Chapter Text
“Where… am I?”
Hestia’s eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim glow of an unfamiliar room.
She blinked, taking in the cold white walls, the gleam of marble, and a massive screen embedded at the room’s center.
It looked too modern, too sterile—a jarring contrast to the world she knew.
For a moment, it almost reminded her of those luxurious conference rooms back in Korea, but that couldn’t be right.
She was in her favorite novel’s world, not—
Her breath hitched as she noticed the people surrounding her.
Familiar faces, each one she’d only ever read about, filled the room.
Her gaze fell on Cael first. He looked haggard, his usually vibrant eyes dimmed, shadows lingering beneath them.
Her heart twisted. How long had he been suffering like this?
To her left, the Crown Prince and Princess stood in resplendent silence, backs straight and confused faces.
Anger bubbled up in her chest; they had caused Cael so much pain. But she forced herself to remain still. “ Keep calm, Hestia. You can’t afford to make a scene.”
As she took in the crowd—nobles, generals, the sweetheart Madame Harmonia—a sudden, booming voice filled the room.
“ Greetings, humans. ”
The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, resonating through the walls and rattling down to her very bones.
Every head turned, every breath stilled.
Hestia felt her throat close up, too stunned to respond.
“G-God?” a voice stammered from the far side of the room.
She recognized it as a lesser noble, someone usually quick to praise Diana. His voice trembled. “Is that you?”
“Yes,” the voice replied with calm authority. “I am the one who created you. And I have brought you all here to bear witness to my forsaken child’s suffering. I can no longer turn away.”
Confused murmurs rippled through the room.
Heads turned, eyes darting, each trying to make sense of this strange pronouncement.
The Crown Prince cleared his throat, his voice laced with the haughty confidence that only royalty possessed.
“Your holiness, may we ask why? Are we not here to witness the light and good of your chosen saintess, Diana?”
Hestia felt a prickle of irritation, though she remained silent.
But the god’s voice hardened, the warmth draining out of it like a frost spreading over the room. “I am not speaking of you, Diana. You ceased to be my child the moment you chose power over the people, abandoning your gifts for your own gain.”
A ripple of shock passed through the crowd. All eyes turned to Diana, whose face had gone deathly pale.
“W-what?” Diana stammered, her voice barely a whisper.
She seemed to shrink back, casting a pleading glance at the Crown Prince.
“My god, I have only ever used my powers for your glory—for the good of the kingdom!”
“Once, perhaps,”
the god’s voice replied coldly,
“but no longer.
The moment you pledged yourself to the Crown Prince, you offered your gifts only to the palace, neglecting the people who truly needed you.”
Diana’s mouth opened and closed in shock, but no words came out.
A silence settled over the room, heavy and oppressive.
Hestia’s gaze returned to the enormous screen, and as if sensing her focus, it flickered to life.
Words slowly appeared, each letter blazing bright against the dark backdrop.
“For my derelict favorite.”
The words hung in the air, leaving a chill in their wake.
Hestia’s heart skipped a beat. Who… was this ‘favorite’?
A murmur spread through the room, and someone whispered, “Then… who are we meant to watch?”
The screen dimmed momentarily, then brightened, showing an image of a young woman standing alone, her expression weary but resolute.
Hestia’s heart clenched. She knew that face all too well. It was her own.
The god’s voice echoed again, softer but unmistakably filled with sorrow.
“Watch now, and see what my true child has endured.”
The room was silent as the first scene began to play.