I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

After finishing his talks with Arsinoe and Brutus, Nathan made his way toward the upper levels of the Senate Castle. The corridors were dim and eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only settled over the city when even the guards had grown drowsy from the weight of the late hours. He had clearly lived through a long, animated night of scheming and discussion, yet Nathan thrived during these hours. Nighttime was his sanctuary—the only time he could move, act, and speak without feeling Caesar’s spies breathing down his neck, shadowing his every gesture.

And tonight, as always, he had only one destination in mind: Elin’s room.

The night before, circumstances had prevented him from carrying out her treatment. He had wanted to take Elin to continue her sessions with Ameriah, but Pandora and other distractions—had intervened. Tonight, however, Nathan was determined to see it through, no matter the hour. Even if it was already well past midnight, his resolve did not falter.

Still, delays had stacked against him. His careful waiting before meeting Arsinoe and Brutus had stretched longer than expected, dragging the night deeper into its late silence. By the time he climbed the final marble steps and reached the door of Elin and Freja’s shared chamber, the stillness of sleep had already claimed both women.

Inside, the air was soft and heavy with the warmth of slumber. The faint glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting pale streaks across the room. On the large bed, Elin and Freja lay side by side. Elin, usually half-awake around this hour, as if instinctively expecting his visit, was tonight completely lost to sleep. Perhaps she had finally assumed he wouldn’t come.

Nathan stepped closer, his movements careful, his boots barely making a sound against the polished floor. He leaned down and gently shook Elin’s shoulder.

A soft sound escaped her lips.”Hmm…”

She stirred faintly, but her eyes remained shut. Nathan tried again, shaking her shoulder a little firmer. This time, she mumbled something and slowly opened her drowsy, unfocused eyes.

“S…Septimius…” she whispered, her voice coated with sleep.

The name left her lips barely audible, but it was enough.

Freja, lying with her back toward them, snapped her eyes open the moment she heard it. Her body stiffened instantly, though she didn’t dare roll over. She remained perfectly still, her breath quiet, straining her ears. Her heart pounded. Nathan… again, in their room, at night.

And doing suspicious things.

Freja had already questioned Elin about his late-night visits before. Every time, Elin had dodged her questions, offering no explanations, no clarity. That secrecy alone was damning. Nathan must have told Elin to keep quiet. And Elin, dutifully, had obeyed him. But to Freja, that silence only made the truth clearer—and far more incriminating. Her imagination painted the worst possible conclusions.

Nathan, ignoring the tension lingering in the room, spoke softly.”Come.”

Elin blinked, her head sinking deeper into the pillow. “Hmm… Septimius… please, I’m sleepy…” she murmured, her voice weak and sluggish.

“You can sleep later. For now, you’re coming with me,” Nathan insisted, his tone calm but firm.

Elin groaned faintly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “But… I won’t be able to sleep after doing it…”

She meant the treatment—after channeling all her concentration and magic into healing Ameriah, her body would remain too alert, too drained to simply fall back asleep. She knew the exhaustion would settle only hours later.

But Freja, who could only hear the words without the context, turned crimson. Her face heated, her chest tightened. Doing it…? Elin’s tired complaint, Nathan’s commanding insistence—her mind spun it into something far more intimate.

Her eyes went wide, shimmering with shock. Her lips parted soundlessly as realization—no, misunderstanding—settled in.

Elin and Nathan…?

Her heart skipped. The pieces fell into place in her imagination. Elin’s evasiveness, Nathan’s nightly visits, her own exclusion from the truth. It hadn’t just been one night—it had been several, perhaps even many. And she had been completely unaware.

Why did her chest ache so much at the thought? Why this hollow sting of betrayal—or was it jealousy? She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but the thought twisted inside her.

Then Nathan’s voice came again, his words only making things worse.”I won’t let you sleep regardless. You better come now, and once we’re finished, you’ll be so exhausted you’ll sleep all day. Believe me.”

Freja nearly choked. Her whole body jolted, and her cheeks burned red-hot, like fire searing under her skin.

This man! she thought, covering her mouth to stifle a sound. Her heart thudded wildly. His shameless tone, his bold words—it left no room for innocence in her mind.

Her eyes grew damp, tears pricking at the corners as her thoughts spiraled. Elin and Nathan, sharing this hidden bond, this… relationship, behind her back.

Since when?

How long had this been happening without her realizing? Days? Weeks?

And beneath that, another thought crept in, unwelcome yet undeniable: why did Nathan choose Elin? Why not her?

Her face grew hotter, her emotions tangling between anger, jealousy, and embarrassment. She remembered when Nathan had seen her body before—when he had glimpsed her naked form. He hadn’t reacted then, hadn’t shown even the faintest spark of arousal. Did that mean she wasn’t attractive to him? That he didn’t care? That Elin had something she lacked?

Her chest, Freja thought bitterly, her mind flashing with insecurity. Elin’s breasts were bigger, fuller, rounder. Meanwhile, Freja… her chest was far less impressive. Practically a board in comparison.

Her teeth bit her lip as frustration welled inside her.

But she was tall, striking, beautiful in her own right. Why didn’t that matter? Why wasn’t it enough for him?

“Wait! What am I even thinking about?!” Freja buried her heated face into the pillow, scolding herself for letting her thoughts wander into such dangerous territory. Her cheeks blazed crimson, her heart racing. No. No, no, no—I don’t want anything to do with him! she told herself desperately. Yes, he saved me, but that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean…

But her own denial faltered the moment she heard Elin’s soft gasp.

“Kya!”

Freja stiffened. She didn’t dare turn around again, but her ears caught everything. It seemed Nathan had lifted Elin in his arms, just as he had done countless times before.

“You’re always so rough with me… please, be gentle this time…” Elin’s tired voice trailed off, full of mild complaint.

Freja almost cried out. Her body trembled under the covers, her mind spinning. Since when…? Since when did Elin become like this? Her best friend, the one she trusted most, was saying such things so openly—no, so intimately—to that man.

She bit her lip until it hurt. Finally, after their footsteps faded and the door closed, Freja dared to roll over. Her face was as red as flame, her wide eyes brimming with disbelief.

“Are they just… going to do it…?” she muttered, her voice half-shocked, half-mortified. The words tasted bitter on her tongue.

Meanwhile, Nathan—completely oblivious to Freja’s spiraling misunderstandings—carried Elin swiftly through the night, his expression serious. He leapt down the outer steps, the wind brushing through his white hair as the estate came into view. The building loomed in the moonlight, silent and still, with its marble atrium yawning open like the mouth of some slumbering beast.

He set Elin gently down upon the cool stone floor.

As he expected, Servilia was nowhere to be seen on her usual chair in the atrium. Normally, she would either be seated there, calmly overseeing the estate, or napping with her chin resting in her hand. Nathan frowned, though not with real concern—he assumed she had retired to her room for the night.

But then—

A sound. A muffled, frantic noise, sharp enough for his trained ears to catch.

His eyes narrowed.

“Septimius?” A faint, desperate voice called out.

Nathan didn’t answer. His expression darkened, his muscles tensing as the sound sharpened his focus.

“H-hey, Nathan?” Elin’s softer voice followed, calling him by his true name, confusion in her tone.

“Go ahead and treat Ameriah,” Nathan ordered curtly, his eyes never leaving the shadowed corridors. “I’ll look for Servilia.”

Before Elin could respond, he was gone—vanishing in a blur, his footsteps soundless as he disappeared into the depths of the estate.

The sound grew clearer. Struggle. Desperation.

He burst into a room, the door slamming against the wall.

Inside, his eyes locked on the scene immediately: Servilia, thrashing violently, pinned to the ground. Three men held her down—two restraining her arms and legs while one clamped a hand harshly over her mouth. Her muffled cries echoed in the room. Another man stood nearby, grinning hungrily, while the last crouched over her, leering down, fingers curling into the fabric of her tunic.

They all wore the same expression: an ugly, predatory smirk.

Nathan didn’t need to be a genius to understand what they intended.

“Eheheh… fucking Servilia, the greatest beauty of Rome,” one of them sneered, his eyes glinting with lust. He tugged at her tunic, the sound of fabric straining filling the air. “This isn’t for just anyone. I’ll make sure she moans for me all night. And when I’m done—” his grin widened as he looked to his accomplices, “—we’ll take turns.”

Servilia’s eyes widened in pure horror. She kicked wildly, her muffled screams breaking into sobs. The man’s shadow fell over her face as his grip tightened—

And then—he froze.

Not figuratively. Literally.

His expression twisted in shock as his entire body crystallized, solidifying into a grotesque statue of glistening ice. His smirk remained etched on his frozen features, but his life had ended in an instant.

The two men holding Servilia down whipped their heads around, their faces draining of color.

A shadow moved.

Nathan stepped forward, his white hair shimmering faintly in the dim light, his figure sharp and merciless. His hand flicked upward, and with a single brutal kick, he shattered the frozen statue.

The ice exploded into a rain of shards and crimson fragments, blood mingling with frost as the man’s body was annihilated. The other two flinched back instantly, releasing Servilia in their terror.

Shards of ice clattered across the floor, and Nathan moved instinctively, his form shielding Servilia from the deadly spray.

Her eyes locked on him, trembling. Her lips quivered, words catching in her throat. She wiped at the tears spilling from her lashes, disbelief shaking her entire body.

The other two looked at Nathan in recognition. White hair and crimson eyes…

“You… you are that Septimius—”

Before they could even breathe, before they could process their fear, the other two men froze as well—their bodies turning pale, hard, crystalline. Ice crept over their skin like a living curse.

And then, with the same merciless precision, Nathan shattered them too.

The sound of splintering ice and breaking bone filled the room. Blood, frost, and fragments rained across the floor until nothing remained of them but a red-stained chill that hung heavy in the air.

The room fell silent.