunned. "But this is the one I thought was the prettiest!"
"..." Although she didn't want to admit it, once the idea was planted, Morgan found that her perception of Artoria in the robe had also become similar to a "quilt." No. I can't keep thinking like this.
"That outfit is indeed a bit dated," Morgan interjected. "Artoria, how about I help you pick one?"
"..."
"No!" Artoria became stubborn. "Today, I will definitely choose an outfit that he thinks is good! Otherwise, wouldn't that be saying my taste is questionable?"
"Oh... please, go ahead."
And so, for the next period of time, Morgan watched as Artoria took out her clothes one by one.
"Still like a quilt." "Like a cake." "Like a chicken leg." "Like..."
Listening to Ian's descriptions, which were both outrageous and yet uncannily accurate, Morgan covered her lips. She really wanted to laugh. A genuine laugh. But she couldn't. If she laughed, wouldn't that be admitting that what the two of them were doing was actually interesting? It wasn't interesting at all. She was doing this to harm Artoria.
"Which one on earth will satisfy you—!" Looking at the mountain of clothes on the bed, Artoria grew unhappy. "I've almost taken them all out, haven't I? Is there not a single one you like?"
"I never said I didn't like them."
"Huh?" Ian's sudden reply made Artoria pause. "What do you mean?" the girl asked, not quite understanding. "Didn't you say they looked like a quilt, a cake, a chicken leg?"
"But those are all things I like," Ian answered with utter directness. "Artoria, I like whatever you wear."
"Eh?" I misunderstood. But Artoria felt a warmth spread through her heart. All along, in his heart, she had been beautiful. How had she only just realized this?
Artoria felt her cheeks grow hot. Embarrassed, she turned back and saw there was one last outfit in the wardrobe. But—
"Sister Morgan, and Ian, could you please turn around?"
"..." "..."
With two quick movements, Morgan and Ian turned around as requested. The room was soon filled with only a rustling sound, the kind that is only made when a girl's fair skin brushes against clothes.
"Alright~ You can turn back now. How about this one?"
Artoria had taken off the rough cloth clothes she had been wearing. In their place was a white dress. It was a flawless garment that perfectly accentuated the girl's budding curves, like a flower blooming in the mortal world.
"This should be okay—" The moment Artoria finished speaking, she seemed to see something incredible, and her face instantly turned red. She hurriedly ran in front of Ian, shielding him behind her.
"Um, Sister Morgan! I want this outfit, may I?!"
"..." Morgan's feelings were complex. That was an outfit she had prepared for herself. If not for Artoria, she would have been the one wearing it on her journey. That was why it was placed at the very bottom. A plan could have sacrifices, but shouldn't she at least have the right to choose the object of sacrifice? But reality, it seemed, was not so.
"Mmm," the princess's voice trembled. "Take it. It looks... very suitable for you."
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