Syr's questioning voice was soft, yet carried a peculiar, cloying sweetness.
Bell had no intention of hiding anything. But just as he prepared to speak, those tempting lips sealed the gap once more.
As if knowing the answer, Syr sought to erase his memories with the warmth of her lips. She had never experienced this sensation before. The sweetness of love and the bitterness of envy swelled within her heart, birthing an overwhelming possessiveness beyond imagination.
Syr's plan for tonight had been simple: keep the boy by her side as much as possible, prevent another attack from happening. Yet now her heart pounded wildly, her whole body burning like fire.
She had resolved to support him even if he became lovers with a new girl. Yet a single, tiny detail—those lips, stolen by someone unknown—ignited a spark of jealousy.
The flames of love burned fiercely, lifting her emotions into a vast, starry sea of corruption. Syr knew nothing of this, yet she could no longer suppress the surging emotions.
"Would you… think I'm promiscuous?"
"Then Syr, would you think I'm frivolous?"
"..."
In silence, the lingering rain had finally passed, and the long night had only just begun.
...
Envy.
A word far removed from Freya's essence. As one of the goddesses of beauty, she was the most anomalous among them.
Each person's definition of beauty differed greatly—a graceful figure, beautiful hair, a body that captivated the heart, porcelain-like skin, a face both radiant and bashful. These might be the building blocks of beauty. But for Freya, they were all things no one could ever reach.
Her gaze never lingered on any one person. Whether mortal or divine, Freya would never pause for them. The concept of jealousy and envy simply did not apply to her.
It had been the same in Tenkai.
Freya's day began with her removing her clothes. Though she avoided the gods' feasts, as the goddess of beauty she still had many matters in her domain that demanded her personal attention.
Choosing her clothes was a challenge of its own. Freya's beauty was powerful enough to bewitch all, so she allowed no one—not even other women—to see her bare form.
She always stood alone before the mirror, choosing her attire. At these times, Freya would secretly try on outfits completely different from her usual elegance.
Rather than elaborate gowns, she preferred white dresses with lace and mature-looking knee-length black stockings. Freya imagined that one day she could wear such ordinary yet adorable clothes for someone she loved.
But that dream was far too distant.
Freya slowly slipped off her outer garments, revealing skin as soft and pale as snow. Even selecting her underwear was difficult.
In principle, gods do not grow or change. Under those white undergarments, her soft, enticing curves would always remain the same.
Yet Freya had heard other goddesses whisper about it: on the day of final victory, the type of lingerie worn would be crucial. Whenever she thought of this, Freya realized love was beginning to trouble her heart.
If she could, she wanted to be an ordinary tavern girl, able to face her beloved with complete honesty.
Freya looked coldly at her reflection in the mirror. She wondered if, when that moment came, she would stand as firm and proud as she did now—or if she would shyly cover her chest, her eyes wandering everywhere but forward.
"..."
Lost in these thoughts, Freya always ended up turning away with quiet disappointment, slipping into one of her least revealing gowns and beginning a new day.
The duties of her domain weren't especially busy. But there were always troublesome gods—like Loki—who loved causing problems for her.
She never grew angry; sometimes she even found it entertaining.
During casual chats with other goddesses, they often teased her, saying Freya's current state resembled that of a coy young maiden playing hard to get. After being licked and caressed, that stiff, shy body would gradually soften, radiating a warmth that made one's mouth water.
Facing such bawdy jokes, Freya simply laughed them off.
In the dull realm of the heavens, indulging in pleasure had become commonplace for some gods. But Freya did not share this view. Even if it took a hundred million years, she would wait for the love meant for her. On this point alone, Freya would never compromise. Thus, when faced with fawning male gods, she consistently refused them without mercy.
Time slipped away unnoticed. As the goddess of beauty, Freya possessed an intoxicating allure that could ensnare souls, yet she became a virgin goddess in a different sense. Untouchable, unreachable—even meeting her gaze compelled others to avert their eyes from that icy stare.
Objectively speaking, however, as long as no impure thoughts were involved, many gods maintained friendly relations with Freya. More than a high-mountain flower, she resembled a pure white cloud floating in the heavens. And she never bloomed.
Freya could see the light within souls. Amidst her duties, she often observed the lower world, searching for love of her own. Yet the souls she saved out of pity only multiplied. Among them were heroes worthy of sorrow. But Freya's gaze never lingered on them. Their light was too dim.
Freya sought a radiance bright enough to ignite her very being—a light that would make her lose herself, that would leave her dazed and spellbound.
Day after day, year after year.
No one ever appeared who could move Freya.
In disappointment and loneliness, she welcomed another night.
Freya possessed an open-air bath. She loved soaking in the hot water, gazing up at the starry sky. When every inch of her skin was enveloped by the warmth, Freya felt a blissful embrace. Even if it was an illusion, it eased her billion-year-old loneliness and emptiness.
As her snow-white skin slowly flushed red and her body grew warm, Freya would turn her gaze to that sea of stars.
Today felt different from usual.
The starry sky slowly shifted, like melting glaciers spilling droplets of rain through dark clouds. A meteor transformed, gathering momentum as it streaked across the beautiful vault of heaven, piercing the entire starry expanse. Perhaps it landed in a corner of Tenkai.
At that edge of the starry sea, a vivid, brilliant crimson spark ignited. Freya, ever kind-hearted, could not help but murmur softly at this sight. Before such a dazzling spectacle, the once-scorching bathwater grew noticeably cooler.
Meteors continued to streak across the heavens. The gods seemed to notice the shift. The crimson firework faded, transforming into a surge of sparkling water droplets.
Within the crystalline space, meteors wove a vast tapestry of dazzling light. Stars shimmered and pulsed, as if offering blessings to this breathtaking spectacle.
The meteors showed no sign of stopping.
The starry sea grew denser, then spread out, then contracted again—like a surging tide, ceaselessly shifting its form.
At the climax of this spectacle, perhaps some great god intervened. The meteors finally ceased.
The last one plunged into the depths of the starry sea, bursting into a pure white radiance. The gods, who loved revelry, mistook this for fireworks and erupted in cheers. Freya heard the distant cheers and couldn't help but join in.
Thus, the goddess's day drew to a close in radiance.
She returned to her chamber, savoring the memory of what she had witnessed. In the darkness, Freya nestled into her bed. Her sleeping form was as endearingly childlike as ever.
— — —
[Bell Cranel]
Lv1
Strength: B756 → B768
Stamina: A850 → A890
Dexterity: A843 → A856
Agility: A898 → S903
Magic: D580 → B705
Magic: [Firebolt] · Quick-Cast Magic
Skill: [Liaris Freese]
...