Goddess Tricked Me into a Breeding Mission (And I Love It)

Lys pushed through the last ring of bodies in front of Sara’s shop.

The crowd parted just enough for him to see the mess inside Sara’s shop. Tables had been shoved aside. A display rack lay on its side, knives scattered across the floor like broken teeth. Two customers huddled near the back wall, eyes wide, not daring to move.

In the middle of it all stood a big man, broad shoulders, thick arms, a travel-stained cloak that had seen better roads. His face was flushed red under a short beard. One meaty hand had Bertha by the collar of her dress, lifting her just enough that her toes barely touched the floor. She gripped his wrist with both hands, struggling, but she couldn’t break free.

Sara stood two steps away, back straight, jaw tight. Her fists were clenched at her sides, but she wasn’t moving, trembling a little.

Lys stopped three feet from the man. Close enough to be heard. Far enough to keep things calm.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t reach for the CorpseSlayer at his hip. He simply looked at the man and said, "Hey, let her go", surprising everyone present in the shop.

The big man turned his head slowly. His eyes ran over Lys as if evaluating him if he was even worthy to speak with. Seeing Lys, who was now in a terrible state, dirty boots, forest mud on his pants, black sword hanging easily at his side, a smirk pulled at the corner of the man’s mouth as if mocking him.

He spoke in a gruff voice, turning his head away from Lys, "This ain’t your business, kid. Run along."

The crowd held its breath. Someone behind Lys whispered, "Hey, isn’t that the one who married the priest’s daughter..."

Lys didn’t look at the crowd. He glanced at Bertha first. Her face was red, but she wasn’t crying. Just angry. Scared, yes, but mostly angry. Seeing she was not that shaken made Lys calm down a little.

He then looked back at the merchant.

"Hey, man. Look, I don’t know what’s going on here," Lys said, voice low and even, "but I’m asking you one more time. Let-her-go. Now."

The words coming out of his mouth weren’t loud. They didn’t even need to be. Because even though there was no shake in them, no performance, somehow the words he spoke, the way he told the last sentence, felt like a quiet certainty that settled in the air like the moment before a blade leaves the sheath, making everyone take Lys’s words very seriously without them even knowing.

The merchant’s smirk faltered almost instantly. He studied Lys once again and really looked at his face this time.

The calm in the boy’s eyes. The way he stood like he had already decided how this would end if he didn’t listen to him, and was simply waiting for the man to catch up, everything about him made the merchant man tense a little, trying to think it over and over in his head. Also, the black sword at his hip suddenly looked heavier than it had a second ago, making the whole situation way scarier and more uncertain for the man.

For three long heartbeats, nobody moved.

Then the merchant snorted and opened his hand, releasing Bertha from his clutch. .

Bertha dropped back onto her heels, stumbling once before catching herself on the counter. She rubbed her throat, glaring at the man, but she stayed quiet.

The crowd let out a collective breath. A few people shifted, like they’d been holding themselves still for too long, all of their eyes on the man and Lys.

The merchant wiped his hand on his cloak, trying to act like it was nothing. "You got some nerve, boy. Do you even know what happened? Who are you to order me around, huh? That blade I bought from her...." he jerked his thumb at Sara, "...cracked five minutes after I walked out of this shop. She sold it to me for a full ten silver, saying it was solid steel."

He paused for a while, glancing at Sara to see if she was going to say something or not. But when she said nothing in response to him, he turned his attention to Lys again, keeping his tone straight-cut, not wanting to escalate it anymore, "I want my money back. Plus compensation for my time that I lost here. Simple business."

After he finished saying his demand, then Sara’s voice cut in, sharp but controlled. "You say it was cracked just after five minutes. But the blade was inspected before you bought it. You clearly agreed that the blade was as described. That sale was final. But now you come back saying stuff like this after you left my shop? That’s not on me!! Why would I pay for your mishandling of the blade?"

The merchant’s face darkened again. "Huh, you calling me a liar?"

Lys stayed where he was. He didn’t step forward. He didn’t argue about the knife. He just kept his eyes on the man and said nothing.

Seeing his gaze fixed on himself, the man froze a little, feeling a creepy feeling off of Lys.

Then he glanced at the sword again. At Lys’s boots caked in forest dirt. The way the boy hadn’t blinked once, just stared at him with those flat, empty eyes, like he was looking through the merchant instead of at him. Like the man standing there wasn’t even worth seeing.

The merchant felt something cold crawl up his spine.

He’d faced down angry opponents before. He’d been in brawls, been threatened with blades, and been shouted at by men twice this kid’s size. But this was somehow way different.

The boy wasn’t angry. He wasn’t scared. Wasn’t anything. Just... silent. As if waiting for something. As if he were a snake coiled in the grass, deciding whether to strike or let you pass.

And just this thought made him freeze all of his thoughts.

The crowd had also gone completely silent now. Every eye was on Lys. Every breath held.

Sara’s hand had moved to her mouth. Bertha stood frozen against the counter, forgotten.

And still, Lys said nothing.

The merchant swallowed. His smirk was long gone. His face had gone pale under the beard. He opened his mouth, maybe to say something, maybe to throw another threat, but nothing came out.

But then surprising everyone present, Lys spoke.

"Pay her."

His voice was quiet. Flat. No heat in it at all. Just a simple statement, but it carried its weight.

The merchant blinked. "Huh, what?"

"The damage you did here," Lys said, still not moving, still not blinking. "Pay for it. Then leave."

A ripple went through the crowd. Murmurs of confusion. They’d been expecting a fight, had even braced for it, some of them hoping for it. But the boy wasn’t swinging. He wasn’t even shouting. He was just... asking for money? Like a shopkeeper settling a bill?

The merchant stared at him, trying to figure out the angle. His hand twitched toward his pouch. "And if I don’t?"

Lys tilted his head slightly. Just a fraction. Enough that the lantern light caught his eyes differently.

The merchant felt that cold thing in his spine tighten into a knot.

He didn’t know what this boy was. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else, as fast as his legs could carry him.

He grunted, reaching into his pouch, and tossed a few coins onto the counter. The coins clattered against the wood, loud in the silence.

"Keep your damn knife," he muttered, not meeting Lys’s eyes. "Not coming back to this shop ever, fuck...!"

He turned and shoved his way through the crowd. People stepped aside quickly, not because he was big anymore, but because they could see the look on his face. The look of a man who had just realised he was standing on the edge of something he didn’t understand and had decided to run before it swallowed him whole.

The big man didn’t look back.

The crowd watched him go, still half-expecting Lys to call out after him, to draw that black sword, to do something dramatic. But Lys just stood there, hands loose at his sides, watching the merchant’s broad back disappear down the road.

Only when he was gone did the murmur start up again, relieved, surprised, a little awed even.

Someone near the back let out a breath that sounded like a laugh. "Huh, what the fuck...he just... paid him?"

"He just stood there," another voice answered, wonder in it. "Didn’t even touch his sword."

"Did you see his eyes, though?" A woman’s voice, low and certain. "I wouldn’t want those eyes looking at me."

Bertha let out a shaky breath and straightened her dress. "Uhh....thanks, Lys," she said quietly, voice rough. "I thought he was gonna swing at Miss Sara next."

Sara met Lys’s eyes across the shop. She gave him a small nod, with gratitude, and something else he couldn’t quite read yet. "You didn’t have to do that," she said, but the words sounded like she was glad he had.

Lys shrugged one shoulder, the tension easing out of him now that the moment had passed. "Sorry, couldn’t resist myself. Had to check out this new ski....."

He stopped himself just in time, before saying the rest of the forbidden words. "Forget it. It looked like you needed a hand, so I gave mine. That’s all."

He glanced at the scattered knives on the floor, then at the small crowd still watching. A few people were already whispering his name.

He turned back to Sara. "You good?"

She exhaled, the corner of her mouth twitching into the smallest smile. "Yeah. We’re good."

Lys nodded once. He didn’t stay to bask in the stares or the murmurs. He simply stepped back, letting the crowd fill the space again, and walked out of the shop like nothing had happened.