Just as Loki was about to get up and leave the room, the door creaked open.
He immediately tensed, instinctively reaching for his dagger—only to realize it was missing.
"Don't bother looking, big brother. I've got your dagger," a crisp, youthful voice broke the silence.
Loki looked up to see a girl, no older than thirteen or fourteen, standing in the doorway.
She had curly brown hair and eyes that sparkled with curiosity and caution.
Her clothes were worn and clearly bought second-hand, yet her determined, unflinching demeanor was anything but fragile.
Despite her age, Loki didn't drop his guard. This was Hell's Kitchen, a place where danger wore many faces. Even a child could be deadly.
He stayed alert, his posture relaxed just enough to avoid showing panic. He wouldn't be surprised if a six-year-old walked in holding a grenade.
"Who are you? Where am I? And why am I here?" Loki gave his trademark insincere smile and continued, "Little sister, I assume you can answer me?"
The girl stepped forward and placed a cup of hot water on the table before him, clearly unimpressed.
"This is Grandma Rin's house," she replied, sounding more annoyed than helpful. "As for why you're here? You tried to eat for free and got your ass handed to you. If Grandma hadn't picked you up, you'd still be face-down in the gutter."
She looked him up and down with open judgment. That stung. He was Loki—God of Mischief—reduced to this?
Loki offered a bitter smile.
He hadn't expected to fall so low. And yet, somehow the part that stung the most was being called out so directly by a child.
He wanted to lash out. But then he remembered—they had saved him.
For now, he would be merciful.
Her words triggered a memory, and Loki paused.
. . . . . . .
Just a day ago, Loki had been chased into Brooklyn by a crew from Hell's Kitchen.
Hungry and frustrated, he stumbled into a restaurant and ate until full, then stood tall and declared to the owner, "I am Loki, the great God of Mischief! I have fallen due to the treachery of others. You mortals should consider it an honor to feed a god. Now, transfer me another 18,000 in credit. Once my divine power is restored, your desires shall be fulfilled."
He extended his hand confidently, expecting praise or payment.
Instead, the restaurant owner stared at him in disbelief—then exploded.
"Hey! This lunatic thinks he can eat for free!"
With a single shout, half the kitchen staff—mostly tough-looking Mexican men—stormed out wielding knives, wine bottles, and anything else within reach.
The owner pulled a blade from his pocket. "I don't care if you're Loki or Odin. Nobody eats for free here. No cash? We'll take it out of your organs!"
Before the mob could grab him, Loki dashed out the door.
"I am really Loki! My divine power is sealed! How dare you slap me in the face!" he shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted away.
Eventually, he ducked into an alley, panting and bruised.
He touched a fresh wound and scoffed, "Mortals. Pathetic."
That's when a brick slammed into the back of his skull.
He collapsed.
The attacker stood over him, breathing heavily and grinning.
"That's what you get, freeloader. I, Stephen, hate people who eat and run! You're not a god. You're trash."
With that, walked away, leaving Loki unconscious on the ground.
. . . . . . .
"Damn it, Stephen. I won't forget your name," Loki muttered, remembering everything now.
The series of humiliations had been eye-opening. Hell's Kitchen was ruthless.
Without his divine power, Loki wouldn't survive many more of these lessons.
He needed a new strategy—one that started with understanding the rules here.
"Thanks, little sister. I don't know your name," he said, flashing another forced smile, still trying to maintain appearances despite the circumstances.
But he wasn't the type to truly open his heart. Gratitude would come later, once he'd regained his power. Then maybe, just maybe, he'd reward these mortals.
"Has anyone ever told you your smile is fake?" the girl asked flatly.
His smile froze.
"You don't need to thank me. It was Grandma Rin who saved you. I just brought you the water. Grandma rin saved me too."
She met his eyes without flinching. "And if you want to know someone else's name, shouldn't you give your own first?"
Loki hesitated for a moment. Then he smirked.
"My name is Thor."
He had a point—what use was being a god without a few backup identities? He figured his brother wouldn't mind taking the fall for once.
The girl didn't respond immediately. She just stared at him.
"What?"
"I forgot to mention something," she said, her tone dry. "I have the ability to discern lies."
There was a sharpness behind her words, a warning cloaked in sarcasm.
Loki blinked, stunned. Her ability was a natural counter to his.
Still, he remained composed. Lies were tools, and tools could always be sharpened.
"...Fine. That was my brother's name. I'm Loki."
He met her gaze evenly, silently demanding her name in return.
The girl evaluated his expression, then nodded slightly.
"America Chavez."
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Bonus Chapter - 150 Power Stones
2nd Bonus Chapter - 300 Power Stones
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