Blessed By A Yandere Goddess

The Frontier’s exit gate hummed behind them as they stepped back into the human world. The familiar smell of concrete and city air hit Ronan’s lungs, and for once, he was glad for it.

Three weeks had passed since the Second Prince’s coup collapsed.

Three weeks of elven politics, formal ceremonies, and the Third Prince, now the uncontested heir to his father’s trust, was dealing with the fallout of everything.

That included the growing rivalry between him and his first brother after the Third Prince’s popularity spiked. But that wasn’t Ronan’s problem anymore.

Their deal was done, and now all he had to do was wait for the Third Prince to bring news about his sanctuary after he finished consolidating power.

Not that he planned to move to the Frostlands permanently. It was too cold, and way too medieval for him and Sarael’s liking. Sarael, at least, preferred it more than he did.

The foxes alone had made the trip worthwhile.

She’d named all four of them, Snow, Frost, Blizzard, and Kevin, and refused to leave them behind. They now lived in John’s mansion, much to the retired S-Rank’s bewildered amusement.

As for Anastasia, she was very fine with leaving. Didn’t even say goodbye to the prince as they left.

When Ronan asked, she had just said something about becoming stronger first.

"You named one of them Kevin?"

John had asked, staring at the fox in question as it gnawed on a chair leg.

"He reminded me of someone."

Sarael had replied, offering no further explanation.

Ronan had never seen John look so confused.

Anastasia’s training had continued after they returned. The Frontier expedition had pushed her past her limits in ways the controlled environment of the mansion never could.

But Ronan had suspected it was more about her change of mentality than anything the Frostlands actually did.

She’d broken through to A-Rank two weeks ago, her ice magic finally crystallizing into something lethal enough to make even Ronan raise an eyebrow.

She still couldn’t beat him in a spar. But she’d stopped face-planting into the floor, which was progress.

✧ ✦ ✧

Zero: Still no details on the water. Give me more time.

Zero: But I do have something interesting about the two hunters you worked with.

GodBound: Dean and Haley?

Zero: You know their names?

GodBound: We got... pretty close.

Zero: Either way, I think they took a liking to you. Or maybe you’re just incredibly lucky. Whatever they’re doing, they seem to be taking every job I give them after I told them I’m your only current fixer.

Ronan smiled in bed. The fear of death seemed enough to make them do their jobs, and he made a note to visit them sometime.

For now, John and the two of them were enough to keep the association off his trail.

But running wouldn’t always be his only option. He was stronger now, and so was his wife. Eventually, he and the association would have to clash, whether either side liked it or not.

"I’ve been tutoring for more than a month now. My pay’s been renegotiated, and the duration’s been extended."

Ronan said aloud, trying to come up with his next plan for Sarael and himself.

"The association is the next obvious target, and of course Tartarus..."

But he didn’t need to be hasty. After he got his sword and his extra few million in pay, that would come next.

Right now, he was satisfied playing tutor and the grandson of an S-Rank.

"Sarael said she’d be staying in my shadows for a day. I wonder what she’s doing..."

✧ ✦ ✧

In Sarael’s shadow realm, however, the energy was far removed from the domestic calm she projected outside.

It even paled in comparison to her usual manic excitement. This was different; it was almost time...

...It was almost time for her gift.

That meant whatever restraint she had kept in place until now was on the verge of breaking. Holding it back any longer almost seemed impossible.

"Come on, come on, come on!"

Sarael kept repeating as she sat on the ground, staring at her reflection in the inky black floor of her realm while she combed her hair into what she considered perfection.

She couldn’t use magic. That would ruin the point.

She needed to look perfect with human tools and prove to Ronan that even without being a goddess, she was perfect for him.

She’d been at this for hours now, longer than she’d ever spent on her appearance before.

Normally, she just willed herself to look however Ronan wanted.

A thought, a flicker of divine power, and her hair would arrange itself perfectly. Her dress would fit flawlessly. Her skin would glow with that ethereal radiance that made mortals stop and stare.

But that was the goddess’s way.

Tonight, she was just a wife.

A human wife, with human tools, preparing a human gift for her human husband.

Sarael set the comb down and examined her reflection. Her hair fell in waves around her shoulders, not perfectly symmetrical like she could make it with magic, but natural and soft.

The way Anastasia had shown her during their late-night talks.

"Imperfections are charming."

Anastasia had said, fumbling through advice she’d clearly picked up from watching romance dramas.

"If everything’s too perfect, it feels fake. You want him to see you, not a goddess pretending to be human."

Sarael had nodded seriously and committed every word to memory.

Now she was putting it into practice.

And the dress definitely helped. The one Ronan had recovered from the ruin, the one that had once belonged to her at the height of her worship, fit perfectly without any divine adjustment.

That saved her another hour of preparation.

Sarael stood and smoothed the front of her dress. Her reflection stared back at her, violet eyes bright with anticipation and nerves.

"Okay."

Sarael took a deep breath.

"I’ve been preparing for this for weeks. I’ve studied everything. I’ve practiced everything. I can do this."

She paused.

"I can definitely do this."

Another pause.

"What if he doesn’t like it...?"

The shadows around her stirred anxiously. She pressed her palms against her cheeks and shook her head.

"No. No negative thoughts. Anastasia said confidence is attractive. I am confident. I am very confident. I am the most confident wife in existence."

She straightened her posture, lifted her chin, and fixed her reflection with a determined stare.

"Ronan will love this."

Her voice dropped, the manic edge softening slightly.

"He has to. I’ve been so patient. I’ve been so good. If he doesn’t love it..."

She bit her thumb, blood welling up and dripping into the void.

"...Then I’ll just have to try again. And again. And again. Until I get it right."

She smiled at her reflection, heart-shaped pupils gleaming.

"Perfect things belong to Ronan. That’s the rule."

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