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Artoria wiped away her tears and, following an impulse she couldn't quite explain, headed to Morgan's magic workshop. She hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.

Morgan was in the middle of preparing a potion when she looked up to see Artoria. "What brings you here?" she asked, her tone sharp.

Artoria took a deep breath before answering. "I..."

Morgan raised an eyebrow, cutting her off. "Are you here to threaten me?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, no, of course not,"

"Hmph," Morgan snorted. "Maybe you're not here to threaten me, but I am certainly here to challenge you. My foolish sister, I, Morgan Le Fay, am telling you that I am going to take the throne."

Artoria looked troubled, "I didn't want to compete with you, sister."

Morgan rolled her eyes and went back to preparing her potion, her slender fingers moving swiftly over the ingredients. "Hmph, who knows what you really want," she muttered, not bothering to look up.

As Morgan dropped the potion into a vial, a faint, alluring scent of aphrodisiac wafted through the air.

Artoria wrinkled her nose, her curiosity piqued. "What is this?" she asked, pointing to the potion.

Morgan looked up from her work and gave her sister a sly smile. "An enhanced version of the Love Potion," she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Why are you preparing these things?" Artoria's troubled expression deepened.

Morgan shrugged, her gaze fixed on the vial in her hand. "Why do you think? It's for the King, of course."

Artoria's eyes widened in shock. "Why would you use this kind of thing on the King?"

"Of course, it's to obtain the King's bloodline!" Morgan said matter-of-factly. "Although the King has pledged to relinquish the throne to Pendragon, who knows if he'll have a change of heart? By securing the King's offspring, we'll ensure that even if he does back out, the throne will ultimately go to Pendragon's child. That way, we can guarantee the throne will 100% belong to our family."

"There's no need for such drastic measures. The King has never shown any signs of greed for power or the throne," Artoria argued.

"Hmph, power is the most corruptible thing for the human heart. What's happening now may change in the future," Morgan replied with a harsh tone, turning her head away to hide her expression.

The white mouse, suspended in mid-air with its limbs bound by mithril wires, struggled and shouted, "Let go of me! Let go of me, you witch! He is the noble king of Cornwall, and he should remain noble even when dealing with allies. Release me, and let that despicable guy come face me!"

Morgan seized one of the white mouse's whiskers and tugged on it slightly.

"Ow! That hurts! You witch! How dare you treat me like this? I'm the most beautiful mouse in the world!"

She produced a thin iron whip and lashed the mouse with it.

"Ow, ow!" the white mouse cried out in agony.

She ceased the whipping and adopted a gentle smile, saying, "I've heard that you possess extraordinary intelligence. Come now, tell me, how can I get the King to drink this potion?"

"I am a great daemon, I won't surrender!" the white mouse declared defiantly.

"Hmm?" Morgan's expression turned cold.

"I need... need time to think... don't... don't be so hasty... good ideas take time."

"Very well," she nodded, a sunny smile returning to her face.

As she turned her head, Morgan noticed that Artoria had disappeared.

"Has she already left? Hmph, my foolish sister. She can't even pose a threat to me. I'll take the throne for myself!"

"Huh? Why do I feel like there's one less bottle of potion?" Morgan counted the bottles but was unsure if the number was correct. Her arithmetic skills were never her strong suit. Despite the King's attempts to teach her basic math, she never bothered to learn.

"Did I have eighteen bottles, or was it nineteen?" Morgan mused aloud.

Realizing the futility of her counting, she gave up. The number of bottles was trivial, and she had no interest in it. What mattered was how to get the King to drink the potion.

"Have you come up with a plan yet?"

"I'm still thinking! I'm still thinking!"

...

Shirou arrived at the cell where Altrouge was being held captive.

It was a specially designed cell that Shirou had arranged for her confinement. The cell was pitch-black and devoid of any occupants. It was surrounded by powerful Bounded Fields etched by Merlin and the fairies, ensuring that Altrouge couldn't escape, nor could she summon the Crimson Moon.

Chained to a chair crafted from mithril, Altrouge was positioned at the center of the cell. Her hands were bound behind the chair, and her face was coated in black mud, impairing all her senses except for touch and hearing. This heightened her sense of touch to an even greater extent than usual.

Shirou hadn't punished Altrouge, but rather had simply confined her to this cell and was giving her the cold shoulder.

"Well, look who finally came to visit me after keeping me trapped in here for so long. Let me guess, is it the smelly bug, King Arthur?" Altrouge pursed her lips. "Am I right?"

Shirou approached her, crouching down to look at her face. "I'll offer you a chance. Tell me everything you know about Crimson Moon, and I'll let you go."

"Hehehe... I am the vessel of Crimson Moon. How could I reveal any information about him?" she responded with an elegant smile.

"I'll resort to using a whip to make you talk."

"It's pointless. How can mere pain compel me to reveal anything?" she sneered, displaying a contemptuous expression. As a princess of mixed descent, with both Dead Apostle and True Ancestor bloodlines, she had experienced countless battles since birth and had become resilient to pain.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Then don't blame me for being impolite."

Altrouge sneered, her contemptuous expression belying her true emotions. The so-called torture, beatings, and other painful punishments might terrify ordinary humans, but for her, they were useless. She had mentally prepared herself for this encounter and didn't feel scared in the slightest. In fact, she was almost tempted to laugh.

But to her surprise, the expected pain never came. Instead, she felt one of her legs being lifted up.

She sneered, "Oh? Are you going to saw my leg off? That's somewhat interesting."

He didn't respond with words but instead pulled out a stick made of white rat hair from his pocket. He lightly traced the stick on the sole of her foot.

Altrouge's body shuddered involuntarily at the sensation.

"It seems like you're responding. That's good. I was worried that you wouldn't."

Her anxiety grew. "What...what are you doing?!" She had a vague, ominous feeling from the strange sensation on her foot.

She attempted to pull her leg back, but a restriction had been cast in the space around her, and her months-long abstinence from feeding on blood had left her weakened. Shirou had also strengthened himself by wrapping his hands with black muds, making it impossible for Altrouge to free herself.

Shirou held onto her ankle with one hand and the hair stick with the other. He spoke calmly, "As a merciful king, I won't give you pain. Instead, I'll give you pleasure. Relax and feel the mercy of the king."

"What are you going to do? What do you want to do to me?"

Her body jerked with unexpected laughter as he began to run the hair stick along the sole of her foot. "Ah--!! Don't, don't... hahaha... don't... hahaha... don't do this, don't do this... stop... stop it... please stop it... hahaha... sob... hahaha... sob..." she pleaded through her hysterical laughter.

After about an hour had passed, he eventually released her foot.

Altrouge's eyes were teary, her entire body trembling and drenched in sweat. Her skin had turned red, and she was gasping for air.

"Are you willing to share information about Crimson Moon with me now?"

"I won't tell you! I absolutely won't!" her voice was mournful and defiant.

"I see... Then I'll return in three days at the same time. Be mentally prepared."

He secured Altrouge's leg back in place, closed the cage door, and departed.

Altrouge sat alone in the darkness, her eyes blinded by the black mud. She was left with only her sense of touch and hearing to navigate her surroundings.

The space around her was utterly silent and pitch-black, as if she were suspended in nothingness. There was nothing to confirm her own existence besides the occasional itch on the sole of her foot.

But these sensations only made her sense of touch more sensitive, causing her to tremble uncontrollably.

Alright.

She was scared now.

...

As Shirou returned to the palace, the sun had already set. He instructed Guinevere to rest and resumed going through the remaining paperwork.

"Your Majesty, I've carefully brewed chicken soup for you. Please try it," Morgan said, handing him the soup with a smile.

Shirou swiftly donned his black muds and sternly ordered, "Stand at the door, thirty steps away from me!"

Morgan's smile faded.

"And take your soup with you. I won't be drinking it."

She couldn't help but ask, "Why not?"

"You know what you put in there!" he raised his head, his expression wary.

"Mmm..." Morgan hung her head and turned to leave.

"Damn it!" Morgan cursed under her breath. She had hoped that with Merlin gone, she might have a chance with the king. But his caution had only grown stronger, with him now keeping her at thirty steps away. Even if she tried to launch a surprise attack, it would be futile.

Morgan sighed as she walked away.

Meanwhile, Shirou watched Morgan depart and rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. He couldn't help but think, When will she learn to make things as easy as Artoria does?

Thankfully, he had been wary of Morgan from the very beginning.

"Your Majesty, I've prepared fish soup for you. Please try it," Artoria walked in from outside and placed the soup in front of him, her movements somewhat stiff.

"Oh? How thoughtful of you," he remarked, removing his black muds and picking up the spoon, "By the way, your sister brought a bowl of chicken soup earlier, but I didn't drink it."

"Um... why not?" she asked, her voice tinged with nervousness.

"She put something in it," he replied bluntly.

Artoria trembled all over, "I... I..."

"What's wrong?" Shirou regarded her curiously as he sipped his fish soup. "Did she say something hurtful to you? Did she wrong you in some way?"

"No... no, it's not... I..."

"Come here." he motioned for her to come over.

Artoria hesitated before walking over to him.

He wanted to pat her head, but thought better of it and instead placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't hesitate to come to me if you feel wronged. Speaking of which, I wish Morgan would make things as easy for me as you do."

He then drank another sip of his fish soup.

"Your Majesty..." Artoria spoke up hesitantly.

The king had always trusted her completely and never showed any signs of suspicion towards her. Perhaps in his eyes, she was simply a loyal and obedient knight who made his life easier.

"What is it?" he asked, setting down his spoon and giving her his full attention.

"I... I..." she hesitated.

Shirou regarded her with a serious expression. "Don't hesitate to come to me if something is bothering you. You need to learn to express your emotions."

"Yes..." she lowered her head and was too afraid to look Shirou in the eye.

Shirou quickly finished his fish soup and commented, "It tastes great. You've really improved."

Returning to his paperwork, he didn't notice the guilt and shame that consumed Artoria.

She couldn't bring herself to look at Shirou. Her heart was heavy with the knowledge that she had betrayed the King whom she admired, obeyed, and loved the most.

It was perhaps the most despicable thing she had ever done.

...

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