"Hey, hey, Merlin! Do you think little Lancelot has really let go? Has he truly escaped the fate you foresaw?"
On the desolate isle of Avalon, atop its lone tower, the Faerie Nimue posed this question to her suitor, Merlin.
Merlin hadn't left the tower since the battle outside Hamburgh, yet he held a slice of wedding cake baked by Guinevere herself.
"Mmm, so sweet. This flavor definitely doesn't belong in this era."
"Merlin, I'm asking you about Lancelot! Don't you dare change the subject!"
As a faerie, Nimue was petite, her pale purple hair cascading naturally over her slender neck. But while her body was small, her temper was anything but.
As she spoke, she viciously kicked Merlin's backside, all while cradling a small beast named Fou in her arms. The creature, having grown quite familiar with her, seemed equally eager to kick Merlin's rear.
"Now, now, don't be so serious. Is it because you had a hand in raising Sir Lancelot? Do faeries truly care so much about such connections?"
"Merlin! I'm really getting angry now!"
Merlin was a lecherous old man, but his interest in beautiful women was purely aesthetic. Incapable of understanding human emotions, he was equally clueless about love.
Faced with Faerie Nimue's furious glare, he remained inwardly calm but feigned panic, finally answering her question.
"My dear Nimue, I don't know the answer either. After all, I can only see the King of Knights' final end now; the path leading there has long since blurred. You know this, don't you? The battle outside Hamburgh unfolded completely differently from what I originally foresaw."
Merlin smiled and spread his hands, looking increasingly punchable, yet he was speaking the absolute truth.
"So, the reason the path changed... is it really because Queen Guinevere can bake cakes that shouldn't exist until future eras?"
Merlin could see the future and knew this world was not unique. Beyond the realm of Proper Human History, countless parallel worlds existed side by side.
Moreover, even within the timeline of Proper Human History, time travelers moving against the current of time were hardly a major concern. If a time traveler could appear, it simply meant they were part of this worldline.
At this thought, the image of a figure in red suddenly flashed through Merlin's mind.
"My dear Nimue, haven't I told you? As long as Guinevere isn't trying to destroy the world or humanity, no matter what she does—even if she truly changes everyone's future—it's merely adding a new story to the world.
"If the original story was a bittersweet dark chocolate, exceptionally memorable, then what's wrong with savoring a sweet little cake instead?"
While speaking of cake and eating cake, Merlin still hadn't directly answered Faerie Nimue's question.
But the answer no longer needed to be spelled out.
At that moment, Faerie Nimue's face lit up with obvious delight. Her next kick at Merlin felt more like a playful flirtation.
For Merlin, he enjoyed continuing this "dating sim" game. Even if he sensed Guinevere might be from the future, he didn't care.
He loved humanity and their stories, but he only ever played his own assigned part. Even if the future wasn't particularly "delicious," he would only ever watch from the sidelines.
"Witnessing an unpredictable stage play is far more delicious than a story already known."
"Merlin, just admit you're lazy," Nimue retorted. "You have the talent to be a director."
"But I prefer being in the audience, only occasionally stepping on stage to play the part fate has assigned me."
The Mage of Flowers laughed cheerfully, wondering if he should sneak a few more cakes back with him. He had truly grown fond of this taste from the future.
In his heart, he held a future he had never shared with anyone—a future that belonged to him alone.
He had seen it: when the King of Knights met her end as he foresaw, he would immediately regret not intervening. Consumed by self-loathing, he would imprison himself "forever" in this Tower of Confinement.
'Would my future self enjoy a sweet story, one that doesn't fill him with self-loathing? Oh no... thinking about my pitiful future self, I'm actually starting to hope Miss Guinevere can change the future of this worldline.'
'But it's never that easy. Just like it's not easy for Lancelot to let go.'
'The true factor that will cause the King of Knights' kingdom to collapse should arrive in a decade or so...'
'And that is an absolute, unchangeable tide of fate.'
Merlin kept these thoughts to himself, sharing them with no one.
After finishing the small cake in his hand, he abruptly spun around and hugged Faerie Nimue, shamelessly rubbing his face against her delicate cheek.
Moments later, after being kicked away by Nimue, Merlin simply thought, 'I'm so shameless. No wonder my future self ends up trapped under a giant rock by Nimue, unable to warn the King of Knights in time to guard the Holy Sword and its Scabbard. Well, that's the future I saw, after all.'
Even after being sent flying and contemplating his dreadful future, Merlin still had no intention of acting.
He would simply continue to savor the story, occasionally stepping on stage to play his part, indifferent to how the tale might unfold.
Meanwhile, Sir Lancelot had accomplished the extraordinary feat of single-handedly suppressing all of Ireland in just three days.
Upon his return, however, he reported that his excessive bloodshed had made it impossible for him to gain the acceptance of the Irish people. He had already promised them that, as a condition of their surrender, the King of Knights would send other knights and lords to govern.
"Guinevere, what do you make of this?"
"What can I say? That the Irish are too weak, or that Lancelot is too strong?"
In Camelot City's Royal Palace, within the private bedroom of the King of Knights and Guinevere, the King of Knights was gritting her teeth. Forced into newly bought women's clothing, she danced feminine steps in the dimly lit room. The door was sealed shut, the curtains drawn tight, and only candlelight illuminated the space.
At the same time, Guinevere, also wearing a long dress, embraced her. Using her half-head height advantage, she gazed down at the tip of the King of Knights' nose.
Finally, unable to resist the temptation, she leaned in dizzily and pressed her red lips against hers, tightening her grip on the startled King of Knights, who tried to flee.
"Lia," Guinevere murmured, "since Lancelot can't bear to leave Camelot, let him stay. At this point, you'll just have to trust my preferences... and we'll have to trust in his knightly character."
The touch of their noses lasted less than a second, yet it was enough to make the King of Knights blush. When she looked up and met Guinevere's eyes, she saw the last traces of worry vanish from Guinevere's face, replaced by brimming confidence.
"Next," Guinevere murmured, "may My King taste the lips of her Queen?"
"Guinevere, isn't this... a bit too soon?"
Lia was momentarily dazed, only realizing it was a tease when Guinevere burst out laughing with a soft pfft.
In an instant, the King of Knights' cowlick stood straight up. She cupped Guinevere's face and did what a King ought to do to her Queen.
The sensation, entirely new to both of them, was like an electric shock. They instinctively recoiled, like fish zapped by a current.
"Lia, you actually did it?" Guinevere could barely contain her laughter, wanting to roll around on the bed. The King of Knights, overwhelmed with embarrassment, impulsively leaned in and kissed her again.
Afterward, neither had the courage to ask if they should continue. They would have to wait for the right moment and let things unfold naturally.