A Villainess pulled out the Sword instead of the Hero.

 

Morgana visited the tavern early in the morning.

 

Raon was slumped over the cocktail bar, bleary-eyed and almost completely out of it.

 

Wiping the drool off his face, he strained to see through the blur of sleep.

 “…Miss?” “Raon, how are you?” “It’s actually Miss! I drank a bit yesterday, and I thought I saw the wrong person. Are you off today?” “No, I just stepped out to run an errand.” 

Raon pointed a finger smugly into the shop.

 “Good. Confucius asked for you anyway, so I held him up yesterday.” “Where is he? I’ll come to find him later after work!” “What? He’s right here.” 

Morgana’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at Confucius as if questioning how he could possibly be here.

 

‘Here?’

 

Morgana gulped and stared at the mountain of ominously drunken mercenaries.

 

The big, distracted men always slept like that, in their natural daytime positions.

 

The occasional rumbling snore and the smothering sound of a man’s thigh against theirs was almost unnoticeable.

 

They were used to it, but not Confucius.

 

No way…

 

‘I thought Confucius was a nice guy, but isn’t this going to get him in trouble?’

 

Morgana’s expression turned to horror before she heard a voice from above.

 “Morgana, are you back?” 

A languid voice called from the second floor.

 

Morgana looked up, and there was Kellive, his coat draped over his arm, descending, looking much lighter than usual.

 “Confucius!” 

‘You’re alive!’

 

Fortunately, he had stayed on the second floor.

 

Kellive returned the greeting with a friendly smile and a moderate wink.

 “Since you’re so happy to see me, I suppose I should answer. Yes, Morgana. I’m here.” 

It was good to see him today. He was the only one who knew of a wizard who could make tools.

 

After so many unsuccessful attempts to find a wizard, it felt like he had a halo behind him now.

 

‘So much for connections.’

 

Morgana fumbled in her arms and pulled out a vial of herbs.

 

Taking a step toward Kellive, she looked him in the eye with longing and took one of his hands in hers.

 

He tilted his head, meeting her eyes kindly.

 “Why do you look so wistful?” “Confucius…” 

Clasp, she squeezed a small vial into his hand.

 “Morgana, this is…” 

Realizing this, Kellive started to pull his hand away, but Morgana was quicker, gripping his other hand tightly.

 “I suppose it’s a commission.” 

His hand clutched the bottle, and Morgana squeezed it with all her might.

 

Somehow, he could feel her determination not to take it back.

 

Considering her general unwillingness to accept anything for free, Kellive came up with one answer.

 “I see you need a wizard again.” 

She nodded as pitifully as she could. He grinned and ruffled his fingers through his robe, then leaned back on the stool in front of the cocktail bar and asked.

 “What can I make you?” “Do you happen to make magic tools that keep stuff from breaking?” “Break, what exactly?” “Not the head, but an object.” 

Morgana’s mouth curved into an arc as she made the distinction.

 “It doesn’t really matter if it’s a person or an object, because, at the end of the day, they both need to be protected.” 

Most of what was available on the market, however, was protection against demons.

 

Kellive leisurely rolled the vial of herbs in his waiting hand.

 “If that’s what you need, young lady. If not, I’ll give you one of my gems.” 

He seemed to misunderstand that she needed protection.

 

Morgana grunted, glanced around, and whispered,

“Someone’s been stealing things lately, from shoes to watches. It’s causing a lot of distress among the maids.” 

She pleaded her case for the need.

 

At this, Kellive, who had been listening with a wait-and-see attitude, sat back and asked.

 “Let me guess, why Morgana wants this tool.” 

He leaned over and pressed his face close to Morgana’s. 

 

His voice was low and raspy,

“You’re going to use it on the mirror, right?” “How do you…?” 

No, this sounds like someone who knows the mirror would get stolen.

 

Morgana quickly added an excuse,

“Well, mirrors are expensive, and there are very few in the maid’s room.” 

Kellive didn’t seem to care.

 “Then I’ll guess what’s going to be stolen next.” 

He spoke with a tone of certainty, as if he knew everything.

 “Scissors.” 

Scissors. Kellive’s voice and Morgana’s thoughts overlapped exactly.

 

It wasn’t just a guess, it was a certainty. Morgana said it was something she already knew, but he didn’t.

 “How can you be sure of that?” “I was hoping not…” 

Kellive pushed himself up from his troubled lean. His relaxed demeanor remained the same, but there was a faint note of determination in his voice.

 “I’m going to give you some protective armor, but you’d better keep it with you.” “Why, why, is this pretty serious?” “Do you want to know? You’d be scared.” 

He gently evaded the answer.

 

Morgana clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut.

 

Once he announced that it was frightening, she had to brace herself. She stiffened, wrinkled the bridge of her nose lightly, and nodded grimly.

 “I’ve prepared myself, now come on in.” 

With a light chuckle, Kellive tugged lightly on Morgana’s wrist.

 

His long legs wrapped lightly around her side. His shoes brushed lightly against the hem of her skirt, and the rustle of fabric against fabric was oddly loud.

 

Morgana stared down at him as he sat.

 

Just enough distance that she could reach out and touch his shoulder.

 

In her shadow, Kellive’s golden eyes, sleek and sharp, curved dangerously.

 “You said there’s a group of men chanting over there, didn’t you?” 

It was something she’d heard when he’d described Avalon to her, when he’d been the one to guide her.

 

When Morgana nodded, he spoke slowly,

“There’s a saying that the shoes she wore represented the flesh.” 

Maybe it’s because they move in them.

 

‘There’s also a saying that if you give shoes as a gift, the wind will blow them away.’ 

 

It seems that both here and in my country, the moving body and shoes are closely related.

 

Morgana locked eyes with him, and Kellive smirked.

 “On the other hand, a watch is the time of the person who wears it, so when you give it to someone, you’re giving them the rest of your life.” “That’s pretty romantic. Doesn’t sound too scary, does it?” 

If it weren’t for the fact that it popped out of the stereo surrounding, I could have listened to it.

 

If I thought I felt a few goosebumps on my arms, I was mistaken.

 

Morgana wasn’t scared.

 

‘I’m not scared!’

 

Her body quickly tensed to win the mental battle.

 

Unlike her, Kellive’s voice was still friendly. Instead, he leaned in closer, his eyes locked with hers.

 

Morgana’s heart beat irregularly at the growing distance.

 

‘Why is it tickling like this.’

 

He fidgeted unnecessarily with his wrist. Fiddling with his fingers, he tilted his head and looked up at Morgana.

 

It felt like a tie. Dangerous.

 “How about this, then: The mirror represents the soul, and the scissors were used by the god Coventina to cut a man’s fate.” 

He glanced at Raon, who was still dozing in the corner.

 “What do you think the four of them make when put together?” 

Body, time, soul, and destiny.

 

Morgana murmured, mesmerized.

 “A person…?” “Exactly.” 

Whispering close, he stepped back.

 

The space opened up, and he could smell the alcoholic scent of the tavern.

 

At last, she could breathe a little easier. The echo of her heartbeat still pounded in her ears.

 

Kellive stared at Morgana’s wrist in his grasp.

 “Someone’s trying to clone a human.” 

He realized it was Morgana’s problem. 

 

But all of this stuff belonged to Guinevere.

 

At the same time, Morgana clamped one hand over her jaw, her mouth about to open in horror.

 

‘So this isn’t actually a kidnapping, but rather creating a fake Guinevere?’

 

The kidnapper already knows.

 

The faint sound of a warning echo slipped through Morgana’s hand.