'Wait, I'm Supposed to Become a Goddess?! But I'm a Guy!'

Morning crept in gently.

The sun lifted over the horizon, casting its golden glow across the still and quiet world.

Sunday.

That awkward in-between kind of day, one half peace, one half dread.

The kind of day people would love without guilt, if not for the work that always waited just beyond it.

The scene shifted.

A soft glow broke into a dimly lit room, filtering through the barely parted curtains swaying faintly by the window.

A single beam of sunlight slipped past the fabric, crawling slowly along the floor before climbing up the bed like a gentle tide.

It touched the sheets.

Revealing something ethereal sprawled across them.

A woman, far too beautiful to exist in any common realm.

Her hair spilled around her like a living shadow, long enough to wrap her twice, maybe more.

Dark as ink, it pooled and flowed, the strands spread like a liquid nightscape across the pale linen.

Then there was her face, almost surreal in its delicacy.

Like a porcelain doll brought to life.

A sharp, sculpted chin.

Small, soft lips.

Large eyes, even closed, framed by lashes like snow-kissed feathers.

And below, her body... statuesque.

A figure designed to ruin empires, drive kings to madness, and humble tyrants.

She wasn’t merely beautiful, she was dangerous.

Then, something shifted.

A subtle wetness brushed the corner of her lips, and Mize stirred with a quiet groan.

Darkness...

Then a bit of warmth...

It was small, faint, barely a breath, but her fingers tensed.

Her wrist... felt strange.

Like something was wrapped around it. Or was she the one wrapping something?

It didn’t make sense.

Not yet.

What she could feel, clearly, was the warmth inside her mouth.

The soft pressure of a tongue pressing, sliding, playing against hers.

The heat of someone’s breath brushing against the back of her throat. Thumping against, and her brain felt foggy.

Her body stirred. Her thoughts didn’t catch up.

Another groan escaped, unformed and breathy. Her lashes lifted, slowly at first, then wide, jolting open in alarm.

Liam’s face hovered close, so close it was practically fused with hers.

He was kissing her.

Deeply.

Morning kiss?

And his eyes, those golden irises, locked with hers the moment she woke.

She tried to move, but her wrists were gently pinned under his hands, his body resting over hers with firm, unshakable pressure.

Fixed in place.

!!!

Panic flickered across her face.

Not because of the kiss itself, but because of the sheer absurdity of it. The “what-the-hell-is-going-on” level absurdity.

“Mhm!!”

“Mhhmmm!!”

She tried to say something, anything, but her words simply got swallowed into Liam’s mouth, if that was even possible.

The soft clicks and wet sounds of their kiss echoed faintly in the room.

And her saliva? That faint morning sweetness?

He drank it up greedily, his tongue pushing deeper with no restraint.

Her mind short-circuited. Her cheeks blazed a furious red. Her legs twitched under the covers, rubbing faintly together.

And her eyes.

Gods, even her eyes betrayed her.

'A woman's body is too scary!!!'

Little heart-shaped pupils shimmered faintly in her gaze, hopelessly enamored despite the confusion.

Resistance proved useless.

Before long, her body had stopped protesting.

The kiss deepened, dragging her along like a current, the morning filled only with the sound of wet breaths and unspoken thoughts.

Finally... finally... they parted.

A thin string of warmth broke between their lips, vanishing into the air.

Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. She turned her face aside quickly, refusing to meet his gaze.

“W-what the hell, Liam?” she mumbled, flushed from ear to neck. “What is this for?”

Her legs shifted under the sheets, trying to squeeze past his unmoving form.

He didn’t budge. Just stared.

His molten gold eyes traced every detail of her face, still far too close.

She gave up trying to meet his gaze. Her eyes darted away, and she whispered in a shaky voice, cheeks flaming:

“G-get down.”

But instead of obeying, Liam leaned closer.

His lips brushed against the edge of her ear, his voice deep and quiet:

“Beg me.”

!!!

Wth!

A chill ran down her spine.

She squirmed where she lay, lips clamped shut, eyes burning with panic and something else she didn’t want to name.

And then, realizing there was no escape, her voice came out in the tiniest, most mouse-like whisper.

“P-please... Husband?”

He smiled.

A small nod. “Good.”

He moved away, finally, releasing her wrists.

She exhaled in relief, sitting up hastily with flustered movements and glaring at him from the corner of her eyes.

“W-what is this for?” she muttered again, flinching. “At least wait until I’m awake for it!”

Still red, she floated off the bed like a startled spirit and darted away.

Liam didn’t follow.

He went to the side, stood near the window now, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

Watching her quietly.

Mize noticed.

Felt the lingering heat of his gaze across her skin. She furrowed her brow. Something about his mood this morning felt... strange.

But then again, Liam had always been strange. She dismissed it.

Giving several glances back.

Noting that he was looking...

Well, like the usual Liam, no?

She doesn't know.

Floating to the wardrobe, she pulled out a fresh dress, black, with subtle streaks of grey and violet threading through it like dusk trapped in silk.

Her body shimmered for a moment, changing outfits in a quiet flash of light.

Gone was the gothic dress from yesterday.

She sat down before the mirror, brushing her long hair with soft strokes, carefully pinning dark leaf-shaped ornaments into place.

She didn’t say much.

And neither did he.

But Liam eventually approached, and a chair shimmered beneath him as he sat by her side, watching.

Quiet. Still.

His gaze didn’t waver.

Mize’s face turned red again.

She lifted a hand to shield herself from his eyes, half embarrassed, half annoyed.

The other hand continued its work, clipping, arranging, smoothing, pretending not to notice the way his presence settled beside her like a second sun.

Eventually, as if she’d finally had enough of Liam’s bizarre behavior, Mize stood up, arms stiff at her sides before planting her hands onto her hips.

Her expression twisted between frustration and disbelief as she pointed straight at his face.

“What is it?” she asked flatly.

…

Liam didn’t answer. Again.

His eyes remained fixed on her face, almost unreadable, but it was the intensity that got to her.

Somehow, that quiet stare made her feel even more embarrassed.

Her fingers twitched slightly.

Her lips parted as if to speak, then closed again.

She wasn’t sure how to deal with this weird morning or the weird man standing before her.

Then, without warning, Liam reached out, took her pointing finger, and brought it to his mouth.

He licked it.

Mize jolted back like she’d been burned, recoiling a few steps with her face twisted in horror. “What’s wrong with you, Liam? You’re being weird!”

“You’re weird,” he replied simply, rising to his feet with a slow deliberate motion.

He tugged at his collar, straightening it with a lazy swipe, then brushed his hair back with a casual flair.

His eyes, molten gold and gleaming, remained locked on hers.

“You’re the one who looks exceptionally tasty today. So if anything… you’re the weird one.”

Gulp.

Mize faltered, her expression caught somewhere between shock and rising panic.

Was her face red? White? She didn’t know anymore, and she didn’t want to stick around to figure it out either.

It felt like one of those days, like the early days when she first met him.

And no matter how much time passed, she still wasn’t immune to it.

To Liam, though, Mize looked especially captivating today.

Her long, dark dress flowed like black silk down that ridiculous body of hers.

Her face? Peerless.

A beauty beyond mortals and Awakeners alike.

The way her hair poured down her back in a smooth curtain, the subtle collar on her neck that clung a little too snugly, it all painted a picture that, in Liam’s eyes, spelled nothing short of “please ruin me.”

He stepped forward.

Mize instinctively took several steps back, mirroring him, until her back hit the wall.

She tensed.

Her gaze darted sideways, refusing to meet his.

Liam leaned in, his frame pressing softly against hers.

Even through layers of fabric, the heat between them was unmistakable.

From his vantage point, her collarbone glimmered like snow beneath the stars, pale and delicate.

He reached for her chin, fingers slipping beneath it, tilting her face upward to meet his eyes.

“Shy?”

She didn’t answer, just averted her gaze with her lips pressed tight.

Clearly unused to being cornered like this.

If teleporting away were an option, she would’ve done it already.

But the pressure around her told her otherwise. The space felt Restrained.

Probably Liam’s formation again.

Then he kissed her.

No hesitation.

His arms wrapped around her waist and back, pulling her against him until their bodies pressed with not a breath of space left between.

Slurp.

Slurp.

Slurp...

The sound was embarrassingly loud. Too wet. Too obscene for a simple kiss.

When they finally broke apart, a silvery strand of pristine saliva stretched between their lips before snapping.

Their breaths came out warm, fogging the air faintly between them.

Liam took a step back and gave her a calm, unreadable smile. “Like it?”

Mize, her fingers smoothing down her slightly ruffled clothes, stepped to the side, doing her best to maintain composure.

Her face tried to look indifferent, but the red on her cheeks ruined the act entirely.

Liam enjoyed the view, a faint amusement playing at the corner of his lips.

“The goblin lord from yesterday…” he finally said, shifting the mood, “aren’t you curious?”

“I am…” Mize replied, not quite daring to meet his eyes. “But I’m pretty sure I already figured out what happened.”

“Oh?” Liam raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

He took a step closer, gently guiding her steps with a hand placed at the small of her back as he opened the door.

“Well… Warp is a game, isn’t it?” she muttered, cheeks still a little warm.

The casual air between them felt strangely comforting, yet unfamiliar. “So it’s not surprising if that goblin lord was here yesterday for his own type of event. We are not special"

“Then today,” Liam said as he gave her head a gentle pat, “be prepared. Don’t be careless like yesterday. You remember what I told you, most races are extremely wary of your profession.”

Mize’s eyes brightened slightly, connecting the dots. “So that’s why… that weird force yesterday. It emptied my power like it was targeting me specifically.”

“It was.” Liam nodded, stepping out into the hallway without sparing a glance at the guards saluting on either side.

“To most races, you’re either something to possess… or to kill. If they can’t have you, destroying you is the next best thing.”

“I figured as much…” Mize’s voice dipped low. “But it still unsettled me. The way that vile creature saw me, like I was just some kind of breeding tool.”

Her tone darkened. “I hated that. I hope his soul rots in hell, if that place even exists.”

“Don’t worry,” Liam replied, the corner of his mouth curling slightly, his eyes scanning her, memorizing every flicker of movement. “I’m sure he’s already in hell. And suffering. For eternity.”

“I hope so,” Mize nodded softly.

Liam’s hand never left her head, stroking once more as the two of them vanished on the spot.

They reappeared near the territory dome.

A throne shimmered into existence mid-air. Liam sat on it like it belonged to him.

And Mize?

She sat quietly on his lap.