Chapter 65
If you want to survive and thrive in the world of the Greeks, here's a piece of solid advice: avoid getting tangled up with beautiful women. The more beautiful they are, the more likely they are to be the epicenter of a world-shattering catastrophe. This isn't an exaggeration; Greek mythology is practically built on tragedies sparked by a pretty face.
Cyd didn't regret his choices, but Atalanta alone had already brought him enough complications to last a lifetime. He didn't need a divine-level version of the same problem.
"Absolutely not."
Cyd shook his head, his expression unyielding.
"Hah! See, he has some— wait, WHAT?!" Aphrodite's jaw went slack. She stared at him, utterly baffled. "Why not?!"
"Because it sounds like a massive headache," Cyd said, completely serious.
"That's your reason?!" Aphrodite shrieked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "She would be the most beautiful woman in the world!"
"Well, even if you put it that way…" Cyd scratched his cheek, looking more awkward than tempted.
"So you're the shallowest one of us after all," Athena laughed, a dry, mocking sound. "Does he lack for female attention? Hardly. Princesses, hunters… his path is littered with them. He doesn't need your hollow prize."
"Hey, don't make me sound like some wandering philanderer," Cyd grumbled. And besides, you three are literally fighting over the title of 'Most Beautiful.' If I pick you, are you going to hand yourself over?
"But… it's the most beautiful woman in the world," Aphrodite insisted, pouting. She genuinely couldn't fathom a male refusing such an offer. Weren't they all governed by their baser instincts?
"Well, it seems the contest is decided," Athena said, a triumphant gleam in her storm-gray eyes. She held out a pale, graceful hand toward Cyd. "The apple, if you please."
"Why?" Cyd blinked.
"Because I've won, haven't I?" Athena's confident smile faltered for a second. "You rejected Aphrodite's… offer. You clearly have no interest in wealth or power—Hera's domain. That leaves my wisdom. It may not be as… immediately gratifying, but it has practical value!"
Cyd just stared at her, a strange look on his face.
Was this golden fruit really that important?
Athena, the very embodiment of logic and strategy, was downplaying her own divine attribute just to get her hands on the apple and one-up her rivals. And the other two were nodding along as if this made perfect sense.
"Isn't this a contest of beauty?" Cyd asked, tossing the apple lightly in his hand. It felt warm, almost alive. "Not a contest of who can offer the best bribe."
From a purely pragmatic standpoint, giving it to Athena was the smart move. A beautiful woman brought fleeting pleasure and endless trouble. Vast wealth could buy comfort and yes, beautiful women, but in a world where anyone could be a bandit or a god in disguise, it was a magnet for trouble. Athena's wisdom, however, was a tool. It could secure wealth, avoid conflict, solve problems. If this were a Venn diagram, Athena's circle of benefit would be the largest, with Aphrodite's being a tiny, glittering dot in the middle.
But here was the real problem: his goal was blessings. If he gave the apple to any one of them, the other two would be slighted. He might, might, get one blessing out of it, but the chance for the other two would vanish in a puff of divine spite. He needed all three to walk away… not happy, perhaps, but at least willing to grant their favor.
How do you make three prideful, competitive goddesses give up on a prize they're fixated on, and thank you for it?
It seemed impossible. And he had a very unhelpful audience.
"Well? Make your choice!" Hermes called out, grinning like a kid who'd just released a jar of scorpions in the dining hall.
"Erm… could I say a few words first?" Cyd asked, placing the apple carefully back on the table. "After I'm done, if you still insist I choose, I'll give it to the goddess I believe deserves it most."
"Very well," Athena and Hera said in unison, exchanging a brief, competitive glance.
"Get on with it," Aphrodite sighed, fluffing her hair.
"Alright. The truth is… I think this whole competition is fundamentally pointless."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall of gods. Hermes's eyes went wide with delight.
"Are you suggesting," Athena said, her voice dangerously quiet, "that we are… foolish?"
You're absolutely being foolish! Cyd screamed internally. And judging by the looks on the faces of the other deities, he wasn't alone.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Hera asked, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arching.
"First, you all want this apple inscribed 'To the Fairest,'" Cyd said, pointing at the incriminating words. "But I can't understand why."
"Obviously, because it should come straight to me!" Aphrodite declared, placing a hand on her chest.
"Right… you're all confident in your beauty, correct?" Cyd plowed on, ignoring her.
"Naturally."
That's exactly the problem.
"But isn't it strange?" Cyd tilted his head, playing the part of the curious mortal. "Why do you need to fight over this apple? Why do you need some random piece of fruit to validate what you already are? Shouldn't your beauty be self-evident? Does it need a certificate?"
The best way to handle supremely vain, powerful beings? Flatter them. But flatter their intelligence.
"Lady Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and War. Your beauty is one that transcends gender. It's the beauty of a keen mind, of brilliant strategy. Men, women, the young, the old—they are all drawn to the light of your intellect. That is your proof. It's worth infinitely more than a line carved in metal, isn't it?"
Athena, whose brilliance had merely been temporarily clouded by pique, paused. A slow, genuine smile spread across her face. The goddess of wisdom had returned to the building.
"Lady Hera, Queen of the Gods. You are the pinnacle of majesty. Beauty is but one facet of your glory. You possess things far more valuable than this gilded trinket. You need not lower yourself to squabble over some anonymous provocateur's idea of a prize."
Hera's chin lifted, her regal bearing returning in full force.
Seeing Athena and Hera looking suitably mollified and proud, Cyd breathed an internal sigh of relief. They were smart. They could see the apple for the troublemaking device it was. The hard part had been giving them a graceful way out without losing face. He'd handed them a golden台阶—a way to end the farce while appearing magnanimous.
Aphrodite, however, was a different story. She wasn't just prideful; she genuinely, passionately believed the apple was her birthright.
Fortunately, Aphrodite wasn't known for her deep thinking. Dealing with someone driven by pure, simple desire was easier than negotiating with two tactical geniuses.
He turned to her, his expression open and sincere. "And you, Lady Aphrodite… are you not the very embodiment of beauty itself?"
It was a simple, almost obvious statement. But for Aphrodite, hearing it framed as a rhetorical question—as an undeniable truth—was like a drug. A wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washed over her. For a moment, the golden apple was completely forgotten as she basked in the validation. She practically glowed, a dreamy smile on her lips.
"Now then…" Cyd said, his voice cutting through the charged silence. He reached down and picked up the apple once more, holding it balanced on his open palm. He looked at each goddess in turn.
"Who still wants this apple?"