Morgana: The Mother Of All

Chapter 187: A Simple Life (2)



Chapter 187: A Simple Life (2)

Ring!

"Hello?" I said out loud, entering the bookstore, a small, cramped place with a large number of books on shelves and some more lying on the tables. The room was clean, and the air was heavy, smelling like paper.

"One minute," a voice came from the back. It was a female voice, and a few seconds later, a young lady came out—a woman of about twenty years, with a long ponytail and a pair of round glasses. She was wearing a plain, gray dress, and the look of a bookworm was on her face. Sorry, that was the wrong thing to say since she had something far better on her face.

A suspicious white and creamy thing on the corner of her mouth.

'Did I interrupt her breakfast?' I thought with a chuckle, noticing a head of a dick poking from behind a bookshelf. 'It's good that even at this age, people still love sex.'

"Can I help you?" she asked, placing her hands together and smiling gently, forgetting the cum on her face.

'It's good that Victoria doesn't understand any of this,' I sighed in relief, flashing an innocent smile befitting a child.

"I don't want to interrupt your fun, so I'll just look around myself," I said, tapping on the right corner of my mouth. "You don't mind that, miss?"

"Oh... I'm sorry." The young woman quickly realized what I was pointing at and wiped the cum off. The look on her face was absolutely cute, but I guess it was manageable since she thought that I didn't understand what the white stuff was.

Anyway, I just ignored the woman and began looking around the store. To be honest, for a small store like this, it had a huge variety of books—from the old ones that are almost falling apart to the new ones. It also has a lot of topics, from children's stories and history to cookbooks and a whole lot more.

"Hmm... interesting." The variety of books caught me by surprise, and it gave me a strange feeling since this village or the time period to be exact, was that of a medieval period. So seeing a book about a simple recipe for a cake was surprising.

'Is this the difference between my past and the trial?' I thought, staring at some book titles. If this was my past and this bookstore did exist, I don't think it had this much variety of books. The trial was built on my past, yes, but I don't think it's a one-on-one copy of it. Small or big details could have changed.

'Well, anyway, I still need information.' Shaking my head, I began to search the shelves for history books. It took me some time to finally find the right section.

"Hmm? Interesting," I mumbled, flipping the pages of a thick leather book. Its name was The Prince by Machiavelli. The book was about politics and power and the best way to take the throne. What caught my attention wasn't the book or its content but instead was a small yellow page glued to the back.

Written on this page was the date that the book was first published: 1532 in Italy. This book's edition was made in 1550, and the year that the book entered this store: was 1586.

'This book still looks new. So this year is 1586 or a year or two later,' I thought, picking up the book and returning to the front. Looking for the woman, to my surprise, she was with a young man.

Now, for a small kid like me, nothing would seem out of the ordinary—a young man hugging his girlfriend or wife from behind. But for a perverted one like me, noticing the small hip movement of the man was a dead giveaway.

'Oh my!... Sex during work hours.' Flashing a sly smile, I approached slowly. To my luck, Victoria wasn't here as she was busy reading a good story about a wolf and a small girl in a red hood.

"Excuse me, miss."

"Yes!" The woman jumped and quickly turned, pushing the man down and hiding him under the counter. Yet I saw everything in an instant.

'Pfff... what a small dick.'

"What can I do for you, miss?" The young woman asked. The look on her face was bright red, yet she managed to hide her embarrassment and acted like nothing happened.

"Can I ask you how old this book is?" I said, handing her the thick book.

"Hmm... it's old," the woman said, opening the cover and inspecting it. "It was made in 1550, and we received it two years ago."

'I see, so I'm in the year 1588.'

"Miss, you look like a smart person. May I ask you a question?" I asked, trying to look as innocent and cute as possible.

"Sure," the woman nodded, liking my compliment. "What is it?"

"Can you tell me about the kingdom we're in and what country we're living in?"

"Oh, you don't know?" The woman blinked. The look on her face was a mix of confusion and suspicion, yet it didn't last for long. A second later, a gentle smile appeared on her face.

"Our small village is called Comana. It falls under the domain of Lord Dmitri of the House of Tepes. He's the Count of Wallachia."

'Tepes, Dmitri, Wallachia? Huh... these names sound familiar,' I thought, scratching my chin.

"And our kingdom?"

"Our kingdom is called Romania."

"Romania," I said, trying to recall any information that could refresh my memory. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember.

"I need a map," I accidentally blurted out my thoughts.

"Sorry, young lady, maps are forbidden and are exclusive to the nobles," the woman replied, giving me an apologetic smile. At the same time, she was trying to kick the man who decided to shove his face between her asscheeks.

'Sigh... of course maps are forbidden for military reasons,' I thought, shaking my head. I was about to ask another question when a hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me.

"Sis, it's time to go," Victoria said, looking at me with a gentle smile. Then she turned, gave a small bow to the owner, and began dragging me out.

"I'll be back one day," I said, waving at the woman.

"Sure, feel free," she waved back, doing her best to hold her moans.

...

Outside the bookstore, the sun was high, the street was busy, and the sound of people talking and shouting, doing their best to sell their goods, filled the air.

"Say."

"Yes?" Victoria turned to me, raising her brows.

"How old are we?"

"Eh?" The young girl blinked for a second, then she placed her hand on my forehead. "Are you alright? You don't seem sick, but you're acting weirder than usual."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"I'm fine," I shook her hand and smiled. "Just go with my weirdness and answer my question."

"Sigh... we're twelve years old."

'So I was born in 1576,' I thought. Then a few seconds later, a shocking realization hit me. 'Damn, how old am I now?'

I recalled my time with Nana-chan in the cave, and from the equipment that she used and the stories that she briefly told me about her city. That time, or in this case, the future, was far away from the medieval time. I remember seeing the date on her advanced bracelet. That year was 3024 if I recall correctly.

'Damn, if this is true, then my real age is at least 1448, maybe even more.'

"Sis." A hand landed on my shoulder, breaking me from my thoughts. Turning to the side, I saw the worried look on my twin's face.

"I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," I nodded, putting the information at the back of my head for now, and walked after Victoria, heading to where my father was.

"Here, girls." My father—whose name I still don't know—was sitting on the wagon waving at us. Bags of fruits, seeds, and other stuff were laid behind him.

"We're leaving," he said, grabbing the reins. The moment Victoria and I seated ourselves next to each other, the wagon started, and we headed home.

As we traveled, I stared at the landscape, enjoying the fresh air and the calm. Yet a part of me was worried. This was a trial, my final one, and I had no idea how to finish or where to even look.

"Dad." A voice came from beside me, and I turned, only to see Victoria jumping on my father's shoulder and pointing at our house that was close. "Who's that?"

"Hmm?" I immediately turned upon hearing her words, narrowing my eyes. There at the front of our house was a man clad in steel or silver armor, with a sword on his waist and a blue and gold cape on his back with something close to a "W" symbol.

'He looks like a knight, a royal one,' I thought, as we closed in on our home.

My father didn't say anything. The look on his face changed from a warm and kind smile to a stern and cold one, and the two of us noticed it.

"Victoria," he said, his voice low and deep. "Morgana."

"Yes."

"Stay behind me."

"Okay." The two of us nodded, not knowing why he was worried. But I'm sure he had his reasons, so we just did as he said. Moreover, I'm just a human twelve-year-old girl with no magic or system.

The wagon stopped, and my father stepped down. Victoria and I followed after him.

"Good morning, sir," my father spoke first, his tone formal and polite, and the smile on his face was forced.

Instead of greeting my father back, the knight took a step forward, slammed his fist on his chest, and gave a deep bow to my father.

"Lord Vladimir Tepes, I'm honored to finally meet you again," the knight said, raising his head and giving my father a smile, a friendly one. Yet the tension didn't fade.

'Oh... My father's name is Vladimir Tepes. What a strong name. And he's a lord. Wait a second, so my full name is Morgana Tepes?'

"Sir Walter, it's a pleasure," my father spoke, flashing a smile, and a look of relief appeared on his face.

'Oh, so they're familiar,' I thought. The worry and tension were gone, but the curiosity remained, as a million questions appeared in my mind.

"Is he inside?" my father asked, staring at the door.

"Yes, he's waiting for you."

"Very well."

"Father?" Victoria spoke, the worry evident.

"It's alright. It's just that your grandfather is here, and he always likes to put up a show."

"Our grandfather?" the young girl asked, tilting her head.

"Yes. Oh... I forgot you two never met him before. Come," my father said, taking both our hands.

The knight, Sir Walter, opened the door and held it for us. Yet the moment the three of us entered the house, I felt a sense of danger. The feeling came out of nowhere. But in the next second, my eyes spotted an old man sitting comfortably on a chair, drinking tea and laughing with my mother.

"Ah, here are the little girls," the old man stood and turned to us. He had long white hair and a well-trimmed beard. However, the look on his face was a cold one, and his black eyes were as deep and dark as the night. Then out of nowhere, that cold expression instantly changed into a warm and soft smile that had a strange charm to it—more of a stupid smile, actually.

"Come and give your old man a hug."

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