What exactly were they doing in there?
Prometheus stood alone outside, waiting.
As each minute ticked by, she couldn't help but start to imagine the worst. Eros wasn't exactly a good person, and Hephaestus didn't have the best temper either. If the two had been inside for this long without a fight breaking out, that could only mean... they were getting along?
She took a step forward, tempted to peek inside to check whether Eros had been harmed, but stopped short.
What if they were in the middle of something... fiery?
Wouldn't that make her the awkward intruder?
Still, she couldn't shake the worry. What if Eros said something smooth that made Hephaestus lose her senses?
Everyone knew how these things went, moments of passion were always followed by silencing the witness.
"Forget it. I'll take a glimpse into the future."
Prometheus opened her eyes and looked toward the small room where Eros and Hephaestus were.
While she couldn't see Eros's future, it remained a chaotic blur, she could peer slightly into Hephaestus's.
In her empty-colored eyes, fragments of Hephaestus's future began to reflect.
But all she saw was a tranquil, harmonious green, serene and peaceful, easing both body and soul.
Seemed like nothing bad had happened.
Relieved, Prometheus closed her eyes again.
Prophecy was always symbolic. Since she saw peaceful green, it likely meant there'd been no conflict.
Sure enough, just as she relaxed again, the door creaked open.
Prometheus immediately noticed that the clothes Eros wore were different from what he had on before entering.
But there were no marks on his neck, nor did he appear flushed like someone who had just exercised.
Had she overthought things?
Prometheus narrowed her eyes and asked, "Where's Hephaestus? Why isn't she coming out?"
"Nothing big. I just gave her a little suggestion to try a new look. She got a bit nervous," Eros said casually, smiling.
Then he turned toward the room and called out,
"Why so shy? Come out and let Prometheus take a look. She'll tell you whether it suits you."
Half coaxing, half dragging, he pulled Hephaestus out. She clutched her face tightly, refusing to show it.
Prometheus, thankful she hadn't made any snap judgments, instantly realized, something had happened between these two.
Should she blame Eros's peak-level scumbag skills?
Or perhaps... Hephaestus wasn't as tough as she appeared?
To fall for Eros's tricks after just one conversation, that really wasn't learning your lesson.
Still, she was curious. What exactly had Eros suggested that could make Hephaestus react like this?
Under Eros's insistence, Hephaestus hesitantly lowered her hand.
The unburned half of her face remained unchanged, untouched by makeup or decoration.
But the half that had once been disfigured by burn scars now bore a crimson half-mask, shaped like fiery butterfly wings.
Unlike the heavy steel mask she used to wear, or the stiff, blank expression she used to hide behind, this new mask didn't cover the burn scars, it enhanced them.
It transformed them from a source of shame into a centerpiece of beauty.
Prometheus was genuinely surprised.
She'd seen Hephaestus's true face before, during a council of the gods.
Back then, she hadn't yet worn a mask, but she'd used her temper as a shield. Her injuries kept her head bowed most of the time.
Gods were supposed to be perfect. Yet only Hephaestus was born... flawed.
Her burns were the marks left behind by her inability to control her divine power. Unhealable scars.
At some point, perhaps to avoid the judgmental gazes of other gods, or maybe to prove she'd "fixed" her flaws, Hephaestus began to hide behind a crafted face, devoting herself more to forging than to fire itself.
But no matter how much she tried to hide it, all the gods knew.
Prometheus had thought maybe Eros had found a way to heal those scars.
She didn't expect... he had done nothing to hide them.
Instead, he had replaced the mask with something that didn't cover, but celebrated.
And yet-
"It really is beautiful," Prometheus said without hesitation. "Especially because I know what it looked like before. That contrast makes it even more striking."
Sometimes, the line between a divine mark and a deformity... was razor thin.
Whether the flame's touch was seen as a scar or a blessing depended entirely on perception.
If the fire left behind searing burns, it was a curse.
But if it left intricate marks, it became a divine tattoo, the symbol of the God of Fire.
The more you tried to hide it, the more obvious it became a weakness.
Better to learn from a certain saint in the east, even when both hands were nailed down, he kept his eyes wide open, watching others pray to his execution tool.
"See? I told you I was a professional when it came to spotting beauty."
Eros reached out, gently brushing Hephaestus's bangs away, guiding her to look at herself in the mirror.
The reflection that once made her irritable and hateful... now looked far less unbearable.
Why?
Hephaestus touched her face. The burn had long since healed. Only the scar remained.
If not for the mirror, or the searing sensation during emotional outbursts, she might have forgotten it was ever there.
But now, the scar had become a beautiful pattern, like a butterfly wing.
It clicked in her heart.
Turns out... I'm the real looks-obsessed one.
"Well? Satisfied?" Eros asked, grinning.
He knew he'd nailed it.
This deeply-rooted insecurity wasn't something you could fix overnight, but once you planted the right seed...
It was just a matter of time before it bloomed.
When the day came that Hephaestus could face the world confidently, without hiding, that would be his harvest.
"If you're satisfied, then you owe me an apology."
"Calling me a shallow fool who judges by looks? That's a deep insult to my character."
Now that he'd claimed the moral high ground, Eros began needling her again.
But Hephaestus just stared, first at herself, then at Eros.
She couldn't help but wonder: What would Aphrodite have done in this situation?
If it had been Aphrodite helping her, would she have acted like Eros?
No. Definitely not.
She would've used a soft, pitiful voice to rebuke Hephaestus's harsh words, evoking guilt and empathy.
Then she'd emphasize her own role: how her "graceful touches" made the burns into beauty.
She would've turned it into a chain, tightening Hephaestus's emotional dependence on her.
The scary part wasn't that Aphrodite was manipulative.
It was that Hephaestus knew it was manipulation... and still would've fallen for it.
That was the difference.
And Eros? He could play those same games. This was just basic PUA.
Put the other person down, make them feel flawed, then act as if your love is a gift, a salvation.
To someone with self-doubt, it was the perfect trap.
But Eros never did that.
Because it destroyed the unique spark in each goddess. It turned them into hollow reflections molded by him alone.
And Eros? He liked beauty with soul.
He didn't want to leave fingerprints all over it.
"You're right. I do owe you an apology."
For the first time that day, Hephaestus smiled, truly smiled.
"I misjudged you. Maybe you're not like her after all."
She had sensed something different.
Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, always spoke words Hephaestus could see right through.
But Eros?
When Hephaestus finally looked him straight in the eye, she could see it.
That raw, unfiltered passion, for everything. Including her.
Even if it was desire, even if it was lust, it was real.
Hephaestus smiled. That alone made her happier than anything else.
But it lasted only a moment before she scowled again.
"Fine. I've apologized. Now quit staring."
Her tone was gruff, clearly trying to shake off the emotional weight of the moment.
To change the subject, she returned to their earlier deal.
"You helped me, so I won't charge you any crafting fees. I'll even provide most of the materials, think of it as a thank-you."
"But there are three critical ingredients I'm currently out of. You'll have to go get them yourself."
"Unless... you'd rather wait a while. I might be able to trade for some with the other gods."
Since this was about the Saint Cloth, Eros sobered up.
"What are the missing materials? Where can I get them? Got any leads?"
Short and focused.
This Saint Cloth meant a lot to him.
No substitutions. No cheap alternatives. Only the best would do.
Hephaestus raised her fingers and listed them one by one.
"The three materials you'll need are: Orichalcum, Stardust Silver... and Gamanion."
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100 P.S = 1 Extra Chapter