A worn clock hung on the wall.
With each tick of the second hand, Hestia's heart skipped a beat.
After work, she hurried home clutching a bag of fried potato balls, but the familiar, chilly basement room held no sign of Bell.
Hestia paced back and forth in the cramped space. It was already ten o'clock at night—far too late, no matter how you looked at it.
The grease from the potato balls began to solidify. Frowning, she dashed out the door.
By the dim, secluded ruins, a striking head of white hair approached slowly in the moonlight. Hestia, tears welling in her eyes, threw herself forward.
"Bell!"
"Goddess-sama, I'm back."
Bell's left arm hung limply like a loose skeleton. He turned sideways to conceal his injury, extending his right hand to steady her.
"Bell, I brought you fried potato balls..."
Hestia noticed the bruised skin beneath the tear in his clothing, her tone shifting abruptly.
"You're hurt! We agreed you wouldn't push yourself..."
"Just a little mishap," Bell replied with a gentle smile, softly wiping away the tears from her face. "But I'm back as promised."
Hestia couldn't argue. What drew her to this boy was precisely his stubbornness—his refusal to bow to any ridicule.
"You idiot, you're back too late. The potato balls are cold now."
"Did the Goddess-sama make these personally?" Bell casually picked one up and popped it into his mouth. "These are way better than the healing potions merchants sell."
Hestia stared blankly at the boy. That ordinary, cheap food seemed like a world-class delicacy in Bell's mouth.
"What's wrong?" Bell understood the goddess was still worried about him and changed the subject. "I get it now. I've seen it in the Hero Tales. This is the legendary dilemma: eat first or bathe first? Or should I say, eat you first?"
Hestia's cheeks instantly flushed crimson. "No hero tale would ever include that!"
"Oh, but this is a plot point my grandfather highly recommended! Especially when you just get home, and the beautiful girls greet you with 'Welcome back!'—that alone washes away all the fatigue from a brutal battle."
"Your grandfather is definitely messed up, and what do you mean by 'beautiful girls'!"
Unconsciously, Hestia's face broke into her usual smile.
She tended to Bell's injuries and thoughtfully offered him the bed in the room.
...
Amidst the solemn, sacred light, the moment for status updates finally arrived.
"Bell! Your abilities have grown!!"
Hestia perched on Bell's back, gazing at the ability values and cheering joyfully.
Though only by a minuscule margin, Bell's ability values had indeed achieved a breakthrough—from nothing to something.
This outcome was vastly different from Hestia's earlier expectations. The reason lay entirely with the special ability [Liaris Freese].
"Bell, since you came to Orario, is there anyone you've been particularly mindful of?"
The term "yearning" was far too ambiguous. Hestia couldn't immediately grasp who exactly had triggered the skill's activation.
"Hmm... quite a few," Bell replied truthfully, recalling the girls he'd met. "Like Eina from the guild, the tavern waitresses, and some I've only glanced at without speaking—the [Sword Princess], the [Nine Hell], and such."
Aren't they all pretty girls?
Hestia crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly.
Who would yearn for the boy he was now?
She couldn't pinpoint the flutter in her heart, letting the confusion spread unchecked.
A god she knew well had once said children's growth was shaped by experience—some achieved great deeds and advanced rapidly, while others stagnated and hit plateaus.
Regardless, the rate of stat growth slowed with each stage. In the early days of adventuring, it wasn't this difficult.
But Bell was an exception. Despite defeating monsters and putting in effort, his ability changes were remarkably small—so much so that at the very beginning, he showed no growth at all. This [Liaris Freese] clearly constrained the youth's experience points.
Hestia decided to keep this peculiar skill a secret. Regardless, the boy had grown, and that alone was cause for joy.
"What's wrong?" Bell teased with a light chuckle at her silence. "Could it be you're jealous because I didn't say Goddess-sama?"
"Th-that's impossible!"
"Don't worry. In my heart, Goddess-sama is special."
"Enough, Bell. Stop talking. I'm going to sleep."
Hestia hurriedly left the bed, burying her face into a cushion on the sofa. Though she'd only known this white-haired boy for a few short days, an indescribable flutter stirred deep within her chest.
How wonderful it would be if this precious everyday life could last forever.
Darkness swallowed the room. Bell said nothing more, letting silence fill the air. The sheets carried a faint fragrance, making his sleep gentle and sweet.
...
Early the next morning, Bell rose quietly, murmuring a soft greeting to the sleeping Hestia before heading back to the Dungeon.
As the saying goes, the slow bird must fly first. Not to mention those top-tier adventurers who radiated overwhelming presence—even the ones chatting and laughing at taverns made Bell acutely aware of the vast gap between them.
If he aimed to become a hero, he had to keep moving forward.
His determination was soon interrupted by an unexpected voice.
"Bell-san, please wait! I'm the healer who came as requested."
Bell turned toward the girl. She wore her pink hair in twin tails, her figure graceful and her face cute, yet her eyes carried a trace of fragile exhaustion.
"You're the assistant Goddess-sama mentioned?"
Yesterday, Hestia had grumbled endlessly about Loki, but she was certain that Loki would send a healer to help. Now, everything had unfolded just as she predicted.
"My name is Heith. I'm currently Level 2. Please take care of me today."
Heith nodded, sunlight spilling across her white robe and outlining her proud, feminine curves.
Facing a beautiful healer stronger than himself, Bell found no reason to refuse. "The honor's mine. I'll be counting on you today."
Heith blinked, her crimson eyes—so similar to Bell's—trailing over him from head to toe. Though warm with passion, her gaze held a distant, comet-like calmness.
"But you're covered in wounds!"
"How did you know?"
Bell had changed into a simple new outfit, confident he'd hidden his injuries well enough.
Adventurers often said that a healer's strength was measured by their mana reserves. Low-level healers had limited mana, so it was best to save recovery magic for emergencies.
Bell himself preferred not to rely too much on healing, which was why he'd hidden his wounds in the first place.
"Hmph. Don't underestimate healers."
Heith smiled with quiet pride, softly chanting an incantation. The wooden staff in her hand glowed with a faint green light.
"So this is the power of a healer?"
Bell felt a wave of relief wash over him. Not only did the pain in his arm vanish, even the dull aches lingering from previous days had completely faded.
"You could praise me a little more, you know. It's been ages since anyone thanked me for healing them," Heith said with a gentle shake of her head, her pink hair swaying with the motion.
Do even Level 2 healers live in such a harsh world?
Bell held back his thoughts and said lightly, "You're amazing. If my grandfather, who's always complaining about his back, met you, he'd probably beg you to become his granddaughter-in-law."
Heith was sharp; she caught his meaning instantly.
Bell expected her to raise her staff and smack him, or perhaps laugh it off with a teasing comment.
But her reaction far exceeded his expectations.
She stepped closer—just one deliberate step—closing the distance between them without hesitation.
Her warm breath brushed against his cheek, carrying the faint fragrance of flowers.
Bell stared at the blush blooming on her face, unable to tell whose heartbeat was pounding faster.
For that fleeting moment, the two of them, bathed in the morning light, seemed to belong to a distant heroic tale.
Heith pressed her lips together, her voice as clear as spring water.
"Bell Cranel, do you believe in love at first sight?"