I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit

"What's wrong with my outfit?"

Artoria glanced down at her shawl, gauzy skirt, sun hat, and high-heeled sandals, her brows knitting slightly in confusion. "Does it not look good?"

"It looks too good!"

The words tumbled out of Mordred's mouth before her brain could catch up. Realizing what she'd said, she blushed furiously and cleared her throat to cover her embarrassment.

"Ahem! I mean... you look beautiful, Father. So beautiful it's hard to look away. Like... like blinking would feel like a crime. But... uh..."

Mordred's words grew more incoherent by the second.

Artoria tilted her head.

"Are you not used to seeing me like this?"

Mordred nodded so vigorously her head seemed to blur, making Artoria worry her neck might snap.

"This Saint Graph was crafted by Merlin," Artoria explained, her tone calm. "Even the outfit I'm wearing now was his design. He claimed it would better showcase the allure of an adult. Though I suspect it's just another one of his mischievous whims."

Of course, Mordred knew exactly who Merlin was. The infamous trickster—detested by almost every member of the Round Table.

If given the chance, Mordred wouldn't hesitate to land a devastating blow on Merlin's smug face. Not that it would kill him, but she'd make sure to try.

But in this moment, Mordred found herself wanting to shout a resounding:

"Well done, Merlin!"

She gave Artoria another once-over, silently applauding the wizard.

Damn it, Merlin, you old pervert! For once, you've actually done something good!

For a fleeting moment, as Mordred recalled Merlin's perpetually aggravating smirk, she even thought he looked a little charming.

Pink blossoms seemed to bloom in the background behind Mordred, prompting Artoria to tilt her head again in puzzled amusement.

"You know," Artoria mused, "when Sir Lancelot, Sir Gawain, Sir Percival, and Sir Bedivere first saw me in this form, they actually started crying. Something about how 'seeing Your Majesty dressed like this is so moving, please forgive us.' It was... a little difficult to understand."

"WHAT?!"

Mordred's flowery daydream shattered instantly, her expression souring.

"What do you mean those guys saw you like this before I did?! Why?!"

"Why are you so upset, Mordred?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I can understand Bedivere getting to see you like this—he's such a goody-two-shoes. But Lancelot? That traitor?! Why was he ahead of me?"

Mordred paused, her frustration intensifying. "No, wait! Even Bedivere doesn't deserve to see you before I do! This look should only be for me!"

"Um... if it makes you happy, Mordred," Artoria replied, her voice tinged with unease.

The irony of Mordred calling someone else a traitor wasn't lost on Artoria. Still, Lancelot's betrayal had undeniably strained his relationships within the Round Table. As a Servant, his standing among the knights was perpetually awkward, with few willing to associate with him.

In contrast, Bedivere, despite being one of the weaker knights in terms of raw strength, was universally respected. Even Mordred, known for her fiery temper, showed some restraint when speaking of him.

"What's with all the noise so early in the morning?"

At that moment, Kairi Shishigou descended the stairs, his gaze sweeping over the room until it landed on Artoria and Mordred.

The instant he spotted Artoria, however, he froze.

Before he could say anything, a pale fist appeared suddenly before his eyes, growing rapidly in size.

BAM!

"How dare you look at my father with such perverted eyes! Are you asking to die?!"

"Wait! It's a misunderstanding! I wasn't—!"

"Spare me the excuses! Die—!"

It was shaping up to be yet another lively morning.

---

The streets of the city were narrow, with sunlight often blocked by the surrounding buildings.

On one such street, three children played with a ball, their laughter echoing in the quiet morning air.

Suddenly, the ball slipped from their control and rolled downhill, picking up speed as it went.

One of the children chased after it, running as fast as his little legs could carry him.

The ball finally came to a stop at the feet of someone seated at a nearby table, eating breakfast.

The man glanced at the ball just as the child caught up.

One look at the man's face, however, and the child turned pale, letting out a startled yelp before bolting away without even retrieving the ball.

"Master, you scared the poor kid," Mordred teased from across the table.

"And whose fault do you think that is?" Kairi growled, stabbing a sausage with his fork before shoving it into his mouth, visibly irked.

"If you hadn't broken my sunglasses, this wouldn't have happened!"

Kairi's naturally intimidating appearance was bad enough, but his piercing glare often made him look more frightening than a hardened killer. It wasn't something he could control; the child had run off after just a brief glimpse.

Kairi usually wore sunglasses, even at night, to dull his menacing stare. Unfortunately, Mordred had shattered them earlier with a single punch.

"I think it's great!" Mordred replied cheerfully, entirely unfazed by his irritation. "You look super cool without them—like a lion! Of course, you're still nothing compared to my father."

"That last bit was completely unnecessary," Kairi muttered. "Even if it's true, it still stings."

"You should feel honored to even be compared to my father!" Mordred retorted, jabbing her fork at another sausage and biting into it fiercely, her sharp teeth tearing through it as though she were challenging Kairi to argue further.

"Ah, so here you are."

Artoria's voice drew both their gazes as she approached the table.

"Ruler, why did it take you so... long..."

Kairi's voice trailed off as his eyes widened. Before him were two towering mounds of food piled high on plates, balanced precariously in Artoria's hands.

---

T/N: im jealous of Artoria's body ToT

...he's late [patreon.com/WiseTL]