Chapter 221: Chapter 65
In the dim, quiet office of the Underworld, where the air was heavy with incense and the faint scratch of a quill echoed against shelves upon shelves of ledgers and scrolls, Hades sat hunched over his desk.
His penmanship was exact, neat, and deliberate, every stroke reflecting a mind accustomed to order.
His silver hair styled neatly as the violet glow of his eyes flickered in concentration.
He looked so utterly absorbed that the rest of the world seemed to vanish, as though only his work existed.
Across the room, sprawled languidly on a couch carved from black obsidian and cushioned with soft crimson fabric, Aphrodite was not nearly so serious.
She had picked up a slim volume bound in cheap leather, a mortal work smuggled from the world above.
The moment her eyes began scanning its lurid words, she broke into giggles.
Her laughter rang like silver bells in the gloomy office, startling in its brightness against the stoic silence of the Underworld.
The book was absurd, laughably so.
The author, a mortal calling himself Adonis, had the audacity to make himself the central figure of a tale where not only mortals but even gods bent at his beauty.
Aphrodite herself and Persephone, the little girl always competing with her, were written as hopelessly smitten by him, clawing at each other in jealousy until Zeus, weary of their divine bickering, decreed that Adonis be shared between them like a prized trinket.
Aphrodite snorted so hard at one particular passage that she nearly dropped the book, muttering under her breath about the sheer nerve of some men.
This Adonis is surely so smitten at them that he decided to write this book. And some bards even believed this tale, according to the divine spirit that gave Aphrodite this book.
After all, Persephone and Aphrodite’s frequent fights were infamous in the mortal world, although no one knew how it started.
This Adonis made himself the reason for their fights, which caused many to believe him.
He even has the audacity to call himself so incredibly handsome that Aphrodite herself betrayed her beloved Hades just to be with him.
She almost barfed.
Yet, as ridiculous as the premise was, the mortal’s imagination was... surprisingly creative.
His descriptions, especially when the story descended into its heated moments, were far more vivid than she expected from a common man with ink-stained fingers.
They were clumsy at times, indulgent and excessive, but also raw, filled with a kind of shameless hunger that even Aphrodite, goddess of love and desire, could not completely dismiss.
She found her cheeks warming, though her laughter covered it well, and her thoughts lingered on certain phrases far longer than she cared to admit.
She wasn’t really angry about this. After all it was just that, a story. No matter what those mortals believed, it was all just a fantasy.
She had lost count about the number of pornographic novels about her spreading in the overworld.
She’d probably die of exhaustion if she punished every single authors of those books.
Hades finally glanced up from his parchment, the quill pausing in his hand, his expression calm but faintly curious.
His low voice broke the rhythm of her giggles. "Why do you keep laughing like that?"
Aphrodite’s heart jumped, and she quickly snapped the book shut, pressing it to her chest as if it were some scandalous secret.
Her smile was coy, a touch mischievous, though there was also genuine nervousness flickering behind her eyes.
"Oh, nothing. Just something silly." She waved her free hand dismissively. "You wouldn’t care for it."
She decided to hide it. After all, maybe Hades would curse the poor mortal who wrote it if he knew.
And she don’t want him to die yet. He writes... well enough to amuse her.
At least this is much better than that novel where she was married to Hephaestus and got caught having an affair with Ares, only to get tied up and displayed for everyone to see.
She was so angry at that time she cursed the author to have an endless erection and constantly on heat, but would immediately lose all desire once he is near a woman, only to once again go into heat once he is far away from women.
Death is a mercy for that mortal. So she also have Thanatos extend his life for a few centuries at least and have Styx gave him powerful body so he can’t die by committing suicide.
She wondered how he is doing now.
Hades studied her for a moment, his purple gaze steady, unreadable as always.
For a heartbeat she thought he might press, but instead, he simply turned back to his work, dipping his quill again into the inkwell with a practiced hand.
The sound of scratching resumed, and with it, the heavy silence of the room returned.
But Aphrodite’s attention no longer lingered on her book.
She set it aside, her laughter subsiding into a quiet hum, and her eyes drifted to Hades once more.
She watched him without hiding it, her gaze following the subtle movements of his hands as they worked with precision, the curve of his shoulders, the way his hair slipped forward and caught the light like strands of moonlit silk.
The quirk of his brow when he concentrated, the faint purse of his lips when he reviewed a line too critically.
Her heart fluttered, unbidden, like a restless bird. This was different from lust, different from the fiery hunger that the mortal’s words had stirred.
This was gentler, quieter, yet no less consuming.
She could not look away from him. The stern god, so serious, so impossibly distant, had now become so close.
His very existence stirred in her something she had guided in countless others but only once tasted for herself.
’Ah, this is love, it’s simply breathtaking.’ she thought, her lips curving faintly in wonder.
Not the cheap fantasy of mortals scribbling their wishes into paper, not the fleeting desires that came and went with beauty or time.
This was love that stole into the soul in silence, that crept into her chest without permission, binding her without chains.
And how strange, how utterly deliciously strange, that the goddess of love herself would be caught so unprepared by it.
Just then, Hades’ low voice cut through her haze of admiration. He did not look up from his parchment, but his words were sharp enough to draw her back into the present.
"Do you need something, Aphrodite? You keep staring."
She blinked, startled, then quickly smoothed her expression into that practiced, radiant smile that seemed to light even the shadows of the Underworld.
"Oh, nothing too serious. I only wanted to share something with you." She leaned forward slightly, her chin resting on her palm as her eyes sparkled. "I had a little talk with Hera and Hecate earlier."
The scratch of Hades’ quill slowed for a fraction of a second, a pause so small most would have missed it, but Aphrodite’s sharp eyes caught it.
He resumed writing without comment, though the faint crease of his brow betrayed the stirrings of thought.
"They’re both... well, to put it bluntly, a bit insane," Aphrodite continued with a playful lilt in her voice. "Hera especially. She tried to crush me under her divinity the moment I walked into the hall. If looks could kill, I would have died a dozen times before even sitting down. Hecate was quieter, but oh, she was glaring daggers at me from behind that calm mask of hers. I almost thought she would hex me on the spot."
Hades finally looked up, his violet gaze steady, unreadable, though the faint flicker in his eyes betrayed his concern.
"I hope," he said slowly, "that you did not antagonize them. Hera and Hecate have stood by me in ways most cannot imagine. I owe them both too much. Their feelings are deep and genuine. I will not have you making sport of them."
Aphrodite raised both hands in mock defense, her laughter soft and lilting. "Me? Antagonize? Never. I’m not that cruel. Although..."
Her lips curved in amusement, her tone dropping as though sharing a delicious secret.
"I may have enjoyed teasing them. Just a little." She leaned back against the couch, her smile widening. "But honestly, it was dangerous. Truly dangerous. I wasn’t expecting Hera to be so terrifying. I thought she was just the queenly type, but her presence was suffocating. I nearly lost my breath just standing in the same room with her."
Hades’ lips quirked in the faintest of smiles, a rare sight that always made Aphrodite’s heart stir. "Hera is far more than just queenly. She was one of the main fighters during the Titanomachy. Her strength, her strategy, her command of divine authority—few can rival her. In truth, her power ranks among the highest of the current gods and titans."
Especially with how she can borrow parts of his authority.
Aphrodite tapped her lower lip, pretending to be thoughtful, though her eyes glittered with mischief.
"I see. That explains why I felt like I was seconds away from being obliterated." She gave a theatrical sigh. "I’ll remember to tread carefully next time."
"Do that," Hades replied, already dipping his quill back into the inkwell, his focus returning to his work. "So. What did you three talk about, in the end?"
The playful smile on Aphrodite’s lips slowly faded, replaced by a sudden seriousness that drew Hades’ attention more than any teasing words ever could.
Her posture straightened, her eyes narrowing with intent as she leaned forward.
When she finally spoke, her voice was steady, but carried a weight that startled even the god of the dead.
"Hades," she said, her tone almost too casual, though her gaze never wavered. "Go on a date with Hecate and Hera. And if you find yourself loving them, please accept them."
The quill stopped in mid-stroke, a bead of ink blotting the parchment as silence fell over the room.
For the first time in countless years, Hades’ composure visibly faltered.