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Hey, new chapter! I'm literally about to take my exam in 20 minutes, and I just ended up posting the chapters on the university PC.
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Bell sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wooden floor. The inn's room was small, barely a room with a bed, a table, and a chair tucked away in the corner. Everything smelled freshly cleaned, but also damp, as if the place had been waiting for guests for too long.
He wasn't used to that silence. Or the emptiness. The church had always held a certain warmth, despite its dilapidated walls and the holes in the roof that were later repaired. Hestia's laughter, the aroma of simple food, the feeling of home with the two of them together.
Now… there was nothing left of that.
Bell leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He exhaled a long, heavy sigh.
"Is something wrong, Orion?"
Artemis's clear voice echoed from the spear leaning against the wall, firm but gentle, as always when she tried to read his mood.
Bell looked up, turning slightly toward her. Even after so many times, it still felt strange to talk to someone who wasn't physically there. But at the same time, it was a companion he was starting to need.
"Yeah… I guess so," he admitted with a weak smile. "It all happened so fast. The War Game, Hyakinthos, the… the Parasite. And now…"
His words died away on their own.
Artemis was silent for a moment before answering. "Now you're alone. That's what you feel, isn't it?"
Bell nodded. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but she had sensed it anyway.
"I am," he murmured. "Mikoto went back to see her Familia. Hestia stayed busy with Apollo's papers and property. And I'm… here, in a room that doesn't even feel like mine. The church no longer exists."
The mere mention of it made a lump tighten in his throat. He placed a hand on his chest, closing his eyes.
"It was our home."
Artemis responded calmly, though with a note of sadness in her voice. "A home isn't just walls, Bell. It's the bonds that fill it with life. As long as you maintain those bonds, you'll always have a home."
Bell remained silent, absorbing those words.
"I don't want Hestia-sama to feel like I failed as her child," he confessed quietly. "Or for Mikoto to think I'm incapable of protecting those who follow me. What happened with that girl… almost…"
Remembering that terrified look made him shudder. The moment his instincts had taken over, leading him to grab her by the throat as if she were an enemy (even though, technically, she was). The way she had frozen at the sight of him.
"I don't want to be a monster," he whispered.
There was a long pause. Artemis didn't respond immediately, as if she were carefully searching for the right words.
"You're not. If you were a monster, you wouldn't be here torturing yourself for what you did. You'd be proud, or you wouldn't care. What you saw in that girl's eyes… it struck you because your heart is still human. It's still pure."
Bell clenched his fists. Part of him wanted to believe those words, needed to. Another part kept telling himself that he'd been a second away from making an irreparable mistake.
"I want to protect people… I don't want anyone to fear me."
"And that's the difference between you and the others," Artemis retorted firmly. "Adventurers who seek glory don't hesitate to sacrifice others. Your first thought is about how to protect others. Don't beat yourself up for stumbling when the path is so difficult."
The young man raised his head toward the spear, and although she couldn't see his face, the warmth in his voice was enough.
"…Thank you."
Silence fell again, but this time it wasn't as stifling. Bell lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts continued to swirl, but he slowly found some calm.
Hestia was busy, yes, but she was doing it for them. Mikoto was with her Familia, but she would return. And even if the church had been reduced to ashes, they could build something new.
He allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. Artemis, as if understanding he needed that space, said nothing more.
A soft but insistent knock on the door brought Bell out of his thoughts. He sat up in bed, blinking in confusion. He wasn't expecting visitors; Hestia was busy with paperwork, Mikoto with hers, and the inn was discreet enough that almost no one would know he was there.
Still, he immediately got up and went to open it.
When the door opened, his surprise was so great that he was speechless.
Freya.
The most imposing Goddess of Orario stood before him once again. Her silver hair fell like a perfect river over her shoulders, her figure radiating the same dazzling beauty that always seemed to mesmerize everyone... but there was something different about her. Something that unsettled him.
Her lips didn't display the light smile she'd greeted him with on other occasions, nor the mischievousness Syr had displayed in The Hostess of Fertility. Her eyes, normally filled with magnetism, seemed dull, unable to hold his gaze.
"Can I come in?" she asked softly.
It took Bell a couple of seconds to react. He nodded quickly and opened the door wider to let her in.
Freya walked slowly to the edge of the bed and sat down with automatic grace, as if her body were acting on its own. Bell closed the door behind her and, after a moment of hesitation, came over to sit beside her.
The silence surrounding them was uncomfortable, dense, and strange. Bell watched her out of the corner of his eye, noticing that she was avoiding his. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor, as if trapped by an invisible detail.
It was weird. Very weird.
Bell gulped and, almost instinctively, let the [Divine Blessing of the Grandfather's Wish] activate within him. The ability, as always, reflected the state of his relationships, in this case with Freya.
The ability showed him the numbers fluctuating, 91, 94, 92, 95, like a wild pendulum. It was an emotional roller coaster he couldn't comprehend.
Bell tensed.
He'd seen that same phenomenon before. He clearly remembered when, after... Having had that visit with that supporter in prison, he'd been plunged into a cloud of doubt, and Freya—then disguised as Syr—had helped him up. At that moment, too, the numbers reflecting his bond with her fluctuated, as if a battle were raging within her.
And now it was happening again.
Bell didn't know what it meant. But he did know one thing: there was something strange about it, something she didn't want to show him.
"Freya-sama…" he began cautiously, his words more like a murmur than a sentence. "Are you all right?"
She didn't answer.
The silence stretched on, and Bell began to notice the weight of his breathing. He could hear it clearly, slowly, but each inhalation seemed to carry an invisible weight.
He turned closer to her, trying to see her face, but she continued to look down, unwilling to lift her head.
Bell clenched his fists on his knees. He didn't like seeing her like this. Freya had always seemed untouchable, unbreakable, someone who pulled every string from the shadows. But now… now she seemed fragile.
She looked human.
"If anything's wrong… you can tell me," Bell finally said, his voice thick with sincerity.
Freya, for the first time, trembled. Her hands, which had rested elegantly in her lap, clenched tightly.
Bell noticed the gesture.
"I…" she began, but her voice broke and she quickly closed her lips.
Bell waited. He didn't want to pressure her, but the tension in the air was growing. The young man leaned a little closer to her, gently trying to close the invisible gap she herself was creating.
She barely raised her head, and for a moment their eyes met. Bell saw a gleam in them, a mixture of pain and doubt, so unlike anything he'd ever seen before. And then, as if burned, she immediately shifted her gaze to an empty corner of the room.
Bell blinked, unsure.
What was wrong with him?
"Just… hold me."
The young man blinked, confused. His heart suddenly raced. Not because he didn't understand the request, but because he had never imagined hearing those words from someone like Freya.
Bell hesitated for only a second. Inside, he was embarrassed, nervous, unable to stop his cheeks from burning. However, stronger than that embarrassment was the certainty that he couldn't show Freya any hesitation in that state.
So he stood up and, with quick decision, took a step towards her and hugged her.
The Goddess's body, warm and delicate beneath her robes, tensed for just a moment before her arms wrapped around him, returning the gesture. She pressed against him with unexpected strength, as if clinging to Bell was the only thing holding her together.
Bell felt the pressure of his hands on her back, the slight tremble in her fingers. And she understood that this wasn't a simple hug. It was a silent plea.
He closed his eyes, trying to put aside his nerves.
"I'm here," he murmured softly, not knowing exactly why he was saying it.
Freya didn't answer.
On the outside, she seemed calm. Her breath brushed Bell's neck in slow, even intervals, and anyone would have thought she was simply enjoying the contact. But inside, her mind was a battlefield.
She had just killed Ishtar. She herself, with her own hands, had destroyed the rival Goddess and reduced the Pleasure District to ruins, along with most of her Amazons. She had enjoyed the moment, she didn't deny it: Ishtar had always wanted to take what belonged to her, and Bell—her Odr—was the perfect example of what she would never allow herself to lose.
And then there was Apollo.
The trap she'd set for Bell had been unforgivable. His Familia, his "War Game," his arrogance—everything had been a direct insult. Freya had already begun preparations for her own adventurers to hunt down the members of the disbanded Apollo Familia one by one. She didn't do it with irrational hatred, but with the simple, cold certainty that anyone who endangered her Odr deserved to be erased from the board.
Freya didn't regret anything. Not one bit. If she had to do it again, she'd do it without a blink.
But… I hadn't calculated one thing.
That now, with her Odr in her arms, her thoughts wouldn't leave her alone.
What if he found out?
That question burned like poison deep inside him.
Bell, with that pure soul that radiated kindness and heroism, what would he think if one day he learned that she herself had unleashed so much destruction for him? That she had reduced entire neighborhoods, decimated families, and exterminated enemies, all because they stood in the way of her love?
Freya closed her eyes tightly, resting her forehead against Bell's shoulder.
She could tell herself a thousand times that Bell would never hate her. That his heart was too noble to reject her. That he would understand her, that he would accept her way of loving.
But the intrusive thoughts wouldn't stop.
"If he finds out… he'll walk away."
"If he finds out… he'll look down on you."
"If he finds out… you'll lose the only thing you've ever loved."
It was absurd, and she knew it. She was the Goddess of Love, she had played with millions of hearts throughout the ages, and she had never faltered. She had never felt fear. And now, for the first time in her eternal life, she was terrified.
Because she loved him too much.
Bell, meanwhile, couldn't hear those thoughts, but he could feel the slight trembling in Freya's body. He hugged her tighter, without thinking too much. He didn't understand anything that was happening; he only knew that Freya needed that gesture. And that, even though he was nervous, the last thing he wanted was for her to feel alone.
"Freya-sama…" he said again, in a whisper, almost as if he was afraid of breaking something with the sound of his voice.
She didn't answer.
The silence between them was so deep that their hearts could be heard beating, his accelerated, hers restrained as if struggling not to overflow.
She, the Goddess who reigned from on high, was at that moment reduced to someone who trembled at the thought of losing a single mortal.
But not just any mortal.
Her Odr.
Her destiny.
The only light that had managed to pierce through all the masks and armor she herself had woven over countless centuries.
Freya breathed deeply, filling herself with his scent, his warmth. She wanted to memorize it, because a part of her mind kept whispering that sooner or later everything would fall apart.
Bell, on the other hand, closed his eyes further, trying to ignore the blush that still crept onto his face. He didn't understand why Freya was like this, but he didn't need to understand to offer her the only thing he could give: a sincere, unconditional hug.
If she was trembling, if she was silent, it was because she was carrying an enormous weight.
And even though he didn't understand it, he wanted to relieve it, even if it was just a little.
The silence between them remained thick, as if the air in the inn room had become too heavy to move. Bell was still holding her, not letting go, when he heard an unexpected murmur:
"Don't call me Freya-sama."
He blinked, surprised. He opened his arms slightly, trying to look at her face, but she clung to his shoulder, as if she didn't want to let him see the expression she was hiding.
"Hey…?"
"Call me… just Freya."
Bell swallowed. For him, suffixes were almost instinctive: a sign of respect, of courtesy, especially toward someone as imposing as her. But now, in that silent room, with the most enigmatic woman in Orario pleading with him in a broken voice, he realized that insisting on the "-sama" would be like putting a wall between them.
He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and said it, barely a whisper.
"Well…Freya."
The effect was immediate. The Goddess trembled, pressing herself more tightly against him, and a stifled sob escaped her lips. And then the words began to spill out, one after another, in a jumble, as if they had been bottled up for too long.
"I love you… I love you… I love you… I love you… I love you… I love you… I love you… I love you…"
At first, Bell thought it was just a repeat performance, but the "I love yous" didn't stop.
"…I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…"
Ten, fifteen, almost twenty times.
Bell felt a chill run down his spine. Not because the confession made him uncomfortable—he already knew about Freya's feelings for him, she'd confessed it directly to him a while back—but because right now those words didn't sound like the confident declaration of the goddess of love. They sounded like the desperate cry of someone clinging to something to keep them from sinking.
There was something deeply unstable about the way Freya kept repeating it. Her voice, normally calm and steady, was now brittle, trembling, and filled with fear.
Bell realized this, and although he was young and inexperienced in love, he understood that he was dealing with something delicate. One false step could hurt her further.
Her heart was pounding in her chest. She wanted to say something, anything to calm her down, but the words stuck in her throat.
"What do I do...?" he thought anxiously. "What can I do to make her stop feeling this way...? I don't want to hurt her, but I can't ignore this either..."
He saw her clinging to him, trembling, murmuring the same confession over and over again, and the only thing he knew for sure was that he mustn't leave.
So he did the only thing he could think of.
Bell slowly raised a hand and gently placed it on Freya's cheek. She tensed for a second, but didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in slightly, seeking that contact.
Bell swallowed, closed his eyes, and without thinking too much about it so as not to be intimidated, leaned forward.
He didn't dare kiss her on the lips, though the thought crossed his mind and made him blush all the way to his ears. The mere thought paralyzed him.
But he didn't want to stay still.
So he barely averted his gesture, and his lips gently brushed Freya's forehead.
A brief, shy kiss.
But honest.
The whole world seemed to stop for her.
Freya's eyes shot open in surprise. And then she felt it: a burst of light deep within her soul, a warm glow that swept away all the dark thoughts that had tormented her.
That simple gesture, that kiss on the forehead—nothing more than that—was like a balm that quelled the inner voices that whispered doubts and fears to her.
There was no mockery, no distance, no coldness. Just the pure warmth of a young man who, even trembling with nerves, had found a way to show her he was with her.
Freya's breathing hitched. Her lips, which had been repeating "I love you" like a desperate mantra, stopped suddenly.
In her chest, her heart was beating with an almost painful force, but for the first time since she had entered the inn, she felt calm.
She stood still, motionless, as if afraid that moving would break the magic of the moment.
Bell, for his part, slowly removed his lips from her forehead. He was as red as a tomato, nervous, his mind screaming at him that he had just done something incredibly daring. But when he saw that Freya had stopped trembling, when he noticed how her breathing had become calmer, he felt he had done the right thing.
"Freya…" he murmured again, softly.
She finally looked up. Her eyes, which had so often dazzled and frightened the whole of Orario, were now moist, shining with an almost childlike radiance.
And in that instant, Bell understood something.
Freya wasn't just the unattainable Goddess everyone feared or worshipped. She was also someone who could break down, someone who needed support, someone who… loved him with an intensity that was both terrifying and fragile.
Freya said nothing more. She simply leaned back against his shoulder, feeling calm again.
The weight of her doubts hadn't disappeared, but for the first time, she felt light.
And Bell, his heart still racing, only thought about the same thing:
"I'll do what I can to make sure she's okay."
Although he didn't yet know what that promise entailed, although he didn't fully understand the depth of Freya's feelings, in that moment he was convinced that he couldn't leave her alone.
And that kiss on the forehead, so small in appearance, was enough for the goddess of love to find a moment of peace.
…
The day in Orario was particularly quiet, almost deceptively so after the chaos of the past few days. Lena moved through the shadows, her body tense and her breath bated, as if any loud noise could bring disaster upon herself and, worse, upon Haruhime.
It had been pure coincidence—or perhaps fate—that had led her to that particular inn. She didn't know exactly how she was supposed to find Bell Cranel. The city was vast, confusing, stirred by rumors of the war game and the sudden fall of the goddess Ishtar. But, guided by intuition and small rumors she'd heard on the streets, she'd managed to locate him in one of the rooms in the inn near the central district.
"That boy… could he really be the best option?" she thought, as she squeezed between an alley and the building's exterior wall. Her agile Amazonian body allowed her to easily climb to a spot where a window was exposed. She wasn't too close, but close enough to observe.
The first impression was confusing. From her hiding place, she saw Bell sitting alone, silent. His white hair shone in the dim lamplight, and there was an unusual calmness to his posture. He looked like an ordinary boy, not someone capable of challenging entire families and surviving battles that would push the limits of any common adventurer.
But then he noticed something strange.
Bell spoke.
Not with another person. Not even with a human companion. He was talking to his own spear.
Lena blinked several times, not knowing if she was losing her mind.
"Does he… talk to his weapon?"
A part of her laughed bitterly inside. "Well… to each his own. I'm no one to judge oddities. Maybe that spear has sentimental value or a spirit inside, who knows."
Still, what she saw didn't make her doubt her objective. If anything, it seemed almost... human. Vulnerable.
But then the unexpected happened.
The door to the room opened, and the figure who entered left her completely frozen.
Freya.
Lena had to cover her mouth to keep from letting out an audible gasp. That woman… That Goddess… What was she doing there? What kind of relationship did she have with Bell Cranel to appear in her room so naturally, as if she belonged in his private world?
Her eyes widened as she watched her slowly approach the bed. There was no smile on her face. There wasn't the calculated seduction Lena had heard so often in rumors. The Freya she was seeing wasn't the unattainable goddess of love, but someone broken, nervous, unable to even hold Bell's gaze.
And what happened next almost took her breath away.
The hug.
Freya clung to him desperately. Not like someone seeking pleasure or power, but like someone afraid she'd fall apart if she didn't hold on to that one person.
Bell did not hesitate to respond.
Lena felt a chill run down her spine. It wasn't just the closeness. It wasn't just the intimacy of the gesture. It was… the truth hidden there: Freya, the all-powerful Goddess, was showing weakness. And she did so only in front of that boy.
"So it's true…" Lena murmured silently, her eyes fixed on the scene.
That bond. That closeness. These weren't exaggerated rumors. The most dangerous goddess in Orario had truly surrendered to that adventurer.
For the next few minutes, the Amazon stared, watching with growing bewilderment as the powerful Freya seemed to crumble, repeating "I love you" with an insistence bordering on despair. Bell, clumsy and nervous, tried to calm her, until...
Lena pressed her lips together tightly when she saw him do it.
The kiss on the forehead.
A simple gesture, but one that provoked an immediate reaction from the goddess. Freya stopped, took a deep breath, and seemed to find calm for the first time all night.
Lena lowered her head, taking a deep breath. She'd confirmed it. She didn't need to see any more.
"That's enough…" She thought.
She no longer had any doubts about who she should go to.
Bell Cranel wasn't just strong. He wasn't just the "Sword Saint", or the prodigy who Leveled Up faster than anyone else. He was someone with a real bond with Freya. And that made him the best—and only—option she had left.
If Freya thought that much of him, then she wouldn't risk touching anything Bell protected. She wouldn't demand anything from Haruhime. No, not with that relationship.
Her heart pounding, Lena slowly backed away, slipping into the shadows. She moved as cautiously as ever, but something inside her had changed. She had made a final decision: somehow, she would find a way to get to Bell Cranel and take Haruhime into his care.
As he walked away, he didn't notice a pair of eyes following his every step.
Ottar.
The imposing warrior watched from a distance, motionless, like a statue in the shadows. He had immediately recognized Lena as one of the Amazons of the deceased Ishtar Familia.
His instincts screamed at him to intercept her, to eliminate any possible threat to his Goddess. But… he didn't.
He had seen the same thing she had. Freya's vulnerability. The embrace. The kiss. And most of all, he had seen that the Amazon didn't react with hostility. She didn't try to attack. She just watched and then retreated.
That was enough for Ottar.
He remained silent, his arms crossed, watching Lena's silhouette disappear into the night streets.
"I'll report back later…" he thought, his deep voice echoing only in his mind.
After his Goddess… ended her moment with Bell Cranel.
Because Ottar understood: even such a loyal protector should know when to step back and let Freya enjoy that fragile calm she so rarely achieved.
…
The room was still silent, save for Freya's labored breathing. Bell still held her in his arms, trying not to dwell on how quickly he'd reacted. He'd done it out of instinct, because he couldn't bear to see her in that vulnerable state. He could still feel the warmth of her hands clinging to him, the tension in her body slowly melting away, as if simply being together had lifted a huge weight.
Bell, inside, was nervous as hell. If Freya noticed he was trembling, she might think he didn't want to hug her, or worse, that it made him uncomfortable. And the last thing he wanted was to hurt her.
Freya, on the other hand, was in another world. The kiss had been like a spark in the darkness, a warm light that penetrated every corner of her being. It was ridiculous, she thought, how such a simple gesture could mean so much. She, the goddess who had seen and felt everything, found herself floating away from such a pure touch alone.
That moment seemed eternal.
Until the door of the room swung open.
"Bell-kun!"
Hestia's recognizable, shrill voice made them both instinctively separate, but it was too late. By the time Bell turned toward the entrance, he was already breaking out in a cold sweat.
Hestia stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and her mouth twisted in indignation. Her small frame was trembling, though more from anger than anything else.
"May I know WHAT is going on here!?"
Bell immediately threw up his hands, as if he'd been caught committing a crime. "W-wait, it's not what it looks like!"
But of course, there were no valid excuses for the image before her: her beloved Bell Cranel sitting on the edge of the bed, with Freya clinging to him as if she didn't want to let go.
Freya, instead of becoming uncomfortable, merely tilted her head slightly. Her expression returned to that distant, enigmatic calm she usually displayed in front of others, although her eyes still shone softly.
"How lovely, Hestia. I didn't expect you to visit at this hour," he said in a soft tone, with a hint of subtle mockery.
"Don't change the subject, Freya!" Hestia shouted, advancing on them with her cheeks puffed out in fury. "Get away from Bell right now! This isn't your temple or your dormitory, it's HIS room, and you have no business being here!"
Bell gulped. "Hestia-sama, please calm down, I—"
"Bell, don't get involved, this is between us two!"
The young Adventurer was caught in the crossfire. Freya, however, didn't seem to have the slightest intention of starting a confrontation. Instead, she gently stood up, letting her hands slowly slide from Bell's arms, as if she wanted to prolong the contact as long as possible.
"All right, Hestia," She said with a serenity that contrasted with the other Goddess's fury. "I'm not going to fight you. I'm leaving now."
The contrast was so stark that Bell blinked in confusion. Hestia had mentally prepared herself for a shouting match, even a duel of wills. But Freya simply agreed to retreat, without complaint.
Hestia crossed her arms, trying to maintain her composure. "You better! And I don't want to see you hanging around Bell like this again, understand?"
Bell almost choked. "Hestia-sama, please stop…"
Freya didn't answer. She didn't need to. Just as she crossed the door, she paused for a moment. She turned her face just enough so Bell could see the smile she was giving him.
It wasn't a seductive or calculated smile. It was luminous, pure, like a ray of sunshine in the midst of a storm. A smile that sent warmth straight to her heart.
Bell froze. His chest tightened, and without thinking, he smiled back.
The exchange lasted only a couple of seconds, but it was enough to leave its mark.
And then Freya disappeared down the hall.
Hestia, with an indignant snort, slammed the door shut and turned to Bell.
"What the hell was that, Bell?! Since when did you let that woman into your room?"
Bell, still blushing, raised his hands again in surrender. "It's not what you think, Hestia-sama! She… she just needed to talk to me. Nothing more."
"Nothing else?" Hestia repeated, narrowing her eyes.
Bell swallowed. "Y-yes…"
Hestia stared at him for a few more seconds, as if evaluating whether what he said was true. Finally, she snorted and sank back onto the bed, puffing out her cheeks.
"Ugh… You're an idiot, Bell! You don't realize how dangerous that woman is! She's always plotting something, always sticking her hands where they don't belong."
Bell just kept quiet, not wanting to make things worse.
Hestia, as if she'd remembered something important, snapped her fingers. "Oh, right! I came to tell you something before you distracted me with your… uh… weird situation."
Bell blinked. "Something?"
"Yes!" Hestia puffed out her chest, as if she were about to make a grand announcement. "We've already been given ownership of Apollo's mansion!"
Bell's eyes widened. "Really!?"
"That's right!" Hestia said, crossing her arms proudly. "Now we have our own house! And not just any shack, no, no. It's a huge mansion, with tons of rooms, giant halls, courtyards, everything you want! We'll have to refurbish it a bit because it's full of Apollo symbols, but… it's ours now!"
The excitement in Bell's eyes grew immediately. He'd never dreamed of owning something like this. A small family like his living in such a large mansion… it seemed like a dream come true.
"That's incredible, Hestia-sama!" he exclaimed, almost jumping up.
Hestia smiled, delighted to see him so happy. But it wasn't over.
"And that's not all. Do you know what else we inherited? All of Apollo's riches!"
Bell froze. "All… the riches?"
"Exactly!" Hestia replied, raising a triumphant finger. "All the money, the treasures, the collections… absolutely everything is ours now. We're rich, Bell! Really rich!"
The boy clutched his head in disbelief. Going from living in a humble shed to owning a mansion and having riches… it was like going from night to day.
But then he remembered something.
"Wait… Hestia-sama… what's with that Monster? The one that Apollo Familia's Captain had…"
Hestia's smile softened.
"Ah, that. Don't worry, Bell."
"Don't…worry?"
"The most they'll do is call us to ask what it looked like exactly," she explained, waving her hand dismissively. "You know, Divine Mirrors don't capture that much detail because the perspective is so distant. But nothing more."
Bell looked down, relieved. Still, he couldn't help but feel a chill at the memory of the creature. It was too much of a mystery, and even though Hestia reassured him, a part of him knew he'd have to face things like this again sooner or later.
But for now, he decided to let himself be carried away by the joy of the news.
A mansion. A Familia with a home. And the promise that they would no longer live in poverty.
"Thank you, Hestia-sama…" he said, smiling sincerely.
Hestia, seeing him like this, blushing and with her heart racing, crossed her arms and looked away.
"W-Well… it was the least I could do for you, Bell. After all, I'm your Goddess, aren't I? Heh…"
Bell laughed softly, and in that moment the tension in the city seemed to fade a little.
At least for that night.