Inside the remote cabin out in the wilderness, Alfia closed the picture book she'd taken from Bell's room.
Because Zald had brought both Duncan and Bell out for treatment, only Alfia and Zeus remained in the house now.
Compared to Zeus—who could kill time by wandering off to fish whenever he felt like it—Alfia didn't really have any hobby to fill the hours. Back when she was in Hera's Familia, almost all of her time and energy had been spent on getting stronger and being with her younger sister.
Now, this body could no longer become stronger. In fact, even when beating up Duncan and Bell, she had to deliberately suppress her strength so her condition wouldn't deteriorate faster. Her sister had died years ago. The Familia was gone, leaving only herself.
Dragging out a life like this had become meaningless…
At least, it had—before she met Bell.
As her sister's only child, the last bloodline of the Metia family, Bell's white hair, his face, his smile—everything about him constantly reminded Alfia of the sister she'd lost. The one person who had been her only anchor. After losing her, Alfia had fallen into a long, wandering emptiness.
And now, as her own life approached its end, that familiar presence returned as if reborn. Bell's existence made the nearly extinguished flame inside her flicker again—so faint it was almost nothing, yet unmistakably alive.
A desire to live.
A desire for this world.
She walked up to Zeus, who was dozing in a rocking chair out on the wooden veranda, and kicked the chair with mild irritation.
"Old man. I'm hungry. Make me something."
"I'm a god, you know!" Zeus snapped awake, annoyed, yanking the cowboy hat off his face.
"So what?" Alfia shot back.
"Show a little respect!"
"If you weren't a filthy old pervert who keeps trying to peep on me in the bath, I might respect you a little," Alfia said with a cold sneer.
She knew exactly what kind of god Zeus was—no one understood that better than someone from Hera's Familia. Especially after the multiple times he'd tried to spy on her bathing.
"I was set up! Hermes talked me into it!" Zeus hurriedly tried to shove the blame onto Hermes like a shield.
"You and Hermes both have reputations that stink to the heavens. Hurry up and make food. I still haven't settled the score with you for corrupting Bell. Don't make me use force."
She couldn't be bothered arguing further. It was a simple threat.
"What do you mean I corrupted Bell?!" Zeus cried out.
"Who's the one filling Bell's head with 'go to the Dungeon and find your destined encounter'?" Alfia opened her mismatched eyes fully and fixed Zeus with a dangerous stare.
"What's wrong with that…" Zeus muttered—then immediately turned obedient and scurried into the kitchen, still grumbling under his breath.
Knowing Zeus's nature, Alfia didn't even bother chasing the argument. No matter what she said, he'd never listen—just like her own goddess Hera. Maybe it was some "great god" personality defect, or maybe it was simply that both of those problem deities hated being told what to do.
"Only noodles left!"
After rummaging around, Zeus returned with a bowl of noodles. Yellow-gold strands topped with a sunny-side egg, sprinkled with chopped scallions.
It was the simplest breakfast noodles Duncan had taught him.
"Whatever. As long as it's edible."
Alfia wasn't picky. She took the chopsticks, tasted a small bite, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and ate with slow, tidy elegance.
"Tch. When you eat, you look like a proper lady. But you're an adventurer, and a girl, and you still can't cook after all this time. Zald spoils you rotten. I've got no idea how you'll live after we're gone."
Zeus clicked his tongue, watching her.
The bond between gods and their Familias ran deep. Zeus and Hera's Famlias had tangled for a thousand years—competing, cooperating, colliding. It wasn't "friendly," but it was familiar in a way few others could understand.
"I'll just die somewhere in the Lower World, whenever," Alfia said lightly, as if describing the weather—like her bowl of egg noodles mattered more than that ending.
"…"
Zeus's expression darkened. He fell silent for a long time, complicated emotions flickering through his eyes.
Alfia and Zald were children he'd watched grow up.
If they had died in an adventure, Zeus would mourn them—but also feel pride, because that was the fate an adventurer accepted.
But dying slowly to disease, wasting away in bed… that was different. That was humiliation.
And no matter how long they'd searched, nothing had truly cured them—only delayed the inevitable. Zeus had seen Alfia's dead eyes before Bell came, the look of someone who found the entire world empty.
An adventurer shouldn't be like that. The Lower World shouldn't be like that.
Yet the sense of helplessness never left his chest. Maybe that was part of why he'd hidden in these mountains—running away from things he couldn't fix.
"Zald said something similar. You people really are all the same," Zeus finally muttered.
Alfia saw his mood, but she was past resentment now. Once, she'd hated fate—hated that it took her sister, hated that it twisted her own body into something failing and ugly.
But as time went on, hatred turned to numbness, numbness to detachment.
She had watched the two great Familias stir the entire Lower World into chaos trying to find a cure for her and her sister. In the end, her sister still died, and Alfia's body still worsened—yet her hatred had faded, replaced by gratitude.
What had she done to deserve such devotion? Two thousand-year giants overturning the world for her sake?
"Zald's just a big idiot who does nothing but eat all day. That's an insult to me," Zeus snapped, puffing up.
"If Zald heard me comparing him to you, he'd say he raised a white-eyed wolf," Alfia said with a cold laugh.
"At least Zald is better than you at taking care of people," she added.
"If 'being able to cook' counts as taking care of people," Zeus shot back.
The bickering faded. Zeus slumped back into the rocking chair, staring blankly at the drifting clouds.
"When are those idiots coming back already…"
....
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