The Villain of Ancient Greece

As a noticeably smaller figure squeezed into the room, Hestia’s taut nerves finally relaxed as she patted her chest and shot a reproachful look forward.

”..Anna, you scared me to death!”

The shrunken, child-form Medusa hurriedly pressed a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture and pointed next door.

”..Shh… she’s not asleep yet..”

Hestia instantly clapped a hand over her mouth, falling silent, even breathing with exaggerated caution.

Hey, hey—one of you is the hearth goddess, Zeus’s big sister; the other is a Gorgon, a hero-slayer… do you really have to be that scared of her?

Watching the two act like thieves, Lorne rolled his eyes so hard they nearly vanished into his skull, inwardly roasting them.

Yet Hestia had just poached her niece’s corner, so she couldn’t exactly act tough.

As for Medusa...well, she was under bloodline suppression, whether in Greek or the revamped Roman myths, Athena had always crushed this pitiful completely.

As for Lorne himself…

The wounded patient lying corpse-like on the bed closed his eyes, recalling Athena smiling sweetly while chasing him around the yard with a thorny whip as a shiver ran through him, causing him shook his head violently to banish the nightmarish image.

Too terrifying.

Can’t afford to provoke her, can’t afford to provoke her!

The three in the small room looked at each other, silently reaching a consensus. They all lowered their voices and slowed their breathing.

”..Here, this will help your wounds.”

Little Medusa stepped forward and handed Lorne a half-open wooden box.

Inside was a dark-red ointment; a cool yet faintly sweet and bloody scent wafted into his nose.

Since when did she know how to make healing salves?

Lorne looked puzzled, then his gaze fell on the arm hanging at her other side.

Beneath the pale, translucent sleeve was a faint scar.

The wound had only just scabbed over, still carrying a trace of blood.

You little idiot!

Now understanding, Lorne glared fiercely at the girl by the bed and raised his right hand high.

A shadow loomed and Medusa instinctively shrank her neck.

But in the end, the raised hand came down gently, vigorously rubbing her little head instead.

”..Don’t ever do that again..”

The gentle admonishment carried an undeniable firmness as the girl looked at his serious face and obediently nodded.

Satisfied with the answer, Lorne’s face finally broke into a smile again.

However, the large movement sent needle-like stabs through his body, making him hiss repeatedly and contort his face in pain.

”..Your wounds aren’t healed yet—don’t move around so much.”

Hestia, watching with guilt and heartache, advised him, then directly pulled his reclining upper body into her embrace.

Instantly, a soft, full sensation pressed against the back of his head, tormenting the immobilized Lorne with both pain and pleasure.

Seeing Hestia spoon-feeding her ”official big brother,” little Medusa, quietly competitive, refused to be outdone.

”..I’ll apply the medicine!”

With that said, she scooped out a chunk of dark-red ointment and gently spread it over Lorne’s wounds.

Feeling the cool relief of the salve and the delicate slide of fingers across his skin, Lorne’s furrowed brows relaxed; the corners of his mouth even lifted slightly, he was starting to enjoy it.

Hearth goddess feeding him, Gorgon applying medicine....this treatment wouldn’t be traded for a king’s crown.

Lorne sighed inwardly, inevitably letting his imagination run wild.

Actually… if he could enjoy this kind of service every day, he’d be perfectly willing to let Athena whip him daily.

He wouldn’t even mind if the storm came a little fiercer!

Just as the patient on the bed closed his eyes in blissful fantasy, a sudden tug at a chest wound, and a spoon nearly ramming down his throat, made him flail like an oxygen-starved fish, sitting bolt upright in the gentle paradise, face full of grief and indignation.

”..Anna, Hestia, you…”

The resentful accusation died in his throat.

His neck creaked like rusted gears as it stiffly turned upward a few inches, staring in horror at the silver-haired goddess who had appeared beside the bed without him noticing.

Hestia and Medusa beside him wore the exact same frozen posture.

Gulp…

The three swallowed in unison, hearts pounding with guilt.

They instinctively pulled away from each other, performing a sacred separation while loudly proclaiming their innocence.

Yet Athena merely raised a hand in a calming gesture and gave Hestia and Medusa a faint smile.

”..No need, carry on. I’m just passing by to check on him.”

The big and small duo nodded stiffly, faces wooden and mechanical.

Then Athena shifted her gaze to Lorne nestled in the gentle paradise, her smile growing even warmer.

”..Mm, they’re taking good care of you. Looks like you’ll recover in less than a day.”

Lorne also nodded stiffly, cold sweat beading on the back of his neck.

And then Athena’s tone shifted, her smile dazzling.

”..In that case, we’ll move the training up. We start tomorrow morning.”

Hearing that warm, gentle proclamation, Lorne’s vision went black; he nearly fainted dead away.

”..Don’t play too late. Go to bed early tonight.”

Finally, Athena left a tender reminder, waved amicably, turned, and walked out the door.

She even politely closed it behind her.

Yet the instant the third visitor stepped across the threshold, the room erupted with the clatter of bowls, plates, and the wooden box hitting the floor, followed by panicked shouts and a wail that arrived a full minute late.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, in the corridor, the wisdom goddess’s smile vanished.

Her face darkened like the bottom of a pot, veins bulging on her clenched fists, producing crisp cracking sounds from her knuckles.

’I carefully nurtured him to be my attendant god, and Aunt snatched him first!’

’I already warned that guy not to get too close to Artemis, yet he still tangled up with that woman!’

’And tonight, you two were supposed to stay out of it! Why are you both fawning over him now?’

’Every single one of them refuses to let me have a moment’s peace!’

Seeing her mistress’s clearly foul mood, Nike, standing behind her, raised the clay jar in her right hand with some confusion.

”..What about the medicine?”

”..Throw it out!” the wisdom goddess snapped irritably.

”..And the food?” Nike raised the lunch box in her left hand, blinking in distress.

Athena shot a glare at her tactless attendant who always poked the sore spot, ground her silver teeth, and cast a dark gaze toward the living room.

”..Didn’t he still not eat?”

”..Woof?”

At the same time, the golden hunting hound dozing under the table suddenly sensed an invisible chill approaching through the air.

It jolted awake from its dreams and poked out its bewildered, innocent dog head.