I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“Strength is strength.”

Nathan’s cold black eyes remained fixed on Morosuke as he said it, his voice quiet and flat, carrying none of the heat of victory. He stood over the fallen man with Kyomei poised at his throat, the black blade still wet with blood, its edge pressed close enough to draw a thin red line across the skin.

Morosuke glared back at him from the bottom of the crater.

He had just lost a hand. Blood still poured from the ragged stump, soaking the dirt beneath him, and yet there was nothing broken in his expression. Pain was there, yes, burning through the tightness in his face and the strain in his breathing, but behind it lived something fiercer. A savage refusal to bend.

“Kill me, ronin,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’d better kill me.”

Nathan looked down at him in silence.

Part of him wanted to do it. Morosuke had earned death a dozen times over. The blood in the courtyard, the fear in the town, the women crushed beneath his rule, all of it made the choice feel simple. But simple did not mean wise. Killing him now might satisfy the moment, yet it would bring complications Nathan did not need, at least not before he got what he had come for.

So he kept the blade where it was.

“I’m here looking for a woman,” Nathan said.

Morosuke’s brow tightened. “What?”

“Princess Ayame,” Nathan replied. “The previous queen’s sister.”

For the first time since the fight ended, something shifted in Morosuke’s stare. Not fear. Not confusion. Recognition.

“You came here for that woman?” he asked. His voice was hoarse now, roughened by pain and disbelief. “That’s why you butchered my men?”

Nathan’s gaze did not change. “I told you I came to ask a question. You and your men chose everything that happened after that.”

He pressed Kyomei a little closer. The tip bit deeper into Morosuke’s throat, enough to draw a brighter thread of blood that slid down into the dirt.

“Now answer me,” Nathan said. “Tell me where she is, and I’ll spare your life.”

Morosuke held his stare for a long moment.

Then, slowly, a crooked smirk appeared on his face.

“I don’t know where she is,” he said.

Nathan’s expression hardened, and the blade shifted just enough to make the threat unmistakable.

“Really?”

Morosuke’s smirk remained, though it had grown thinner now, edged by the pain he was fighting to contain.

“But,” he said, “I know someone who might.”

Nathan said nothing.

Morosuke coughed once, blood touching his lips, then continued. “I know the princess is somewhere in Minato. That much I’m certain of. But I don’t know where she’s hidden.” His eyes narrowed. “Chiyo probably does.”

“Who is Chiyo?” Nathan asked at once.

Morosuke let out a low, humorless breath. “A troublesome woman. She runs most of the pleasure houses in town, or has influence over them. She’s more of a nuisance than she should be.” He shifted slightly, grimacing as pain tore through his body. “If anyone knows where the princess is, it’ll be her.”

Nathan listened without interrupting.

“But don’t expect it to be easy,” Morosuke added. “She won’t tell you anything just because you ask. And force won’t help much either. Violence doesn’t work on her the way it works on other people.”

Nathan considered that in silence.

Chiyo.

The name settled quickly into place in his thoughts. If she truly held the answer, then there was no reason to remain here any longer. He would return to the inn, speak to the women there, and find a way to meet her immediately. Once he found Ayame, he could speak to her himself and take her away from Minato before anything else in this rotten place closed around her.

At last, Nathan lifted Kyomei from Morosuke’s throat.

The pressure vanished. A thin cut remained behind, beading with blood.

“If I see you again,” Nathan said, his voice colder than before, “I’ll kill you.”

Then he slid Kyomei back into its scabbard at his waist in one smooth motion.

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

He left Morosuke in the crater, half-buried in broken earth and blood, surrounded by the wreckage of his own defeat. Around them, the courtyard still looked like the remains of a massacre. Bodies lay torn across the ground, pieces of shattered stone and splintered wood mixed with spilled blood until it all seemed to belong to the same ruin.

Morosuke pushed himself up slightly with his remaining hand, his face twisting as pain shot through him. He glared at Nathan’s retreating back, hatred burning there as fiercely as ever.

Then, little by little, a faint smile pulled at his lips.

“You should have killed me, ronin,” he muttered.

But Nathan was already gone.

When he stepped back through the ruined entrance, he found a crowd waiting beyond the broken gate.

They had gathered at a distance, enough to feel safe, though no one truly was. Men and women stood in stunned silence, staring at him with a mix of horror, awe, and something close to reverence. They had seen the shattered gate. They had seen the bloodied courtyard beyond. Some had likely glimpsed the bodies. Others did not need to. Nathan’s presence alone told them enough.

When his gaze passed over them, the entire crowd recoiled at once.

People stepped back instinctively, parting to create a clear path before him without a single word needing to be spoken. No one blocked his way. No one dared question him. It was as though the street itself had yielded.

Nathan did not slow.

He crossed only a few steps before pushing off the ground.

In the next instant, he shot into the air, rising above the broken gate and the staring crowd below before streaking away toward the inn, leaving behind only silence, fear, and the wreckage of what he had done.

By the time Nathan returned to the inn, the commotion outside had not fully died.

A crowd still lingered around the entrance, and now and then broken cries still rose into the air, thin with grief and exhaustion. The worst of the panic, however, had passed. The chaos that had consumed the place earlier had settled into something quieter, heavier, as though everyone inside had been worn out by fear and shock alike.

When Nathan stepped through the entrance, the room gradually stilled.

Faces turned toward him at once.

The wariness was still there, but it had changed shape. Earlier, people had looked at him the way they looked at danger when it first entered a room. Now there was something else mixed into their silence. Wonder. Unease. A kind of cautious disbelief.

They had seen him leave with Nobusuke.

Now he had returned alone.

There was no sign of Morosuke’s brother. No visible strain in Nathan’s movements. No urgency. He walked in with the same calm he had worn before, as though whatever had happened after he left had already been dealt with and put behind him.

He stopped and let the silence settle before speaking.

“I came to meet Chiyo,” he said, his dark gaze moving over those gathered before him. “Tell me where she is.”

The words landed heavily.

Silence fell at once, sharper than before.

The women in particular looked startled, their expressions tightening almost immediately. Some exchanged brief glances. Others lowered their eyes. A few stood very still, as if even reacting too strongly might become dangerous. Nathan had humiliated Nobusuke and apparently returned unharmed, which was enough to shake anyone. But that did not change what he was in their eyes.

A ronin.

A stranger.

A dangerous man asking for their mistress.

Reluctance spread quietly across the room.

Even if he had helped them, even if he had rid them of Nobusuke’s presence, that did not mean they could casually reveal anything about Chiyo. In a place like this, trust was never given simply because a man had spilled blood on someone else’s behalf.

Nathan read the hesitation easily.

“I’m not here to harm her,” he said. “I only want to ask a few questions.”

That brought another stretch of silence.

No one answered.

For a moment, Nathan considered leaving and finding another pleasure house in town. If Chiyo controlled most of them, then there were other ways to reach her. He did not need to remain here and wait on fear to loosen their tongues.

But just as he was about to turn away, someone stepped out from the crowd.

It was the young woman who had been crying earlier, Nana’s friend.

Her eyes were still swollen from tears, and there was a fragility in the way she held herself, as though grief had hollowed her out from within. Yet despite that, she came forward anyway. The movement clearly took effort. Her hands trembled faintly at her sides, but she forced herself to face Nathan.

“I… I will speak to Chiyo-sama first,” she said.

Her voice was soft and uncertain, but she did not retreat.

“I can’t promise she will agree to meet you,” she continued, biting lightly at her lower lip before gathering herself again. “B-but you helped us… so I will ask her. Please wait here until then.”

Nathan looked at her for a moment.

She seemed sincere. Nervous, yes, and still shaken, but sincere.

He could understand the caution in the room. After everything that had happened, no one here would hand out trust lightly, and he had neither the patience nor the desire to force it from them. If this woman was willing to approach Chiyo on his behalf, that was enough for now.

So he gave a small nod.

Without another word, he moved deeper into the inn.

The others stepped aside as he passed, parting for him in silence. No one tried to stop him. No one spoke to him. Their eyes followed him all the way across the room, watching as he made his way back toward the chamber he had been given earlier.

It was exactly as he had left it.

Bare. Quiet. Undisturbed.

Nathan stepped inside, slid the door shut behind him, and locked it. Then he crossed the small room and lowered himself onto the mat bed without ceremony. The day had become bloodier than he had intended, but the path ahead was at least clearer now.

Chiyo.

If she knew where Ayame was, then this detour through Minato had not been pointless after all.

Nathan lay back in silence, saying nothing, his body still and his thoughts already turning toward what would come next.