Music rose as dozens of beautiful maidservants carried out rare dishes and rich wines. Even the tableware—gold and silver carved with dense floral patterns—was unquestionably top-tier. This banquet alone must have cost several hundred "Zeus's gold," enough to support a middle-class family of three for half a year. It was extravagant to the point of excess.
After several rounds of wine, the atmosphere grew lively. Slightly tipsy, Jason waved the maidservants away and personally went around toasting each guest.
When he reached Samael's table, the Ancient Serpent lifted his cup, glanced around, then looked at Jason with a quiet question.
"Looks like your uncle treats you quite well."
"That's only because I come from the Academy of Athens and have befriended more than half the heroes in Greece. Otherwise, the moment I stepped out of the palace, he'd probably stuff me into a sack and bury me somewhere!"
Jason paused mid-toast, rolling his eyes as he grumbled.
"Is it really that bad?"
"Who knows my worth better than I do? I'm just using your reputations to scare my uncle."
"So… is he scared?"
"Half and half. He doesn't want to give up the throne, but he's also terrified I'll gather enough people to storm the palace, and then he might not even keep his life. So he gave me a nearly impossible task instead—getting the Golden Fleece from the Kingdom of Colchis.
If I succeed, his cowardice might force him to accept abdication. If I fail, he'll have a perfect excuse to brush me off. For both sides, it's a convenient step down."
"Well, your uncle knows how to play his cards."
Samael glanced at the luxurious dishes and the palace's exquisite decor, unable to hold back a sigh of admiration.
"Oh, please!"
The blond youth collapsed onto the floor with a defeated expression, grabbing Samael and pouring out his grievances.
"You don't know what I went through when I first arrived in Iolcos! I lived every day in fear—I didn't even know where my next meal was coming from.
Thankfully you all showed up when you heard the news. Otherwise, if it dragged on any longer, I truly believe my uncle would've stuffed me into a sack and tossed me into the sea to feed the fish!"
He tugged at his gold-embroidered silk robe, sighing deeply.
"But now that you're here… life's gotten way too comfortable. I can eat whatever I want, live in the best rooms in the city, and the palace sends a dozen beauties from different city-states to serve me—one a day. I could keep this up for months without getting tired of it. Out at sea, with the wind and sun, Magical Beasts, storms… who knows if I'd even survive.
Look at me—just half a month, and I'm already getting a belly. If this keeps up, I'm not sure I'll have the heart to leave this paradise, let alone the guts to chase after the Golden Fleece."
Samael rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"If you don't want to go, why not just confront your uncle and demand what you deserve?"
"Brother, don't joke with me. Without you backing me, I'm nothing. If I stay weak and break our ties, I won't just lose any benefits—my life won't be safe anywhere in Iolcos! Some things are like this: even if I don't want to risk my life, for the sake of my future, I have to grit my teeth and push on."
Jason admitted openly, helplessness and frustration written all over his face.
After speaking, he waved weakly and shuffled away in his signature crab-walk, squeezing into the group of male heroes, drinking boldly with them.
Just then, Heracles wandered over holding a wine jug. Leaning against a pillar, he cast Jason a brief glance before turning to Samael with a casual question.
"What do you think of him?"
"A man who fears death, loves comfort, avoids hardship, indulges in luxury, and has neither resolve nor discipline. As a hero, he's a disaster..."
Samael stared into his wine, his words merciless, nearly flaying Jason to the bone.
But a moment later, the Ancient Serpent emptied his cup in one go. A smile broke across his face, and his tone shifted without warning.
"But, I'll give him this—he's a very real, ordinary man. So real that the more time you spend with him, the more you start to like him."
"Hah! Exactly. That guy really is a frivolous, reckless fool who constantly overestimates himself... But even so, just for the way he honestly acknowledges his own desires, he still counts as one of my few friends!"
Heracles grinned at Samael, raising his cup to toast their surprisingly similar take on Jason.
Meanwhile, the man in question—completely oblivious—was drunk with enthusiasm. He leapt onto a table, loosened his collar, slapped his chest with glazed eyes, and proudly declared:
"Eat! Drink! Enjoy yourselves! We're preparing the ships and supplies for the voyage—every expense during this time, I, Jason, will cover! The bill goes straight to the royal palace!"
Samael almost spat out his wine in laughter.
Good grief. You're "covering" it? Mortgage your face and let your poor uncle pay? That's some bold strategy.
...
As night settled and the feast approached its end, everyone had eaten and drunk their fill. Guided by the maidservants, guests gradually retired to their rooms.
As one of Jason's specially honored guests, Samael was among the last to leave.
At the door, the golden-haired youth composed himself, then sidled up to Samael with a sneaky grin, patting his shoulder.
"Bro, don't drink too much. Don't waste your night."
What was he scheming, acting all mysterious?
Samael shook his head. But the moment he pushed open his room door, his expression stiffened and his smile froze awkwardly.
"Oh... Big Sis. Fancy seeing you here."
Inside, Atalanta—fresh from washing off the smell of wine and wrapped in a towel—was crouched by the bed, tidying the bedding.
Hearing the door open, the huntress turned. Steam warmed her flushed cheeks—carrying the scent of flower petals and the faint glow of wine. Soft, rosy, enticing.
"Mm. Jason said too many people came and there weren't enough rooms. We'll have to share."
Samael stared for several long seconds before Atalanta's cool voice finally pulled him back to himself.
As he walked past the floor bed, the Ancient Serpent's gaze drifted toward Atalanta... then slipped beneath her towel into the shadows formed by her curves. Before he could stop himself, he murmured,
"The floor seems pretty cold…"
The huntress touched the ground, replying with a slight nasal tone.
"Hmm... seems like it."
Samael's eyes flickered. He patted the bed.
"Why don't we share the bed?"
"That works..."
Atalanta paused, then nodded, accepting the suggestion.
They rearranged the quilt together, then lay down in their separated halves, properly and quietly, closing their eyes.
The light went out.
Ten minutes of silence passed.
Then, under the covers, came a faint rustling.
"Still awake?"
"You too?"
"Ahem... the blanket's wrapped too tight. Feels kinda warm..."
"...Seems like it."
"Want to use just one blanket?"
"That's fine..."
A few minutes after the extra blanket slid to the floor, the two figures edged closer and closer. Face-to-face. Eyes wide open in the dark. Not a hint of sleepiness between them.
"Sleeping with clothes on feels kinda hot. Really uncomfortable. Maybe we should just…"
"Take them off..."
More rustling, then silence again—strange, heavy, charged.
"Umm... took them off too fast... now it's a little cold. So maybe we should—"
"Thump!"
The lioness rolled on top of him, pinning him down. Her hands gripped his shoulders. Her pearly teeth bit lightly into her cherry lips. Her half-lidded emerald eyes burned with wild, scorching fire.
"Move. Then you won't feel cold."
In the darkness, Atalanta's eyes gleamed—like a hungry lioness whose appetite had been fully awakened.
Her cheeks were flushed crimson, intoxicating like wine. The air grew thick with heat and implication, a wordless tension spreading between them.
Yes—the night was long. And she intended to devour this prey that had wandered into her territory. Skin, flesh, bone, entrails—every last inch.
She would chew and swallow him whole.