A Villainess pulled out the Sword instead of the Hero.

 

Usually, maids were told that their skills and experience were based on which family they worked for.

 

Later, I was told, that if one wrote a letter of recommendation, it was not uncommon for them to go to the royal palace.

 

But in reality, Morgana was just one of Britain’s wealthy bourgeoisie.

 

Not that anyone in Britain has ever heard of the name, and everyone seems to avoid her because she seems to have suddenly gotten rich.

 

Sadly, the former Morgana was far from living the good life.

 

To begin with, she was living grazing, which wasn’t a good life.

 

She didn’t have a proper home, and her clothing was ragged, so she looked awkward in the store-bought clothes she’d paid to have tailored.

 

I tried to get into the kitchen to cook, but after a cut on my hand, Arthur forbade me to do so.

 

In fact, I fed him what I’d made that day instead, and judging by the stony expression on his face, it must have been pretty bad.

 

Sprawled out on the couch, staring soullessly at the ceiling, Morgana pounded her fist into the padded couch.

 “Why aren’t you coming!” 

It’s not like I’m going to pay any less.

 

With Arthur by her side, what good would it do to be seen as a bad employer?

 

All of Morgana’s meals were eaten out with Arthur.

 

But today, for some reason, Arthur was out of town.

 

At noon, he came in, ghostly and punctual.

 

I glared at him, fat and neatly dressed, and he bowed his head.

 “Is something the matter, Miss?” “Have you been out somewhere?” “I went to Mr. Raon’s for a while.” “Why, are you going to bash him again?” 

She sat up stiffly, and when he shook his head firmly, she stiffened.

 “No, no. I just wanted to ask him to use some effort to get a maid.” “Oh, I’ve been dying to get one. I have such a hard time putting on dresses.” 

Wearing dresses, especially those with hooks in the back, made Morgana seriously consider her flexibility.

 

One day, she bent her arm so far back that her shoulder cramped up.

 

From then on, Arthur would occasionally help her out.

 

Arthur cleared his throat at Morgana’s nonchalant response.

 

For some reason, his ears seemed to turn a little red.

 “Yes. For that matter, even though you say you’re comfortable with me…” 

His voice trailed off, then slowed.

 

His piercing aquamarine eyes stared at her for the briefest of moments.

 “…I’m not exactly known for my aesthetic sense, being a swordsman.” 

Morgana was easily convinced, remembering how he’d looked before having his clothes tailored at the shop.

 

Arthur looked at her and continued.

 “And you can’t eat outside all the time.” 

He held out his hand.

 

At first a little awkward, the escort seemed to have gotten used to it after nearly three weeks.

 “So, what will you be eating today?” “Um… I’m in the mood for lamb today.” 

Arthur was silent for a moment at her statement.

 

He seemed to be struggling to find a good lamb restaurant in downtown Britain.

 

But Morgana’s instincts told her what she wanted.

 

In her memory, Morgana’s mother had been a gentle, kind person.

 

She wondered how Morgana had grown up to be so vicious.

 

‘They say children are out of control, but…’

 

Morgana was surprisingly quiet in front of her mother.

 

Whenever her mother had money, she would take Morgana to a restaurant and buy delicious food.

 

It was very memorable, and it was especially vivid in Morgana’s memory.

 

She knew it was a silly thing to do, but she wanted to feel it anyway.

 

Her mother would spend all her money to feed her.

 

How it tasted so good that she remembered it for so long.

 

She wanted to feed her daughter, the one she loved, no matter how poor she was.

 “There’s somewhere I want to go, don’t worry!” 

Morgana led Arthur confidently, hiding her own emotions.

 

The shop I remembered was located a little off the main street, just off the center of town.

 

As soon as Arthur saw the entrance to the small, slightly dirty shop, he hesitated.

 “There are better places to eat.” 

I could see why he was worried.

 

The long table outside was an eyesore, if that’s what they called the interior.

 

The clunky door had a rickety handle and a faint smell of mutton.

 

The knife was more for catching sheep than for eating.

 

Arthur was concerned that the meal looked like it was meant to be eaten with the hands.

 

But Morgana was nonchalant.

 “No, it smells good, and I’ve been wanting to try it for a while.” 

Morgana opened the door and stepped inside, and the owner, who had been dozing off, looked up at her through sleepy eyes.

 

Then he bounced up in his seat and called out.

 “Mo, Mo, Morgana…?” 

Hmm. I wondered if the original Morgana had done something here.

 

In retrospect, it was just Morgana being Morgana.

 

Apparently, she wanted some lamb, so she grabbed a saw and started marauding.

 

And quite often.

 

The owner was alarmed by the look on Morgana’s face.

 “What, come on, you don’t mean to tell me you’re going to chop up the sheep this time…” 

It was a threat, because she lived in the slums. It was a rough life.

 

Morgana winced and glanced at the upholstery saw behind him.

 

‘Why the hell would you keep that thing up?’

 

The owner snapped at her behavior and shut up.

 

He was worried that Morgana was going to fly around with the saw like she had before.

 

The owner asked seriously, his upper body slightly bent in a battle stance.

 “What the hell, what are you doing?” “We’re just here to eat. Come on, Arthur.” 

Arthur and the woman walked past the owner nonchalantly.

 

Sitting down in the chair Arthur had pulled out for her, she looked at the stunned owner and asked.

 “What did I have before?” 

She asked as nicely and kindly as she could, smiling.

 

The owner tilted his head back at an angle and stared at Morgana as if he were looking at a strange person.

 

‘If Arthur ever hears what the original Morgana did in here, it will ruin my good image!’ 

 

At her unflinching laughter, the owner rubbed his eyes, checking them several times before scratching his head.

 “What are you talking about, the one you had when you came with Igraine?” 

They must have had quite a bit of interaction, judging by the familiarity of his use of her mother’s name.

 

Morgana nodded coldly.

 “Oh, right, that’ll do.” “…Are you in a relationship these days?” 

He glared at Arthur, who sat still beside him, then turned and leaned in to whisper to Morgana.

 “Men aren’t only good-looking. Think again, child. Igraine didn’t raise you that way.” 

What the hell was he talking about?

 

Morgana exclaimed out loud, frowning,

“He’s my escort! I actually paid for him!” 

The owner’s eyes widened in surprise, as if he hadn’t thought of that.

 “You hired him? You did?” “Yes, I did, and I worked like a dog to earn it.” “You sound like Morgana when you talk like that…” 

The owner, intimidated by Morgana’s glare, went to prepare the food.

 “That’s strange. That’s definitely Morgana. Has she ever grown up?” 

He didn’t let his guard down as he served the food.

 

Even when he finished and took the money, he looked at her as if she were a bomb that could go off at any moment.

 

The food was good, but not as good as I expected.

 

Perhaps it was the fact that it was something Morgana, whose stomach was rumbling, didn’t eat very often.

 

As they wandered the streets of the bustling city, munching on small bites, Arthur asked curiously.

 “More people seem to recognize you than I thought.” “Is that so? I don’t know.” 

Morgana snapped.

 

A lot, in fact. In the three weeks she’d spent with Arthur, she’d been walking a tightrope.

 

As soon as the vegetable vendor saw her, he grabbed a cabbage.

 

He knew she had a history of hitting him with cabbages.

 

The flower vendor put away his shovel and rocks when she walked by, the fruit vendor hid his pineapple, and the cat in front of the seafood vendor meowed at the sight of her.

 

He was wary of her, knowing that she had repeatedly taken fish heads from him in the past.

 

But she didn’t want Arthur to find out, so she played it off as best she could.