"There's no need for that — this sort of thing is better left to us."
Haimer tilted his head slightly.
Yet upon hearing that clean, gentle refusal, Ais simply gave a quiet nod and settled down — though her gaze drifted to the edge of the worktable.
A dry towel that Haimer had used earlier was still sitting there.
Ais thought for a moment, then walked over. She reached out with slender fingers and picked it up.
Then — beneath Haimer's mildly surprised gaze — she walked straight up to him. The difference in their heights meant she had to rise slightly onto her toes.
She lifted the towel directly to his forehead.
And then, with careful, gentle strokes, she wiped the sweat from his brow.
In that instant — a faint, clean fragrance drifted over, carried on the cool, distinctly girlish air about her, momentarily cutting through the sweltering heat of the forge.
"…"
Hephaestus's single eye went perfectly round.
Loki, who had been huffing and puffing at the bellows — watching Ais perform that utterly natural, utterly unself-conscious gesture of wiping someone's sweat — looked as though her eyes were about to pop clean out of her head.
Her lips trembled. Her teeth ground together with an audible clatter.
"Hey!! Ais!"
"Get away from that scheming creep right now!"
Loki's voice cracked with indignation.
Faced with Ais's sudden, wholly unprompted gesture, Haimer's hands paused ever so slightly in their work. He lowered his head and looked at the delicate face hovering just inches from his own.
Ais blinked her golden eyes.
Somewhat bewildered, she tilted her head and looked over at Loki, who was practically hopping with rage on the other side of the forge.
In her mind, seeing someone sweating and casually grabbing a dry towel to wipe it away was the most natural thing in the world — a trivial kindness that required no thought whatsoever.
Loki, however, saw absolutely nothing natural about it.
Haimer watched that guileless, uncomprehending reaction and let out a quietly helpless sigh. He reached out, took the towel back from Ais's hand, and pointed toward the bellows where Loki was standing.
"Don't worry about me."
"If you genuinely want to help with something —"
"— you could grab another dry towel and wipe down that one over there. She's about ready to steam."
"Who knows," Haimer added, casting a deadpan look at the seething Loki, "maybe the excitement will give her arms a second wind."
"I don't care about any of that!"
At those words, Loki forgot every ounce of exhaustion from her labors and launched straight into a righteous tirade.
"Since Haimer has now enjoyed the exclusive, premium personal service of our Ais, compensation is absolutely required!"
"You owe us! You have to take responsibility and forge another hundred — no, two hundred weapons of the same caliber for our Familia!"
"Only then will I consider this matter closed!"
The sheer audacity of that scheme was enough to make even Hephaestus — standing right there — lose patience. She couldn't help rolling her eye.
Haimer heard every word of Loki's utterly shameless shakedown.
Towel in hand.
Internally, he felt absolutely nothing.
He simply raised one hand, flicked his wrist —
Smack.
The dry towel hit Loki square in the face with a crisp snap, snuffing out her non-stop running commentary and her entire field of vision in one shot.
"Mmmph — mmm!"
Loki let out a muffled series of strangled noises, both hands flailing wildly through the air as she tried to claw the towel off her face.
Finally, blissful silence.
Haimer paid the comedy act in the corner no further mind whatsoever.
He shifted his gaze away from Loki — still locked in mortal combat with the towel — and back to Ais. When he spoke, his tone settled into the same register he used when guiding the younger members of his own Familia.
"That gesture just now — I'll accept it for the good intentions behind it."
"That said, it would be better to avoid doing things like that in the future."
"Physical contact at such close range tends to send signals to the other person that go beyond ordinary boundaries."
"Being too gentle in that way is the sort of thing that invites unnecessary misunderstandings."
Haimer finished speaking.
Ais blinked her golden eyes at those words, visibly working to absorb what he had just said.
"Misunderstanding?"
She repeated the word softly.
Then she looked at Haimer's steady, dark eyes — gave a small, contemplative tap of her chin — and, clasping both hands neatly in front of her, took two polite steps back and returned to her corner.
Whether the naturally oblivious Sword Princess had actually processed the full meaning of what he'd said… that was something nobody could say for certain.
"Pfft — blech, blech!"
On the other side of the room, Loki had finally wrenched the towel off her face.
"Haimer, you threw a towel you used to wipe your own sweat at me!"
Loki gnashed her teeth.
"Get back to the bellows. Don't slack off."
Haimer simply turned back to the worktable, picked up the heavy hammer, and didn't spare Loki's complaint so much as a glance — except to hit her in her one weak spot with a single sentence.
Loki's voice died instantly. With no other option, she could only grimly grip the metal handle and drag herself, miserable as ever, back to her thankless labor.
The flames surged higher.
Hephaestus shook her head in weary resignation, picked up the iron tongs, and fed all of the prepared materials into the furnace.
And so, half an hour later —
Tssssss —!
With the final quench, a great billow of steam erupted upward.
— The Desperate Sword was complete at last.
Haimer tossed the hammer aside.
He reached in and lifted the newly reborn blade out of the cooling liquid by its hilt.
Droplets traced down the length of the sword and fell away.
The Desperate Sword's overall form had not changed drastically from its original silver-white silhouette. The sole difference: along the blood groove near the guard, a dark crimson vein had appeared — a thin, winding line that wound its way all the way to the tip.
"This thing…"
Hephaestus leaned close to the worktable, her single red eye fixed hard on the marking along the blade's surface, her gaze full of undisguised awe.
"I can actually feel it… breathing."
"Naturally."
"Semi-activation is complete." With that, Haimer gripped the hilt and gave a casual flourish — an idle sword-flower cut through the air.
Hmmm —
The blade sang.
"Done."
Satisfied, Haimer reversed his grip, holding the blade, and extended the hilt toward Ais.
Ais stepped forward.
Slender fingers closed around the grip.
"The semi-living trait is now locked in." Haimer picked up a clean cloth from nearby and began wiping the carbon soot from his hands. "Just take it into the Dungeon and you'll see what that means."
"The moment it tastes the energy from a monster's Magic Stone, you'll understand exactly what that change is worth."
"The more you fight, the harder it becomes."
Ais held the reborn Desperate Sword.
Her fingers traced lightly along the guard as her gaze settled on the dark crimson vein running down the blade — and stayed there, unmoving, for a long moment.
"Thank you."
Ais lifted her head and bowed deeply.
At the bellows, Loki craned her neck to look — and the moment she caught Ais's expression of pure, barely-contained adoration for the sword, the warmth welling up in her chest utterly overpowered the ache in her arms.
"Heh heh! All done, is it!"
"Finally, the great work is finished…"
Loki released the bellows handle and was already rubbing her hands together, getting ready to swagger over.
Yet.
Loki's words had barely left her mouth when Haimer turned around and walked back to the enormous iron chest.
He reached in and rummaged around.
Clatter.
Several more ore chunks — each larger than the last — came out and landed on the black iron worktable with a heavy thud.
The dull impact wiped the grin clean off Loki's face.
"We're not done yet."
Haimer glanced at her.
"The Desperate Sword was just something I fixed up on the side. Don't forget why I borrowed this forge today — I came to prepare a few protective pieces for my Familia."
"So."
Haimer pointed at the large metal bellows.
"Keep pumping."
"Still?! There's MORE?!"
"What else?"
At that, Loki looked over at Hephaestus in tearful desperation — only to find that Hephaestus had already picked up the iron tongs and was heading for the ore.
Loki could only slump her shoulders like a wilted plant and shuffle miserably back to the bellows, gripping the scalding metal handle with both hands, muttering inaudible complaints under her breath as she got back to work.
Time passed.
The sun traced its arc across the sky.
Afternoon.
Clunk.
With the final piece of protective gear tossed into the iron chest, the roaring furnace at last fell silent — only the dark-red coals remained, occasionally popping with faint, flaking crackles.
CLANG.
Loki finally let go of the metal bellows handle — now slick with sweat — and her entire body slid bonelessly down the wall, collapsing into a heap on the floor with absolutely no dignity whatsoever.
Her two thin arms hung limp at her sides, trembling faintly in an uncontrollable rhythm.
That face, ordinarily somewhat pretty, was now smeared beyond recognition with sweat and carbon soot — blotched with black and red.
"I'm done for…"
Loki exhaled a feeble breath of hot, white vapor.
"Haimer, you tyrant… you slave driver… I think my arms have stopped belonging to me."
Haimer walked over to the water basin on the side.
He scooped up a handful of water, washed his face casually, and brushed off the smudges of black ash that had found their way onto the cuffs of his white shirt.
Even after an ordeal of high-intensity forging that would have broken any ordinary person, his expression remained as composed and unhurried as ever — not a trace of fatigue, his breathing perfectly steady.
He picked up a dry towel, wiped his hands, and turned to look at Loki sprawled on the floor.
"Lots of complaints, but your fire control was passable enough."
"Good work." Haimer's tone was mild.
At those last words — faint but unmistakable praise — the corner of Loki's still-twitching mouth tugged slightly. She mumbled something too low to make out, then finally closed her eyes and began playing dead.
"Right, then."
Hephaestus untied the heavy leather apron she'd been wearing to shield against the heat.
She reached up and brushed a strand of deep-red hair away from her cheek. In her single remaining red eye, an unusual weariness showed — but alongside it, something quieter: satisfaction.
After all, for a deity who presided over the forge, personally participating in and witnessing the birth of a whole suite of weapons was, without question, the greatest pleasure there was.
"Time's getting on, too." Hephaestus glanced up at the ventilation gap in the wall.
Outside, the light had already begun to lean and soften. Without noticing, they had spent nearly an entire day sealed inside this sweltering, sealed workshop.
With a heavy, grinding rumble, the great copper door that had kept the forge's heat locked inside began to slide slowly open on both sides once more.
Beyond the workshop.
The air in the corridor still carried the faint smell of the furnace, but compared to the temperature inside — which had been borderline enough to desiccate a person — it felt almost refreshingly cool by comparison.
Ais had already risen to her feet, standing quietly and neatly, by the time the door began to open.
The reborn [Desperate Sword] was in her hands. Her golden eyes were fixed, unblinking, on the figures emerging from inside.
"Oh~, finally decided to come out, have you."
From farther down the corridor, Tsubaki came striding over, water flask in hand, taking long, easy steps while drinking as she walked. She had clearly just finished a batch of mid-layer weapon orders.
The eyepatch over her left eye had gone slightly askew; she straightened it with a casual swipe and let her gaze sweep across Haimer and the others.
But when her eyes landed on Loki — bringing up the very rear, practically using the wall as a crutch —
"Pfft —"
Tsubaki nearly choked on her water.
"Cough, cough… L-Lady Loki?"
Tsubaki's eyes went wide as she stared at the figure — face caked in soot, clothes in complete disarray, looking for all the world like she'd just crawled out of a coal mine — and the shock on her face was utterly impossible to hide.
Where was the haughty, swaggering patron goddess of the Loki Familia — the one who liked to strut down the streets hitting on every cute girl she could find?
"What're you laughing at… haven't you ever seen a goddess experiencing the hardships of common folk…"
Loki shot Tsubaki a feeble glare, attempting to muster some shred of dignity. The words came out as a pathetic whimper instead.
Ais paid no attention to Loki's sorry state.
She walked straight over to the enormous iron chest now filled with freshly forged equipment.
Without the slightest hesitation, she extended one slender arm and gripped the metal handle on the side of the chest.
Ais lifted that enormous iron box — large enough to hold two people — and settled it onto her seemingly slight shoulders with effortless ease.
"Where does this chest need to go?"
Ais tilted her head, her long golden hair slipping over one shoulder, her clear, cool voice carrying a simple question.
Haimer had just said that overly close physical contact invited misunderstandings — but helping carry heavy things, Ais reasoned, was pure and uncomplicated effort, and therefore a perfectly natural way to repay the favor.
Haimer looked at Ais standing there with the large chest balanced on her shoulder, and a quiet warmth flickered in his eyes.
"Much appreciated."
"Take it to my Familia's residence — the upscale residential district at the northwest boulevard intersection."
"Understood." Ais gave a nod and settled the chest more securely on her shoulder.
With the destination decided, Haimer turned around, his gaze coming to rest on Hephaestus, who was working out the soreness in her shoulders nearby.
"By the way, Hephaestus."
"Would you like to come along and see the place?"
Hephaestus paused.
"To where you're living now?" "That's right."
Haimer gave a small nod. "After all, you've been shutting yourself up in the workshop for days — and Hestia, that idiot, has been missing you. If she found out you came by, she'd be over the moon."
At the name "Hestia," Hephaestus's single red eye flickered with a complicated mix of emotions.
Exasperation, and the habitual, bone-deep concern that had never quite gone away.
She might find the perpetual freeloader insufferable, but when it came down to it, Hestia was someone she had always wanted to look after.
"Fine, I suppose."
Hephaestus let out a small sigh and dusted off her hands.
"It would do me good to get some air. It has been a while since I last stepped outside."
And so, after a quick cleanup at the workshop's washbasin to scrub off the worst of the grime —
The group set off.
Haimer led the way. Ais walked quietly at his side with the large chest balanced on her shoulder. Hephaestus and Tsubaki fell in behind with Loki — who had finally managed to catch her second breath — trailing along at the rear.
The group followed the northeast boulevard in the direction of the upscale residential district.
Afternoon sunlight spilled across the cobblestones.
Before long, the three-story stone mansion came into view.
Haimer walked up to the ornamental wrought-iron gate.
He pushed it open.
Creak —
The hinges of the oak door turned with a groan.
Yet.
When the final door swung open —
"Hff… hffzzzz…"
A thoroughly undignified snoring sound came drifting straight out of the center of the hall.
"…"
The sound even carried a faint echo in the spacious hall.
Haimer's eye twitched. He stopped dead in the entryway.
Hephaestus, Loki, Tsubaki, and Ais all craned their heads over his shoulder to look.
And there she was.
On the wide, plush sofa:
Hestia was sprawled across it — spread-eagled, entirely without grace.
Her black twin-tails were fanned out in a loose tangle across the cushions. Her thin white nightgown had ridden up to her upper thighs from sleeping in a position that defied all decorum.
Her small, slightly rounded belly rose and fell gently with each breath.
And to make things worse —
Clutched tight in her hand was half a piece of caramel toast, already squashed out of shape from being gripped in her sleep.
The corridor fell into a silence like death.
Haimer and Hephaestus stared at the scene.
The veins at their temples had already begun to throb.
"HESTIA——!!" ×2
"Wha—?!"
Startled awake by the voices, Hestia jolted upright from her nap in an instant.
____
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