Night, Fuyuki City's streets. Ian looked at Viviane beside him, momentarily lost in thought.
"Wh-what's wrong?" Viviane, sensing Ian's gaze, grew a little shy. "Why are you looking at me like that? Is something wrong with me?"
"Not at all," Ian shook his head. "And rather than something being 'wrong,' I'd say this is precisely where your charm lies, isn't it? Viviane, you're already very beautiful normally—and now, you're even more dazzling."
Just as Ian exclaimed, Viviane had now changed out of the gray casual clothes she was wearing earlier. In their place was a more ornate kimono. Her curvaceous figure was fully displayed, and every subtle movement exuded an endless mature charm. Her previously messy long hair had also been meticulously styled, tied into a beautiful arrangement with a large black bow. At this moment, she was a completely different person from the magus who couldn't cook just a few hours ago; simply looking at her was a delight.
"Is that so?" Faced with Ian's praise, Viviane's cheeks gradually flushed with a blush of shyness. In fact, the reason she changed into this outfit was precisely so she could hear Ian's compliments. Now, this humble goal had finally been barely achieved.
"As long as you like it... then it wasn't for nothing that I prepared it," she admitted her feelings openly, then lowered her head, looking a little uneasy. There was no helping it. She had enjoyed his overly biased love for too long—so much so that how to actively express her feelings had become somewhat muddled.
But everything seemed unchanged. Ian reached out his hand and asked with a smile, "Since it's prepared for me—Viviane, holding hands should be fine too, right?"
"Of course it's fine!" Viviane tightly grasped his hand, as if holding her most precious treasure. "I... actually really like this too!"
"..." Ian said nothing more, just silently nodded. The two walked hand in hand, strolling down the street illuminated by the starry night. It was spring, and the streets of Fuyuki City were reviving like wild plants. For most people, they had no idea what the Holy Grail War was, and naturally, they could live their daily lives with peace of mind. Even if it wasn't a holiday, there were still many choices for a destination that suited Viviane's current attire. Soon, the two, hand in hand, arrived at a street.
[This was a very lively street.]
[Despite it not being a holiday or having any local customs,]
[Many people who enjoyed festivities still gathered here—with numerous small gifts and various trinkets displayed on stalls.]
[You realized this might be what was called a landmark street.]
As a landmark street, the items found here naturally had distinct characteristics. Viviane, whose mood had finally improved, was quickly drawn to the roadside stalls.
"Ian!" she exclaimed. "Let's go look over there!"
"Okay." Allowing Viviane to pull him, Ian arrived with her in front of a stall. It was a place selling fireworks. The owner quickly noticed Ian and Viviane's intertwined hands—an experienced merchant could tell what kind of relationship this was at a glance. Only lovers would act in such a way.
"Well, well!" the owner greeted them. "You two just started dating and you're already here—how enviable!"
Hearing this, Ian's lips curved slightly. But Viviane's expression wasn't as pleased. She narrowed her eyes at the owner and spoke in an extremely serious tone, "Wrong. He and I aren't 'just dating.'"
"This..." The owner didn't know how to respond for a moment—after doing business for so long, it was his first time misjudging a couple. "Then your relationship is..."
"We're married," Viviane emphasized with great seriousness. "He and I are married, understand?"
"Oh, oh!" The owner was an expert at adapting, and he quickly changed his tune. "So that's it—I knew you two would be able to find this place. Then I really must recommend my fireworks to you."
"What do you mean by that?" Viviane pressed. "Is there anything special about your fireworks?"
"Of course there is!" The owner patted his chest. "My fireworks—they're especially suited for people like you to set off together! So far, I haven't heard anyone come back and say anything bad about them! I imagine they've all gone on to live happy and fulfilling lives!"
"..." Hearing the owner's self-praise, Viviane's eyes immediately changed. She pulled out her wallet, slapped it onto the table in front of her, and said with utmost seriousness, "Give me all of them—!"
"Alrighty then!"
[Viviane seemed to have found her goal for the night.]
[As soon as she heard something that could promote your relationship, she would buy it without hesitation.]
[One, two, three.]
[She bought almost every trinket within her sight.]
[This seemed quite absurd—but seeing the smile on Viviane's face, you realized it was all perfectly reasonable.]
[Finally, you arrived at a shrine.]
Frankly, at this time of night, no one would be visiting a shrine—let alone it not being a holiday. However, this seemed to be the exact atmosphere Viviane wanted. She held Ian's hand and began setting off the "blessing fireworks."
Sizzle, sizzle. Small, pale yellow sparks bloomed from the sparkler in Viviane's hand. The witch watched it, her eyes gradually warming, and in a daze, she even felt as though she had returned to her maiden days a thousand years ago.
"So beautiful~" she murmured. "Ian, what do you think?"
"Hmm," the man nodded, then picked up a sparkler himself and lit it in front of her. "It is quite beautiful—Viviane, you really have good taste."
"..." Viviane was silent for a moment, then, as the flames disappeared, she quietly asked, "Ian... did I look really silly just now? Buying everything as soon as the owner said it could improve our relationship?" Viviane looked at the man beside her. Just then, the sparkler in his hand also burned to its end. In the utter darkness, the witch spoke the nightmare that had lingered in her heart for days.
"I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry... I don't think I'm worthy of your feelings at all."
Sizzle. Another sparkler was lit. In the faint yellow glow, Ian reached out his hand and wiped away the tears on her face. "Viviane, I was the one who confessed my feelings first, so how could you not be worthy of accepting them? But can you promise me—from now on, don't secretly hide this sadness in your heart anymore. It would really hurt me."
It was still that familiar, utterly biased favoritism, but at this moment, it made the witch even sadder. How much had this unconditional favoritism cost him? It was something Viviane couldn't even imagine, nor dared to imagine. If that was the case—at least for this moment, she would let him indulge a little. This was the reward the knight deserved, yet had been so long in coming.
Thump. The sparkler fell to the ground, and a few seconds later, its sparkle faded. Under the moonlight, the princess of ancient Britain mounted her most loyal knight. The scene at this moment seemed no different from thousands of years ago. But Viviane looked at him beneath her and knew that everything was different from the past.
"Then—" Viviane reached out her hand and tenderly stroked the knight's face beneath her. Her fingertips traced every part of his cheek, feeling the marks of hardship left for her. "Since that's the case... then help me dispel the sadness in my heart." The witch untied the knot of her kimono at the back, then took his hand and guided it into the open folds.
"Ian, let's have more pleasure." At this moment, the man realized just how much Viviane had prepared for this one apology. On the surface, she was impeccably clean, tidy, and beautiful. But accompanying this, there was nothing to conceal underneath; a hand could directly reach her skin. That's right. This was a perfectly vacuumed configuration, prepared in advance only when she was 100% certain this method of apology would be used. In the past days when they couldn't communicate like this, she might have been waiting for this moment. Thinking this, Ian no longer hesitated—after all, he genuinely loved her from the bottom of his heart. Faced with this incredibly proactive invitation, it was naturally impossible to ignore it.
"Understood—let's enjoy ourselves tonight."
"..." Receiving the man's assent, Viviane actively reached for his waist, intending to undo that final restraint. Frankly, it was a very shy process for her. After all, in every past memory, he was always the one to initiate such things. But now it was different—Viviane knew she was not only fulfilling her earlier words but also performing the duty a wife should complete. Her hands were clumsy, even a little flustered, but she eventually managed it. They touched below; it was still soft. But it didn't matter—she knew how to excite him tonight.
Viviane lowered herself, gently rubbing his base with her incredibly clean and spotless intimate area, while passionately kissing the knight. Their hands were tightly clasped, using gentle pressure on each other's skin, feeling the fervent love. In their intimacy, the knight slowly responded, finally pressing against the witch's forbidden door, vaguely touching in their passionate kiss. Without any hesitation, Viviane rose slightly then descended, finally seating herself on her own throne. This was the most perfect fit—the knight's spear belonged only to the princess, and the princess's treasure chamber allowed only the knight to enter. At this moment, their lips parted, leaving trails of silver in the moonlight. Still holding his hands tightly, Viviane began to move up and down, as if riding the most suitable white horse. Her breathing became rapid, and her kimono slipped from her shoulders, revealing the proud curves of her upper body. In this deserted shrine, the princess of ancient Britain poured out her remorse, fearing he might miss anything.
Finally, Viviane felt his body tremble, a sign that he was about to climax. The man's voice came then: "Viviane, is it okay?"
"It's fine," the witch fully contained the knight's long spear within her treasury, until her lower abdomen swelled slightly. "Tonight... however you like it, it's okay."
The next moment, Viviane felt her hands slowly released, replaced by his firm grip on her waist. It was a sensation of being completely fixed to him, familiar yet foreign. But none of that mattered anymore. Because the pleasure from his thrusts erased every other sensation—it was a direct hit to her core, making all other trivialities insignificant. The witch's body trembled violently, as if her entire being, soul included, was about to be shattered. Her upper clothing had completely slipped away due to the contact, revealing her proud curves and two flushed nipples exposed without concealment in the moonlight. She looked utterly disheveled—as if she had been so intensely ravished she couldn't control herself. But Viviane was incredibly happy. It was back; everything was back. What the witch longed to see was him, like a beast before her, tearing apart all past shame.
Viviane's hands pressed against the man's chest, hot breaths escaping her lips as she continuously uttered affectionate words like one in heat: "Faster, faster. Don't stop—Ian, you love doing this with me the most, don't you? Make me the happiest person." The witch's encouragement was like a devil's whisper. The man plunged even more recklessly into her intimate depths, until each thrust overturned her world. Finally, the two completed their profound and intertwined union.
Gurgle, gurgle. "Ah—!" Viviane threw her head back, her hair swaying like willow branches in the spring breeze. She felt a large amount of thick fluid pouring into her depths—a sensation both hot and utterly satisfying. But at this moment, Viviane was very worried. She feared she would lose her attraction to him from now on.
But her concern didn't linger. Because the witch heard words that made her soul tremble. "Princess," he whispered. "I... still think the name Morgan suits you better."