By the time Loki returned to Twilight Manor, her expression was as dark as the sky before a storm.
She strode down the long corridor, her footsteps echoing across the wooden floor.
One step.
Then another.
Then a third.
Every sound carried the weight of her suppressed anger.
Several members of Loki Familia approached from the opposite direction. The moment they saw her expression, they immediately moved aside, lowered their heads, and barely dared to breathe.
They knew their patron goddess far too well.
Loki wasn't frightening when she was laughing and joking.
She was frightening when she stopped smiling.
When her face turned black as the bottom of a burned pot.
When she walked around practically radiating killing intent.
Whenever that happened, anyone who got too close risked becoming collateral damage.
Loki entered her room.
She leaned back against the door, crossed her arms, and glared ahead with fury burning in her narrowed eyes.
Everything that had happened that day replayed through her mind like a revolving lantern.
Freya's words.
"So that's the kind of woman you're interested in? Looks like I really overestimated your taste."
Freya's condescending expression.
The way she'd turned and walked away.
Every tiny detail felt like a thorn buried in Loki's chest.
She couldn't pull them out.
She couldn't swallow them down.
"Freya..."
Loki ground the name out through clenched teeth.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.
She walked over to the bed and dropped heavily onto it, making the mattress creak beneath her.
Her fingers clenched the bedsheet until her knuckles turned white.
Her eyes were filled with irritation and unwillingness.
She was Loki.
The Goddess of Mischief and Trickery.
Even in Heaven, gods often preferred to take a detour rather than get dragged into one of her schemes.
She was too good at manipulating situations.
Too good at digging pits for people to fall into.
Too good at leaving others with losses they couldn't even complain about.
When had anyone ever mocked her to her face like this?
When had anyone ever looked down on her so openly?
When had anyone ever managed to leave her this frustrated?
Loki drew a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
It didn't work.
The fire in her chest only burned hotter.
She fell backward onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Freya's cold, beautiful face appeared in her mind again.
Those gray-blue eyes filled with disdain and dissatisfaction.
That knife-like remark.
Every detail kept tormenting her.
Part of Loki desperately wanted to storm into Freya Familia's territory, argue with her face-to-face, and perhaps even start a fight.
But she knew that would accomplish nothing.
Freya wouldn't fear her.
Freya wouldn't yield to her.
And Freya certainly wouldn't apologize.
That was how things had always been between them.
They opposed each other at every turn.
Neither gave an inch.
Neither willingly lowered her head first.
If Loki actually went looking for a fight, the most likely outcome would simply be both sides suffering.
She couldn't be that stupid.
She couldn't ruin everything over a moment of anger.
Loki rolled onto her stomach, buried her face in the pillow, and let out a muffled groan.
She thought about everything that had happened today.
Freya's attitude.
Genichi's maddening "nothing."
Demeter stepping in to mediate.
Every single moment that had left her frustrated.
Her fingers squeezed the pillow tighter.
The anger in her chest continued to churn no matter how hard she tried to suppress it.
She knew she was petty.
She knew she held grudges.
So what?
That was simply who Loki was.
The Goddess of Mischief and Trickery.
If someone made her unhappy, she would make them even more unhappy.
If someone made her suffer a loss, she would make sure they suffered an even greater one.
If someone embarrassed her, she would return the favor tenfold.
That was her creed.
It was how she'd lived for hundreds of millions of years.
"No."
Loki suddenly sat up.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
If she simply let this go, she wouldn't be Loki anymore.
If she swallowed the insult and meekly endured it, even the version of herself back in Heaven would probably descend just to slap her twice.
She had to regain the upper hand.
She had to make Freya understand that Loki wasn't someone she could casually bully.
She had to make that arrogant Goddess of Beauty experience what it felt like to be looked down on, mocked, and driven insane with frustration.
Loki rested her chin on one hand, her eyes gleaming as she began considering how to get revenge on Freya.
Direct violence was the stupidest option.
She wouldn't do that.
Going to the Guild to complain would be even more ridiculous. Ouranos would probably be overjoyed if all the goddesses simply stayed quiet and stopped creating trouble for him.
Sending someone else to irritate Freya was equally pointless.
Someone like Freya wouldn't care.
She would simply look down at them with that condescending gaze, as though staring at some ridiculous little insect.
Then suddenly, the corner of Loki's mouth began to rise.
A truly wicked idea appeared in her mind.
She wouldn't hurt Freya.
She wouldn't sabotage Freya.
Instead, she would do something Freya had absolutely no way to reject.
Something that would still infuriate her beyond belief.
"Freya... Freya..."
Loki murmured, smugness and anticipation entering her voice along with a strange sense of delight.
"You should be thanking me."
"If it weren't for me, Genichi might never look at you that way."
Loki understood Freya far too well.
Freya's feelings toward Genichi were obviously no longer simple admiration.
It wasn't merely appreciation of someone powerful.
It wasn't merely recognition of an interesting man.
There was a kind of concern there that perhaps even Freya herself hadn't realized yet.
Freya had agreed to deal with Ishtar's Pleasure Quarter because of Genichi.
Freya had gone to Demeter Familia to watch Ishtar's downfall because of Genichi.
Freya had become so furious today because of Genichi.
That woman kept saying, "He's the man I have my eye on," but somewhere along the way she had probably already started thinking of him as hers.
Maybe she simply hadn't realized it yet.
Or perhaps she did realize it and refused to admit it.
Loki also understood Genichi's current opinion of Freya very well.
That man had an instinctive dislike and distrust of her.
To put it less politely, in Genichi's mind, Freya was basically a shameless seductress.
He thought she was unrestrained.
Promiscuous.
Someone who used the Authority of a Goddess of Beauty to charm men everywhere she went, no different from Ishtar.
And to be fair, Freya's reputation wasn't exactly spotless.
Even back in Heaven, rumors about her had been everywhere.
Some claimed she'd seduced countless gods.
Some claimed she'd been involved with Odin.
Others claimed she spent every night indulging herself among the gods.
Those stories had been passed around for hundreds of millions of years, mixing truth and fiction until no one could tell which parts were real anymore.
Genichi was only human.
He was an outsider who knew very little about the world of the gods.
After hearing those stories, what conclusion was he supposed to reach?
Naturally, he would assume Freya was a fickle and promiscuous woman.
Someone just like Ishtar, wandering around and seducing men with the power of a Goddess of Beauty.
But Loki knew that wasn't the truth.
She and Freya had been rivals for hundreds of millions of years.
They clashed constantly on the surface, yet that also meant they understood each other better than almost anyone else.
Loki knew exactly what Freya had been like in Heaven.
Odin had kept her confined within his temple.
And Freya herself?
She couldn't have cared less about all those rumors.
She acted as though none of it had anything to do with her.
She had never seduced any male god.
She had never actually become romantically involved with anyone.
Those male gods had simply been drawn to her on their own.
Despite the image of some impossibly experienced femme fatale, Freya was actually just like Loki.
An ancient virgin.
At that thought, Loki couldn't help laughing.
There was schadenfreude in her laughter.
The delight of an approaching prank.
And an unmistakable sense of wicked amusement.
She wanted Freya to experience what it felt like to be misunderstood.
She wanted that proud Goddess of Beauty to discover what it was like to be unable to explain herself no matter what she said.
More importantly, Loki wanted Genichi to see what Freya was actually like.
Not through rumors.
Not through other people's stories.
With his own eyes.
Of course, Loki wasn't going to simply tell Genichi the truth.
That wasn't her style.
What she intended to do was create opportunities.
Opportunities where Genichi and Freya would have no choice but to spend time alone together.
Let them discover things themselves.
Let them understand each other themselves.
Let them gradually grow closer on their own.
Loki didn't particularly believe that two people who were equally stubborn, equally proud, and equally unwilling to lower their heads would suddenly produce some miraculous spark.
But she did believe that if they were given enough time and enough space, something would eventually change.
Loki stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the sky.
The sun was setting.
Golden-red light spread across the horizon.
The corner of her mouth slowly curved upward into an expectant smile.
She was already imagining what it would be like if Genichi and Freya actually ended up together.
What expression would Freya make?
Embarrassment?
Panic?
Or would she pretend to remain perfectly calm?
"Freya, you'd better not disappoint me."
Loki murmured softly, almost as though speaking to herself, yet also as though addressing someone far away.
"Since you made me so unhappy today, I'll make you even more uncomfortable."
"That's only fair."
(End of Chapter)
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