Prologue — She Sipped Her Tea Like a War Goddess
—
On the morning the storm was predicted to come, the sun rose without apology.
The sky was clear, the wind was still, and Noona sat by the window of our crumbling little house, sipping tea as if we didn't live in the slums. As if the world hadn't just declared us enemies. As if her name wasn't chanted in temples now.
She looked calm. Not happy—she rarely looked happy these days—but calm, like a statue that had accepted being worshipped.
"I want to go to the beach," she said.
The sentence came so softly, I thought I imagined it.
We had no time, no food, and no stable roof. Our front door still creaked open by itself like a ghost had unfinished business. There were storm warnings posted across the district. Soldiers were moving in again. The Fandom was getting louder.
But Noona wanted the beach.
I said nothing at first. I've learned to let silence be my offering.
When she spoke again, her eyes didn't move. "Before the sea disappears again. I liked the last one."
That's when I knew we weren't going to have a quiet day.
See, it's not that I don't love my wife—I do. With everything I have left. But ever since we got isekai'd, the gods gave her something… extra. They didn't just make her strong. They made her beloved.
By the people. By the priests. By the damn Fandom.
They call her titles now. War Goddess. Black Swan of the East. The Final Blessing. Some of them tattoo her face on their arms like she's a pop idol. Others leave handwritten fanmail outside our door. One guy tried to marry a potato shaped like her smile.
Me?
I'm just Raiko.
Husband, tag along, deadweight. They say I hold her back.
They're probably right.
Still, I follow her. Because no matter how far she ascends, she's still Noona. She still drinks her tea too hot. She still hums when she sews. She still curls her toes when she's thinking.
And sometimes—like today—she still says things like:
> "Let's leave before the flood starts. Bring the tea. And that cursed map from the cult leader."
So I packed the tea. And the cursed map. And I followed my wife, war goddess of a nation I barely understand, to the edge of the broken world.
Because maybe—just maybe—this time, I'll figure out what the hell is actually going on.
And maybe this time, I'll be more than just her footnote.
—
> Author's Note:
Yes, she really wanted to go to the beach.
No, I still don't understand the fandom.
—H. Behevras
—
© 2025 H. Behevras | First published on Royal Road
Do not repost without permission.