MMMS 84

With his left hand clasped by Morgan and his right caught in Artoria’s, Ryuuto found himself thoroughly pinned between two legendary sisters. On one side was the seductive witch. On the other, the blushing king, clearly trying—without much success—to keep a composed expression.

Their breath warmed the air between them, and the way they both looked at him made it almost impossible to stay calm.

His heart pounded like it was trying to break out of his chest. Stuck between the infamous British sisters... wasn’t this basically every guy’s dream scenario? Unfortunately, if he didn’t find a way to defuse the rising tension, he’d probably be dead before he got to enjoy any of it.

He glanced around, searching for an ally, but Irisviel had already pulled her classic move. Vanished without a trace.

He let out a low chuckle. “Tch... that woman always knows when to run.”

“…Artoria,” Morgan growled, voice tight as her grip on his hand stiffened. “This is my room. Who told you to waltz in here like you own the place?”

Artoria responded with serene indifference. “As a Servant, it’s my job to stay close to Master. Since I can’t disappear like the others, this is the most logical place to be.” She folded her hands in front of her, then tilted her head slightly. “Don’t mind me. Go ahead, continue.”

‘Continue?’ Morgan’s eye twitched. ‘Like hell I can continue with you sitting there watching!’

She turned sharply toward her sister, ready to throw verbal knives. ‘Since when were you this clingy? You were never this bold before…’

But then her thoughts drifted. Her glare faded into something softer, more distracted. ‘Wait. What was Master about to say... before all this happened?’

Artoria caught the flicker in Morgan’s eyes and narrowed her gaze. “In the end, Master will have to choose between you and me. That decision belongs to him alone. But whatever happens, we should fight fair. No games, no backroom tricks.”

Her voice was steady. Not cold or cutting, just clear. “When the Grail War ends, if he’s truly made up his mind... I’ll accept it. No matter what that choice is.”

Ryuuto blinked, startled by the calm finality in her tone. Artoria wasn’t saying this to sound noble. She meant every word.

Then she turned to her sister, the fire in her eyes softening. “Now isn’t the time for us to tear each other apart. Don’t you think so, Sister?”

Morgan didn’t respond right away.

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, it seemed like she might snap back—but then she slowly let out a breath. She knew she wasn’t going to win tonight. Not like this. With a quiet sigh, she released his hand, letting it rest in his lap. That gesture alone said enough.

A temporary truce.

…

Later that night—

Fresh from a warm bath, Ryuuto returned to his room… and froze the moment he stepped through the door.

“…What the hell is going on?”

“Good evening, Master.” Morgan sat at the edge of his bed, legs crossed with lazy elegance. Her robe was gone. In its place, a black nightgown that shimmered like silk and clung to her figure like it had a mind of its own.

It revealed her shoulders and collarbones in full, dipped low at the chest, and traced every line of her body. Black garter stockings hugged her thighs, the delicate straps drawing attention to every smooth curve.

Next to her, Artoria sat stiffly, her face burning red. She was doing her best not to meet his eyes.

Her nightgown was pure white, thin enough that the warm light behind her made the fabric glow. It was so short it barely reached past her upper thighs, and her hands tugged awkwardly at the hem, trying to hide more than it allowed.

Her toned legs, a product of relentless training, looked even more defined in white garters. The tight fabric pressed against her thighs, leaving soft lines that drew his gaze whether he liked it or not.

Compared to the baggy loungewear they wore back at the Einzbern estate, tonight’s outfits felt like something out of a dream—or a carefully staged ambush.

The air still carried a faint trace of their bath. Fresh skin, soft hair, and a warmth that crept in from the doorframe.

He took a deep breath, but it didn’t help.

“…What exactly is this supposed to be?” he finally asked.

“Joint bedside service,” Morgan replied with a slow, teasing smile. “Courtesy of Queen Morgan and the King of Knights. I doubt any man in history has ever been treated this well. So, Master... tell me, which of us truly understands you better?”

He blinked.

That was her move? If she couldn’t break the rules with a sneak attack, then she’d just drag her rival down with her. Ruthless.

He swallowed, trying not to let her see just how effective her plan had been. She was terrifying in a completely different way from other Servants.

Trying to escape Morgan’s satisfied smirk, he turned to Artoria. “So... Lancer. You didn’t sign up for this, did you?”

“…I said we should compete fairly… but this isn’t what I meant…” Her voice was low, barely holding together as her face turned red. “It wasn’t my idea, okay? But if I didn’t go along with it, she would've taken over everything. So I…” She shot him a glance, then quickly looked away. “Quit staring at me!”

Her hands fidgeted nervously with the hem of her nightgown. It was hard to believe this flustered girl was the same heroic figure who had once led armies into battle.

As her words trailed off, Morgan made her move.

With a tug, she pulled him down onto the bed, then drew the blanket up over all three of them.

He was surrounded again.

To his left—Morgan, eyes gleaming like a cat that had cornered its prey. To his right—Artoria, clinging tightly to her nightgown.

A chill ran down his spine.

‘…I have a bad feeling I’m going to have a very awkward dream tonight.’

“Time to turn off the lights,” Morgan murmured, her voice soft beside his ear.

“Y-Yeah. Good idea.”

The room went dark. For a moment, only the faint sound of breathing remained.

“Goodnight, you two,” Artoria mumbled, still refusing to let go of her nightgown.

To Ryuuto’s mixed relief and disappointment, Morgan didn’t push any further. No playful touches. No whispered temptations.

And just like that, the three of them drifted off to sleep, lying close together beneath the same blanket.

Meanwhile—

Somewhere else in the castle, Irisviel jolted upright, heart racing.

A heavy, invisible pressure sat on her chest, tightening with each breath.

There was no mistaking it. Someone had entered the castle.

An intruder…?

To bypass the bounded fields without triggering a single alarm—only someone with Presence Concealment could do that.

Her thoughts narrowed to one name.

Assassin.

Without wasting another second, Iri grabbed the coat draped by her bedside and threw it over her nightgown. Her bare feet touched the cold floor, sending a sharp chill through her bones. She stepped into the dim corridor, the air cold and still.

The silence stretched unnaturally. As she walked deeper into the quiet, a small ache settled in her chest.

She missed the warmth of Ryuuto’s arms.

His slender frame had become a strange sort of shield for her, a quiet strength she’d come to rely on during sleepless nights. Just having him near made it easier to breathe—even when the world outside froze over.