“Please forgive her, Your Majesty.”

The noblewoman's words, carefully enunciated, hung in the air like a delicate zephyr, the underlying sarcasm as subtle as a cat on the prowl. However, the courtesy in the tone skillfully masked the bite, making it more of a playful scratch at Burn than a full-fledged attack at Morgan.

"Pfft."

Burn's gaze snapped back towards Morgan, who was seemingly harnessing every iota of her strength to suppress a laugh. The urge to hurl his glass at her was almost overpowering.

It was a mismatch, a jarring clash of tones. His gruff demeanor was as out of place amidst these women's theatrics as a wolf among prancing deer. The contrast was so stark, it would have been comical if it weren't so frustrating.

Forget that.

“Have you seen the White Dwarf?” Burn asked.

“GASP!” Morgan gasped at his words, ready for his topic, “It’s amazing, what the cosmic fuck?”

Burn sneered, “3%. 3 percent output—”

“Absolute bollocks—!” Momo leaned forward in amazement.

“I absorbed a bit more than 2%,” Burn cocked his chin with pride.

Momo almost squealed as she asked, “Can you—”

“No. Nah,” Burn shook his head.

“Can I—”

“Nuh-uh, Miss Momo. Nuh-uh,” Burn firmly declared.

“But how can I study it if I don’t—I wanna see it!” Momo demanded when Burn raised his index finger and showed her a miniature ball of condensed heat. It immediately bent the light around it from the extreme temperature, causing Momo to sigh in awe and frustration, "Aw fuuuuuuuuuck..."

“What are you gonna do about it?” Burn teased.

“Are you expecting me to harvest a random White Dwarf and make a weapon out of it?” Momo hummed, “Eeeeeh, I don’t know, what methods would be perfect…”

“But nope, especially not for you or just to prove to you that I can,” Momo gestured elegantly sideways, her hand framing her chin under the veil, her elbow leaning on the hand rest.

“I’ll just buy more when they’re on sale, then,” Burn sipped his wine.

“What? The White Dwarf?!” Momo flinched.

“Silly,” Burn smiled, his eyes subtly warmed at her innocence. “Everything’s on sale if you know where to buy it.”

“Your Majesty, are you going to bloody destroy—”

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. Please forgive her. I'm not sure why there's an influx of rudeness and profanity around you today. Rest assured, I'll educate them appropriately," the woman who had previously prevented Morgan from sharing Burn's wine interjected, a note of disapproval in her voice.

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Burn's brows furrowed at this surprising rebuke. However, before he could manage a response, Morgan was on her feet. She casually gestured towards the exit door with her thumb, announcing, "Your Majesty, I'mma dip."

Burn's eye twitched at her audacity, an unspoken irritation simmering beneath his stoic facade. Morgan was clearly leaving him to deal with the fallout, exiting the scene as smoothly as she had entered it.

Her departure, devoid of any formal permission from him or anyone else, not only irked him but also offended the noblewomen present.

"W-who does she think she is?!" another noblewoman chimed in, her voice a mixture of astonishment and indignation.

"Marissa, you're so considerate. You stopped her before she could embarrass herself further," another woman commented. Meanwhile, Marissa remained composed, continuing to pour Burn's wine with practiced grace.

"And what was she wearing? This isn't some masquerade..." a voice murmured.

"Her dress is so last season too~!" another added, the gossip now in full swing.

"Pffft… hahahah…"

Their chatter came to an abrupt halt when Burn chuckled to himself. The world of women's politics was something he had never quite understood. But just when he was about to feel a twinge of sympathy for Morgan, her departure had given him a glimpse into the minds of these women.

What a dog-eat-dog world they lived in.

***

"Hehehehehe…" Momo's laughter echoed softly in the corridor as she sauntered away from the hall. It was only fitting, she mused, for monarchs like Burn to be surrounded by a gaggle of women, each vying for his attention.

Yet, it seemed Burn himself wasn't the one doing the gathering. No, the women themselves clustered around him of their own volition.

Considering the wine he'd consumed, Burn would surely need a veritable army of these women to guide his possibly inebriated self back to his chambers once the festivities concluded.

Momo couldn't help the wry smile that tugged at her lips as she envisioned the scene. 'Good luck, ladies,' she thought. 'May the best woman win. Amen.'

As Momo meandered through the corridor, she once again stumbled upon the painting.

Ah, this painting.

Upon seeing it again, she could discern that it was a different Morgan. It was Morgan Le Fay from a future three years hence.

The painting revealed a version of Morgan that was simultaneously ruthless and cold, yet elegant and breathtakingly beautiful.

Her features were etched with an icy determination, a sharp contrast to the radiant elegance that highlighted her beauty. It was a paradox that somehow worked, a testament to Burn's artistic skills.

Her pose, a dynamic blend of weightlessness and strength, created an aura of invincibility and grace. It was as if she was suspended in time, a celestial being whose power was as immense as it was captivating.

Despite the striking depiction of her future self, Morgan couldn't shake off a sense of shyness. It was somewhat jarring to see this version of her displayed so prominently in the corridor. It was like a mirror to a future she was yet to live, a visual prophecy that left her feeling exposed and oddly vulnerable.

"I'm gonna take it down," fuck Burn, Momo thought.

She reached out and gently tugged at the frame, testing its weight and pondering the feasibility of a one-woman heist. Yes, she could probably manage it. After all, how hard could it be to—

"What are you doing?!"

The sudden exclamation from behind her was like a bucket of ice-cold water, halting her rebellious escapade mid-action. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, she couldn't even contemplate painting theft in peace.

Momo turned, only to find the quartet of noblewomen who had been near Burn now standing behind her. In the middle stood the most radiant of them all, adorned with exquisite jewels that spoke volumes about her family's wealth and influence.

"Marissa, look at this," one of them exclaimed. "Just when you were about to graciously educate her, she's on the verge of another act of stupidity!"

"Don't you think she's beyond redemption?" another chimed in. "Perhaps you should advise His Majesty to administer punishment instead."

Once the two women had finished their commentary, a silence descended. The trio of women waited expectantly for the calm and elegant Marissa to speak, their expressions mirroring the anticipation one feels when watching a drama about to reach its climax.

But before Momo could explain herself, Marissa broke the silence, her voice as soft as it was chilling.

"Do you know what that painting is?"