Blessed By A Yandere Goddess

Chapter 41: The Mask Came Off Fast

The masked man’s tongue clicked audibly against his teeth, a sound Ronan found genuinely impressive given that he was actively being choked at the time.

Then, with what looked like the last of his strength, his hand lurched upward, grabbed the edge of his mask, and hurled it to the ground.

His face was bare now. Staring up at Sarael while hovering at the edge of his life.

And Sarael was satisfied. A smug grin bloomed across her mouth as she lowered her arm, and the invisible force released. The man crashed back into his chair with a gasp, coughing and gulping air like a drowning swimmer breaking the surface.

"I-I didn’t expect your wife to be a hunter as well..."

He was laughing now, or trying to. The sound came out strangled and uneven, more disbelief than humor. The laugh of a man who’d just realized how close he’d come to dying and hadn’t finished processing it yet.

As for his face, he was surprisingly young. Late twenties, maybe early thirties at most. Dark hair, unkempt but not unwashed. His eyes were pale, almost gray, and they kept darting toward Sarael like she might change her mind and finish the job.

"I hope my actions weren’t enough to completely destroy this meeting."

Sarael giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes half-lidded and fixed on the man with a threat that barely bothered to hide itself.

"N-No, it wasn’t. In fact, I think I’ve seen... enough."

The man shuddered under her gaze, then turned back to Ronan, clearing his throat. The authority he’d carried minutes ago, the untouchable aura of a man who judged others from behind a mask, had shattered completely.

Staring at death did that. It didn’t rebuild quickly.

"This meeting is adjourned. I-I’ll notify you of your next job through the same fixer..."

He started to rise, but Sarael’s hand came up again, and he froze mid-motion. Ronan caught her wrist before it could go further, gentle but firm, and lowered it back to her side.

She didn’t resist. Her fingers curled around his instead, interlacing like they’d been doing it for years.

"What was this meeting even about?"

Ronan asked, looking at the man who clearly wanted to be anywhere other than here.

"A competence test."

The man rubbed at his neck, still trying to figure out what kind of hunter skill Sarael had used on him. His pale eyes kept flicking toward her, then away, like looking too long might trigger something.

"I wanted to check you out myself. But I see it wasn’t needed. A hunter duo... that’s more than we expected. If you’re just as strong as her—"

"What?"

Sarael’s arm twitched, and Ronan felt her muscles tense beneath his grip. The man corrected himself so fast the words nearly tripped over each other.

"I mean! Of course you’re as strong as her. Haha..."

The laugh was hollow, desperate, the sound of someone negotiating with a predator using nothing but politeness.

"So, uh... can we end this now?"

Ronan didn’t answer immediately. He let the silence stretch, watching the man squirm in his chair. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, the only sound in the room besides the masked man’s still-ragged breathing.

"You never told us your name."

The man blinked.

"I didn’t?"

"No. You didn’t."

"Ah."

He straightened in his chair, trying to reclaim some fragment of the authority he’d walked in with. It didn’t work. His hands were still shaking.

"Call me Zero. Everyone does."

"Zero."

Ronan tested the name. It was obviously a pseudonym, but he hadn’t expected anything else. People in this line of work didn’t use real names.

He probably wasn’t planning to introduce his pseudonym in the first place until Sarael decided otherwise.

"Alright, Zero. You said this was a competence test. What exactly were you testing?"

Zero’s pale eyes flicked toward Sarael, then back to Ronan. He seemed to be calculating how honest he should be. The memory of invisible fingers around his throat probably helped him decide.

"Like I said. The vault job was to see if you could follow instructions, and the murder job tested your morality. This meeting..."

He paused, touching his throat.

"...This meeting was supposed to test your temperament. See if you could handle pressure without losing your cool."

"And how did I do?"

Zero let out a strangled laugh.

"You didn’t lose your cool. Your wife, on the other hand..."

"His wife is standing right here."

Sarael’s voice was sweet, almost musical.

Zero flinched.

"My wife’s the only reason I walked out of that gate." Ronan shrugged. "If that’s a problem, we can walk out of this one too."

"No problem."

Zero raised both hands in surrender.

"No problem at all. A strong partner is an asset. We just... didn’t know you had one."

"Now you do."

"Now we do."

Zero exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

His pale eyes darted toward the exit, then back to Sarael. She was still watching him with that detached curiosity, her head tilted just slightly, her fingers laced with Ronan’s.

But then she glanced up at her husband, just for a second, and Zero took his chance.

His hand shot into his pocket, pulled out a business card, and slapped it onto the metal desk.

"The rest is on the card!"

He was already moving before the card stopped sliding, his feet carrying him toward the side door with a lightness that didn’t match his earlier clumsiness. Wind swirled around his ankles, lifting him just enough that his steps looked more like hovering than running.

To both of their surprise, he turned out to be a hunter.

"A-And you two are a nice couple!"

The compliment was less genuine and more a survival tactic. Mostly a desperate attempt to appease the clearly obsessed woman so she wouldn’t yank him back by the ankle with an invisible hand before he cleared the exit.

And it worked.

Sarael had already decided to let him go the moment he called them a nice couple. As for Ronan, by the time he tensed to move, the latch was already clicking shut. The wind had carried Zero out faster than expected. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

And then there was only the hum of the overhead lights and the faint scent of fresh air from whatever wind skill he’d used to make his escape.

Ronan stared at the door for a long moment. Then he looked at the business card sitting on the desk. Then he looked at Sarael.

"Did he just—"

"Yes."

"And you let him?"

Sarael’s smile hadn’t changed.

"He called us a nice couple."