I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Nathan remained in his room at the inn for the next few hours, waiting in silence.

At first, he did not mind it. He had already spent long stretches of his life waiting — for enemies to reveal themselves, for danger to arrive, for answers that never came quickly. But as time passed and the light outside slowly shifted, even he began to wonder whether the young woman had truly gone to seek Chiyo, or whether she had simply told him what he wanted to hear in order to buy time.

Afternoon was already settling in, and his patience was beginning to wear thin.

At last, Nathan rose from the mat bed, deciding he had waited long enough.

If no one came for him now, he would leave the room and find another way to reach Chiyo himself. He had not come this far to sit idle while the trail went cold.

He stepped toward the door and slid it open.

The young woman was standing right outside.

She flinched at the sudden movement, clearly not expecting the door to open just then. But the instant she saw Nathan standing there, the tension in her face eased and she let out a small breath of relief.

“Ryo-sama…”

“You spoke to her?” Nathan asked at once.

The woman nodded, and this time there was even a faint smile on her face.

“Yes, Ryo-sama. I did.” Her voice was gentler now, steadier than before. “After I told Chiyo-sama what Ryo-sama did for Nana, she agreed to meet you.”

Nathan said nothing for a moment.

What he had done to Nobusuke had, in truth, come from anger more than any desire to play savior. Seeing what had happened to Nana had stirred something sharp in him, and Nobusuke had simply been there to receive it. The destruction at Morosuke’s castle, however, had gone far beyond that initial impulse. That had been about more than Nana. More than simple outrage.

Still, he had no intention of correcting her understanding.

If Chiyo now looked more favorably upon him because of it, then that only made things easier.

“Where is she?” Nathan asked.

The woman lowered her head slightly. “Chiyo-sama wishes to meet you, Ryo-sama… but only tonight. I will take you to her when the time comes.”

Nathan fell silent again.

So he had to wait longer.

The thought annoyed him more than he showed. He disliked delays, especially now, when every hour spent in Minato felt like another hour wasted. But Morosuke’s words returned briefly to his mind. Chiyo was not an ordinary woman in this town. She held influence, and people like that did not survive by being careless. If she insisted on meeting only at night, then caution was likely part of the reason.

That, at least, he could understand.

“Alright,” he said in the end, giving a short nod.

The woman hesitated, then looked up at him again. “Would Ryo-sama like something to eat?”

Nathan’s gaze rested on her for a brief moment before he asked, “What happened to Nana’s body?”

The woman’s expression changed immediately.

Sadness dimmed what little relief had been in her face. “We are taking care of her,” she said quietly. “Chiyo-sama made sure of that as well.” Her voice wavered a little, and she lowered her eyes. “Nana had been with us for ten years…”

The last words nearly broke in her throat.

Nathan looked at her and said nothing.

Ten years. A decade of living, working, enduring, surviving in a place like this — and in the end she had died as if her life meant nothing to the people who took it. That was the truth of this world, wasn’t it? Lives were erased in a moment, and the world did not stop long enough to mourn them unless someone forced it to.

But there was nothing Nathan could do for her now.

And even if there had been, he knew where his priorities lay. He had too much already on his shoulders — his women, his children, the responsibilities that were his and his alone. That was where his attention belonged. He could not save every broken life that crossed his path, nor did he have any illusions about becoming the sort of man who tried.

The woman excused herself soon after, and some time later she returned with a plate of food.

Nathan ate without complaint.

The meal was simple, but it served its purpose. Once he was done, he rested for a short while, though rest never held him long when his mind had something else to turn toward. Eventually, rather than lying idle, he chose to focus inward.

On the curses.

On Pandora.

His control over them remained imperfect, advancing only in small increments, but even small progress mattered when dealing with power like that. With curses of this nature, the slightest gain in mastery was worth more than ordinary people would ever understand. Slow progress was still progress, and with something so

dangerous, that alone carried weight.

Nathan sat in silence, letting his awareness sink deeper.

He needed greater control. Greater precision. Greater resistance.

Because when the time finally came to deal with Pandora properly, anything less would not be enough.

Out of all the women tied to his life, she remained the most dangerous.

Perhaps not officially his woman, not yet in any clear or spoken sense, but in Nathan’s mind that distinction hardly mattered anymore. He had already decided that he would keep her close. That he would take responsibility for her, and for the destructive force bound up within her. And if he meant to do that, then he needed to become stronger — not just in raw power, but in the ability to master what he carried.

So while the hours crawled toward night, Nathan remained alone in the quiet room, sharpening that control little by little, waiting for the meeting that might finally bring him one step closer to Ayame.

As always, whenever Nathan sank deeply into focus over Pandora’s curses, time slipped past him almost unnoticed.

The stillness of concentration swallowed everything else. Breathing, thought, sensation — all of it narrowed into something sharper and more inward, until the hours seemed to dissolve without leaving any mark behind.

By the time he opened his eyes fully again, night had already fallen.

Before long, there was a knock at the door.

Nathan rose at once.

When he opened it, the same young woman stood waiting outside. The dim light of the corridor softened her features, but there was still a quiet tension in the way she held herself, as though even now she remained careful of every step she took.

“Please follow me,” she said.

Nathan gave no reply. He simply stepped out and followed her.

Together, they left the inn and moved into the night.

Minato after dark felt different. The streets were quieter, but not peaceful. Shadows stretched long between buildings, and the darkness seemed to hide as much as it revealed. In a place like this, danger never truly slept. It merely changed its shape when the sun went down. Yet no one bothered them as they walked. Whether by chance, caution, or silent recognition, the road remained open before them.

Nathan followed her in silence.

She moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where she was going, taking him through narrow paths and around dimly lit corners until they passed behind a building and entered a tighter street hidden from the main road. There, she stopped before an unremarkable door and drew out a key.

A quiet click broke the silence.

She opened it and stepped inside, then waited for Nathan to follow before shutting the door behind them.

The room beyond was plain and shadowed, little more than a passage toward somewhere else. She led him across it without hesitation, and once they reached what appeared to be an ordinary living space, she knelt down and pulled aside a carpet spread over the floor.

Beneath it was a trapdoor.

Nathan watched without comment as she lifted it open.

Then she looked up at him. “This way.”

He followed her down.

Below lay a narrow underground tunnel, its path lit only by torches fixed along the walls at measured intervals. Their flames flickered unsteadily, painting the passage in orange light and trembling shadow. The air was cooler there, carrying the faint smell of stone, earth, and smoke. The young woman took one of the torches and moved ahead, leading the way while Nathan followed a step behind.

They walked for several minutes in silence.

The tunnel twisted slightly in places, but it was not maze-like. It had been made to conceal, not confuse. At last, a door came into view at the far end.

The woman stopped before it and knocked three times.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

Then the door opened.

A woman stood on the other side.

She wore a kimono, but there was nothing soft about her bearing. Her posture was straight, alert, disciplined. She looked less like a servant than a guard, the kind of woman who could draw steel as naturally as breathing. Her gaze first settled on Nana’s friend, then shifted to Nathan standing behind her.

“I brought Ryo-sama,” the younger woman said.

The guard gave a short nod and stepped aside.

Nathan entered.

Inside was a large hidden living space, far broader than he had expected from the tunnel that led to it. The room was warm with torchlight and low conversation, though the moment he stepped in, that conversation died. Several women were gathered there, some drinking, some sitting in relaxed postures that immediately sharpened into alertness as soon as they saw him. More than one had a katana close at hand. They did not look like ordinary attendants.

They looked like women accustomed to fighting.

The silence that followed his entrance was instant and complete.

Nathan stopped and let his gaze pass over them, taking in the room, the tension, the guarded eyes now fixed on him from every side.

“Where is Chiyo?” he asked, his voice edged with impatience.

A soft voice answered from ahead.

“How impatient…”

Nathan turned his gaze forward and narrowed his eyes.

A curtain hung there, drawn across the far side of the room. Behind it, he could see the outline of someone seated in stillness. For a brief moment, only the shadow moved. Then slender fingers rose and touched the fabric.

The curtain was slowly pulled aside.

The woman revealed behind it was breathtakingly beautiful.

Long silvery hair framed her with an almost ethereal softness, arranged with exquisite care and adorned by golden and jade hairpins that caught the light in delicate flashes. Her eyes were a warm amber-brown, luminous and steady, and the luxurious furisode she wore flowed around her in rich shades of gold and amber, its wide sleeves and fine fabric marking her as someone of unmistakable refinement.

Nathan stared at her.

His eyes narrowed further, not in suspicion now, but in realization.

This was not Chiyo.

The woman before him was the runaway princess.

The younger sister of the dead queen.

Ayame.