The God of Underworld-Chapter 60 - 15: Regretfully

The golden halls of Olympus rang with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets as the gods celebrated the sentence of the traitor, Prometheus.

Wine flowed like rivers, ambrosia piled high in silver bowls, and the sweet scent of nectar perfumed the air.

At the long divine table, Hades sat quietly, picking at his food. Unlike the other gods, his presence did not boast arrogance or flamboyance—rather, it radiated a quiet, undeniable power.

His expression was stoic, indifferent to the roaring festivities around him. That is, until she started to het inside his personal space.

Aphrodite.

Golden-haired, with eyes like melting honey and skin that shimmered like the first blush of dawn, the newly born goddess floated beside Hades, her presence instantly capturing the attention of every god in the hall.

Yet she had eyes for only one.

"Lord Hades, am I correct?" she said sweetly, hovering beside his chair with a radiant smile, "May I ask, what is your favorite food?"

Hades didn’t even glance up from his plate as he replied coolly, "Anything that tastes good."

Aphrodite blinked, momentarily surprised at the simplicity, then giggled. "Alright then. What about your favorite color?"

"Purple."

Purple is power. Nobility. Grace. He had always liked that color even as a human in his past life.

So his answer came without hesitation, and Aphrodite twirled her golden hair around her finger thoughtfully.

"Hmm... do you like long hair or short hair?"

Hades finally looked at her—just briefly, his dark eyes locking with hers for a second that felt like an eternity. "Long hair. It brings out one’s elegance better."

Aphrodite leaned forward, her smile becoming more mischievous.

"Do you prefer younger girls... or mature women?"

The hall grew slightly quieter. A few gods subtly turned their heads to listen. A few not-so-subtly leaned in.

After all, quite majority of gods prefer younger and ’minor’ lovers.

Hades chewed a piece of meat slowly, swallowed, and answered evenly, "Mature women. They understand when to talk, and when to keep their mouth shut."

His eyes wandered at Aphrodite, implying that he wants her to shut up.

Aphrodite laughed again, full and musical, like a song rippling over a still lake. "You’re so fun to talk to, lord Hades."

"I wasn’t trying to be," he said plainly, sipping his goblet.

But that didn’t discourage her in the slightest.

She continued—questions upon questions.

His favorite season, which Hades answered to be wintor.

Favorite flower, which Hades replied to be wisteria.

Thoughts on love, with Hades answering he haven’t thought about it yet.

His opinion on mortals, with Hades answering that he finds them intriguing and full of potential, but is annoyed by their stupidity.

If he found her beautiful, which he did.

If he thought she talked too much, and whatnot.

Hades answered each questions like he was swatting a fly—calm, unbothered, honest.

He even admitted, "Yes, you talk too much," which made Aphrodite laugh even harder and settle in closer beside him.

Across the hall, the Olympians seethed.

A god narrowed his eyes, pausing mid-drink.

Another leaned on the table, pouting dramatically.

Poseidon crushed a grape with his fingers, imagining it was Hades’ face.

Even Zeus fumed quietly, a thundercloud forming behind his eyes as he watched the goddess of beauty orbiting around his older brother like a lovesick moron.

"He’s not even trying," Themis whispered, clearly amused.

"He doesn’t need to, many would throw themselves at him if he asked." A goddess replied, sipping her wine, eyes in heart shape as she stared at Hades.

"Why is he following him around like a lost puppy?" Poseidon muttered.

No one had the answer.

But Aphrodite didn’t care. She circled Hades like a comet, her smile unshaken, her eyes shining.

And Hades, unbothered and ever-composed, simply kept eating—perhaps the only god on Olympus who could enjoy a meal while being interrogated by desire incarnate.

Only the smallest of smirks tugged at the corner of his lips when no one was watching.

Except Aphrodite. She saw it—and she knew.

She was getting closer.

Then, as the golden plates were cleared and the last goblet of ambrosia drained, Hades rose quietly from his seat.

"I’ll be taking my leave," he declared, his deep voice echoing through the celebratory hall.

No one responded. Not immediately.

But the silence was not one of respect—it was relief cloaked in reverence. Behind the still faces and polite nods, a wave of hidden smiles spread like wildfire.

Finally!

The oppressive weight in the air seemed to lift. The fear, the unease that lingered when the Lord of the Underworld was in their presence—all of it faded.

Wine tasted sweeter.

The fire burned warmer.

Music returned with a livelier rhythm.

Now they could really enjoy the party.

Already, gods and spirits alike were shifting in their seats, angling themselves toward Aphrodite—each of them eager to claim her attention now that the shadow of Hades was leaving the hall.

But their hopes were shattered with a single sentence.

"I’ll follow you," Aphrodite said sweetly, rising from her seat and floating gracefully behind him.

The party froze again.

Every gods turned toward her in disbelief.

Hades paused mid-step and glanced back. "You’re... serious?"

Aphrodite nodded, smiling as golden strands of her hair shimmered in the torchlight.

"I’m going to the Underworld with you."

Hades blinked. "The Underworld isn’t beautiful. It’s filled with endless night, iron skies, and rivers of the dead. The air tastes like ashes and the smell reeks of the dead."

"I don’t mind," she said.

Hades frowned. "It’s loud where it shouldn’t be and quiet where it should scream. You’ll hear mourning songs echo from caves, see wandering souls who’ve forgotten their own names. Nothing grows without struggle. Everything is a torment and pain."

"I don’t mind," she repeated, still smiling.

He stared at her. "We’re terribly overworked. Reincarnation petitions, judgment hearings, territorial disputes between shades, minor spirits demanding recognition, and the occasional cursed hero trying to fight their way out. There’s no rest. And certainly no parties like this."

"I still don’t mind."

"Minthe keeps accidentally planting mint in sacred places. Charon is always complaining about bridge tolls. And many complained that they are being paid less the amount work that they do.

Aphrodite chuckled, unfazed. "I can help with that."

"..." Hades narrowed his eyes. "You know, If a goddess of beauty starts living in the Underworld, mortals might start thinking death is beautiful. They’ll throw away their lives to find you."

Aphrodite tilted her head, golden eyes gleaming. "Then we’ll deal with that after I settle in."

He stared at her for a long, quiet moment.

The gods behind them held their breath. Zeus clenched his goblet until the gold dented.

A god muttered curses.

Poseidon had already given up.

Themis simply watched, intrigued.

And finally... Hades sighed.

"Very well," he said.

Aphrodite’s smile widened like the dawn.

As Hades turned and exited the hall, the goddess of beauty followed with light steps, her glow trailing behind him like a second moon descending into the abyss.

And for the first time in divine memory... Olympus truly fell silent.

*

*

*

The dark gates of the Underworld creaked open with a groan like thunder rumbling through bone.

Shadows parted before their master, revealing the obsidian steps that led down into the City of the Dead.

Hades stepped through first, his aura dimming to match the gloom of his kingdom.

Behind him, Aphrodite followed with an elegance that seemed wholly alien to the realm—her feet never quite touching the ground, and every step leaving a faint golden glow before being swallowed by the earth.

The spirits of the dead paused in their wandering. Even Cerberus blinked all three of his eyes in confused curiosity.

But before either of them could take another step into the heart of the realm, two goddesses appeared before them.

A golden shimmer to the left, and a swirl of purple mist to the right.

Hera and Hecate.

Hera stood with arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

"I expected you to attend a council meeting," she said sharply, voice clipped like a blade of law. "Not pick up girls like some mortal prince in heat."

Behind Hades, Aphrodite gave a sweet wave. "Greetings lady Hera, Lord Hades speaks highly of you."

Hera froze.

But she son recovered and glared at her like she might smite her on the spot.

Hades exhaled, rubbing his temples. "She didn’t exactly give me a choice. She’s incredibly persistent. And loud."

"I’m persuasive," Aphrodite corrected with a wink.

Hera eyed her for a long, silent moment—long enough that Hades instinctively took a step back, half-expecting thunderbolts or curses.

But instead, Hera grabbed Aphrodite by the wrist.

"You. With me’ she ordered.

Before anyone could object, the two vanished in a flicker of golden light.

Hecate chuckled softly and gave Hades a sympathetic smile.

"Welcome home," she said warmly, her voice as calm as midnight wind.

Then she too vanished, her purple mist dissolving into the air.

And Hades was left standing alone in his own realm, blinking dumbly at the empty space before him.

He slowly looked around, shoulders slumping.

"...I was gone for an hour."

Cerberus whined.

A group of souls began arguing over their place in line for judgment.

The dead started muttering rumors already. The Underworld had changed. A new presence had entered. Something warm. Something strange.

Hades sighed.

So began the newest Chapter of the Underworld... with beauty descending into death.

"I should’ve stayed with Prometheus."