I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

After his brief conversation with Athena, Nathan withdrew quietly.

The rest of his day passed without much disturbance. He kept his movements minimal, spending only a short while checking in on Crassus and his family. They were holding up, and with Medea watching over them with her usual quiet vigilance, Nathan allowed himself to relax just enough to focus on what lay ahead. She would keep them safe, of that he was certain.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the shadows of Rome grew longer, the city settled into its nightly rhythm. Lamps were lit across the streets, soldiers changed shifts at the barracks, and the air grew heavy with the scents of oil, wine, and smoke. By the time night fully embraced the capital, Nathan made his way toward the imperial quarters. Caesar had ended his public duties for the day, and Nathan knew this was the only time he could meet him in private.

Yet as he approached the Emperor’s chambers, the muffled, unmistakable sounds of passion slipped through the marble walls.

“Haaah… haaAAAH… yesss! HAAAN!”

The cries were shameless, echoing freely into the corridor. Two Roman soldiers stationed at the doorway barely batted an eye; their expressions betrayed nothing as they stepped aside to let Nathan in.

The moment he entered, a wave of déjà vu washed over him. His crimson eyes fell upon Johanna, sprawled on the great bed, her body bent forward as Caesar drove himself into her from behind. Her moans filled the chamber, sultry and loud, her flushed skin glistening in the torchlight.

“Haah! Hhhhaaan!” She gasped out, her voice breaking with every thrust. Then, by chance or instinct, her eyes turned toward the doorway—and she saw Nathan standing there.

Her voice faltered for a heartbeat.

Caesar, who had been wearing a smug, self-satisfied grin, followed her gaze. The Emperor’s smirk deepened as he noticed Nathan. Slowly, almost deliberately, he withdrew from Johanna, leaving her collapsed on the bed and gasping for air.

“Septimius,” Caesar greeted smoothly, adjusting his stance. He grabbed his tunic, loosely covering himself, and let the silence linger for a moment before casually moving toward a table where a half-filled cup of wine awaited him.

“What brings you here tonight?” he asked, his tone unhurried, pouring himself another generous drink.

“I met Athena again this morning,” Nathan replied evenly.

“Mm. Interesting.” Caesar raised an eyebrow, swirling the wine. “And what did she say?”

“She told me the Pope has disappeared. He stopped contacting her, and she’s worried for his safety.” Nathan’s words were careful, measured.

At that, Caesar let out a bark of laughter, sharp and dismissive. He lifted the cup to his lips, drank deep, and exhaled with relish. “That foolish old man. He had been useful enough, clinging to my side, until he decided to change his tune. Out of nowhere, he demanded the return of the Key of Rome. A bold move, wasn’t it?”

“I assume he’s dead, then,” Nathan said, though his voice betrayed nothing.

Caesar shook his head lightly, setting the cup down with a clink. “No. Not yet. I kept him alive. He might still be of use once I secure my place as the sole Emperor of this Empire.” His eyes glinted with ambition, sharp and unyielding.

“I see,” Nathan murmured.

“Anything else she told you?” Caesar pressed, almost idly.

“Nothing of importance,” Nathan said. “She is simply overseeing my discussions with Pandora.”

At the mention of Pandora, Caesar chuckled darkly, leaning back against the table. “That bitch…” His tongue swept across his lips with a predator’s hunger. “Once I drag her down, I’ll savor every moment breaking her. I’ll fuck her in every way possible until that superior little mask of hers cracks. Let’s see how long her pride lasts with my cock buried in her mouth.”

Nathan’s eyes narrowed just slightly, but he offered no reply.

Johanna, who had been catching her breath, suddenly let out a girlish giggle. She rose from the bed without shame, her body still bare and flushed. With languid grace, she strolled toward Nathan, her eyes gleaming with playful malice.

“You’re very loyal to Caesar,” she purred, tilting her head. “Tell me, is it money that makes men so obedient?” Her tone was honeyed, but her smile dripped with scorn.

Nathan didn’t dignify her words with a response. He had no intention of sparing attention for a woman who found amusement in debauchery while one of her students lay dead not long ago.

Yet Johanna seemed only more entertained by his silence. Her steps carried her closer until she was within reach. With a mocking sweetness, she lifted a hand and brushed her fingers against his cheek. “Such a stern look on your face…”

The moment her skin touched his, her expression faltered. A sharp shudder ran through her body, her eyes widening as though she had been burned—or frozen. She jerked her hand back in shock.

“Something wrong?” Caesar asked with a frown, narrowing his gaze.

Johanna’s head snapped toward him, and she forced a brittle smile. “N… no, nothing. I was just… surprised at how cold his skin felt.”

Nathan’s crimson eyes lingered on her, narrowing ever so slightly.

She quickly looked away, unable—or unwilling—to meet his stare any longer. “A-anyway… Caesar, you should rest. Tomorrow is important, after all. The final round begins.” Her voice wavered just enough to betray her unease.

Caesar nodded slowly, unconcerned. “You may go, Septimius.”

Nathan gave Johanna one last, cutting glance before turning and leaving the chamber.

“What was that about…?” Nathan thought as he walked away from Caesar’s quarters, his expression unreadable. Johanna’s reaction had been strange — that sudden shudder, the way she had pulled back as though burned.

She was a Hero. Perhaps that explained it. It wouldn’t be surprising if she possessed some kind of Skill that could sense the hidden strength of others. And Nathan had been hiding a great deal — his aura suppressed, his true power wrapped in layers of restraint. If her Skill had even briefly brushed against what lay beneath, her reaction would be natural.

Still, it was an annoyance.

Shaking his head, Nathan put it out of his mind. There were more important things to focus on. Ameriah’s curse was finally being treated under Elin’s care. He didn’t want to disturb the process, but time was running short. His work in Rome was nearly finished. Soon, he would have to take Ameriah away — back to Azariah, her elder sister, where she would be safe at last.

When he reached the guest quarters where Elin and Johanna had been staying, the corridor was quiet, lit only by the dim glow of an oil lamp. He knocked softly, but even before his knuckles left the wood, he sensed movement inside.

The door slid open. Elin stood there, eyes still heavy from sleep yet already alert. She looked up at him without surprise, as though she had known he would come.

“You’re awake. Come,” Nathan said simply.

A faint blush spread across her cheeks at his tone. She nodded without a word, slipping into her sandals.

Nathan, for his part, didn’t so much as hint at what had happened days before — the night she had accidentally witnessed him with Servilia. He moved as if it had never occurred, calm, indifferent. If there was any embarrassment at all, it wasn’t on his side. Elin, however, felt the sting of it now, the memory rising unbidden. She bit her lip, inwardly grumbling. Why did she have to feel embarrassed for something she hadn’t even done?

She got up quietly, her bare feet brushing against the cold marble floor.

“W…wait!” a voice suddenly whispered from the corner.

Both of them turned. Freja was sitting up in her bed, her hair tousled from sleep, her eyes wide with surprise.

“F…Freja! You scared me!” Elin hissed, pressing a hand to her chest.

“I—I should be the one complaining!” Freja shot back, her voice flustered, cheeks red. “What are you two doing every night?”

Her accusation hung in the air, thick with implication.

Nathan instantly understood what she was imagining. But he had no intention of correcting her. The less Freja knew, the safer she would be. Just as before — when Lilia had kidnapped her and forced her to speak about him to save Elin — Freja had been put in an impossible position. Nathan didn’t blame her. But he would not allow that to happen again. The less she knew, the fewer weapons anyone would have against him.

“I…” Elin began, her hands fluttering nervously.

Nathan cut her off with a flat, cool voice. “That has nothing to do with you.”

Before Elin could protest, Nathan bent slightly and, with effortless strength, lifted her onto his shoulder.

“Kya!” Elin gasped, blushing fiercely. Her small fists beat at his back in mild protest.

Freja’s eyes widened. She shot to her feet. “I…I deserve to know! What are you doing to her? Look at her! She’s afraid!”

Nathan turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes settling on Elin. “Afraid of what?”

“I…I’m not afraid of anything!” Elin blurted, looking away, her face hot.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Nathan replied, his tone edged with annoyance. He was wasting time. All he was doing was taking Elin to treat Ameriah’s curse.

But Freja wasn’t backing down. She balled her fists, her voice trembling but firm. “Then… then take me with you! If there’s nothing to be afraid of, then take me with you! I want to see for myself!”

Nathan narrowed his eyes, staring at her in silence for a long moment. She looked away under his gaze but didn’t retract her demand.

He exhaled quietly. She wouldn’t stop. Even if he left without her, she would press the issue later. It was faster to take her along.

“Fine.”

Before Freja could react, Nathan’s arm swept around her too, lifting her effortlessly onto his other shoulder.

“Wha—kyaaa!” Freja squealed, flailing in surprise.

“Stop crying like that,” Nathan muttered, stepping toward the window. Without further ceremony, he leapt out, his figure vanishing into the night with both girls clutched securely against him.

Direction to Servilia’s estate again.