Fate Grand Order: Broadcasting Master Love — Chapter 89

Chapter 89: Lancer Artoria’s Valentine’s Day

Inside the bustling Control Room of New Chaldea, the ambient hum of the monitors was entirely drowned out by the thick romantic tension hanging in the air. Mash Kyrielight hugged her arms tightly against her chest. A fierce blush painted her cheeks as she shot a helpless, reproachful glare at Fujimaru Ritsuka. The dark-haired Master was currently staring blankly at the massive light screen suspended in the center of the room.

“Senpai, you’re terrible,” Mash murmured, her voice a mix of a pout and a sigh. “To just come right out and tell Miss Artoria that you like her…”

Ritsuka offered nothing but a helpless shrug. A wry, unapologetic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, choosing silence over defending his blatant on-screen confession.

“That version of Artoria certainly reaped an undeserved reward,” a cold, imperious voice cut through the room. Morgan leaned against the metallic doorframe, her icy blue eyes narrowing as they swept over the frozen image on the broadcast screen. Her tone dripped with an unmistakable, venomous jealousy.

Before the Winter Queen could fully manifest her displeasure, a lighthearted, painfully smug voice chimed in. “Oh my, it’s just a simple ‘I like you.’ That’s child’s play.”

Swimsuit Fairy Knight Lancelot sauntered into view. She casually swayed a half-eaten ice cream cone in her hand, the delicate bow on her pristine swimsuit skirt fluttering with her confident steps. “Master and I spent our Valentine’s Day lounging under a beach umbrella, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears while sharing a Lover’s Parfait~” she boasted, drawing out the final syllable with absolute triumph.

“You—Lancelot!” Morgan’s voice cracked like a whip. Her icy blue eyes snapped wide open, and the atmospheric pressure inside the Control Room instantly plummeted. Frost began to creep along the edges of the monitors as the ambient temperature dropped by several freezing degrees.

Tucked away in a shadowed corner of the room, Kiyohime clutched the fabric of her kimono in a white-knuckled grip. Her beautiful face contorted into a dizzying blend of euphoric joy and terrifying anger. Her slender fingers trembled, yet her lips betrayed her, curling upward into a delighted smile. “How wonderful… Master’s words weren’t a lie…”

But a heartbeat later, the light vanished from her golden eyes. Her brows knitted together in a tight, resentful scowl, her voice dropping into a wronged, obsessive whisper. “But… but Master also said he likes Artoria…”

Oblivious to the brewing bloodbath in the Control Room, the mysterious light screen flickered. The previous scene faded, smoothly transitioning into the next broadcasted memory: Artoria Pendragon (Lancer)’s Valentine’s Day.

The camera panned down a brightly lit Chaldean corridor. The moment Fujimaru Ritsuka’s figure rounded the corner, the tall, regal woman waiting by the wall straightened up. Lancer Artoria’s emerald eyes immediately lit up with quiet joy. She closed the distance between them with quick, purposeful strides, though a faint, uncharacteristic tension laced her clear voice.

“Master. I have been looking for you.”

Ritsuka paused, blinking in mild surprise. “Artoria? Did you need me for something?”

“Regarding the customs of Valentine’s Day… I have already familiarized myself with the necessary knowledge,” she replied, offering a slight, graceful nod. The colorful, festive balloons lining the corridor walls reflected softly in her bright eyes. “Sir Bedivere informed me that this festival serves as an occasion to convey one’s true feelings to those of great importance. He said it is a day meant to fill everyone in Chaldea with vitality.”

A soft sigh escaped her lips. “Such a festival… it truly does enrich the heart.”

She hesitated, the tip of her armored boot shifting against the floor tiles as she carefully weighed her next words. A faint, rosy hue crept up her neck, dusting her cheeks and turning the tips of her ears a soft red. When she spoke again, her regal pitch dropped into a cautious, almost vulnerable inquiry.

“May I… participate as well?”

“Of course. You’re always welcome, King,” Ritsuka answered without a second of hesitation, flashing her a bright, encouraging smile.

Lancer Artoria gently shook her head, her expression shifting into one of solemn sincerity. “Master, you are not my vassal.” She raised a gauntleted hand, lightly brushing away a speck of imaginary dust from her shoulder before locking her gaze entirely on him. “More, an occasion like a festival is best enjoyed without the rigid constraints of royal etiquette.”

She drew in a slow, deep breath, as if bracing herself for a decisive strike. The rigid, perfect posture of a king relaxed, the tension bleeding out of her broad shoulders. In those striking emerald eyes—eyes that normally harbored the piercing, divine edge of the Holy Lance—there remained only a pool of gentle, unwavering earnestness.

“Not as King Arthur, and not as the knight sworn to protect Britain…” Her voice was hushed, delicate, as though she feared shattering a fragile dream. “But simply as an ordinary person experiencing this unfamiliar festival, I wish to say this to you.”

A breathtakingly soft smile graced her lips. It was a rare, fleeting expression that melted away her usual stoicism like spring sunlight on winter snow, making the harsh fluorescent lights of the corridor feel infinitely warmer.

“—Happy Valentine’s Day, Master. I offer my deepest blessings to you, the one who fights endlessly to protect the human order. And at the same time, I wish to express my most sincere gratitude. Thank you… for allowing me to regain my true self, and for giving me the chance to wield the Holy Lance for what is right once more. Please accept this. It is my chocolate for you.”

Yet, as the heartfelt words settled in the air, her hands remained empty. She didn’t produce a neatly wrapped box or a ribbon-tied bag. Instead, she averted her gaze, suddenly looking incredibly shy. Her armored fingers reached down, awkwardly twisting the hem of her pristine knight’s uniform. The blush on her ears deepened into a burning crimson.

“…If only I could simply hand you the gift right after saying such things,” she mumbled. “Truthfully, the gift is not on my person. No, I prepared it quite some time ago.”

Her voice grew even softer, tinged with a heavy dose of embarrassment and vexation. “But… it cannot be easily transported here. I am truly sorry. Because I wanted to pour every ounce of my feelings into it, I became a bit too carried away, and accidentally… overdid it.”

Ritsuka’s eyes widened, a spark of realization flashing across his face. “I see… wait, could it be…” His tone spiked with sudden, delighted surprise. “Is it a giant chocolate?!”

Lancer Artoria looked back up, a flicker of triumphant pride dancing in her emerald eyes, clearly thrilled that he had deduced her secret so quickly. “Master indeed possesses keen insight. In order to properly pour my feelings for you into the mold, I decided to craft it with all my might, holding absolutely nothing back. That is why it turned out the way it did.”

She offered a helpless but fond smile. “In the end… it became something quite massive.”