Yandere Monster Evolution: My Blind Wife Will Become a Demonic Queen

Viora stood near the doorway, holding a warm slice of buttered toast in her right hand.

"The commercial council doesn’t fund simple freelancer hides," Viora said softly, swallowing her food. "If they gave Black money, it means there is more than one Guilds involved who are going to sell a Gate."

"Selling a Gate?" I asked, looking back at her.

"A Gate," the boss corrected from inside the storage room, his voice rough and defeated. "It’s an unranked Gate beneath the Eighth Avenue office. Black isn’t just running a business. He’s farming illegal monster materials directly from the rift."

Carmilla crossed her arms over her chest. "An unregistered Gate right in the middle of Eighth Avenue? The guild auditors would notice the mana bleed."

"They don’t," the boss spat, shaking his head. "The commercial council installed heavy suppression field emitters around the building foundation. The mana stays inside the basement. No alerts. No guild taxes."

I looked at Viora. "Isn’t that where the Guild master of Black Faction Guild is residing?"

"Most likely," Viora said, taking another bite of her toast. "A private Gate is a perfect fortress. If things go wrong in the city, he can just step into the dungeon and lock the entrance behind him."

"Then we go to Eighth Avenue today," I said. "We don’t give him time to clear out his files or run deep into the Gate."

"Agreed," Viora said, turning back toward the stairs. "I will finish my breakfast and join you."

Carmilla stepped forward, her dark red eyes looking at me with a frown. "I should come with you."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "The Eighth Avenue office is surrounded by high-tier guild cameras and street watchers. If a royal blood-mana user like you shows up, the entire city guard will lock down the district. It will turn into a war zone before we even accomplish our goal."

"Woo Jin is right," Viora’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs.

Carmilla stayed silent for a moment, then let out a low sigh. "Fine. I will stay at the villa with Leo and Mia."

By 10:30 AM, Viora and I were ready.

We didn’t take the electric bike this time. A silent electric bike belonged to our villa setup. Instead, we walked out the back gate of the neighborhood, taking the narrow side alleys toward the lower city bus lines.

Two people walking down the sidewalk with brown paper lunch bags on their heads drew a few strange looks from local street vendors.

"Look at those two," a food cart vendor muttered, pointing his spatula at us. "Guild cosplayers get weirder every year."

I ignored them and kept walking. My footwork stats allowed me to move with complete silence, taking long, smooth strides.

Beside me, Viora walked without making a single sound.

I kept my eyes fixed on the narrow dirt trail ahead as we left the paved city streets far behind.

The lower city bus had dropped us off near the southern edge of the industrial district, right where the old concrete walls crumbled into neglected overgrown brush. From there, we hiked deep into the dense woods surrounding the rocky hills—a place completely abandoned by ordinary city dwellers and unmonitored by guild patrols.

"Are you sure the Gate was relocated here?" I asked, adjusting the brown paper bag over my head so the eye cutouts lined up comfortably.

"My sense doesn’t lie, Brian," Viora replied from beside me. Her voice came out slightly muffled through her own paper bag mask. "The suppression emitters near Eighth Avenue were only diverting the mana flow. The physical anchor of the Gate was dragged out here into the dead zone to avoid guild detection entirely."

"How far?" I asked softly.

"Two hundred yards ahead," Viora said, pausing for a brief second to tilt her head toward the wind.

We picked up our pace, moving smoothly through the tall grass.

Past a rusted, collapsed wire fence, the trees suddenly grew sparse, opening up into a hidden rocky ravine. Right in the center of the clearing, hovering just three feet above the mossy ground, was the Gate.

"No guards, no automated turrets, no cameras," I noted, scanning the perimeter. "They really left the entrance completely open."

"They must have assumed no one could track the diverted mana signature across the district line," Viora said, flexing her right fist. "And they certainly didn’t expect two people with paper lunch bags to follow them."

I reached down, checking the iron dagger strapped securely to my hip belt. "Remember our names inside. I’m Brian, you’re Vera."

"Understood, Brian," Viora murmured beneath her mask. "Let’s enter."

We stepped toward the glowing emerald slit together and plunged into the rift.

The sensation of crossing an unranked Gate was like stepping through a thick curtain of cold water.

For a split second, weightlessness took over. My vision flashed with bright green sparks, and then my boots hit soft, damp earth with a quiet thud.

The air inside the dungeon was completely different from the dry, dusty air of the city outskirts. It was cool, rich with oxygen, and heavy with the scent of damp moss, wild blossoms, and ancient timber.

We were standing on a gentle grassy hill inside a vast, primeval forest. Giant trees with thick silver bark and wide canopies of glowing amber leaves stretched high into the sky, towering hundreds of feet above us. Instead of a sun, the sky above was a soft, pale violet dome filled with slow-drifting golden clouds.

"This environment..." I muttered, looking around in surprise. "It’s an open-world forest realm."

Viora took a deep breath of the cool air, her chin turning slowly as her spatial radar mapped out the surrounding terrain.

"The mana density here is remarkably pure," Viora said, resting her hands loosely at her sides. "There are no concrete walls, no metal structures, and no signs of guild excavation equipment near the portal zone."

"Which means Black’s group went deeper into the woods," I added, pointing toward a faint trail of crushed ferns and snapped twigs leading down the hillside. "Look at the ground. Boot prints. Heavy tactical boots. At least ten or twelve men."

"They passed through here less than twenty minutes ago," Viora noted, stepping up beside me. "Their movements are heavy and uncoordinated. They are rushing."

"Then we keep our distance and follow the trail," I said, drawing my iron dagger just in case. "Stay sharp, Vera. An open forest dungeon usually means native monster species."

As we walked deeper into the woods, the trees grew even larger. Thick, glowing roots pushed up through the soil like twisting dragon spines, covered in patches of luminescent blue moss that flickered softly as we passed.

Suddenly, Viora stopped dead in her tracks.

She held up her right hand, signaling for me to halt. Her paper bag mask turned sharply toward a dense thicket of pale white bushes thirty yards to our left.

"Brian," Viora whispered, her voice dropping into a razor-thin thread. "We aren’t alone."

I immediately lowered my center of gravity, taking a firm footwork stance and shifting my grip on my iron dagger. "Monsters? Or men?"

"Neither," Viora replied, her hidden white eyes scanning the high canopy above. "No heavy footfalls. No metal gear clanking. Their heartbeats are incredibly slow... almost like the trees themselves."

I narrowed my eyes, peering through my paper bag cutouts at the surrounding foliage.

At first glance, I saw nothing. Just silver tree trunks, glowing roots, and golden leaves. But then, as I focused on the high branches thirty feet above the forest floor, I noticed subtle shifts in the shadows.

Figures were moving silently through the treetops.

They didn’t jump or crash through the branches like human hunters. They glided from beam to beam with absolute weightlessness, blending seamlessly into the ambient green and gold light of the forest.

SWOOSH.

Without a single sound of warning, four figures dropped down from the high canopy, landing in a perfect circle thirty feet around us.

I tightened my grip on my blade, taking half a step closer to Viora’s back so we covered each other’s blind spots.

The figures stood tall and slender, dressed in tunic armor made of woven green vines, dark leather, and polished silver plates. Their skin was pale with a faint golden sheen, and their long, almond-shaped eyes glowed with an ethereal amber light. Long, elegant, pointed ears poked through their straight, silver-blonde hair.

Elves.

Are they native inhabitants of this gate?

Unlike the wild, aggressive monsters usually found inside low-tier dungeons, these elves carried themselves with supreme discipline and quiet authority. Each of them held a long, curved bow made of polished white wood, with glowing green arrows already nocked on the strings, pointed straight at our chests.

"Do not move, strangers," the elf leading the group said.

His voice was clear, smooth, and melodic, yet carried an undeniable edge of authority. He looked young, but his sharp amber eyes possessed the cold focus of a veteran warrior.

The leader stepped forward, his bow remaining steady. His eyes traveled up from my iron dagger, past my dark combat clothes, and locked directly onto the brown paper lunch bag covering my head. Then he looked over at Viora, staring at her identical paper mask with a look of profound, bewildered confusion.

"What manner of creatures are you?" the elf leader asked, his brow furrowing slightly. "Why do you wear parchment sacks over your faces?"

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