"Oh? So I'll get to see even more interesting things?"
Morgan's beautiful face lit up with interest at Lot's words.
Though she still didn't fully understand him, she was certain that Lot wasn't the carefree, spoiled noble he pretended to be.
Or rather—he wasn't a traditional knight at all.
"Of course. Once we return, you'll see plenty of things you'd never find in Camelot."
Lot smiled warmly under Morgan's scrutinizing gaze.
He was genuinely pleased that she was curious about what he had to offer.
If she gets absorbed in all this, she might even forget about competing with her sister for Britain's throne.
Hmm… The Morgan Corruption Plan.
Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Lot studied Morgan more closely.
Now that they were standing nearer, her regal, imposing aura was even more striking.
Damn, dragging someone like her into degeneracy…
All men shared two hobbies:
And redeeming the fallen.
If he could divert Morgan's ambitions away from Camelot, it'd be a win for everyone—her, me, and even her sister, King Arthur.
My kingdom, Orkney, might be small now, but one day, it'll far surpass Camelot in prosperity.
His eager expression didn't escape Morgan's notice.
Seeing how intently Lot was watching her, she grew even more convinced—
He's far from simple.
Beneath that surface, he's got grand schemes.
Hmm… Was marrying me part of his plan too?
I'll have to see what he's really after.
As Lot yawned, Morgan made up her mind.
Maybe it's all an act.
She couldn't wait for tomorrow, eager to peer into his thoughts again.
About this so-called sister of mine…
Lot, just tell me everything already!
Unaware of her thoughts, Lot glanced at the darkening sky.
"It's getting late, Princess Morgan. You should rest—we have a long journey ahead tomorrow."
Morgan nodded softly, then gave him an expectant look.
"Goodnight, Lot. See you tomorrow."
Tomorrow, I'll get to the bottom of your secrets.
Lot felt a shiver under her gaze—like he was being stripped bare.
What the hell? The Morgan I remember was this dignified, untouchable woman.
Why does she seem so different now?
Ah well, time to sleep.
At least until Gawain and Gareth are born, I'm safe.
I'd better use this time to grow stronger.
Changing fate won't wait.
Back in his tent, Lot pulled out a pocket watch from his coat.
This was his cheat item.
Normally, staying under sunlight would make the watch's hands move. Once the hands reached twelve, he could activate his ability—
"A couple more days in the sun, and it'll hit twelve again."
But as he spoke, he noticed something strange.
The watch's hands, which had been at the halfway mark earlier, were already at twelve.
"That was fast… Is it because of Morgan?"
Today had been full of surprises—more than the past few years combined.
From a mundane medieval world to the magical insanity of the Type-Moon universe.
All his previous assumptions were shattered in an instant.
He'd thought the watch ran on solar energy, charging up for each use.
But now? It's probably absorbing ambient mana.
And he couldn't forget—Morgan wasn't just Uther's child.
She was Britain's chosen.
If Artoria was the king selected by humans, Morgan was the island's true master.
Her magical energy? Beyond comprehension.
Before he could ponder further, the watch pulsed—a warning.
Use it now, or lose the chance.
"Alright, let's hope for good luck this time."
He quickly grabbed the fishing rod stashed in the corner.
"An angler never returns empty-handed."
But first, the system had to recognize him as a true fisherman.
Since he often went hunting, he always kept the rod nearby—just in case.
Now, with his mana suddenly maxed out, he wouldn't waste this opportunity.
Gripping the rod, he focused—
When he opened his eyes again, he stood before a small, murky river.
The water wasn't just muddy—it was pure chaos.
"Alright, let's see what I get this time."
Shouldering his makeshift rod, Lot marched forward with the confidence of a fishing legend.
He looked like one of those fishing forum experts who could empty entire ponds.
His skills were average at best.
But like placing the first stone in the center of a Go board—
It's all about intimidation.
If you can't win, at least psych them out.
With a sharp flick, he cast the line into the river.
The moment the hook hit the water, his ability activated.
"A knight does not die from empty hands—"
"An angler never returns empty-handed!"
A few seconds later—a tug.
He yanked the rod upward, and an object flew straight into his grasp.
But as he examined it, his face twisted in disbelief.
"Why this of all things?"
Before he could complain further, pressure built around him.
If Lot was the angler, then the River of Time was the pond owner—
And it was kicking him out.
Can't even let me enjoy my catch?
With a grumble, he was ejected back to reality.
Holding the mysterious item, he turned it over in his hands.
"Well… I'll deal with this tomorrow."
When in doubt, sleep it off.
Both Lot and Morgan woke up early.
Last night, after meeting their future spouse for the first time—and liking what they saw—neither had slept well.
Morgan was a skilled mage, and Lot was a capable knight.
A single sleepless night meant nothing.
As they crossed paths that morning, Lot's eyes flickered with panic.
Morgan tilted her head.
Then, that familiar sensation returned.
If I focus… I can hear his thoughts again.
Three sentences today? Let's try.
[Should I give that thing to Morgan? Ugh, so awkward!]
She studied Lot's fidgeting.
Is he… shy about giving me a gift?
Wait, is he actually… a pure-hearted guy?
Comparing him to Camelot's other noble boys, Morgan reached a conclusion—
They couldn't hold a candle to him.
In looks, in demeanor… and especially in emotional innocence.
Politically brilliant, yet a total novice in love.
Her mind drifted to an image—the two of them, seated together on Camelot's throne.
Because Morgan hadn't abandoned her ambitions.
Even if Lot claimed she had a sister—
That throne's waters run too deep for a child.
Let your big sister handle it.
She wanted to demand answers about this mysterious sister—
But to avoid alerting Merlin or Lot, she decided to ease into it.
"Good morning, King of Orkney." She curtsied gracefully.
"Uh, morning." Lot scratched his head. "Morgan, just call me Lot. No need for titles."
Being called "king" was… embarrassing.
His territory was smaller than a city from his past life, and the population? Pathetic.
Calling myself a king feels like a frog boasting from the bottom of a well.
This time, Morgan didn't peek into his thoughts—she only had two chances left today.
Hmm… Maybe Lot feels his status doesn't match his worth?
His ambitions must be vast.
Then, feigning casualness, she asked:
"By the way, Lot… What do you think of Camelot?"
"Under King Uther's rule, Camelot has triumphed over countless enemies, achieving unparalleled prosperity. I'm certain he'll unite all of Britain someday."
Morgan narrowed her eyes.
[Gotta butter up my future father-in-law first, just in case he changes his mind about the marriage…]
Hearing this, she almost laughed aloud.
What kind of man hides beneath that proper exterior?
[…But honestly? Uther only knows war. Years of fighting, and while he wins most battles, his enemies grow stronger while Camelot weakens. The people suffer. Frankly, Camelot's on the brink of collapse.]
At first, she thought Lot was exaggerating—
But the more she considered it, he wasn't wrong.
Camelot had survived coups, wars… Uther had reclaimed the throne, but the kingdom was stretched thin.
Enemies multiplied. One misstep, and Camelot would fall.
For Lot to see through the illusion of prosperity—his political insight was sharp.
With a quiet sigh, she echoed his thoughts back to him:
"But beneath this golden age, Camelot faces grave dangers. What would you do to fix it?"
Lot's pupils dilated slightly—stunned.