“Nice to meet you, Kay.”
The voice was soft and languid, carrying a certain loneliness, like the sound of autumn leaves crumbling underfoot.
The man seated in the plush chair of the reception room possessed a gentle impression, reminiscent of a prince from a fairy tale.
He was Oberon, the Fairy King who ruled the forests of Wales.
“The Fairy King of Wales...? I’ve never heard of such a title in North Wales.”
Kay relaxed his guard slightly and took a seat across from him. While he knew the name Oberon from the knowledge of his past life, he had never heard that the man resided in Wales.
“Ahaha, it’s only natural. I don’t particularly enjoy catching the eyes of humans. I am merely a humble Fairy King who spends his days napping in the deep forest, watching the leaves fall.”
Oberon lifted his teacup, wearing a good-natured smile.
“And as you know, the fairies of Wales are fragile creatures. I am not particularly strong myself. If we were to draw too much attention, fairy hunters might target us. Not all humans are benevolent, after all.”
Deep within his pupils, however, lay a sharp, deceptive glint—as if he were peering through the very fabric of the world.
“Then why did you ask to see me?”
“Let’s call it curiosity. This grand stage called Britain is like a great gear rolling toward a predetermined conclusion: ruin. Yet, one day, a single pinch of seasoning dropped from the Abyssal Realm began to jam those gears, throwing the mechanism out of alignment.”
Oberon propped his chin on his hand, gazing at Kay with genuine interest.
“Immediately after you returned from the Abyssal Realm, North Wales changed, and the tyrant of Ireland perished. And now, even this Fairy Kingdom has regained its vitality. Your existence is a peculiar singularity that twists the causality of this island.”
Queen Gloriana, her expression grave, spoke in agreement.
“It is true, Sir Kay. Your presence is breathing a new wind into Britain. However... as the light grows stronger, the shadows deepen. Merlin is a prime example.”
“And then there is that girl, Nimue. In that regard, even if we wished to intervene, there is little we could change. Anyone but you would be powerless.”
“...What exactly are you talking about?”
Kay’s eyes sharpened. Oberon merely shrugged.
“Don’t look so frightened. Currently, in central Britain, the prophesied king, King Arthur, has established the great unified kingdom of Logres and is on the verge of completing Camelot.”
Oberon rose slowly from his chair and walked toward the window, where a breeze drifted in.
“On the surface, it is a glorious achievement. But erecting magnificent walls does not fill a hollow heart. In fact, the higher one stands, the deeper the despair beneath their feet feels.”
The wind gusted, fluttering Oberon’s cloak.
“You are the adversary of the Nightmare and the witch. While you may not be the adversary of Botigan... you are a far greater key to deciding the fate of Britain than the Pendragon children.”
“...I’ll pass on that role.”
“Perhaps. You are free to refuse. But you should know that the fate of your sisters rests in your hands. Botigan aside, the Nightmare and the witch will continue to hunt those girls as long as they draw breath.”
“.........”
“That is all the advice I have for you, Kay. The true battlefield you will face may not be a den of monsters, but the very holy city that should be the most radiant of all. In the distant future, once you have defeated Botigan, seek out the mausoleum in Londinium. Deep in its depths, you will find a child capable of dealing with the Nightmare.”
“Wait. Why are you giving all this advice to someone you’ve just met?”
“Me? Well, I simply love happy endings. Stories where hardships are overcome, where the protagonists' efforts aren't belittled, and where—even if it's a bit cliché—everyone ends up smiling... I love a story where everyone is happy.”
Leaving behind those cryptic words, Oberon vanished like a mirage through the window on a gust of autumn wind. Kay could not shake the lingering feeling of unease.
“Ow! My eyes sting! I’m crying! What kind of toxic weed is this?!”
After the heavy atmosphere of the reception room cleared, the strangest cooking class in the world commenced in the kitchens of the Emerald Palace, just as Kay had promised.
Bavanshi, a vampire fairy wearing a tacky white apron over her ornate gothic dress, stood before a cutting board. She was slicing onions, tears streaming down her face like raindrops.
“Stop whining. You're chopping onions, not handling poison. I told you to dice them to a uniform thickness, didn't I? If you just mash them, the juices leak out and the flavor becomes muddy.”
Kay stood behind her with his arms crossed, berating her with the intensity of a demonic drill sergeant.
“Ghh...! Why do I have to shed tears over some inferior plant! Couldn't we just draw some blood and mix it in?!”
“The blood pudding you admired so much requires sautéed onions, oats, and spices in a perfect ratio to neutralize the metallic tang of the blood. Cooking is an art of patience and harmony. If you just want to gulp down blood, go be a mosquito.”
“I AM NOT A MOSQUITOOO!!”
Despite her screaming, Bavanshi gritted her teeth and continued her knife work exactly as Kay instructed.
Once the ingredients were prepped, Kay taught her the precise proportions for mixing high-grade wild boar blood with the diced onions, oats, milk, and honey.
“Now, stir this slowly over the heat until it sets.”
Bavanshi pouted, but as the aroma of the thickening pudding reached her, her eyes began to sparkle. Finally, the first blood pudding of her own making was complete.
“Taste it.”
Bavanshi cautiously took a spoonful of the crimson pudding and placed it in her mouth.
“...Oh?”
While it didn't reach the transcendent heights of the version made with Kay's own blood, the onions and herbs had perfectly masked the gamey scent of the beast, enveloping her tongue in a smooth, rich flavor.
“It’s delicious.”
Her red eyes widened in surprise.
A small sense of accomplishment—the joy of creating something by refining ingredients and controlling the flame, rather than the pleasure of stealing another's life—warmed her chest.
“Not bad, right? Cooking is about putting effort into something to feed others. Just because you're a vampire fairy doesn't mean you have to spend your life stealing blood. Try making it yourself every now and then.”
Kay nonchalantly untied the apron strings from the top of her head.
Bavanshi stared blankly at Kay’s large, rough hands before suddenly flushing deep red and snapping her head away.
“H-hmph! I’m not grateful for this at all! It’s nothing more than some crude human trick!”
She snatched the plate of pudding and bolted from the kitchen. However, the tips of her pointed ears remained a vivid, burning red.
That night—the final night in the Fairy Kingdom. Completely exhausted from the day's training and the cooking class, Kay was fast asleep in the wide bed of the guest suite.
Creak.
The door opened with extreme caution.
Out of the darkness, a voluptuous and breathtaking silhouette approached the bed.
It was Bagest, wearing an audaciously sheer black negligee that left little to the imagination, clinging to every curve of her body.
Hehehe. My lord and husband. Now is the perfect time, while the other servants are dead to the world from fatigue, for me to firmly engrave my mark upon him as his partner!
She swallowed hard and carefully peeled back the blanket covering Kay. But just as she was about to slide her massive frame into the space beside him—
“My, my. Why is this horny stray dog trying to crawl into someone else's bed?”
“?!”
From beneath the covers, Caster popped her head out, her eyes gleaming. She was already dressed for bed in a thin slip, hugging Kay’s waist tightly and using his arm as a pillow.
“Hmph. Did you think I was a fool? It was obvious that a muscle-brained oversized hound would try to sneak in while my brother was defenseless. Did you really think I'd just step aside?”
Caster nuzzled her face against Kay’s chest, smiling mischievously.
“You... you arrogant little country brat...!! I am the one attending to my lord tonight! Get out!”
Bagest flared up, lunging onto the bed to grab Caster by the collar.
Caster didn't back down, concentrating mana at her fingertips to deploy a barrier.
“Hah?! You want to go?!”
“Grrr! I’ll chew you to pieces!!”
The two fairies began a full-scale catfight on either side of Kay, grabbing each other's hair and clashing their magical energies.
Thwack! Bam! Crash!!
The duvet flew across the room and pillows were torn to shreds in the chaos.
In the center of the violent melee, Kay furrowed his brow and muttered in his sleep.
“Seriously... so noisy...”
The next morning.
“Shall I load the bags here, my lord?”
Bagest, now in casual clothes, effortlessly lifted Kay’s massive luggage with one hand as she boarded the ship. Having contracted as Kay's subordinate, it was only natural that she would follow him back to North Wales.
“Yeah. Set them down carefully. There are spices in there.”
At the bow of the ship, Kay bid farewell to Queen Gloriana, Britomart, and Bavanshi, who had come to see him off from a distance.
“It was a short stay, but thank you for everything, Your Majesty.”
“The pleasure was ours, Sir Kay. We shall never forget the exquisite world of gastronomy you shared with us. Safe travels.”
Britomart bowed with a look of regret, while Bavanshi crossed her arms and glared at him.
“Hmph! Don’t you dare come back!”
Though her words were sharp, her gaze followed Kay until the very end.
Just before the ship set sail, Queen Gloriana approached Kay and whispered gravely, her tone mirroring that of Oberon.
“Sir Kay. Once you return to North Wales and finish your preparations, proceed to Logres without delay.”
“Logres? Where Artoria is.”
“Yes. The prophesied king is on the verge of collapse. As for the details... you must hear them directly from the ladies waiting for you at North Wales Castle. I am afraid I do not know the full story myself.”
‘The ladies?’
Kay tilted his head in confusion, but the Queen remained silent.
Leaving Cleopolis behind, Kay finally turned the ship toward North Wales—the epicenter of the storm, where the Pendragon sisters were gathered in a chaotic swarm.
And in the reception hall of North Wales, Lily—whose mental state had shattered to the point of scratching at the floor—and Artoria X, holding a baby in her arms, were waiting for him with fire in their eyes.
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