Blessed By A Yandere Goddess

"Sarael?"

Ronan stepped out of the bathroom, still toweling his hair, and wandered toward the living room. He'd expected the news to be talking about him; after that rooftop broadcast, the whole world was.

But he hadn't expected this.

THUD.

His phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor.

Sarael was on television. Not just on television, she was sitting on the anchor's couch like a celebrity guest, legs crossed, laughing at something the male host had just said, and looking for all the world like she'd been doing interviews for years.

The banners on screen read: "EXCLUSIVE: The Woman Behind the Shadow Porter."

Ronan stood there, dripping onto the hardwood, wondering if he'd hit his head in the shower.

✧ ✦ ✧

"And then he killed them all without even sweating! And this was back when he was still getting used to his powers!"

Sarael's voice rang through the studio, bright and cheerful, and the audience actually applauded. The anchors leaned in, eating it up. She was currently telling the story of Ronan's accomplishments back in Tartarus-B.

Her cover was simple: she was a hunter with the same shadow powers as Ronan, someone who had also gone on the Tartarus-B expedition but wasn't seen when he emerged from the portal because she'd been hiding in his shadow the entire time.

"I have to say, Miss Night..."

The female anchor interjected, her smile polished but her eyes sharp.

"Your voice sounds awfully familiar. Quite close, in fact, to the laughing woman in the interrogation footage the Association released. Do you have any comments on that?"

Sarael tilted her head, giving the camera a sheepish little smile.

"Well... I was actually sleeping in his shadow back then, and I woke up in a good mood. I had no idea what was happening until it was already over. I didn't realize it was such a bad situation."

The excuse rolled off her tongue like she'd rehearsed it her entire life.

"That's... quite the story," she said. "So you're saying you were unconscious during the entire incident?"

"More or less."

Sarael crossed her legs the other way, her hands folded neatly over her knee. She looked like a noblewoman granting an audience, except her eyes were a little too bright and her smile was a little too wide.

"I have a habit of oversleeping when I spend too much energy. That night, my husband and I had just escaped from a World-Class Gate. I was exhausted, so I slept in his shadow while he was taken into custody."

The male anchor jumped in, clearly sensing an opportunity.

"Well, there you have it, folks. A firsthand account from the woman who was actually there. And as far as our live internet polls go, it looks like the overwhelming majority of viewers are now saying Ronan Night was framed after this new breakthrough!"

A graphic flashed on screen, showing a bar chart with an enormous percentage leaning toward "Framed."

The female anchor nodded along.

"Which makes sense. The Association never released a formal statement confirming Ronan Night's guilt. They just let the public assume the worst."

Sarael tilted her head, smiling sweetly.

"That's because my husband is innocent. He always has been."

The male anchor gave a polished grin. "Then we're lucky to hear the truth from you, Miss Night."

A ripple of applause spread through the studio audience. Someone near the front whistled. The female anchor placed a hand over her chest and exhaled like she'd been holding her breath.

"I have to say, this is one of the most revealing interviews we've ever aired."

Sarael tilted her head, smile still in place, and gave the camera a little wave.

"I'm just here to make sure everyone knows my husband is a good man. And also—"

She leaned forward, eyes glinting.

"—that he's very, very taken."

The anchors laughed, a little nervously, and the audience ate it up. The camera cut to a wide shot of the studio as the applause swelled, and Ronan was still back in the mansion, standing in the living room, still dripping onto the floor, watching his wife charm the entire world into believing she was just an eccentric, overprotective spouse.

✧ ✦ ✧

"Ronan."

He turned.

Anastasia stood in the doorway, still in her combat gear, phone clutched in one hand. She looked like she'd sprinted all the way.

"Your wife is on live television."

"I noticed."

"She's telling everyone she slept through the interrogation room massacre."

"I heard that part too."

Anastasia crossed the room and snatched the remote from the couch, muting the television.

"Get her out of there, then!"

Ronan just gave her a halfhearted shrug. It wasn't that simple. He couldn't teleport to her with his own magic, and he didn't even know where the studio was.

The foxes could point him in the right direction, sure, but him suddenly appearing out of thin air wasn't going to help anything.

"Can't do that even if I wanted to. Besides, she's handling the questions better than half the hunters I've seen in press conferences."

"So you're just going to let her keep telling stories about you to the whole world?"

"Yeah. You're underestimating how smart she actually is."

"Fine. I'll give you that. But don't come asking for help when she starts talking about your sex life on live television."

Anastasia turned and walked out, heading for her bedroom. Just like Ronan, there wasn't much she could do about what was happening anyway.

Ronan stood there for another long moment, staring at the muted television. Sarael was gesturing with her hands now, clearly in the middle of another story.

The anchors were leaning forward, captivated. The audience was laughing at something she'd just said.

He picked his phone up off the floor and checked it.

The feed was everywhere. Social media had already started churning out clips. Some were calling her "Mrs. Night." Others were calling her "the craziest wife alive." A surprising number were calling her "wifegoals."

Ronan didn't know how to feel about that.

"I'll go ask the fixer for some advice..."

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