Blessed By A Yandere Goddess

Chapter 57: Does This Count As A Goddess’s Torture?

A month had passed since the incident.

John had handled the fallout himself, sending all three of them back to the mansion. Ronan hadn’t refused; John was his client. As long as he was paying and taking responsibility for the consequences, Ronan didn’t care what he planned to do with Kevin.

As for Ronan and Sarael, their situation had changed considerably.

They now effectively lived in the mansion’s guest rooms, without even needing to move Ronan’s old furniture in. John had already had everything fully furnished, and to call Sarael pleased would be an understatement.

She was ecstatic with their new living conditions, especially the bed and the constant supply of meals.

And in exchange for all of that? Ronan just had to keep training his daughter. In return, the house would be theirs permanently, even after the job ended.

"You’re quicker now."

Ronan spoke as Anastasia bombarded him with bullets, all while slipping past his advances as he lumbered forward like a tank.

"I’d be ashamed to be the daughter of an S-Rank if I wasn’t!"

She ducked under a shadow from Sarael and quickly repositioned before Ronan could corner her.

Their routine remained the same: train at night, eat, let Sarael and Anastasia hang out, and have Ronan take the occasional side gig to level up.

By then, he had already reached level 19. Progress was slow, and it didn’t help that Zero kept refusing to give him more serious jobs because of his current contract with John.

Sarael had offered to "fix" that.

Ronan had vehemently refused, insisting it wasn’t a problem.

[Ronan Night]

[Class: God-Bound (???)]

[Level: 19]

[STR: 34 +20 +110]

[AGI: 32 +20 +15]

[CON: 30 +20 +150]

[MAG: 24 +20 +0]

"Take a break. You did well today, avoiding both my and Sarael’s attacks."

By then, Anastasia had already learned the true identities of her new tutors. She wasn’t all that surprised, not after seeing Ronan literally beat Kevin down like he wasn’t even an S-Rank.

"Ronan..."

Sarael clutched his sleeve, far more expressive than before, ever since her outings with Anastasia.

To Ronan’s surprise, she had kept everything about them a secret. She’d told him she would only reveal what she was planning once she was ready.

Apparently, she was preparing a gift for him.

"Yes?"

"Can you pick which one you like best?"

She showed him a gallery of photos on Anastasia’s phone. Some were outfits, some were food, and some were even popular character archetypes from fiction.

This had been going on for three weeks now. Every time Ronan pointed something out, Sarael would nod, then hurry back to Anastasia with the phone, excitedly sharing what she’d learned.

’Sarael’s been less clingy lately...’

Ronan wasn’t sure how to feel about that. If there was one thing he knew, it was that everything felt a little lonelier now.

Lonely, over a goddess who had once nearly killed him. That, he had not expected.

BEEP!

JNeu: It’s been a month now. Head to these coordinates tomorrow. It’s about time you give my daughter some dungeon experience.

JNeu: I won’t be there myself, though; I’m way too busy handling the Association’s search for you, but I’m sure you three can handle it. It’s a World-Class Gate, and I’ve managed to get you three access; just make sure not to make a mess.

A World-Class Gate, specifically, one the Association had dubbed The Frontier.

It was among the first World-Class Gates humanity had conquered, and calling it beneficial would be an understatement. Ronan himself had been there more than a few times.

Still, returning now would be a welcome change of pace.

After gaining this kind of power, he was itching to use it on someone again.

✧ ✦ ✧

Back at the guest house, Sarael was acting even more suspicious. Instead of clinging to him in their free time, she was barely in the same room at all.

And again, to Ronan’s surprise, he absolutely hated it.

It wasn’t every day a beautiful woman wanted him. The thought of her growing distant, even if it was healthy, was starting to wear on him.

"This gift had better be worth it..."

Ronan sighed, glancing toward the dresser at the sound of rustling fabric.

Ronan leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. The guest room was too quiet.

A month ago, Sarael would have been pressed against his side by now, her shadows curled around his ankles, her voice murmuring something possessive or curious or both.

Now she was across the room, rustling through the dresser with her back to him, whispering to herself about fabrics and colors and whether he’d prefer something "elegant" or "cute."

It was absurd. He was a wanted fugitive, an ex-porter who’d survived Tartarus-B, a man who’d beaten an S-Rank into the ground with his bare hands.

And here he was, sulking because his goddess wife was spending too much time on a secret project instead of clinging to him.

"Sarael."

She turned immediately, a half-folded garment in her hands.

"Yes?"

"What exactly are you planning?"

"It’s a surprise."

She said it with the same tone she’d used for three weeks now, but her expression softened when she saw his face.

"You’ll like it. I promise."

"That’s not what I’m worried about."

She set the garment down and crossed the room, settling onto the edge of the bed beside him. Her hand found his, cool fingers interlacing with practiced ease.

"Then what are you worried about?"

Ronan didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t sure how to phrase it without sounding pathetic. Hey, I’ve gotten used to you being obsessed with me, and now that you’ve developed hobbies, I feel weirdly abandoned.

That would be honest. It would also be embarrassing.

"You’ve been busy," he said instead.

"Too busy?"

"I didn’t say that."

"You didn’t have to. I can tell."

She leaned against his shoulder, violet hair spilling across his arm. The bite mark on her neck was still visible, exactly where he’d left it a month ago.

"But don’t worry. It’ll all be worth it, I promise."

Sarael leaned in and kissed Ronan deeply before pulling back, a thin bridge of saliva still connecting their lips.

"Sarael..."

Ronan moved to close the distance again, but Sarael stopped him, pressing a finger to his lips, a smug grin curving her mouth.

"Nope. Not yet, dear Ronan, not until the surprise."

"Really... even this?"

"Mhm."

To Ronan, this was starting to feel like torture, worse than anything Tartarus-B had ever done to him.