The owner flinched in shock, pressing the card so close to her face it nearly touched her nose.
“No, how—how is this possible? How…?”
“Why? Can’t the 6 of Spades come up?”
At the deliberately oblivious question, the owner raised her voice sharply.
“Of course not! It shouldn’t even be possible in the first pl—Ack!”
Instinctively blurting out the truth, she hastily covered her mouth.
A child who had been silently watching the scene suddenly slammed a palm on the table as if about to flip it over.
“You cheated? What kind of person even—!”
The child’s reaction was uncharacteristically sharp and aggressive.
Morgana grabbed the child’s wrist, which seemed ready to lunge, and cheerfully replied to the owner.
“One out of three guesses, right? Hurry up and shuffle.”
For some reason, an inexplicable pressure made the child flinch.
Relieved that the matter was being dropped, the owner quickly shuffled the cards. This time, unlike before, she meticulously and laboriously mixed them while glancing sideways at Morgana.
‘Phew, thank goodness. She’s letting it go. Did the magic tool fail by accident?’
There was no way she’d guess the next two correctly. Her magic tool had never failed before, so she was certain.
The owner drew a card, and Morgana’s answer followed.
“Hmm, 7 of Diamonds.”
Then the next.
“10 of Clubs.”
And finally.
“Yes!”
Morgana let out a light cheer, playfully grasping Kellive’s palm with her right hand. She then high-fived the child next to her, who had been gaping in amazement.
The owner trembled as she held the three drawn cards, then cried out indignantly.
“This is cheating! You used a magic tool, didn’t you?”
“Why are you so sure it’s a magic tool? Almost as if you knew exactly which cards would come up?”
“N-no, that’s not it…”
The onlookers’ gazes turned icy.
Every word he spoke was an excuse for those present to pick up a book. There was no shortage of people who had lost money.
From somewhere, the sound of knuckles cracking could even be heard.
Morgana snatched the pouch of gold coins from the table in one swift motion.
“This money is mine now.”
Then, shamelessly, she stuck out her hand.
“And hurry up with the goods too.”
“Fine, take it all, take it!”
The owner, grinding his teeth, tossed her a vial of herbs. She shook the vial lightly, stood up, and replied cheerfully,
“Don’t try to cheat me. I may not know about living virtuously, but I won’t let anyone take advantage of me.”
Leaving the trembling owner behind, Morgana leisurely walked away.
“That damn swindler!”
Behind her, the mingled noises of onlookers erupted into a clamor.
Strolling casually into the street, she noticed a boy following her. He seemed to want the vial, his lips twitching, but pride held him back from speaking.
The boy, who looked like he had just come of age, kept his head low and spoke bluntly.
“Those street games all use magical tools. They call it a game, but really, it’s just about who has the stronger artifact.”
Instead of openly displaying magic, they deceive each other like this.
The unaware think it’s just a game and waste their money, while those in the know gamble, uncertain of how powerful their opponent’s artifact might be.
The boy awkwardly kicked the ground and continued, “I know how to use magic too. It’s not like I joined without a plan. I just didn’t feel the need to explain.”
The boy, who had been rambling on, glanced up at Morgana and replied in a hushed voice,
“Anyway, thanks for helping me!”
You… seem kinda familiar…?
That blunt way of speaking—even nice words sound sharp in that tone. His dark gray hair and pale silver eyes.
That oddly recognizable way of talking, yet she couldn’t quite place it.
Morgana narrowed her eyes, studying the boy, then dangled the bottle teasingly.
“By the way, what now? Even if you won, these herbs are fake, you know.”
Thud—
The boy’s eyes trembled as if the sky had collapsed on him.
He stammered, “F-fake? Then… the magic potion too?”
“Yep!”
At Morgana’s cheerful reply, the boy slumped, fingers raking through his hair in frustration.
“Ugh, should’ve known. No way it’d be this easy to get.”
His sharpened gaze turned defiant again. With a curt nod, he turned away without hesitation.
“Well, thanks anyway. I’ll get going.”
Something kept nagging at Morgana. She grabbed the back of his collar.
“Why do you need the herbs?”
“It’s nothing. Just like collecting weird stuff, that’s all.”
His defensive, prickly attitude. Even this felt strangely familiar.
Morgana stared at him, suspicion flickering in her eyes. Uncomfortable under her gaze, the boy tensed further.
Then—pop!—
Mangeum poked his head out from Morgana’s robe.
“Woof!”
The boy’s eyes bulged at the sight of him.
“Huh? Why are you here?”
Recognition flashed. That sealed it.
“Wait… you’re old man Pelles’ grandson, aren’t you?”
At Morgana’s question, the boy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“You know my grandpa?!”
Ah, so the grandson was out in the bustling streets.
‘He must have been searching for herbs to cure his grandfather’s illness.’
He wasn’t at Pelles’ mansion. Since he was in the city, it seemed he didn’t even know his grandfather had already been healed.
‘I wondered where I’d seen that prickly demeanor before… He takes after his grandfather perfectly.’
The fact that Mangeum, who usually bared her teeth at anyone she saw, was behaving so meekly around him confirmed her instincts.
But the boy remained wary.
“Who are you, and why do you have the puppy with you?”
Pelles, too, had initially been suspicious of them when they came looking for the puppy.
To think they’d be alike in this way as well.
Morgana smiled kindly, “I treated Grandpa Pelles, and for now, I’ll be taking care of him.”
“Y-you treated him?”
The boy looked bewildered, his eyes darting between Mangeum and Morgana.
As he stood there, stunned and speechless, Morgana tilted her head slightly toward the teahouse.
“Don’t you think we have some things to talk about?”
💫
The tea in the bottomless cup had grown stronger.
The boy still hadn’t let his guard down.
Morgana studied the enchanted teacup curiously before turning to Kellive beside her.
“Is this a magical artifact too? How much would something like this cost?”
“Why? Interested?”
Ignoring the boy’s sharp glare, Kellive tapped the teacup lightly with the back of his hand.
Morgana turned the cup in her fingers and replied, “When I worked as a maid, reheating tea was such a hassle. This is a real treasure.”
“What kind of teacup do you like? In Avalon, the ones with laurel patterns are quite popular. People often get them as wedding gifts.”
As they chatted idly, the boy cut in bluntly.
“Money tree. Right?”
“What?”
“Someone mentioned seeing a money tree near my grandfather’s mansion.”
How did he know that? Does my face say ‘I love money’ or something?
Morgana brushed her cheek lightly with her palm, looking bemused. The boy, as if his doubts had been resolved, finally relaxed his tense gaze.
“It was a defensive barrier I set up. I didn’t think anyone could bypass it by exploiting desires.”
“So you really are a mage, huh.”
‘I had no idea even the fog was his doing.’
The boy awkwardly sniffled and answered, “My name is Galahad. Since you know my grandfather’s name, I assume you’ve heard about me too?”
“I’m Morgana.”
No sooner had they exchanged names than Galahad asked, “How much did my grandfather tell you?”
“Up to the Holy Grail?”
“So he told you everything. Even after all that happened…”
Watching him mutter with a mix of concern and annoyance, Morgana added, “Don’t worry. I don’t know where the scabbard is. Even if you told me, I wouldn’t be able to find the Grail.”
His sharp eyes, which had been absently fixed on the nearby table, flicked toward Morgana for a brief glance.
He straightened his posture, then ran his fingers through his already messy hair again.
“Miss… Actually, I was trying to gather herbs to treat my grandfather.”
“I figured.”
“But, but you healed him, so…”
Galahad’s lips twisted slightly.
His eyes reddened—reminiscent of Pelles. But it was fleeting. Suddenly, he pressed both hands hard against his eyes.
Morgana flinched in surprise, but when Galahad lowered his hands, there was no trace of tears.
“My grandfather was the only family I had left. Thank you for helping him.”
He bowed—a proper gesture. Blunt, but it seemed to be a family trait.
As Morgana stared at the top of his head, he added without raising his gaze,
“I… actually know where the scabbard is.”
When he looked up again, his expression was resolute.
None of the earlier defiance remained.
“I was there when my grandfather had his hound taken from him.”
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