Chapter 206: Chapter 206
Underworld, Aphrodite’s Temple.
In the silent glow of polished marble and shimmering bronze, Aphrodite stood before her mirror, tilting her chin slightly to the left, then to the right, her fingers grazing her own jawline as though searching for flaws that were never there.
The goddess of beauty did not need validation, for she was perfection incarnate, yet she found joy in the act of self-admiration.
It was not vanity in her eyes, it was ritual, a reaffirmation of her domain, a reminder to the world and to herself that she was the embodiment of desire and grace.
She spun slowly, her silken gown flowing like waves of dawn, and smiled with satisfaction.
"Perfect," she whispered, her voice carrying the softness of honey.
She pressed her lips together, then let them part into a playful smile, the kind that could make empires crumble if she so wished.
Today, she decided, would be one of those days where the world revolved entirely around her. More specifically, where he would revolve around her.
With a buoyant laugh that sounded like bells, she left her temple and stepped onto the paved streets of Nox, the underworld’s capital.
The air here was colder than inside her temple, thick with shadows and darkness, yet she felt none of the gloom.
Everywhere she passed, gods, divine spirits, and even ancient heroic spirits paused to bow or greet her with reverence.
Some addressed her as Lady Aphrodite, others as Goddess of Beauty, but she accepted each greeting with the same radiant smile, waving with the delicate grace of someone who knew every movement of her body could inspire longing.
Inside her mind, however, her thoughts were anything but calm.
He will be there... Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird as she imagined Hades, stern and untouchable, buried under his endless paperwork, his dark eyes fixed on her with that indifferent expression he so often wore.
She imagined the way his voice would sound when he finally addressed her, deep, steady, carrying the weight of the underworld itself.
She shivered, hugging herself.
’Why does he do this to me? Why does the coldest god of them all make me burn the most? Is this not unfair? I am the goddess of love and passion, and yet it is I who has become addicted to him...’
The more she thought, the faster she walked, her heels clicking against stone streets until she finally stopped at the vast shadow looming above the city: Hades’ fortress, a floating citadel suspended over the very heart of Nox.
She tilted her head back, her lips curling into a dreamy smile. Even his fortress is grand, unyielding, untouchable.
With effortless grace, she lifted from the ground, her figure gliding upward like a drifting star.
The fortress gates opened as though the walls themselves bent to her beauty, though she knew better.
The guardian spirits at the entrance immediately bowed, their hollow, armored figures lowering their heads without hesitation.
She responded with a sweet giggle, humming a tune as she strolled past them.
Her footsteps echoed through the fortress halls, and she let herself imagine.
How would it feel, truly, if he accepted her? If she stood beside him not as a guest, not as a distraction, but as his chosen?
Would the entire underworld bow to her as their queen? Would her authority as goddess of love and desire stretch to every corner of death and eternity?
The thought made her cheeks flush. She clasped her hands before her chest, closing her eyes briefly.
She doesn’t know what will happen, but she knew that she would drown in it.
The power, the devotion, the intimacy... It would consume her entirely, and she would not resist.
Perhaps this is what love truly is, not the ones she has seen with most gods, not the conquests of beauty, but this terrifying, exhilarating hunger that refuses to let her go.
She giggled again, though this time her laughter was breathless.
"I really can’t get enough of this," she murmured aloud to herself, her voice bouncing softly against the walls. "Every time I think of him, every time I picture his face, I feel butterflies... butterflies, me! Aphrodite, who can make kings fall to their knees, who can ruin nations with a single smile. And yet, one cold look from him is enough to make me lose my breath."
Aphrodite slowed her steps as she neared the office doors, her fingers lightly brushing against the cold obsidian wall.
The chill seeped into her skin, yet she found comfort in it, because this fortress, this realm of gloom and silence, was where he resided.
She tilted her head, lost in thought, as an old, haunting question whispered again in her mind.
When did it start? When did she become so hopelessly obsessed with him?
Her memories stirred like restless waves, pulling her back to that moment long ago.
She remembered it clearly—the day she had first gained consciousness, when she had risen from foam and sea spray, her divinity raw and untamed.
At that time, she felt a presence, not of love or desire, but of something deeper, older, heavier.
A presence that wrapped around her like a veil, calling to her in whispers only she could hear. She had thought it strange, even frightening, until she realized what it was.
Hades. His domain that he had took from the Primordial of Sky.
The weight of Uranus’ authority, the very essence of the primordial sky’s suppression, hidden within the depths of his being.
And she, born from Uranus’ blood and foam, had been bound to it from the start, tethered by an invisible thread.
Was it fate? Or was it simply inevitability?
At first, when she followed him, she had told herself it was only because of that feeling.
That inexplicable pull toward the primordial authority he had absorbed.
She wanted to understand it.
She wanted to be near it.
But when she descended with him into the underworld for the first time, her heart had almost collapsed under the weight of disappointment.
The air was thick with despair, the skies dim and forever shrouded in shadows, the rivers filled with souls whose cries echoed endlessly.
She had been disgusted.
Her very essence as a goddess of beauty and love recoiled at the oppressive atmosphere.
At first, she thought it would be simple—how hard could it be for a goddess to manage paperwork and duties alongside a king?
But the reality had drowned her. She remembered endless days where mountains of parchment and scrolls towered over her, where the ink stained her fingers, where her eyes burned red with exhaustion.
She had nearly given up countless times, nearly screamed that this was beneath her, nearly fled back to Olympus where everything was bright and easy.
But every time she wavered, she recalled his voice, his words, firm and dismissive.
"Leave." He said to her, "You don’t belong here. You are the goddess of beauty, not a scribe, not a steward. This place is not for you."
But instead of driving her away, those words only stoked the flames in her heart.
Who was he to tell her where she belong?
She clenched her fists at the memory, a smile tugging at her lips. The more he told her to leave, the more she resolved to stay.
She endured, she adapted, and before long, she became so proficient that even he, the ever-stoic, ever-cold Hades, reluctantly acknowledged her. The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the ⓝovelFire.net
She remembered that day vividly—the way his eyes, usually so unreadable, lingered on her a little longer, the way his voice softened ever so slightly as he admitted that she had done well.
It was not love, not even affection, but it was recognition, and for her, it had been everything.
Yet, even then, he had forbidden her from partaking in the underworld’s food, for to eat it would bind her here forever.
Everything she consumed came from his own cornucopia, conjured by his hand. She could still taste it sometimes, the subtle difference in flavor, the lingering hint of his divinity woven into every fruit and grain.
A quiet intimacy hidden in plain sight.
When did it change? When did the disgust turn to comfort? When did the weight of this realm stop suffocating her and start feeling like home?
She bit her lip, her chest tightening.
She didn’t know. There was no clear moment. No dramatic spark. She just remembered sitting with him one day, as they worked in silence.
His presence had been the same as always—stern, brooding, unreachable.
But when she looked up from her scroll, when she saw him bathed in the dim torchlight, she realized something strange.
The shadows weren’t so dark anymore. The walls weren’t so suffocating. The air wasn’t so heavy. For the first time, she saw the colors hidden within the gloom.
And it was because he was there.
Her heart squeezed painfully. She pressed her hand to her chest, her breath shaky.
’How ridiculous.’ she thought at that time, ’Me, Aphrodite, the goddess who embodies love itself, reduced to this. Fluttering, trembling, clinging to every glance, every word, every scrap of acknowledgment he gives me. I, who can toy with mortals and gods alike, who have seen every shape of love and passion, cannot even understand my own feelings for him. Why does he make me feel so small? Why does he make me feel so... alive?’
She laughed softly, though her voice cracked, half in amusement, half in despair. "Oh, Hades... what have you done to me?"
Her hand rose to the door, trembling ever so slightly. She paused, inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a smile that could shatter the heavens.
"Today," she whispered to herself, "today, this realm will have a queen."