The goddess of beauty’s finger lightly reached out, and as Hephaestus bent over and half-kneelted at his feet, this amorous and beguiling deity extended a finger, using the right index to stroke the red-haired Hephaestus’s spine. As the finger traced his vertebrae, it could touch those bones. Aphrodite’s finger caressed Hephaestus ambiguously until Hephaestus, as if awakened, suddenly stood up; the red-haired ugly god immediately reached out and swatted away the hand Aphrodite had extended.

“What are you doing? Don’t touch me!”

Hephaestus’s voice was cold, but beneath that coldness was a softness and fright that the red-haired god himself had not noticed.

As a discarded god, Hephaestus had never been this intimate with anyone—neither the nymphs who served him and the sea goddess, nor the beautiful, full-bodied sea goddess… No one had ever touched Hephaestus so ambiguously, especially Aphrodite’s fingers, which felt almost magical. He could recall the tingling sensation along his spine when he used his divine power to heal Aphrodite.

Now, no matter how Aphrodite’s amorous eyes drew Hephaestus in, even though the standing body still bore, on the helplessly placed hands, what seemed to be the lingering warmth of Aphrodite’s ankle.

The ugly god forcibly turned his head away and no longer stared at Aphrodite seated on the rock.

Golden hair flowed over the goddess’s shoulders and back. Aphrodite extended her right hand, maintaining the curvature of the fingers with which she had just stroked Hephaestus’s spine.

Aphrodite reached out; in his golden radiant eyes there was feigned passion and ambiguity. Aphrodite could still feel on the pads of his fingers the warmth that belonged to Hephaestus… The red-haired ugly god’s back carried a fiery heat and seemed to smell of steel and flame. Aphrodite’s face formed a suggestive, amorous smile: “I don’t want to do anything… it’s you, come here.”

Aphrodite blinked at Hephaestus. Hephaestus’s expression remained cold and he did not move.

Aphrodite kept his hand raised; the smile on his face remained, unfazed by Hephaestus’s lack of movement, and he felt no embarrassment.

Aphrodite maintained her raised hand. He tilted his head; golden locks fell onto the chest of this beautiful deity. Beneath his cloak was a white chiton, partially exposing the chest. This goddess possessed a very healthy body, a perfect figure without a single flaw. The exposed collarbone was adorned with radiant jewelry—white pearls and coral decorating Aphrodite's clavicle. This jewelry was a gift from Poseidon, king of the sea, for the earth-shaking sea lord harbored affections for Aphrodite and sought a fleeting liaison with her.

Golden, radiant hair tangled with the necklace at Aphrodite’s clavicle; this beautiful goddess straightened her back to show off the golden belt at her waist to the fullest. Aphrodite was certain her divine tool had not failed. She was also sure that the ugly red-haired god before her was indeed irritated, but this tactless red-haired male god was truly unreasonable, which made a faint look of grievance appear in Aphrodite’s eyes as she glanced at Hephaestus.

"Come here."

Aphrodite’s voice carried seduction; his deep golden eyes bore an involuntary hint of grievance. He kept his hand extended until Hephaestus finally stepped forward.

"What do you want to do?"

Hephaestus looked coldly at the beautiful goddess sitting on the stone. One of his hands still held the white robe Aphrodite had previously draped over his face—the robe Aphrodite had used to mock Hephaestus—and the robe still bore Zeus’s blood, which made Aphrodite extremely disgusted.

Now Hephaestus, holding the white robe stained with Zeus’s blood in one hand, came to Aphrodite’s side and looked at the golden-haired, golden-eyed radiant and beautiful goddess as she slightly lifted her chin.

Aphrodite commanded Hephaestus, "Hold my hand and help me stand."

...Really asking for a beating, thought the ugly red-haired god Hephaestus as he stared at Aphrodite, who slightly raised her chin, proud like a little peacock.

"I am not your servant."

Hephaestus said to Aphrodite, "Perhaps you are very popular outside, but I am not your servant, and you have no right to command me."

With her brilliant golden eyes Aphrodite gazed at the somewhat displeased Hephaestus. The goddess's golden eyes seemed to be slowly welling with tears amid their innocence, making her face look even more innocent and pitiful.

"Help me up..." Aphrodite's voice was faint. "May I trade my kiss for your service?"

Aphrodite's voice sounded innocent; that innocence carried lustful and suggestive temptation. Her voice hooked anyone who heard it and left them itching, but Hephaestus remained expressionless. The ugly god sneered coldly, "Your kiss is useless to me, and I do not need you to kiss me."

"You uncouth fellow, you insensible lump of stone!" Aphrodite hurled insults at Hephaestus. "Do you not love me? Who could not love me? I am the goddess of love and beauty; every living being in the world must love me!"

A kiss that always succeeded elsewhere was useless before Hephaestus. This defeat displeased Aphrodite. She insulted Hephaestus because her pride had been trampled by this ugly, lowly god as base as dirt.

In the next moment, the beautiful goddess turned her gaze to the robe Hephaestus was clutching. Aphrodite steadied her emotions, and a brilliant, ambiguous smile returned to her face. "Why do you not discard the white robe draped over your face? I know you are moved by me; I can hear your heart speaking... Ugly and lowly god, I know you covet my warmth and scent, otherwise you would have thrown this robe away. What, will you use my garment to console yourself?"

Hearing Aphrodite's words, Hephaestus let go of the robe he had been clutching.

"I never thought that!"

...Hephaestus himself did not know why; he truly craved the goddess's warmth and fragrance. He was reluctant to part with the robe stained by the blood of some unknown god, but Aphrodite had already spoken. Hephaestus had no choice but to discard the robe in his hands. "Your clothes are useless to me, utterly useless. I discard this robe now so that your clever and malicious mouth cannot speak words that humiliate me."

Aphrodite stood up. The outer corners of her beautiful golden eyes were tinged with a slight red—a coquettish, ambiguous hue. A single glance from those eyes would cause anyone to surrender body and soul.

Aphrodite came before Hephaestus; he extended his finger and tapped Hephaestus's chest: "Do you dare let your heart speak?"

Hephaestus's face went pale; he took a few steps back and fell silent.

Aphrodite extended a finger; her sharp nail pierced Hephaestus's heart and slowly dug it out.

Hephaestus's heart was made of steel and flame, as well as earth and seawater. This heart, spitting sparks like stars, was cupped in Aphrodite's palm. Aphrodite gently opened her mouth and asked the heart of Hephaestus, "Do you love me?"

"I love you! I love you! From the moment I first saw you my heart stirred for you!"

The heart spoke: "I long for your breath and touch. I adore your appearance; you hold me and make me thrilled!"

"What is your name?" Aphrodite asked again.

The heart replied: "I am Hephaestus! A god grown within the flames!"

The heart emitted sparks, twinkling like stars in the night sky; then those sparks quickly vanished. Aphrodite returned Hephaestus's heart to its place. The proud, narcissistic goddess—like a peacock—finally revealed a sincere smile: "I knew everyone loved me, and you are no exception!"

Hephaestus felt as if struck by lightning. The ugly god born of flame and steel turned angrily and left at once, fleeing, for behind him the beautiful goddess Aphrodite was mocking him. Aphrodite's voice echoed across the island of Lemnos; the radiant goddess taunted the hurrying, fleeing Hephaestus until he had gone far enough that her laughter could no longer be heard.

Melancholy Hephaestus silently returned to the palace on Lemnos—palaces built by nymphs under the sea-goddess's orders; rather than palaces, they were large forges. On this island Hephaestus had taught himself the art of smithing. Now he returned to the forge and gripped his hammer, but could not bring himself to strike.

...that robe, that robe that smelled of Aphrodite.

Hephaestus still cared a great deal.

Hephaestus regretted having discarded that white robe in a moment of impulse. He stood silently by the forge for a long time; only when the sun began to set did he rise and return to the place where Aphrodite had been.

Slyly and cautiously, Hephaestus came to the spot where Aphrodite had been. Realizing she had left, the red-haired ugly god stealthily picked up the white robe he had discarded, then took it back to his palace.

...for some reason he did not know why he did this.

But by the time Hephaestus realized it, he had already washed Aphrodite's white robe clean.