The God of Underworld - Chapter 207

207: Chapter 51 207: Chapter 51 Hades leaned back in his chair, the tip of his quill resting against the rim of the ink jar as his eyes moved over the endless scrolls stacked before him.

Reports from border spirits, petitions from mortal cults, requests from minor gods begging for resources they neither needed nor deserved.

He muttered under his breath, his voice low and tired.

“Do they truly think I have the time for this nonsense?

Half of these requests could be solved by simply doing their duty instead of pestering me.

Honestly, are they children or rulers?” He sighed, setting the quill down, his hand moving to rub the bridge of his nose.

The torches flickered softly in the corners of the office, their flames steady, calm, nothing out of place.

Just then, within this place of monotony, something shifted.

A familiar presence brushed against his senses, subtle at first, like the faintest ripple across still waters.

Then, it became clearer.

Closer.

It was Aphrodite.

His lips curved, almost against his will.

It wasn’t a large smile, not the kind his brothers often flashed when they were boasting, but a quiet, soft thing, uncharacteristic of the stern King of the Underworld.

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as if to dismiss himself.

“So… she came again.” His gaze drifted to the door.

He could already picture her walk-the way she carried herself with such grace, the way her presence seemed to fill every corner of a room with warmth and brightness.

He wondered, not for the first time, when this had begun.

When had the goddess who once annoyed him with her constant laughter, her insistence on meddling, her refusal to accept his dismissals, managed to become someone he looked forward to seeing?

He tapped the desk lightly with his fingers, his thoughts wandering.

At the start, he had been irritated by her.

A goddess of beauty and passion, descending into his realm of death and shadow, claiming she wanted to be with him.

What business did she have here?

Why would she want him?

He had told her many times to leave, to return to Olympus where she belonged, to let the underworld remain untouched by her frivolous energy.

She had defied him every time.

At first, he dismissed her stubbornness as foolishness.

Then, when she endured, when she adapted, when she stood firm under the suffocating weight of his realm, his irritation dulled into indifference.

She became part of the background, always there, always working, always smiling even when her hands trembled from exhaustion.

He had thought she would eventually break, yet she never did.

Instead, she thrived.

And now… now he found himself waiting for her.

He ran a hand through his silver hair, exhaling slowly.

When did this start?

When did he begin to anticipate her visits, to feel this strange restlessness when she was away too long?

When did her voice, once grating to his ears, start to soothe him in ways even silence could not?

Not even with Nyx did he feel something like this.

He let his gaze drift toward the window, where the endless expanse of his realm stretched into the distance, rivers of souls weaving through fields of ash.

Once, this sight had been all he needed.

Darkness, order, silence.

Now, though, a part of him longed for something more-something warmer.

Something that she seemed to bring with her, just by stepping into the room.

He chuckled softly again, shaking his head.

“Aphrodite… you’ve changed me far more than I care to admit.

For a goddess who embodies love, you’ve become a dangerous weakness.” His smile deepened, though there was a touch of self-mockery in his voice.

“Imagine that.

Hades, ruler of the dead, undone not by war or rebellion, but by the persistence of one idiotic goddess.” His fingers brushed over the parchment before him, though he had no intention of continuing his work for now.

His thoughts were elsewhere, his senses alert, waiting for the moment she would step through the door.

That strange excitement stirred again in his chest, quiet yet undeniable.

Suddenly, the heavy doors of his office creaked open without a knock.

Hades didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Her presence filled the air like spring sunlight intruding upon his carefully cultivated gloom.

“Really,” he said flatly, eyes glued to the parchment in his hand, “do you ever knock?

Or has the concept never occurred to you?” Aphrodite giggled lightly, stepping inside with a sway in her hips as if she owned the place.

“Why would I knock when you’re always expecting me, Hades?” Her tone dripped with playful confidence, but her eyes softened as they lingered on his face.

“I don’t expect you,” he replied curtly, dipping his pen back into ink.

“If anything, I dread the distraction.” “Is that so?” she leaned forward on his desk, her perfume wafting over the carefully ordered scrolls.

“Strange.

Because every time I come here, I can feel your mood brighten.

Just a little.” Hades’ pen paused mid-stroke.

His jaw tightened, but he quickly resumed writing, his face impassive.

“You imagine things.

The Underworld does not brighten, and neither do I.” Aphrodite twirled a strand of golden hair around her finger, her lips curving into a teasing smile.

“Then why is there a smile tugging at your lips right now?” Hades immediately set down his pen, steepling his hands in front of him to hide his mouth.

“There isn’t.

You see illusions because you want to.

Typical of someone obsessed with romance.” Her laughter rang out, sweet and melodic, making him shift uncomfortably in his chair.

“Maybe.

Or maybe the God of the Underworld is worse at lying than he thinks.” “Hmm,” He turned away, feigning interest in a stack of petitions.

“Believe what you want.

I don’t have time for your nonsense.” But Aphrodite’s gaze softened, and for a moment her playful mask slipped.

She watched him with quiet affection, seeing the way his hand hovered a fraction too long over the papers, how his shoulders eased when she was near, no matter how much he scowled.

“I worked hard to finish all my work early,” she said softly, a contrast to her usual flirtation.

“So I could spend the rest of the day with you.” Hades’ hand froze over the parchment, but he continued as if nothing happened.

“You waste your time.

There are countless others who would appreciate your company more than I.” She leaned closer, her voice a whisper near his ear.

“But I don’t want countless others.

I want you.” Hades sighed.

He stared at her, and pushed back his chair, standing up as if distance could protect him from her words.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, turning his back to her.

“You’re insufferable.” Aphrodite tilted her head, watching him retreat a few steps as though her words were arrows.

She smirked.

“Insufferable?

Then why don’t you order me to leave, oh great King of the Dead?” Hades turned at her.

His instinct was to say exactly that.

He’d told her countless times before.

But now, with her eyes shimmering with amusement and something softer behind it, the words stuck in his throat.

“Because you won’t listen,” he said finally, his voice clipped, “and I don’t care to waste my breath.” Aphrodite pressed a hand to her chest in mock shock.

“My, what an excuse.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like it when I stay.” He sighed.

How many times did he sigh?

“Seriously, you’re distracting me.” She closed the distance, her feet making no sound on the black marble floor.

Soon, she was at his side, leaning just close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off her skin.

“Then tell me,” she whispered, tilting her face up to him.

“Why does your heartbeat race every time I come near?” “Does it?” He didn’t notice.

He felt like always, calm and collected.

“I don’t feel it though.” Aphrodite’s lips curved in victory.

“It is.

You can’t hide it from me.” she said sweetly, circling him like a lioness toying with prey.

“The great Hades, master of shadows, undone by a little affection.” He chuckled in amusement, and turned back toward his desk, grabbing a random parchment as a shield.

“Affection?

From you?

Don’t mistake your amusement for something more.” Her eyes softened at that, though her smile remained.

“If it were only amusement, I wouldn’t keep coming back.” That made him falter.

His grip on the parchment tightened.

He wanted to say something sharp, something that would push her away like he always did, but his tongue refused to obey.

“…You’re persistent,” he muttered at last, his tone quieter, lacking its usual edge.

“And you,” she said gently, leaning forward until her lips almost brushed his ear, “are one stubborn man.” Hades inhaled sharply, the first real crack in his composure.

He turned his head away at once, stepping forward to put space between them.

“That, I am.” he said, though his voice lacked its usual authority.

“Anyways, I am busy.

Go before you say something foolish again.” Aphrodite only laughed softly, as if she’d already won.

“I’ll leave when I want to.

Until then, you’ll just have to endure me.” His hand twitched at his side.

He wanted to say something, but in the end, he can only sigh in defeat.

Seriously, how many sighs did he make just in this one conversation?