Aphrodite’s hem still bore some torn leaves and dust. She fled from beside Zeus and hurried across the earth, wading through streams and crossing forests. Under the protection of the sun god, and taking advantage of the daylight, Aphrodite, frantic and without direction, arrived on the island called “Lemnos,” where she encountered the red-haired deity before her.

After meeting Hephaestus, Aphrodite quickly forgot all her previous unpleasantness. She mocked the ugly posture of the red-haired god before her, especially Hephaestus’s stiff body and face.

When Hephaestus’s deep blue eyes dared not look at her, Aphrodite’s pleasure grew even greater. She withdrew the fingers that had hooked Hephaestus’s chin; her snow-white, delicate fingers were tinged with Hephaestus’s scent. What Aphrodite himself did not expect was that he felt no disgust.

It should be known that after being touched by Zeus earlier, Aphrodite had felt so nauseated she nearly vomited.

As for the great god Zeus, high in power and status, ruler of the world, he could not be called unattractive and was fairly handsome, yet Aphrodite simply hated Zeus’s touch. Facing this unnamed god with crimson hair and an ugly appearance, Aphrodite did not even realize that he did not feel excessive disgust. He was even willing to touch this god whose face was half-disfigured and who limped. Perhaps it was because this ugly being watching him brought him much amusement; Aphrodite laughed merrily.

“Ah, this is the island of ‘Lemnos’…” Aphrodite’s voice was soft. He stepped back a few paces, watching the red-haired god before him with a face frozen and cold. He tilted his head slightly; his golden hair shone like sunlight, stray locks falling around his face and neck with his movement. A joyful smile played on Aphrodite’s face; the upturned corners of his mouth spread a tempting beauty, and his bright golden eyes gleamed with what seemed to be “tenderness.”

That “tenderness” startled the face-frozen Hephaestus.

Hephaestus gripped Aphrodite’s robe in his hand; the pure white, soft garment was held by Hephaestus’s large hand. This red-haired, ugly-faced god snorted coldly and finally came to himself under Aphrodite’s beautiful temptation. Hephaestus’s face was full of vigilance and coldness. He forced himself not to be affected by the beauty and inexplicable allure of the golden-haired god before him. Hephaestus’s voice was hard: “…Leave this place!”

At the next moment, displeasure appeared on Aphrodite’s face.

Aphrodite's mouth turned down; his crimson lips, combined with his displeased expression, could make any being who saw it immediately offer up their life and present their heart, yet Hephaestus turned his cheek away.

Hephaestus had crimson hair; that long red hair was tied with a ribbon and fell over Hephaestus's strong back. He wore a simple robe. Although lame, aside from the missing part of his right leg and the disfigurement on half his face... the rest of Hephaestus could be called perfect—even the scarred cheek had one half that was perfect and handsome.

Now Hephaestus turned his body to leave. His voice sounded indifferent but carried a softness even he had not noticed: "Leave this place. This is the domain of the sea goddess, and it is my territory. I will not allow any foreign god to come here!"

After speaking, Hephaestus paused: "Especially gods from Mount Olympus!"

Having said that, Hephaestus strode away without looking back at Aphrodite.

The beautiful deity with golden hair watched Hephaestus stop looking at him and turn away.

A sense of defeat arose in Aphrodite's heart. Since his birth, his charm and seduction had always succeeded and conquered, but this ugly-looking god simply turned away and did not look at him again.

Aphrodite knew that in that red-haired god's gaze there was definitely a sense of astonishment. He knew his beauty remained and had not disappeared because of Zeus's touch, but since there was astonishment, it did not resemble other gods or nymphs fawning over him... Perhaps such a thought was too narcissistic, but Aphrodite knew his beauty and allure all too well—who else, from birth, held "love" and "beauty"?

Aphrodite was desire itself.

So Aphrodite opened his mouth and called after Hephaestus: "Stop! I'm talking to you! Stop!"

Hephaestus turned his head with a frown.

Aphrodite loosened her cloak, revealing the golden girdle at her waist.

That girdle was Aphrodite’s divine artifact, able to awaken the desires in every living heart, easily stirring the "lust" in all beings. Aphrodite could confidently say that even Chaos, the "Khaos" who created the world from primordial voids, would not dare claim resistance to this girdle that was born to accompany her.

Aphrodite revealed the golden girdle at her waist, and the power of "desire" acted upon Hephaestus.

This cruel goddess of beauty wanted to watch the ugly god before her become bewildered by lust; she wanted to see Hephaestus kneel at her feet and beg her. Aphrodite did not want a fleeting liaison with Hephaestus; this cruel goddess would mercilessly turn away, watching Hephaestus be seduced into an uncontrollable infatuation, lingering on the island day after day, obsessed with and longing for her.

…What a cruel goddess of beauty she was; she did not care at all for the gods or nymphs who offered their sincere hearts to her.

Cruel Aphrodite did not care at all about Hephaestus’s future; she simply willfully used her divine artifact, presuming to see that cold, rigid, ugly god moved to emotion.

So Aphrodite looked on with satisfaction as Hephaestus was enchanted by the golden girdle at her waist.

When Hephaestus saw that dazzling golden girdle, there was a moment of bewilderment in his eyes; his pupils glazed briefly, but soon Hephaestus’s gaze cleared. His deep blue eyes fixed on the faintly shimmering girdle, and he snorted coldly: "Is there anything else you want?"

Aphrodite did not get the expression of fallen lust she had hoped to see on Hephaestus’s face; he remained completely indifferent.

"…My foot hurts," Aphrodite said after a moment of silence.

Hephaestus: "..."

Hephaestus shifted his gaze from Aphrodite's girdle to the feet of the beautiful deity, and sure enough he saw some small wounds at the ankle — probably cuts from reeds when Aphrodite had been fleeing Zeus and running across the earth. Those small wounds were nothing major; no blood had flowed, only some little red marks, yet Aphrodite said her foot hurt.

Hephaestus remained silent: "What does that have to do with me?"

Aphrodite: "…You, you!"

The beautiful goddess nearly opened her mouth to curse.

"Utterly… clueless about romance! Clueless about romance!" Aphrodite cursed Hephaestus as if he were a wooden plank, while watching him approach. Hephaestus finally drew near to Aphrodite; the red-haired god who walked awkwardly came to her side. He cocked his head slightly, and Aphrodite sat on a nearby stone. The radiant goddess wore a smile as he untied her shoe and touched the wounds: "It hurts a lot…"

Like a coquettish plea, so soft, like a cat's whimper.

Even a god of the abyss would be moved by such a coquettish sound.

Hephaestus grasped Aphrodite's ankle; she placed her foot on his knee. Hephaestus's fingers were callused, and when they touched Aphrodite's fair ankle there was a strange sensation. Aphrodite frowned at the feel of the calluses, but Hephaestus merely used his divine power to heal the small wounds and did nothing else.

Aphrodite's face wore a smile. This stunning deity, who governs "love," "beauty," and "desire," could naturally sense the rise and fall of Hephaestus's breath and the heat of his skin… It seemed the golden girdle's charm and divine power were not entirely ineffective on this seemingly stolid god…

Hephaestus's fingers were burning; when they touched Aphrodite's skin, he could feel the heat on his fingertips and the sweat in his palms... the excessively beautiful goddess... the goddess of beauty from Mount Olympus.

Even on the land of Lemnos where Hephaestus lived, he had heard from the Sirens and birds the rumored scandals about the goddess of beauty. Now, touching Aphrodite's ankle, he thought: this goddess really is just as the rumors said!

Just as indulgent and…

Hephaestus did not continue indulging those lascivious thoughts. He released Aphrodite's hand, put her foot back into her shoe, helped her put it on, and then stood up.

Aphrodite had finally become interested in this strange and ugly god; the corner of her mouth wore a suggestive, coy smile. She tucked her golden hair behind her ear and then looked with coquettish eyes at the ugly red-haired god before her.

"What is your name?"

Aphrodite's voice was soft and alluring… Although a goddess, such a coquettish voice did not strike Hephaestus as strange; on the contrary, he felt… a goddess's voice should be like that.

Hephaestus's fingers were sweaty.

"…Hephaestus."

With his heart pounding, Hephaestus heard his own voice soften by a few degrees.