I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

This was not Chiyo.

The woman standing before him was the runaway princess.

The younger sister of the dead queen.

Ayame.

For a long moment, Nathan said nothing. He only looked at her, as though silence itself might force the truth into some other shape. But it did not. The more he studied her, the more impossible it became to deny. The resemblance was there, undeniable now that he had seen it properly—not only in the line of her face, but in the composure she wore like a second skin. There was breeding in it, restraint, the kind of refinement no false name could bury completely.

Chiyo had never existed, not really. She had been a mask, a name chosen for survival, something quiet enough to disappear into the underbelly of Minato without drawing the wrong kind of attention. Yet Ayame had not simply hidden here. She had rooted herself. In the shadows of the city she had built influence, protection, and a kind of power that did not need banners or titles to make itself known. Even men like Morosuke had been forced to reckon with what she had made.

She had done far more than survive.

“Cat got your tongue, handsome ronin?” Ayame asked, turning slightly toward him with a soft, amused laugh.

Nathan did not return the smile.

“You are Ayame,” he said flatly. “Princess. Younger sister of the previous queen.”

One of her brows lifted, and she let out a quiet sigh, almost weary. “Princess is not the proper word,” she said. “I am not royalty. I am merely the younger sister of the previous queen.”

Merely.

Even as she said it, the word rang hollow. She looked every bit what he had called her. Nobility clung to her too naturally to be dismissed, not only in her beauty, but in the way she stood, in the ease of her posture, in the unspoken expectation that others would listen when she spoke. She could have been in her late twenties, perhaps a little older, but there was something in her presence that caught the eye at once and held it. Whatever distinction she tried to make, most people in Kastoria would still look at her and see a princess.

“So it really is you,” Nathan said, taking a step forward. “That saves me a great deal of time.”

He had come here expecting a chase within a chase. He thought he would have to find Chiyo first, corner her, press answers from her one way or another, and only then be led to the truth. Instead, the truth had been waiting for him at the center of it all. Chiyo and Ayame were the same woman. For once, the path ahead had become simpler.

“Stop right there.”

The response was immediate.

The women in the room rose almost as one, steel whispering free as weapons were leveled toward him. Hands tightened around hilts. Bodies shifted into place with practiced coordination. The tension in the chamber, already present, turned sharp enough to cut. Nathan had barely finished his step before a line had formed between him and Ayame.

He let his gaze pass over them, unimpressed.

“I’m not here to hurt her,” he said. “I came for her.”

Ayame’s smile returned, faint and playful at the edges. “You came for me? That is a lovely thing to say.”

Nathan ignored the tone. “I need you to come to the capital and sit on the throne as temporary queen.”

This time, her composure slipped.

It was brief, but he saw it. Surprise flashed across her face before she gathered herself again, and when she did, that same maddening little smile returned.

“I will have to refuse.”

Nathan’s eyes narrowed.

“Are you aware,” he asked, his voice growing more measured, “that your niece has given birth to a son?”

The smile softened, though it did not disappear entirely. “I am aware.”

“And you still did not go to see him.”

Her answer came quickly now, stripped of teasing. “I would not risk my life by returning there,” she said. “And I hate that place.” Her gaze stayed fixed on him, calm and unwavering. “I am well here.”

Nathan glanced around the chamber—the hidden refuge beneath the city, the armed women, the guarded passageways, the secrecy of it all. It was a stronghold built out of absence, a life carved beneath the reach of those who had once ruled over her.

“In a town full of thieves, murderers, and criminals,” he said.

“Yes,” Ayame replied. “And as you can see, I am not surrounded by them.” Her tone remained light, but there was iron beneath it. “Here, at least, I am free.”

Nathan looked back at her, and whatever patience he had left thinned further.

“Free,” he repeated, the word turning hard in his mouth. “While your niece lives under threat every day in the capital.” His voice dropped, colder now, stripped of all softness. “Her child was nearly assassinated only a few days ago. She might have died with him. And it happened inside her own castle.”

That wiped away the last trace of humor in Ayame’s face.

“You can hate the palace,” he said. “You can hate the throne, the court, the city, all of it. But none of that changes what is happening.” His eyes stayed locked on hers. “If no one holds that seat, Takehiko will try to claim it. If he does, your niece and her son will spend the rest of their lives at his mercy—assuming they live that long.”

“Is… that true? About the assassination attempt?” Ayame asked.

“It is,” Nathan said. “The moment a son and heir to the throne was born, both his life and his mother’s became targets.” He took another measured breath before continuing. “She is currently outside the kingdom for safety, but no one sits on the throne now. And that useless prince certainly cannot.”

Ayame lowered her gaze for a brief moment, her expression darkening.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “He is far too much like that scumbag who ruined my sister’s life.”

“Then are you coming or not?” Nathan asked.

Ayame fell silent and thought for a moment.

Then she slowly shook her head.

“I have rebuilt my life here,” she said. “There are many women living in peace because of what I have made. Their lives are in my hands now. I am responsible for them.” Her eyes lifted to meet Nathan’s again. “I cannot simply abandon them.”

“Responsibility?” Nathan let out a sharp, humorless scoff. “What about the responsibility you have toward your niece and her son? You’re the only family she has left who still gives a damn about her. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.” His stare hardened. “And your sister—if you truly loved her, you wouldn’t be sitting here in hiding.”

Ayame did not flinch. She remained where she was, calm as still water, her face unreadable in a way Nathan found more irritating than any open defiance. “Kaguya is in the capital,” she said. “She is more than capable.”

Nathan stepped forward, annoyance flashing openly across his face. “I’m not talking about Kaguya.” His voice sharpened, cutting through the room. “I’m talking about the throne. Someone has to hold it for your niece. Someone has to keep Takehiko from planting himself on it the moment it’s left undefended.” He jabbed a finger toward her, his temper rising with every word. “Do you really want that despicable brother-in-law of yours ruling again? Do you want his reign to begin all over?”

Ayame said nothing. She only watched him.

That silence made him push harder.

“Haruka’s son is still too young,” Nathan continued. “Until he comes of age, someone has to stand in the way. Someone has to keep the seat warm without letting scavengers claim it. You have royal blood. You have the ties, the name, the right. You’re the obvious choice.” He paused, studying her expression for even the smallest crack. “I don’t know you. I don’t know if you’re truly as capable as Kaguya says. But she spoke highly of you. So what exactly are you going to do?”

A faint sigh left Ayame, quiet and controlled. “A capable woman, yes,” she said. “And a responsible one. I will not abandon the women under my protection.”

Nathan’s gaze swept across the room. Several women stood nearby with katanas at their sides, their hands never far from the hilts. Others lingered in the shadows, watchful, alert. “These women?” he asked, his tone edged with contempt. “The ones guarding you? The prostitutes? Or the ordinary women caught in the middle of all this?”

“All of them,” Ayame replied.

Nathan let out a bitter laugh. “Then tell the women wasting their time protecting you to go protect the rest of them instead.”

Several of the armed women turned toward him at once, their faces tightening, their eyes full of warning. Nathan felt the weight of their hostility settle on him from all sides, but he did not care. If anything, it only fed his irritation.

To his surprise, Ayame chuckled softly.

“They already are,” she said. “Even now, they are doing what they can for as many women as possible. But there is one man out there they cannot stop. A man who would cut them down without a second thought.”

Nathan’s expression changed. The anger remained, but something colder slid in beneath it. “Morosuke?” he asked. “I already dealt with him.”

“Morosuke was a problem,” Ayame said, lifting her eyes fully to his. “But he was never the greatest one.”

Nathan narrowed his eyes. A faint unease stirred in his chest.

“Who?”

Ayame held his gaze for a beat longer before answering.

“One of the Four Daimyos.”

The words landed heavily.

Nathan’s jaw tightened. “Which one?”

For a brief moment, he found himself hoping it would be Sadamasa, the name of an enemy already buried, a threat already finished. It would have been simple. Too simple.

“Daimyo Yorimasa.”