The Illustration "The Soft Caress of Syr" is already finished. Please check it out at https://www.patreon.com/Rayish
Their trio's footsteps echoed through the high marble corridors of Babel Tower. Their last casual conversation about expeditions and inter-Familia politics slowly faded. Hermes had already vanished first, giving a light wave before leaving the room, while Dionysus left elegantly, leaving behind a faint scent of wine.
Now only Loki remained, strolling while whistling a soft tune, her hands tucked into her shorts pockets. "Haaah... Finally, that annoying Denatus is over. All the gods are acting so busy when they just want to gossip," she muttered while yawning.
But before she could finish her complaint, something cold touched her shoulder.
Tap.
Reflexively, Loki nearly jumped to the ceiling. "HYAA!!" she shrieked, whipping her head around sharply. "Who the hell—!!"
Standing behind her was a figure with a gentle smile and purple eyes that seemed to pierce the heart of anyone who saw them. That long, silvery hair swayed softly in the breeze from an open window—and the scent of winter flowers immediately filled the air.
"Freya...!!" Loki straightened her posture, her face half-annoyed, half-nervous. "What's the big idea, sneaking up from behind? You wanna make my heart jump out, huh?"
Freya just looked at her with a small smile. "You startle too easily, Loki. I haven't even used my charm yet."
"Yeah, yeah, don't act all sweet. So, what do you want? And if this is about that skull-masked guy, I swear, I don't know anything," Loki said quickly, folding her arms in a defensive tone.
Freya shook her head slowly, her eyes still calm but deep, as if hiding something. "It's not about him."
Loki raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting to tired and irritated. "Oh? Then what? Don't tell me it's about a man again, Goddess of Love~. You never learn, do you? Aren't you busy chasing that rabbit kid from Hestia Familia right now, huh?"
Freya let out a small laugh, her voice soft yet piercing to the ears like the chime of fine glass. "You misunderstand, Loki. This child is not the Odr I seek. I was just... momentarily interested, perhaps because of the unique trait of his soul."
"'Momentarily interested'—you say that to me every time you take a fancy to some new mortal," Loki snorted, taking a slight step back. "So who's the next victim this time? Poor guy, becoming your target before anything even happens."
Freya looked straight at Loki, her smile turning faint, almost... mysterious. "Shirou Emiya," she said softly. "That new member of yours."
Loki fell silent for a fraction of a second, then—
"Khu—!!" She choked on her own spit, coughing hard enough to nearly hit the wall. "W-wha—WHAT?!"
Freya covered her lips with her fingertips, suppressing a soft laugh that felt more like a mockery. "Fufufu... An interesting reaction."
Loki blinked slowly, still staring at Freya with a mix of suspicion and bewilderment. From the look on her face, she knew—Freya truly didn't know that Shirou and that 'Mr. Skull' were the same person. Heh... So you really have no idea, huh, beautiful goddess who's said to see human souls? Loki thought to herself, grinning widely.
She cleared her throat, trying to break the strange atmosphere between them. "Ahem... So, Freya, why are you suddenly interested in that kid? Shirou's just a rookie adventurer, you know? Still smells of training sweat."
Freya didn't answer immediately. She gazed out of Babel's corridor window, where sunlight streamed through the stained glass, reflecting a purple glint in her eyes. "It's not his strength I seek," she said slowly, yet firmly. "But his sincerity... It's tempting me."
Her tone was soft but profound, as if touching upon something only understandable by gods who had lived too long in boredom. "He acts selflessly, without expecting anything in return. This world rarely has humans like that."
Loki slapped her forehead dramatically. "Oh my... the Goddess of Love, tempted by sincerity. Are you sure this isn't just a phase of 'being interested in something different'?" She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes mischievously. "Besides, haven't you been roleplaying the innocent waitress at the Hostess of Fertility enough? Shirou helps out there often, too. Why do you need special permission from me, huh?"
Freya stopped walking, then glanced left and right down the long corridor where they stood. Silent. Only the soft sound of the wind from the high balcony could be heard. Her gaze was sharp, scanning every corner as if searching for signs of life. After confirming no one was there, she whispered low, almost like a spell.
"Even if someone were to hear," she murmured flatly, "I would only need to look at them for a moment... and they would forget everything."
Loki let out a long sigh. "You're really dangerous, you know that."
Freya smiled, gentle yet sharp. "You know that best, Loki. After all, only you—besides the members of my Familia—know that Syr is me."
Loki quickly straightened her back, whistling pretend nonchalance. "Okay, okay, no need to bring out the charm, I get it. So, what's this about now?"
Freya walked slowly closer, until only a few steps separated them. Her footsteps were soft, but each click of her heels felt like a heartbeat drawing nearer. "I'm asking your permission not to meet Shirou as Syr, as usual..." She paused, looking directly into Loki's eyes, her voice becoming hushed yet captivating. "...but as Freya."
Loki fell silent. The relaxed smile that usually never left her face slowly faded, replaced by a serious gaze. She knew exactly how dangerous those words were.
Freya wasn't playing around. If the Goddess of Love stepped in with her true face, that was no longer a light game. It was an obsession.
Loki sighed deeply while slapping her brow. "You horny goddess," she muttered in a lazy tone. "Aren't you still busy chasing that rabbit kid? That Bell Cranel?"
Freya turned slowly, her silver hair swaying softly with the movement. Her smile bloomed—sweet, but containing poison. "Oh, Bell?" she said casually while gazing at her fingertips playing with a strand of hair. "That child is just an unfinished beautiful dream. But Shirou..." She slowly licked her lips, her eyes gleaming with temptation. "...I just want a little taste. What's wrong with the Goddess of Love having more than one lover?"
Loki gaped, then snorted in amusement. "You think after you have a 'little taste' like that, he'll stay normal? A mortal like him would become infatuated, Freya. And after that, he won't be able to escape from your shadow."
"All the better then," Freya answered without hesitation, her smile turning into a satisfied smirk. "It's better for him to become mine—as my personal attendant—than to just waste his time being a little supporter carrying heavy bags for Loki Familia's expeditions."
Loki almost burst out laughing, but hurriedly covered her mouth. If you knew he was just pretending to be weak, you probably wouldn't be talking so recklessly, Loki thought to herself, holding back her amusement. She managed to keep her expression flat, with only one eyebrow slightly raised.
Freya noticed that small change, her lips pursing slightly. "Are you laughing?" she asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Ah, no, no," Loki quickly waved her hands. "I'm just... amazed by your confidence, Freya. Okay then, if that's what you want, go ahead."
"Oh?" Freya lifted her chin, her voice softening but becoming poisonous. "You agree so easily? It's not like you to permit me without an argument, Loki."
Loki leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, her smile tilting. "You're free to meet him, even if necessary... use your charm and all."
Freya stared at her more deeply, both surprised and intrigued. "Ho? What could make the Goddess of Trickery so generous?"
Loki raised one finger, emphasizing, "But!"
Freya blinked slowly, waiting.
"Wait until a full year has passed," Loki said finally. "Divine rules are clear—new members can't transfer Familia for one year. Shirou has only been under me for a few months. So... be patient, okay."
Freya watched Loki for a few seconds, then laughed softly. Her voice was gentle but echoed down the corridor, as beautiful as a siren's song but with a hidden threatening undertone. "One year, hmm? Hmmm... a short time for us, but perhaps too long for a mortal like him." She turned, her dress swaying gracefully as she walked away, the scent of winter flowers accompanying her.
"One year won't feel long for us immortals," she said without looking back, then added with a tone full of conviction, "and when that time comes, I will make sure he cannot refuse my call."
Freya stepped away from Loki, her strides soft and steady, each click of her heels on the marble floor echoing like small chimes marking the end of one act—and the beginning of a new one. Her silvery white dress shimmered under the sunlight streaming through the Babel corridor, swaying slowly to the rhythm of her steps. In silence, she smiled faintly, a smile only a goddess who knew that everything in the mortal world would eventually succumb to her charm could possess.
Once Freya's back disappeared around the end of the corridor, silence fell for a moment, before—
"Pffft..."
Loki bowed her head, her shoulders shaking.
"Ahahahaha—!"
Laughter burst from her throat, loud, clear, and full of satisfaction. She even slapped the wall, holding her stomach. "Ouch, my stomach... hahaha! Oh man, Shirou... you managed to fool Freya! The most tempting, most cunning goddess in Orario—and you made her interested in the 'weak' persona she thinks you are! Hahaha, this is incredible!"
Loki wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still not done chuckling. "And she's willing to wait a year... a year, she says? Heh, I think she'll regret it. You haven't even been in my Familia for half a year, and you've already shaken up the Dungeon."
She lightly kicked the floor, looking up at Babel's high window, showing Orario's pale blue sky. "One week for Shirou is like one year for a regular adventurer. That kid is a real anomaly. Just a few months under my banner, and he's already rushed to Level 4 with all stats at rank SSS."
Loki leaned against the cold stone wall, a sly grin curling on her lips as her thoughts drifted toward the past—the era when names like Alfia and Zard sent tremors through Orario.
"Alfia, Zard… even those monsters from the old Hera and Zeus Familia," she murmured with a nostalgic smirk. "They couldn't hold a candle to you, Shirou." Her eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light, a mixture of pride and amusement dancing within. "Your dreams, your ideals… they're not something born from this world."
Her tone softened, almost affectionate. "Even Alfia and Zard managed to resist Freya's charm by sheer willpower alone… but you, Shirou—you'd probably shatter it without even realizing what you've done."
A small laugh escaped her, but behind that laughter was calculation—Loki knew Freya too well. That woman isn't one to be fooled for long.
Still, the thought of what might happen when Freya does uncover the truth sent a thrill down her spine.
"Ooh, I can just see it now," she snickered, imagining the scene. "Her perfect composure cracking, those divine eyes widening in disbelief… pfft—ahaha! That'll be priceless!"
Her laughter echoed through the empty hallway as she descended the stairs, each step carrying the rhythm of mischief. "That skull mask of yours, Shirou… maybe it's time to trade it in," she said under her breath, grinning widely. "Because once Freya finds out, you won't be 'Mr. Skull' anymore…"
A pause—then a wicked chuckle.
"You'll be 'Mr. Clown', the mortal who played the Goddess of Beauty for a fool."
Her laughter rang through Babel's quiet corridors, fading into the night—leaving behind only her final whisper, soft yet brimming with delight:
"Ahh, this game… is going to be so much fun."
***
The air on the twelfth floor felt damp, white dew clinging to the faintly glowing grass covering the flat stones. In the distance, the sound of beastly footsteps was punctuated by a "shunk!" — Shirou's arrow piercing an Orc's head, dropping it without a chance to roar.
"Hurry, Shirou!" Ryuu called from ahead. The elf girl darted lightly, her green cloak fluttering every time the wooden sword in her hand cut through the air — swish, crack, thud. A large Orc that dared block her path was instantly cleaved in two.
Shirou slowly lowered his bow, his eyes following Ryuu's agile back as she moved among the ruins of the Dungeon's pillars. The green cloak Ryuu wore swayed gently, revealing her beautiful, long elf ears under the Dungeon's blue light. Instantly, he remembered his long-ago training with Riveria — that High Elf wore a similar robe, and back then, Shirou had remarked how well the color suited her emerald hair.
"Haaah..." Shirou sighed, picking up the magic stone from the monster he had defeated, storing it in his pouch. "Wait a sec, Ryuu! Let me get the magic stones first!"
"Hurry! Don't fall behind," Ryuu replied without turning, her voice firm but sounding slightly exasperated. She was already standing at the staircase leading to the thirteenth floor.
Shirou followed, his steps calm but sure. "Why the big rush?" he asked, slinging his bow over his back.
Ryuu paused for a moment at the top of the stairs, looking at him with sharp, bright blue eyes. "The monsters on this floor are too weak. I won't be able to see your true strength if we stay here."
Shirou gave a faint smile. "Hehe, you're right..." He looked down into the damp darkness waiting on the thirteenth floor — the air there felt heavier, a faint scent of blood clinging to the walls.
"...But maybe," he continued softly, his eyes reflecting the Dungeon's lurid light, "there's a little something I can show you."
His tone was calm but held something within — like a promise, or a warning.
Ryuu frowned, her lips curving thinly. "A little, huh? Hmph, don't be so mysterious."
But in her heart, curiosity and a bit of irritation began to grow. Shirou Emiya... what new thing do you want to show me now?