Blessed By A Yandere Goddess

Anastasia woke to the smell of elven tea and the sound of foxes yipping. The blue flames in the fireplace had burned low, casting long shadows across the sitting room, and someone had draped a blanket over her while she slept.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. The couch was comfortable, and her body had taken full advantage. Every muscle ached pleasantly from the days of marching and fighting.

"Finally awake?"

Ronan was sitting in a chair by the window, a cup of tea in one hand and his phone in the other. Sarael was perched on the arm of the chair, her legs draped across his lap.

Now back to her more controlled personality.

The four foxes had returned at some point and were now curled in a pile near the fireplace.

"What time is it?"

Anastasia asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Around seven in the morning. You slept through the night and then some."

"And the prince?"

"Came and went. We’ve got a new job."

Anastasia straightened immediately, the last traces of sleep vanishing from her expression. She looked toward Sarael, who smiled back with a wave.

"What kind of job?"

"That was quick... guess love really is powerful."

"Just tell me already...!"

Ronan handed Anastasia a cup of tea that Sarael had poured. He gave her the short version: the documents, the second prince’s conspiracy, the attempted assassination by troll, and the prince’s offer.

By the time he finished, Anastasia was staring at him with her tea untouched.

"That’s... a lot. Did you accept?"

"You’re the leader here."

"You’re giving me the decision!?"

Ronan just shrugged. Either way was good for him. John was still keeping him hidden, and the prince would only give him more choices.

But Ronan needed Anastasia to make the decision, a way for him to avoid carrying all the blame if anything went wrong.

John might not have offered a dukedom or protected territory, but he was still doing something just as important.

He was keeping Ronan’s name clean and his new identity as his grandson intact. Without that, even if Ronan could live in the Third Prince’s territory, he’d be living with the association constantly waiting for him to leave.

They wouldn’t just give up because a prince was protecting him. Ronan was still a murderer, and one they still believed was corrupted and knew what had happened on the other side of the portal.

"Yeah."

Ronan answered plainly, making sure not to influence her. He needed her to make the decision on her own.

"L-Let’s do it."

"Oh? Not scared?"

"Shut up. You don’t even look concerned. If you were really worried, you would’ve stopped me."

Ronan smirked. The months of training had been worthwhile. She was now confident enough in Ronan’s skills to take risks.

"Good girl~!"

Sarael said as she teleported beside Anastasia and hugged her.

"Joining a coup just for your beloved prince... You’re learning from me, too!"

Anastasia’s face went red. She pushed at Sarael’s arms, but the goddess held firm, her grip surprisingly strong for someone who looked so delicate.

"That’s not—I’m not—this isn’t about him!"

"Your ears say otherwise."

Ronan set his tea down and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. His joints popped in sequence, a reminder of how long he’d been sitting in that chair.

"Alright. We’ve got a coup to plan. Or at least, the prince does. We’re just the muscle."

"When does he want us?"

"No idea. He said he’d return when the time was right. Until then, we’re supposed to stay in Frostheim and not draw attention to ourselves."

Anastasia looked down at the four foxes curled by the fire, then at Sarael in her ancient goddess dress, then at Ronan in his all-black fugitive attire.

"Right. Not drawing attention. That’s definitely our specialty."

"We’ll manage."

Sarael said it with the confidence of someone who’d never successfully managed to be subtle in her entire existence. But Ronan didn’t contradict her. If anything, he looked almost amused.

"So what now?"

Anastasia asked.

"Now we wait. And while we wait..."

Ronan’s expression shifted into something more serious. The teacher’s face. The one he wore when he was about to push her past her limits.

He wasn’t a teacher, but when it came to practical training, he was still one of the best you could ask for.

"We train."

✧ ✦ ✧

THWACH!

THWACH!

THWACH!

The two fought inside the room, with Ronan giving Anastasia a blunt stick while fighting barehanded.

It was daytime, and the room was reasonably well lit. That meant no inflated stats from the inheritance.

So this was Anastasia training against Ronan at his weakest.

Even so, he was still the porter who had survived the portal that killed hundreds.

THUD!

Anastasia hit the floor face-first, while Ronan stood beside her with his arms crossed. Without the inheritance, he was still as strong as a High A-Rank, or even a Low S-Rank.

More than enough to keep Anastasia from beating him easily.

"You’re a beast..."

"Come up with a better insult. That’s the fifth time—"

CRACK!

The room’s window suddenly shattered inward. Sarael reacted instantly, throwing herself between the window and Ronan. The bullet ricocheted off her body and buried itself in the floor.

"An assassin—?"

[Accursed wretch!]

The room rumbled with Sarael’s voice. Then she charged straight for the window and the source of the shot.

Ronan tried to stop her before she could leave, but she was too fast. Her sudden lunge snuffed out every light source in the room and turned the foxes by the fireplace into beasts that formed up the moment she was gone.

"W-What the hell—?"

The assassin in the room across the garden recoiled. It should have been a clean shot. Instead, a flickering woman moved through the garden’s shadows, closing in on him with terrifying speed.

He ran for the door, but the instant his hand touched the handle, he found himself standing in a black void of absolute nothingness.

"Pathetic little creature."

This was the first time Sarael had ever seen Ronan nearly die.

And she was not happy about it.

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