“How neat.”

Morgan flinched when she heard a familiar voice from behind her. She turned to face the source, flashing a beautiful, perfect smile, greeting him, “Caliburn.”

She was about to stand when Burn offered her a hand. She reached back and let him pull her up. “Your hair’s back to white,” Morgan remarked and Burn just nodded, before hearing her next question, “The meeting’s done?”

“Weird things happened, but it was…” thanks to Morgan, kinda. In his other loops, he had never experienced the Round Table pledging their allegiance to him with the Holy Grail ceremony, so it was something unexpected.

“Weird things?” Morgan tilted her head, her curiosity piqued.

Burn just shrugged. He guessed it was because it was the first time they saw him in that much pain. Well, it was painful, and he didn’t want to experience it again if he could. But it frightened them so much they pledged allegiance to him.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Burn said. “Don’t try to distract me.”

Morgan blinked, feigning ignorance. “Distract you? With my beauty?”

Burn grasped her face, making her yelp. He sighed and said, “You erased that boy’s memory. I felt a trace of the same spell Vlad used. That’s neat, but isn’t that unfair?”

Morgan stopped struggling from his grasp, and he realized her atmosphere had changed completely. He released her face and saw the look of sadness in her eyes.

Her usual playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a somber expression that made her seem older, more weary. The smile she wore so easily was gone, and in its place was a look of vulnerability rarely seen.

But she was a bit surprised when Burn suddenly rubbed her lower belly. “Huh? W-why?”

“I came inside you last night, yeah?” Burn said, and Morgan's eyes widened, her jaw practically hitting the ground. “Multiple times—”

“HEY, Your Majesty! Right, right! The weather’s so nice!” she yelled in panic, her face a shade of red that could rival a tomato. She immediately pushed the chuckling Burn away from her disciples.

That certainly shook her out of her complicated feelings.

“You should delete their memory about what I said too,” Burn teased.

“What were you thinking?!” Morgan yelled at him again.

“Are you going to erase my memory about last night too, if you think it’s neat?” Burn asked as he was pushed out of the way.

Morgan, who was pushing his back away, only looking at his wide back from her perspective, couldn’t properly see what expression he made when he questioned it, just like how he couldn’t see what expression she made.

But when she looked up, toward the back of his head, somehow…

“It was the first time I came inside someone, you know,” Burn said. “And if I proposed marriage to you, would you erase that memory if you feel like you don’t want to marry me?”

“You are…?” Morgan was speechless.

“Morgan Le Fay,” Burn called her name, “I can somehow guess that you will tell me you’re a monster or something, and I shouldn’t marry someone like you, or something.”

“You’re the unfair one,” Morgan said. “I told you I’m different, right? I’m an immortal being with infinite sou—”

“I can be an immortal too if I want,” Burn said, feeling the woman stop pushing him away, though she was still leaning against his back. “And I don’t need offspring if you don’t want to have kids.”

“That’s a huge commitment for someone like me,” Morgan fake laughed.

“Someone like the legendary Morgan Le Fay?” Burn asked.

Morgan leaned her forehead against his back, her entire face blushing red.

“Or, actually you have a lover, and yesterday was purely for healing me?” Burn feigned disappointment.

Morgan felt her lips lock and her throat catch. She wanted to cry. After a solid silence, she managed to say, “I don’t have a lover, and yesterday…”

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“Yesterday?” Burn asked, his breath catching in his throat.

“...was amazing,” her small whisper made him smile, and a soft blush landed on his cheek.

The weather, of course, couldn't resist being annoyingly perfect that day. The grass under their feet was a lush green carpet, tickling their ankles like nature’s attempt at a foot massage. The wind swirled around them with just the right amount of gentle force, as if it had read the script for the moment.

Above, the sky flaunted its endless blue expanse, dotted with fluffy clouds that looked like they’d been painted by an overenthusiastic artist.

The sun beamed down, casting a golden hue over everything, making even the most cynical heart consider that maybe, just maybe, the world wasn’t such a bad place after all.

“Yvain! No! You’re not running away!” Burn suddenly yelled—

The boy, not too far away, sneaking away from the grassy courtyard, turned to them with a pale expression. "Shucks..."

Burn’s shout broke the serene atmosphere, causing a flock of birds to take flight from a nearby tree. Yvain, caught in the act, froze like a deer in headlights, his escape plan foiled.

Morgan sighed, her earlier blush fading as she turned her attention to the hapless boy. She shot Burn’s back a knowing glance as he left her without turning back, probably not used to the romantic atmosphere.

The day, for all its postcard-perfect weather, was far from over.

***

“They’re dead?”

“We don’t know, sir. But it looks like they are.”

Walls of shimmering metal pulsed with the low hum of advanced machinery, their surfaces adorned with cryptic runes and holographic displays that flickered like some avant-garde art installation. The air was cool and sterile, carrying the faint scent of ozone, a byproduct of the ship’s myriad technological marvels.

In the center of this architectural wonder stood the man in charge, a figure of authority wrapped in an impeccably tailored uniform that screamed ‘I’m important, and I know it.’ His brow furrowed as he stared at the underlings before him, their nervous fidgeting betraying their fear of the impending tirade.

"And the White Dwarf?" he asked, his voice a mixture of exasperation and incredulity.

"...it's missing," one of the underlings managed to squeak out, eyes darting to the floor as if hoping it might open up and swallow him whole.

The commander sighed, a sound that echoed through the hall like the groan of an ancient beast. "And you just told me now?"

The commander pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about incompetence and the cosmic absurdity of it all. But he knew that it would be hard to report things like this under the higher ups’ surveillance.

“So, let me get this straight,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re telling me we need to deploy a planet-destroying amount of energy just to take out one measly person? One. Single. Person.”

“Sir…” the underling stammered. “But the team on the ground did manage to push the White Dwarf’s potential to its limit.”

“Oh, did they now?” The commander’s eyebrow arched in mock surprise. “And what, pray tell, was this 'limit' they achieved?”

“We detected a burst of power equivalent to 3% of the weapon’s potential,” the underling replied, trying not to shrink under the commander’s withering gaze.

“Three percent,” the commander repeated, his voice heavy with disbelief. “So, you're saying our top-of-the-line, planet-busting weapon managed to cough up a whopping three percent of its potential, but was still unable to kill him? Fantastic. Just fantastic.”

“Sir, please don’t blame them too much,” a voice interjected, dripping with icy cynicism. From the shadows emerged a figure clad in the same decorated uniform as the commander. He was younger, his demeanor cold and calculating.

“You were the one who agreed to their suggestion to illegally deploy the White Dwarf to the ground, after all.”

The commander’s eyes narrowed as he turned to face his counterpart. “Ah, yes, thank you for your timely reminder,” he replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. “How could I forget that brilliant decision?”

The younger officer smirked, his gaze unwavering. “Despite knowing the risk of it,” he added, his words like daggers.

The commander sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Yes, despite knowing the risk,” he conceded, rubbing his temples. “But how would I know a random man from a lower realm would be able to…”

The younger officer shrugged, clearly enjoying the commander’s discomfort. “Well, at least we know our weapon can manage a whole three percent on the ground. That’s a record. Too bad the user presumed died.”

The commander shot him a withering look. “Oh, yes, a real achievement. Let’s put that in the victory column.”

Silence hung in the air like an unwelcome guest.

“Well?” the commander prompted the younger officer, who was looking down on him with a smug smile. “Are you not going to contribute to solving this problem?”

“Why should I?” the younger officer replied, his tone dripping with casual indifference. “They wouldn’t dare use it from the ground anyway. As long as the one-way portal is intact, they can’t even scratch us.”

The commander’s frustration was palpable. “But an inspector from the Alliance higher-ups is due to audit our resources soon. Rumors say one of the Ten Overlords might come personally.”

The younger officer scoffed, his expression betraying a hint of amusement. “Isn’t that your mess to clean up?”

“Hey, help me out here,” the commander insisted, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

The younger officer’s smile widened, but he offered no reply, leaving the commander to stew in the silence of the futuristic hall, where the hum of advanced machinery seemed to mock his predicament.

“Well, I guess I’ll try to help out,” the younger officer finally said, his tone still laced with that infuriating nonchalance.

The commander’s face brightened, hope flickering in his eyes. “Good! What are your suggestions?”

The younger officer shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Why don’t we try and ask for it back?”