The God of Underworld - Chapter 208

208: Chapter 52 208: Chapter 52 Aphrodite tilted her chin upward, her golden hair catching the faint glow of the underworld’s ever-burning torches, and said with a bright smile, “Do you know how frustrating you are, Hades?

Any other god would fall to their knees if I so much as looked at them the way I look at you, yet you sit there, scowling at your papers, pretending I’m nothing more than an annoyance.” Hades didn’t even glance up, his pen scratching against parchment as though she hadn’t spoken at all.

“That’s because you are an annoyance.

And a distraction.

One that refuses to go away even when told to.” Her lips curved wider, amused.

“If I truly bothered you, you would have cast me out the very moment I stepped into your fortress.

Yet here I am, walking these halls, visiting your office, and you never stop me.

Tell me, is that neglect, or is it because you secretly don’t mind my company?” He let out a quiet scoff, turning a page with deliberate calm.

“I don’t stop the wind from blowing either.

Or the rain from falling.

It doesn’t mean I enjoy it.” Aphrodite laughed, soft and musical, circling behind him like a silken shadow.

“The wind doesn’t make you smile when you sense it approach.

The rain doesn’t make you pause your work just to wait for it.

You may fool the others, Hades, but not me.” His shoulders stiffened for the briefest of moments, then relaxed again as though nothing had happened.

His voice, when it came, was perfectly even.

“You flatter yourself far too much.

No wonder your fellow patrons lets you do as you please.

You’ve grown drunk on your own illusions.” “And you’ve grown starved on your own stubbornness,” Aphrodite countered smoothly, leaning over his desk now, her perfume mixing with the heavy scent of ink and parchment.

“Seriously, you’re like a piece of wood.

I’m practically throwing myself to you, and you’re doing nothing.

Am I not attractive?” Hades carefully dipped his pen into ink, his face betraying nothing, his tone clipped and cold.

“You assume too much.

If you think your charms can unravel me, you’ll only embarrass yourself.” Her smile softened, though her eyes sparkled with mischief.

She lowered her voice, leaning so close her lips were a breath away from his ear.

“And yet, you still haven’t told me to stop.” For a moment, the pen in his hand faltered, leaving the faintest blot of ink on the page.

He set it down slowly, his expression unchanged, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Like I said, it is because you wouldn’t listen, regardless of what I say.

And I don’t want to waste words on the stubborn.” Aphrodite’s laughter rang again, light and warm, yet tinged with satisfaction.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you enjoy this game.

That the great Hades, the aloof ruler of the dead, takes comfort in being pursued, even if he pretends otherwise.” Finally, he looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers, steady and unreadable.

“Believe whatever helps you sleep at night, goddess.

It makes no difference to me.” She blinked, caught off guard by how effortlessly he deflected, how untouchable he remained, as though all her arrows simply slid off his armor.

Yet the faintest flicker in his gaze, the subtle tightness in his jaw, told her more than words ever could.

Aphrodite leaned back, a victorious smirk curving her lips.

“Oh, it makes a difference, Hades.

You just don’t dare admit it yet.” He picked up his pen again, lowering his gaze back to the parchment.

“Then keep deluding yourself.

I have no intention of correcting you.” Aphrodite lounged in the chair across from him, one leg crossed over the other, her chin resting on her palm as her eyes danced with amusement.

She had teased him for what felt like an eternity, testing every response, every flicker of emotion on his face.

Yet still, Hades remained unmoved, cold, collected, as if the weight of her affection meant nothing.

Finally, he exhaled, long and tired, and his voice broke the silence.

“Why?” he asked, his tone clipped yet laced with something she hadn’t heard before, a rare trace of uncertainty.

His eyes flicked toward her, sharp yet searching.

“Why go to such lengths for someone like me?

I bury myself in work.

I cannot express myself the way you demand.

My face remains cold, expressionless, even when I don’t intend it.

I am… not a man anyone should desire.” Aphrodite straightened, her smile curving like a bowstring drawn taut.

“Is that truly what you think?

That you are undesirable?” Hades lowered his gaze, his voice low, almost bitter.

“You could have anyone.

If you raised your hand, every god, every spirit, every mortal would fall to your feet.

Yet you waste your time here, with me, in this fortress of shadows.

For what?

For a king who cannot even return a smile properly?” Her laughter was soft, but it carried the weight of truth.

“You are wrong, Hades.

The man I want does not come to me, no matter how many times I raise my hand.

No matter how many times I call, he sits there, behind his walls, stubborn and unmoved as a piece of rock.” Hades froze.

His pen stilled, the parchment beneath it smudged with half-dried ink.

He looked at her again, this time unable to mask the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

She pressed on, her voice firm, radiant with conviction.

“Do you not understand?

A goddess of love does not surrender her heart so easily.

We may be fickle in the eyes of others, but when we love-truly love-we do not give it up.

Not ever.

And I…” She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his.

“I am tired of chasing in circles.

Tired of this endless game.

I want you, Hades.

Not tomorrow.

Not after centuries of hesitation.

Now.” The silence that followed pressed down on them like the weight of Tartarus itself.

Hades said nothing.

He looked at her, his dark eyes guarded, but his lips remained sealed, his expression unreadable.

Aphrodite’s smile faltered, her heart tightening.

She had bared herself fully, yet his silence cuts her heart like a knife.

Slowly, her gaze wandered across his desk, until it caught on a plate of ripe fruits sitting in the corner.

Her lips curved again, a mischievous light sparking in her eyes.

“Well then,” she said softly, rising from her seat and gliding toward the desk, her every step deliberate, her every movement graceful.

“If you want me to leave, I will.

But only if you fail this little test of mine.” She reached for the plate, her fingers brushing a small cluster of grapes.

The moment she plucked one, Hades’ composure cracked.

He leaned forward, his voice sharp, urgent.

“Don’t eat that.

It’s from the underworld.

You know what that means.” Her grin widened.

“Perfect.” And before he could stop her, she tossed the grape into her mouth.

Hades’ eyes widened, shock breaking through his mask for the first time.

“Aphrodite-!” But before he could finish, she leaned in, swift as lightning, her lips capturing his.

Her soft, warm mouth pressed against his cold one, and with practiced ease, she passed the grape to him.

His entire body stiffened.

His mind screamed at him, the weight of ancient laws ringing in his head.

This woman…

She’s leaving the choice to hi..

If he swallowed the grape, then she would take it as his rejection.

She would leave, unbound.

But if he returned it to her, then she would be his, trapped here for eternity.

Her lips lingered against his, her breath mingling with his own, her eyes half-lidded but watching him carefully.

She wasn’t forcing him.

She wasn’t pushing further.

She left the choice to him.

For the first time, it was not her pursuing, but him deciding.

‘What will you do, Hades?’ her gaze seemed to say.

‘Will you let me go, or will you finally claim me?’ And in that suspended moment, the great Lord of the Underworld-indifferent, cold, eternally untouchable-found himself cornered by a single grape and the warmth of a goddess’ lips.