The forge in Hephaestus's workshop was still blazing, bathing the room in red.
The air smelled of metal and coal. An unfinished longsword lay on the anvil, still warm.
Hephaestus sat before it with a hammer in her hand, but she wasn't working. Her uncovered eye remained fixed on the door. She seemed to be waiting for someone, though she couldn't decide whether she should.
She had changed into clean work clothes today. Her long red hair was tied in a ponytail, exposing her pale neck.
She had even made a point of washing her face, removing the soot and sweat that usually marked it. An unfamiliar light flickered in her visible eye beneath the glow of the forge.
She didn't know why she had changed or washed up, or why any of it seemed to matter.
She simply had a feeling that the young man would come today.
Sure enough, the door opened.
Genichi entered at an unhurried pace, his expression composed and a faint smile in his eyes.
Dressed in black combat gear, he looked like a freshly drawn blade, sharp and dangerous.
Hephaestus stiffened.
She drew a deep breath, trying to appear as she always did: calm, steady, and serious.
Then she raised her head to face him.
"What do you want?"
Her voice was quiet, but its chill kept him at a distance.
She looked perfectly businesslike, as though his arrival held no interest for her, as though he were an unimportant stranger and none of their earlier encounters had ever happened.
Genichi's lips curved.
Of course he could see through the act: the carefully maintained indifference, the deliberate distance.
But he didn't call attention to it. He simply approached.
"Didn't I tell you before?"
His quiet voice carried a dangerous edge.
"If you insist on standing in my way, you'll have to be prepared for the consequences."
Her pupil contracted.
Before she could respond, he reached her and caught her around the waist, pulling her against him.
Hephaestus's mind went blank.
She had lived for hundreds of millions of years, encountered countless heroes, and weathered innumerable upheavals. Yet no man had ever dared to take such liberties with her.
Her body went rigid. She gripped the hammer until her knuckles whitened.
Heat rushed into her face, spreading to her ears and neck.
"You...!"
Her voice rose, trembling with anger and alarm, tangled with feelings she wasn't ready to examine.
She braced a hand against his chest and tried to push him away.
He didn't move.
She was a smith. Every day, she swung hammers weighing dozens of pounds.
But Genichi was a Level 6 adventurer. She couldn't overpower him.
He leaned closer and spoke beside her ear.
"If you want to refuse, use your divine presence."
His voice was soft, but there was a challenge in it, and an unmistakable demand.
"Otherwise, I can't promise what will happen next."
Her heart raced.
One thought repeated through the confusion in her mind.
Use your divine presence.
If she unleashed it, she could force him to release her and step back. She could protect herself and make it clear that she would not be pushed around.
But she hesitated.
Her grip loosened. The hammer struck the floor with a heavy thud that echoed through the workshop.
"Let me go."
The words came quietly, unsteady with distress.
The confrontation stretched into an uneasy silence. She remained caught between anger, uncertainty, and feelings she could not yet put into words. Her hesitation offered no clear answer, whatever Genichi might have wanted to read into it.
"Hephaestus," he said at last, his voice gentler. "You know what I want."
She pressed her lips together.
She couldn't simply yield. She wouldn't let herself be pressured into giving him what he wanted.
"I won't give it to you."
Her voice was quiet, but stubborn and firm.
A glint passed through Genichi's eyes.
"You will."
He spoke with unshakable confidence.
"Not now. But someday."
Hephaestus fell silent.
Her uncovered eye held a tangle of emotions as she looked at him: anger, embarrassment, uncertainty, and something she was unwilling to acknowledge even to herself.
She didn't know what she was hoping for, what she was waiting for, or why she hesitated.
She only knew that this young man was unlike anyone she had met.
There was no contempt in his gaze, no fear, no attempt to flatter her. He looked at her as an equal, with an appraising boldness that bordered on aggression.
It was unfamiliar.
And unsettling.
"What makes you so sure?" she asked softly.
Genichi smiled. It was a faint smile, but there was something compelling about it.
"Because I know you feel something for me too."
Her face grew hotter.
She wanted to argue, to deny it, to tell him he was talking nonsense. But when she met his eyes, the words caught in her throat.
There was no gloating in them, no mockery. Only a calm certainty that left her feeling exposed.
She lowered her head, unable to keep looking at him.
Her fingers were still caught in the front of his clothes, their tips pale.
Her heart was pounding, her thoughts in disarray.
"You... let me go first."
This time, there was a plea in her voice.
Genichi watched her in silence for a moment, then released her.
She swayed and retreated a few steps until she could brace herself against the anvil, breathing hard.
Her fingers trembled against its edge. She stared at the floor, unwilling to look at him.
The workshop grew quiet. Only the crackle of the forge and the sound of their breathing remained.
Genichi stood with his hands in his pockets. His expression was composed, though a trace of amusement lingered in his eyes.
Hephaestus leaned against the anvil with her head bowed. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her breathing had yet to settle.
"Hephaestus."
His voice broke the silence.
She raised her head.
Genichi stepped closer and reached out, gently brushing his fingers against her cheek.
She trembled slightly at the touch, but this time she didn't move away.
(End of Chapter)
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