MMMS 63

"For me, things like Command Spells are just superficial compared to the time I get to spend with you. Artoria, I want to share more meaningful moments with you, to create beautiful memories together!"

"...What twisted logic, hmph." Her Master was obviously thinking inappropriate thoughts, yet putting on a serious face like he was at a job interview. She couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or amused.

With a serious face, he recited: "You know what they say—'A spring night's moment is worth a thousand gold.' It means spending a night with a beautiful woman beats all the treasure in the world."

His solemn delivery of such a silly line caught her attention. She tilted her head thoughtfully. "A spring night's moment is worth a thousand gold... Hmm, I actually like that saying."

After mulling it over for a bit, she turned away from him, trying to hide the flush spreading across her cheeks. "I've been thinking... it's because I'm here that you can't sleep while holding Iri, isn't it? If I don't offer some kind of compensation, I'd be going against my own code as a knight."

"So what are you saying?"

She took a deep breath, hands nervously cupping her generous chest. "Since it's such a nice night and all... I'll make an exception and let you hold me instead, Master."

"For real?" His face lit up as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her close.

"...Mmm." A small shiver ran through her back the moment his arms circled her waist. "Just sleeping, okay? Don't try anything weird, or I won't be responsible for what happens next," she warned, her voice trying to sound stern but betraying a slight tremble.

She was doing her best to maintain that regal, composed queen act, but he knew better. This was the first time she'd ever been held like this by a guy, and it showed.

After just a couple of days together, he'd figured out Artoria's personality. She had a classic case of high offense and paper defense. When she was on the attack, she was all queen—every word dripping with royal authority. But the second she had to play defense, she was no different from any other blushing, awkward girl with a pure heart.

The boy rested his chin on her soft shoulder, a playful smirk forming as he let his warm breath brush against her ear. "So, Lancer... what exactly counts as 'weird' in your book?"

Artoria's cheeks flared an even deeper shade of red as she bit her lower lip. "Well, it's... it's basically..."

Knock, knock, knock.

The sharp rapping at the door shattered the tension-filled moment between them.

Their eyes met in a panicked exchange.

"Who is it?" he called out.

"It's me, Caster."

Morgan's voice, of course. Who else would it be? They were the only ones in the house besides her.

He and Artoria shared a look before he reluctantly pulled his arms away from her waist.

"Just let her in," Lancer said through their mental link.

As his Servants, both Lancer and Caster had their own private channels with him, plus a group chat for all three. Three people, three different ways to communicate.

"Wait, seriously?" he thought back. Talk about asking for trouble. He knew exactly how much Morgan hated seeing him get close to Lancer. If she caught them sharing a bed like this, she might just conjure up a meteor and blast Einzbern Castle into orbit.

Artoria didn't bother responding. Instead, she reached over and clicked off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

"...Just let her in," she repeated.

"Fine," he sighed.

With no better options, he nodded and called out, "Come in, Caster."

"No need," Morgan's voice came through the door. "I just wanted to hear Master's voice. I'll stay right here."

"...Huh?" It took him a second before he realized what was happening.

Morgan's late-night check-in felt like something a girlfriend would do—calling just to hear your voice. Sweet and kind of adorable, actually.

But why the whole talking-through-the-door? He glanced at Iri sleeping nearby and it clicked: Morgan must not want to see him in bed with her!

A wave of guilt mixed with a weird thrill washed over him. Sorry, Caster. What I was just doing is way worse than what you're imagining. I was with Artoria...

"Could you come to the door?" Morgan asked after the silence stretched a bit too long.

Without hesitation, he slipped off the bed and padded over to the entrance, pressing his right hand against the wooden surface.

"I'm here, Caster."

On the other side, even though she couldn't see him, Morgan placed her left hand against the same spot.

Their hands lined up perfectly, separated only by the thickness of the door. Somehow, they could almost feel each other's warmth through the door, and they both smiled softly, knowing without seeing.

This connection was something unique to Ryuuto and Morgan. It had always been this way between them—words often felt unnecessary, their understanding of each other almost instinctive.

"Where's that Einzbern homunculus?" she asked.

"Iri's already asleep."

"I see." she paused briefly. "I'm having... trouble sleeping."

Her voice filtered through the door, calm and elegant. If winter itself could speak, he thought, it would sound exactly like this.

"How about I come hang out in your room tomorrow night before bed?" he suggested.

Tomorrow night... Morgan's eyelashes fluttered with a hint of sadness. So tonight isn't an option?

"Very well, Master. I'll allow you to stay in my room until midnight."

What is she, Cinderella? Like the magic only works until the clock strikes twelve. He smiled to himself. "Hey Caster, aren't you cold just standing out there in the hallway?"

"I'm perfectly fine with this temperature. Master is the one who should be careful. Are you dressed properly? Don't get sick after jumping out from under the warm covers."

"Now that you mention it... yeah, it is kinda chilly. I should grab a jacket."

Morgan's voice brightened slightly on the other side of the door. "Typical. The moment you're away from me, you can't even take care of yourself properly."

"Yeah, yeah, pretty embarrassing of me. Hold on, let me just grab something to wear. Don't go anywhere—I'll be right back after this short commercial break... Whoa!?" His words cut off as he turned away.

While he'd been busy chatting with Morgan, Artoria had snuck up behind him. She grabbed his shoulders and firmly pushed him against the door.

"Is everything okay, Master?" Morgan called, sensing something off in his sudden silence.

"...Yeah, everything's fine. Actually, forget the jacket. I just want to talk with you a bit longer."

"Absolutely not. Go put something warm on right now—if you catch a cold, I won't forgive you."

What an absolute sweetheart.

He gently pushed away the mischievous Artoria and shot her a warning look.

"What do you think you're doing?" he whispered.

"Just getting back at you for how you acted earlier," she replied with a small smirk.

"Come on, knock it off." He broke free from her grip and turned his attention back to the door where Morgan waited.

Is this really just about payback? When his eyes met Artoria's, he caught something else there—that competitive spark the King of Knights was famous for.

Before he could say anything more, Lancer decided to push her luck. This time she wrapped her arms around him from behind as she gave him a taste of his own medicine for what he had done a few minutes ago.

Even someone as perceptive as Morgan couldn't possibly imagine what was happening on the other side of the door. With a challenging glint in her eyes, Artoria leaned in close to whisper: "Master, tomorrow evening before we go investigating, let's take a walk somewhere. I want to try..."

"Um... Master? Are you still there?" Morgan's voice cut in.

"Yeah! I'm listening, Caster." Trapped in Artoria's embrace, he answered quickly, trying not to let his breathing give him away.

But the greedy king wasn't about to leave even this tiny moment of connection for them.

"Wait, Lancer..."

"Hmm? What's that?" Artoria whispered, her warm breath tickling his ear as she grabbed his right hand—the one marked with her command seal. "This... is mine~"

"Master?" Morgan's voice came through the door, tinged with concern.

He pressed his lips together, brow furrowing. The guilt hit him hard as he thought about poor Morgan standing in the cold hallway while he was pinned against her sister's body in the warm bedroom.

‘I... I'm sorry, Caster.’