"Even if you don't tell me, I can make a pretty good guess about what you want with Hestia."
Genichi's hand paused.
He did not turn around. He simply stood with his back to Hephaestus, the forge fire casting his long shadow across the floor.
"Oh?"
His voice was quiet, touched with faint amusement. "Let's hear it."
Hephaestus rose from her seat and walked around the anvil, approaching him.
Her footsteps barely sounded against the stone floor, but Genichi could feel her drawing closer. Her divine presence was hot and unyielding, like iron freshly pulled from a furnace.
She stopped a single step behind him.
"First Demeter, then Astraea."
She spoke softly, but every word was clear. "And now I can smell Artemis on you."
She paused before continuing.
"So you've set your sights on Hestia next?"
Genichi finally turned to face her.
His expression was composed, but surprise flickered in his eyes. It was not that she had guessed his intentions. It was how perceptive she was.
She truly was a goddess who had lived for thousands of years. Her insight went far beyond that of an ordinary person.
From Demeter to Astraea, then from Astraea to Artemis, she had deduced his objective from scent alone.
That was no mere question of strength. It came from experience and wisdom.
"You could put it that way."
His tone was matter-of-fact. "To be precise, I'm after Hestia's authority over sacred flame."
Hephaestus narrowed her uncovered eye.
"Her authority over sacred flame? What do you want that for?"
"I need it to make myself immune to a goddess of beauty's charm."
Genichi made no attempt to hide it. He knew there was no point in lying to Hephaestus.
Her eyebrow rose.
"A goddess of beauty's charm? Freya or Ishtar?"
Genichi nodded.
"Ishtar. That bitch."
Hephaestus fell silent.
Of course she knew what sort of goddess Ishtar was, and how terrifying her charm could be.
That goddess of beauty used her authority to do whatever she pleased in the lower world. There was no telling how many people she had enthralled.
If she had set her sights on Genichi, he certainly needed a way to resist her charm.
But Hestia's authority over sacred flame was the very heart of her power, the source of her divinity.
Obtaining it would be anything but easy.
"I don't know exactly what you intend to do with Hestia's authority, but I have no intention of letting you have your way."
Hephaestus spoke quietly, with unmistakable resolve.
Genichi's eyebrows rose.
He looked at her, a trace of displeasure entering his eyes.
Naturally, he knew she and Hestia were friends. He understood that she was trying to protect Hestia, that she did not want a man of unknown origins approaching the innocent virgin goddess.
But he disliked interference. He disliked being obstructed, and he disliked being treated as someone who needed to be guarded against.
"Hephaestus."
His voice remained calm, but a warning entered his gaze. "I won't hurt Hestia. But I don't want you interfering in my affairs, either."
The corners of her mouth lifted. Her smile held a hint of provocation, a little amusement, and something else he could not quite identify.
"And if I insist? What will you do?"
The atmosphere in the workshop tightened.
The forge still burned, its flames crackling. The unfinished longsword on the anvil still radiated warmth, and the air remained heavy with the smell of metal.
Yet the space between them seemed to freeze, turning so cold it was difficult to breathe.
Genichi watched her for a moment.
Then he smiled.
It was a faint smile, edged with danger. It held a hunter's excitement upon spotting prey, a chess player's satisfaction when an opponent made the expected move.
His gaze traveled over her face, much of it concealed by a black eyepatch, then over the challenging curve of her lips, her pale neck, and the figure beneath her work clothes.
"I wouldn't mind making you mine before I go after Hestia."
Hephaestus froze.
Stunned disbelief spread across her face. It was neither anger nor fear, but the sheer shock of hearing something she had never expected.
She stared at him, her eye wide. Her lips parted, but no words came.
She had considered what he might say. He might threaten her, plead with her, or try to bargain.
But she had never imagined he would say that.
Make her his?
This human youth, someone who was still little more than a child in her eyes, actually dared say such a thing to her?
She was Hephaestus, the goddess of smithing. She had lived for thousands of years.
What had she not seen?
What had she not experienced?
Yet a single sentence from a human youth had left her speechless.
"Y-you said what?"
Her voice sounded strained, carrying a bewilderment even she found unfamiliar.
Genichi watched her, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"You heard me. I said I wouldn't mind making you mine first."
He took a step closer.
Hephaestus instinctively stepped back, bumping against the anvil with a dull thud.
She leaned back slightly, bracing her hands against its edge as she looked up at him. The composure she had worn moments earlier had vanished.
"Do you know who I am?"
Her voice trembled faintly.
"You're Hephaestus, the goddess of smithing."
He paused, a glint passing through his eyes.
"So what?"
Hephaestus fell silent.
A tangle of emotions filled her uncovered eye.
She knew he meant it. There was no fear in his gaze, no reverence, no hesitation.
He simply looked at her as he would an ordinary woman, rather than a lofty, untouchable goddess.
That look was unfamiliar.
And it unsettled her.
"You won't succeed."
Her voice regained its composure, though uncertainty flickered in her eye.
"I'm not Demeter, Astraea, or Artemis. A human won't win my heart so easily."
Genichi smiled.
"I don't need to win your heart. I just need you to willingly share your authority with me."
"That's even less likely."
"Maybe."
He stepped back, putting some distance between them again. "But I'll try."
He turned and headed for the door. At the threshold, he stopped and glanced back at her.
"Hephaestus, do you know something?"
"What?"
"This workshop is hot. But your heart burns hotter."
He opened the door and walked out.
It closed behind him with a dull thud.
Hephaestus stood where he had left her, staring at the closed door as conflicting emotions welled inside her.
Her hands were still braced against the anvil, her fingertips slightly white. Her heartbeat had yet to settle.
She drew a deep breath and slowly released it, trying to calm herself.
"That brat…"
Her mutter held exasperation and flustered confusion, along with a trace of anticipation she had not even noticed herself.
(End of Chapter)
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