After several minutes of futile persuasion, Samael had no choice but to write all three of their names onto the Argo expedition's parchment, under the steady gaze of the Arcadian huntress.
With the war pressing in, Atalanta—now officially authorized—turned without hesitation, calling Circe and Medea to hurry to Athens and report in at once.
The Ancient Serpent pressed his thin lips together, lifted the curtain, and walked out of the tent to see them off.
"Big Sis, I—"
The three of them whistled, calling Pegasus down. At the moment of parting, Samael's expression turned complicated and he tried to speak, but a graceful figure spun back like the wind and dove into his arms. Two arms looped behind his head, locking him in place and forcing his face down.
Then lips as glossy as red jade met his without warning, sealing his half-open mouth completely. A soft tongue slipped past his teeth, chasing her prey in a fierce, eyes-closed kiss that was all wild, untamed beauty.
Under this lioness's onslaught, the tempered steel in his arms finally melted into something pliant. Beneath the cold moonlight, the two of them clung to each other, necks entwined.
T-too bold!
The sudden scene made Medea's face burn red. She threw both hands up to cover her eyes, looking mortified at such an open, heated display of affection.
And yet her bright violet eyes kept peeking through her fingers, the gleam in her pupils full of excitement and curiosity.
Huh? Was that a forced kiss? That snake folded that fast?!
Circe, too, couldn't help staring through the absurdly wide gaps between her fingers, her thoughts turning into a complete mess as she watched the moonlit spectacle.
Creeeak…
Behind them, a certain Goddess of Wisdom who had been trailing along with her arms crossed, fully intending to enjoy the show, now had veins jumping on her forehead. The teasing smile on her face went stiff and brittle, and her teeth ground together with a chilling rasp.
Rip!
Without even realizing it, the goddess's clenched hand tore a huge strip of bark off an olive tree, exposing the pale wood beneath, like it had just been bitten clean through by an enraged beast.
Was this about to turn into a live-action "new stepmother" situation?
Athena's violet eyes flushed red. Wood chips flew as she viciously abused the unlucky olive tree even more, leaves drifting down to scatter green across the ground and onto the goddess's shoulders and hair.
Damn it! I raised her this big and I've never even—
Whether it was the jealous, resentful glare of a certain "unfilial adopted daughter," or simply because the emotional outburst had run its course, the lioness finally pulled back cleanly. She lifted a hand to stroke the side of that handsome face, her emerald eyes clear as she studied the prey she'd captured… or perhaps the one who had captured her.
"You don't need to say anything. I know what you mean. Wait for me to come back."
With that, the huntress gave a brisk wave, turned decisively, and strode off. She vaulted onto Pegasus, tugged the reins, and rose into the air first.
Samael watched and nodded, letting Atalanta go. Nothing more needed to be said.
She was never a housecat he kept close. She was a lioness who ran free across Arcadia.
Just as Samael drifted into that thought, a fragrant breeze swept in. A slim purple figure rushed into his arms, rose onto her toes, and stretched her arms up, trying to copy the exact same move by hooking around the Ancient Serpent's neck.
Smack!
Samael snapped back to his senses and, with an exasperated look, tapped little Medea on the top of her upturned head—then delivered the declaration the Witch of Colchis hated most.
"No dating at a young age!"
"Not even a farewell like Sister Ata's?"
"No. Absolutely not."
Her surprise attack failed. Little Medea pouted, then obediently let go.
"Don't force yourself. Be careful. Remember, I'll be waiting for you to come back."
Only when a warm hand settled over her head, gently stroking as a low, magnetic murmur echoed by her ear, did little Medea stop crying and break into a smile. She nodded hard, eyes shining, her resolve growing firmer by the second.
Waiting for me to come back… marriage?!
To help Lord Theseus, I'll definitely work hard!
Though her stolen kiss hadn't succeeded, little Medea, having fully completed her own imagination, was even happier. With a sweet, satisfied smile, she skipped toward the Pegasus, following behind Atalanta.
Samael had just turned to head back into the tent when he suddenly noticed someone still lingering in the open space.
The small, pink-haired witch tugged nervously at the corner of her clothes, creeping closer while sneaking glances from the corner of her eye.
"What do you want?"
Samael folded his arms across his chest, clearly on guard.
"Uh… there's something I wanted to ask…"
Circe waved her hands in a fluster, her voice thin and timid, like the buzz of a mosquito's wings. If the Ancient Serpent hadn't focused, he might have missed it entirely.
"Just a question? Then what are you scared of? I'm not going to eat you. Say it."
Realizing it was a false alarm, Samael patted his chest and rolled his eyes as he complained.
Encouraged by his tone, Circe gathered a bit more courage. She lowered her head, poking her index fingers together in front of her chest, and asked softly.
"Well… you care about them and didn't want Atalanta and Medea to join the Argo expedition. So why didn't you tell me either?"
Samael bent down and flicked a finger against Circe's smooth forehead, making the multicolored-eyed witch clutch her head and let out a small yelp.
"Dummy. Of course I was worried about you. To me, you're just as important as they are."
Circe froze, lifting her head in shock as she stared at Samael blankly.
Only when his open palm settled on her head, gently stroking her hair, did Circe finally come back to herself.
"Ever since we left Aeaea, you've been keeping me company and looking after me. It's only right that I look out for you too."
Under the moonlight, that handsome face, warm and faintly smiling, left Circe completely dazed as she stared at him.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
The Ancient Serpent raised a hand to touch his cheek, puzzled.
"You're… handsome…"
Circe snapped back to reality, her face flushing red. Her eyes flickered as her hands twisted nervously in her clothes, mumbling shyly.
"We get along really well, don't we? Honestly, that Medea kid is kind of enviable. So maybe we could—"
"Sorry, not interested."
The Ancient Serpent immediately raised a hand, cutting her off with righteous firmness. Then his gaze dropped, his expression turning openly disdainful.
"I have no interest in underdeveloped fried eggs."
"You jerk! Don't look down on me! I'll grow!"
Circe's blood rushed to her head. Her face burned red with embarrassment and anger as she waved her little fists in protest.
I'm the great witch of Aeaea! Worst case, I'll just brew a bust-enhancing potion and show you what I'm made of!
"Hmph! Besides, Medea's the same! Why am I the only one getting rejected?"
"Ahem. That's because Medea is still young and emotionally fragile. For her, getting rejected would be like losing a spouse. As for you, you'll get used to it more easily in the future."
"What do you mean I'll get used to it? Is that even something a person should say?!"
The Eagle Witch choked on her breath, indignantly accusing a certain shameless, heartless god.