The God of Underworld - Chapter 210
210: Chapter 54 210: Chapter 54 Aphrodite’s temple deep in the Underworld looked nothing like the solemn, dark halls that surrounded it.
Tonight it was bathed in soft golden light.
Candles floated in bowls of enchanted water, drifting lazily across the polished marble floor, while faint music rose from a group of divine spirits who had been drilled all day to play as gently as possible, never overwhelming, only accompanying the atmosphere she demanded.
She walked across the grand chamber with her gown swaying, one hand clutching a small list she had scribbled herself.
“No roses,” she said firmly to one of her attendants, who was carrying a vase brimming with crimson blooms.
“This is not going to be a passionate night.
Remove them.
Bring white lilies instead.
They are calmer, more pure.
They symbolised honesty, not seduction.” The attendant bowed quickly and ran off.
She moved toward the long dining table at the center, where divine spirit chefs were placing dishes one after another.
Silver domes covered platters of roasted meats, honeyed fruits, and delicacies gathered from both the surface and the depths.
Aphrodite lifted a lid and leaned in, inhaling.
She nodded once.
Then she took the fork from a startled chef and sampled a bite.
“It’s perfect for my palate, but it’s too salty for Hades,” she said with a sigh, putting the fork down.
“Our king already works too hard.
His tongue is dull from bitterness already, I will not let him taste more salt tonight.
Adjust the seasoning.
Balance it with something gentle.
Figs, perhaps.
Or pomegranate glaze.” The chef bowed low, stammering, “At once, Lady Aphrodite,” and hurried away.
One of her handmaidens approached with a tray of crystal goblets.
“My Lady, the wine you requested.
Vintage from the Olympus, aged three hundred years.
Do you wish to test it?” Aphrodite took the goblet, raised it, and swirled the liquid.
The crimson color gleamed in the candlelight.
She sipped, held the flavor on her tongue, then swallowed slowly.
Her eyes softened.
“Yes.
This one will do.
Rich, but not overpowering.
It lingers, like a memory.
He will not admit it, but he likes such things.” Say what you will about Olympus, but when it comes to foods and wine, everything they have is first class.
The underworld is completely far behind.
Another spirit peeked in nervously.
“My Lady, forgive the interruption, but… do you truly believe Lord Hades will accept such gestures?
He is not known to attend feasts or indulge in… warmth.” Aphrodite smiled faintly, her expression both proud and wistful.
She walked past the spirit and adjusted a candle that burned too high.
“That is exactly why I do this,” she said.
“He lives in silence, in darkness, in duty.
If he refuses to reach for warmth, then warmth must reach for him.” She glanced at her reflection in a polished bronze mirror, adjusted her hair, and added softly, “As the woman he have chosen, it is my duty to make sure he won’t live in dark and gloom all the time.” The handmaidens exchanged looks, whispering among themselves.
One dared to ask, “B-But my lady, what if Lord Hades doesn’t like all these and leave?” Aphrodite turned, her eyes glowing with stubborn fire.
“Then I will try again.
And again.
Until even the Underworld itself yields to me.
A goddess of love does not bend, nor does she abandon what her heart claims.” Her words silenced the room.
The divine spirits bowed their heads, no longer questioning.
Aphrodite clapped her hands once, breaking the heavy mood.
“Now, light every candle.
Scatter petals on the path to the table.
Tune the strings once more, softer this time.
Everything must be perfect when he steps through those doors.
Hades will not say it, but he will notice.
And when he notices, he will not forget.” She walked to the head of the table, where Hades’ seat had been placed.
Her hand brushed the chair lightly, almost tenderly.
She whispered to herself, “Tonight, you will not work.
Tonight, you will eat, you will sit with me, and you will remember that you are not stone.
I will make sure that tonight, your life will be full of colors.” Her lips curved into a smile.
She turned back to her attendants, her voice rising.
“Prepare yourselves.
He will arrive soon.” The temple grew brighter with every lit candle.
The air filled with faint sweetness of lilies and fruit.
The music swelled just a little, steady and calm.
Aphrodite stood in the center, radiant, determined, and ready.
* * * In the heart of his fortress, Hades sat alone in his chamber.
The usual piles of scrolls and ledgers were stacked neatly on his desk, but for once he did not touch them.
Instead, he stood before a tall mirror of black obsidian, its surface polished so perfectly that even the dim torches reflected his every detail.
He stared at himself, his hands folded behind his back, his expression calm, cold, unreadable, yet within him something restless stirred.
His fingers lifted to his collar, adjusting it once, twice, three times before he let out a quiet sigh.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself.
“Why should I care how I appear?
A king is not judged by his attire, but by his deeds.” Yet even as he said it, he smoothed the edge of his cloak, ensuring it hung evenly.
His hand reached for a comb, and for a long moment he simply held it, staring at his own reflection as if the image of himself demanded an answer he did not have.
He combed his hair carefully, each stroke deliberate, each adjustment silent proof of his unease.
“Love…” he whispered the word as though it were foreign, a language he had never learned.
He did not understand why Aphrodite persisted, why she brought warmth into a place that thrived on stillness and shadows.
He did not understand why she refused to leave, why she smiled when he dismissed her, why she laughed even when he scowled.
His eyes lingered on his face in the mirror.
He looked the same as always, pale, cold, stern.
No softness, no charm.
A ruler of the dead should not pretend to be anything else.
He frowned faintly, yet beneath the surface a quiet thought echoed, one he could not silence.
He looked handsome, even he isn’t blind to that fact, but if that alone is all it takes to make a girl fall in love to the same extent as Aphrodite loves him, then there wouldn’t be many handsome men who remained single… Honestly, he couldn’t see what was so special about him…
yet she always comes back.
Again and again.
To him, to this cold place, never once getting tired nor discouraged.
He set the comb down, pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, and straightened.
He would not adorn himself with jewels or perfumes.
He would not pretend to be something he was not.
But he could at least ensure he was not careless.
For her.
Taking a deep breath, he extinguished the torches in his chamber with a wave of his hand.
Darkness reclaimed the room, save for the faint light seeping in from the halls beyond.
Hades turned and walked with measured steps, his boots echoing faintly against the stone floor.
Each step was steady, but his mind remained unsettled.
“What is she expecting of me?” he asked quietly to himself as he descended the long corridor.
“I have no talent for words of affection.
I have no patience for games of the heart.
I cannot give what I do not possess.” His voice lowered, almost inaudible now.
“However… if she asks only for my presence, then perhaps… that much, I can give.” He stepped out into the open air of Nox, the capital of the Underworld spread out beneath him, its black towers and glowing rivers of souls stretching to the horizon.
Above all of it, Aphrodite’s temple shone with golden light, too radiant, too warm for this realm of silence, like a star that refused to be extinguished.
His eyes lingered on it, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“That’s way too bright, didn’t she know I hate bright colors?” he thought, sensing her aura, lively and bright, filling every corner of her temple.
“She feels like she is enjoying herself.
Is having a dinner with me really gives her this much happiness?” For a moment he stood still, watching the glow of her temple from afar, uncertain, unwilling, yet strangely drawn.
Then, with a sweep of his cloak, he lifted into the air and moved toward the light.
The air carried whispers of music, faint and delicate, reaching his ears before he even reached the gates.
He felt it, the warmth she poured into every detail.
And though he would never admit it aloud, though his face remained expressionless, something within him tightened.
Perhaps tonight… bs will try.
Even if I cannot love as she does.
Even if he do not understand what that feeling is.