Chapter 1 – A Bathing Goddess and a World-Hopping Wanderer
The Labyrinth City, Orario—a grand metropolis built atop humanity's greatest wonder: the Dungeon.
Here, people chased the thrill of unknown adventures, dreamed of glory that shimmered like gold, and more often than not… wove beautiful tales of love with charming girls they met along the way.
In this place where ambition and fantasy stirred like wildfire, races of all kinds lived in harmony.
Under the banners of the gods, they formed Familias—guild-like communities bound by divine contracts. They adventured, traded, entertained, and sometimes… clashed.
At the center of the city stood an enormous spire that pierced the heavens: Babel Tower.
More than just a symbol of Orario, it was also the only gateway to the Dungeon below. Its base served as the entrance to that perilous labyrinth, while its lower and middle floors brimmed with shops run by adventurers and small Familias.
Only the wealthy and powerful could afford a place in the upper-middle floors, and beyond that, the very top levels were sacred ground—the exclusive domain of gods and goddesses.
And among those divine figures was one of the most respected: Hephaestus.
The head of the renowned Hephaestus Familia, she was the Forge Goddess, and the finest blacksmith in all of Orario. Almost every high-tier weapon wielded by adventurers bore the mark of her workshop.
Though not the strongest Familia in terms of combat, their wealth and prestige were unrivaled.
In a world where a single enchanted blade or poison-resistant armor could mean the difference between life and death, the works of Hephaestus were sought after like sacred relics.
Naturally, that placed her—and her Familia—at the pinnacle of respect.
Far above the bustle of the lower city, in the divine calm of Babel's upper floors, Hephaestus found solace in solitude. She had just completed another forging session, her latest masterpiece still glowing faintly on the anvil.
Her body, slender yet honed from countless hours of metalwork, glistened with sweat. Muscles tense from labor, she stepped into her private bath to wash away the fatigue.
Though her divine powers had been sealed since descending to the mortal realm, her mastery in smithing never faltered. Even without godly might, her hands forged miracles.
Ironically, it was this stripped-down existence—this life without omnipotence—that made her feel more alive than the endless stagnation of the Celestial Throne.
Warm water cascaded over her body as she sank into the bath. Though not a goddess of beauty, Hephaestus possessed a charm far beyond human standards—long legs, graceful curves, and an elegance that stole glances and hearts alike.
But unlike other goddesses, she harbored a secret.
Lifting her hand, she slowly removed the eyepatch she always wore. The reflection on the water's surface revealed the truth she hid—her left eye, twisted and misshapen since birth. A mark she could never erase.
Hephaestus stared into her own reflection.
Back in the heavens, the other gods had mocked her relentlessly… all except one: Hestia.
Hestia had never laughed at her. Never recoiled. Because of that, they shared a deep bond. She was perhaps Hephaestus's only true friend.
Even here in the mortal world, among Familia members who respected her deeply… fear still lingered in their eyes whenever they caught a glimpse of that cursed eye.
They tried to hide it, but no one could fool a god.
And so, Hephaestus rarely ever removed her eyepatch in the presence of others. Only in the bath—only when alone—did she allow herself to simply be… herself.
"I really do look like a monster..."
She murmured bitterly, watching her own distorted reflection ripple in the water.
The eye was a wound that would never heal—not because of its form, but because she was divine.
Gods didn't grow. They didn't change. From the moment they came into existence, they remained eternal, immutable. Immortal.
"If only… someone could look at me and not feel disgusted..."
It wasn't just a sigh. It was a quiet plea. A wish so faint that even she didn't dare call it a prayer. She knew no one would answer.
Or so she believed.
SPLASH.
The water erupted.
Hephaestus froze.
The sound had come… from the very bath she was in.
That was impossible.
The upper floors of Babel—where gods lived—were heavily guarded. No one could enter without permission. And even if they could…
No one would be stupid enough to break into a goddess's bath. That was practically begging for divine retribution.
And yet—there he was.
A man. A mortal. Dripping wet, neck-deep in her bathwater.
"The hell?! Where am I now?!"
The man's voice echoed loudly through the steamy room.
Hephaestus blinked in disbelief.
Not only was he clearly human, but he also seemed annoyed—as if he wasn't the one who just teleported into a divine bathhouse!
He stood up, steam swirling around his half-submerged figure, and—before either of them could say a word—their eyes locked.
Time seemed to freeze.
Reflexively, Hephaestus didn't cover her body. No—her first instinct was to snatch her eyepatch from the edge of the bath and slap it back on in a panic.
But then...
"…Beautiful."
The man's whisper rang out, clear and soft.
Hephaestus's breath caught.
Beautiful...?
She wasn't wearing the eyepatch. He had seen it. He had seen everything—including the eye she loathed so deeply.
And yet… he called her beautiful?
Standing before her—half-naked, utterly stunned—was a young man named Shin Akira.
A man who had, just moments ago, fallen from another world entirely.
His eyes widened, taking in her every detail—those endless legs, that elegant waistline, the gentle curves of her form… and yes, the fact that she was utterly, undeniably, completely naked.
His heart pounded. His body responded. As someone who had known the warmth of women before, he couldn't help it.
Desire ignited.
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