The weight of his pack shifted against his body as Orcbolg left the Guild, the clink of valis and the faint smell of iron trailing with him. The sun had already begun to set, painting Orario's streets in shades of orange and red. He moved quietly, boots steady against the worn stone path, his mind still turning over the day's hunt.
Nothing unusual.
He exhaled, adjusting the strap of his shield. The city felt almost too calm after the stench of the Dungeon.
By the time he reached the small church that served as their home, the faint glow of lantern light seeped through the cracks of the door. He paused when he heard voices from within.
One, light and familiar—Hestia's.
The other was different. A boy's. Younger than him, uncertain but earnest. His tone carried a faint tremor, like someone forcing courage through a thin layer of nerves.
"…I'll do my best," the boy was saying. His voice was soft, high but not childlike—youthful, with an edge of desperation that had not yet been shaped by experience.
Orcbolg pushed open the door.
"Orcbolg!" Hestia's blue eyes lit up instantly. She hopped up from where she was sitting and ran straight toward him.
He barely had time to brace before she threw herself at him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his torso, cheek pressing into the grime-streaked steel of his breastplate.
"…Don't," he muttered, his voice flat but not harsh. "I'm still in armor. It's dirty."
Hestia only squeezed tighter, pouting up at him. "It's fine! I don't care if it's dirty or not—welcome home!"
He let out a quiet breath, not quite a sigh, and gently pried her off. She huffed in protest but didn't push further.
It was then that Orcbolg noticed the boy standing by the table. White hair. Red eyes. His posture stiffened under Orcbolg's gaze, but he bowed quickly, trying to mask his nerves.
Hestia beamed, bouncing a little on her heels. "Oh, right! Orcbolg, listen! This is Bell Cranel. He's joined us—our Familia finally has a second member!"
The boy swallowed hard, then forced out his words. "N-nice to meet you! I… I'll work hard. Please take care of me."
Orcbolg studied him in silence, eyes narrowing slightly behind the shadow of his helm. The boy's voice trembled, but there was something beneath it. Not strength, not yet—but a will that wanted to become strong.
"…I see," Orcbolg said at last. His tone was even, unreadable.
The silence stretched for a moment after Hestia's cheerful declaration. Orcbolg lowered himself onto the nearest bench, his shield resting against the wall. His helm tilted slightly toward the boy.
"…Why?" His voice was steady, flat. "Why join a Familia?"
Bell blinked, startled by the sudden question. His hands fidgeted at his sides before he answered, voice small but sincere.
"I… I came to Orario to be an adventurer. To become stronger. To be like the heroes in the stories my grandfather used to tell me."
His eyes dropped to the floor. "But… no one would take me in. I went from Familia to Familia, asking, hoping… but every single one rejected me." His voice wavered, but he steadied it. "I thought… maybe I wasn't meant to be an adventurer after all."
Hestia's expression softened. She leaned forward, her voice gentle but proud. "That's when I found him. He looked so down I couldn't just leave him like that. And… well—" She glanced at Orcbolg, smiling sheepishly. "He reminded me of you. White hair, kind of the same build… so I thought, 'why not?'"
Bell's head shot up, eyes wide. "Me? Like… him?" He pointed nervously toward Orcbolg, disbelief plain in his face. "That can't be right. He—he looks so… strong. Nothing like me."
Orcbolg reached up, undoing the clasps of his helmet. With a faint scrape of metal, he set it aside on the table.
Bell's breath caught.
The resemblance wasn't perfect—but it was there. Orcbolg's hair was ash-gray, worn and unkempt from years under steel, while Bell's was pure white, softer, untouched by hardship. Both bore the pale tones that made them stand out among the crowds of Orario.
"Ah…" Bell exhaled quietly. For a moment, it was as if he were looking at a much older, hardened reflection of himself.
"…I see," Orcbolg muttered. He leaned back slightly, studying the boy with unreadable eyes. "So she picked you because you looked like me."
Hestia puffed her cheeks, crossing her arms. "That's not the only reason! I just couldn't leave him out there. He's got potential, I can feel it."
Bell swallowed, then bowed deeply toward Orcbolg. "P-please! I'll work hard! Even if I'm weak now, I won't give up. So… please take care of me."
Orcbolg didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the boy's trembling hands, his nervous stance, and the stubborn determination buried in his red eyes.
"…We'll see," he said at last, his tone neither warm nor cold.
Hestia clapped her hands together, smiling brightly as though the matter was settled. "Then it's decided! The Hestia Familia now has two children!"
After talking for a while, they decided to have dinner.
Dinner was simple—bread, stew, and the last of the fruit Hestia had saved. They ate together, Bell sitting politely at the table while sneaking glances between his goddess and his new Familia "senior."
Afterward, they cleaned up, and night fell quickly over their small home.
When Bell looked around for where to sleep, his eyes froze.
The small room only had a single bed.
"Sorry, Bell. Since you joined so suddenly, there's only one bed. You can use the couch for tonight—tomorrow we'll get you your own," Hestia said apologetically.
Bell waved his hands quickly, shaking his head. "I-It's fine! R-Really, I don't mind!"
Hestia then tugged at Orcbolg's arm.
"Come on, let's get some rest! You've been in the dungeon all day."
Orcbolg said nothing, setting his shield and helmet neatly against the wall before beginning to unbuckle the straps of his chestplate. The sound of steel being laid aside echoed softly in the quiet room.
Bell's face went red. "Eh—! W-Wait, you two…!?"
Hestia blinked at him, tilting her head. "…What's wrong?"
"You—you're sleeping on the same bed?!" Bell's voice cracked as he pointed, scandalized.
Hestia puffed out her cheeks, hands on her hips. "Of course we are! We've always done that. It's perfectly normal!"
Bell's jaw dropped. "N-normal!?"
Orcbolg, now down to a plain shirt and trousers, glanced briefly at Bell. "The bed is hers. I only share it."
Bell's protests died in his throat. He looked between the two of them, utterly lost, and finally slumped onto the couch, muttering something about improper arrangements.
The lights dimmed. Orcbolg slid under the blanket, his body sinking into the mattress, exhaustion from the day's battles catching up with him. Beside him, Hestia nestled close, her small frame curling into his side as she always did. Her warmth pressed against him, her heartbeat steady.
"Good work today…" she mumbled softly, already half-asleep.
Orcbolg closed his eyes. For a man used to the cold ground of caves and forests, her warmth was still foreign—yet familiar after all this time. His breathing slowed, and before long, he surrendered to sleep.
On the couch, Bell stared up at the ceiling, face still red, whispering to himself.
"…T-this Familia is… different."