"Oakheart" was on North Street.
Setting out from here.
After about half an hour.
The "Vulcan's Red House," which served as both the workshop and headquarters of the Hephaestus Familia, finally came into view.
The roar of forging echoed here year-round, and the air was filled with the mingled smells of coke and metal.
Just upon entering the main hall.
A wave of heat mixed with the scent of scorched metal washed over them—the signature smell of a forging Familia.
However.
Even more striking than this heat was an utterly miserable wail that assaulted them first.
"Wahhh... Hephaestus~~~~!"
"You can't do this to me!"
"I'm going to starve to death!"
The voice was shrill, like a cuckoo crying blood, enough to sadden listeners and move hearers to tears.
Anyone who didn't know better would think some horrific case of deity abuse was happening here.
And there.
Beside a reception table in the corner of the hall.
A blue-and-white indistinct mass was curled up there.
It was a person.
Or, more accurately.
A god.
That signature twin-tails.
And that blue ribbon passing under the chest, straining to create a shocking curve.
Who else could it be but Hestia?
However.
At this very moment.
Hestia was rolling her face across the tabletop like a salted fish that had lost its dreams, emitting a series of noises that drew sidelong glances.
An aura of gloom, a black miasma of despair, emanated from her entire being.
*Gurgle...*
"Wuwu... so hungry..."
"I haven't eaten for several hours, that heartless Hephaestus..."
Hestia lifted her head.
—Her originally energetic, round face was now scrunched up like a bitter melon.
The cause of the matter was simple.
Not long ago.
She had finally slept her fill, and with a head of messy, sticking-up bed hair, she groggily crawled out of the guest room in search of food.
Following the usual routine.
Even though she had perfectly missed lunchtime at this hour.
However.
As long as she wandered around the workshop a bit, then blinked those big, watery eyes twice, and called out in that sickeningly sweet voice, "Hephaestus~".
The sharp-tongued but soft-hearted Hephaestus would, while scolding her with "I really don't know what to do with you," have someone bring out a steaming hot lunch.
This move had never failed before.
This was Hestia's confidence, her sense of security.
But then!
Today!
The script changed!
When Hestia, familiar with the route, made her way to the entrance of Hephaestus's private workshop.
What greeted her wasn't Hephaestus's sigh tinged with helpless indulgence.
But a cold, wooden sign hanging from the doorknob that read: [In Seclusion. Do Not Disturb. Not Even Hestia!].
And the door was locked from the inside!
No matter how much Hestia knocked on the door, acted cute, or even threw a tantrum outside.
There was not a single sound inside.
It was as if her closest friend, who was usually so kind to her, had suddenly vanished into thin air.
"This is too much!"
Hestia slammed her fist on the table in grief and anger.
"Even Tsubaki is not here! Not a single person in the Familia is paying attention to me!"
"I am a noble goddess, after all!"
"Growl..."
Another loud stomach rumble.
Then,
The sound of footsteps suddenly came from the door.
Hestia's large blue eyes, which had lost their shine, struggled to turn.
When she saw who it was,
"Heimdall——!!!"
A mournful wail instantly echoed through the entire hall!
Hestia used her hands and feet to propel herself from the chair, rushing over.
"Wahhh... you're finally back!"
"If you hadn't returned, I would have starved to death here, thanks to Hephaestus!"
Without caring if there were others present, Hestia hugged Heimdall's waist tightly, her chubby face rubbing against his waist, with tears and snot flowing freely.
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