Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator [126] [DDD!]

December Double Drop!

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"Is it just me, or does this scene feel... out of place?"

Even Suren found himself mesmerized by the stunning garden before him. This was no sight to be seen in the mortal realm, not even in the Age of Gods. Stroking his chin thoughtfully, he muttered to himself, "A garden here in the Underworld… Could this be Elysium?"

Even in the divine era, the natural order of the mortal realm obeyed the cycle of seasons. Flowers and plants from different seasons would never bloom together in the same garden.

Yet here, that very impossibility unfolded, as if this place were a natural haven for all beauty on Earth.

"No, no, little one, Elysium is a paradise Hades built for humans. This garden, however, is my Persephone's private retreat."

From behind him, a languid yet majestic voice chimed in, belonging to a young woman sprawled gracefully across a bench. She possessed an ethereal beauty and noble air no mortal could ever hope to embody. Even in repose, she exuded an effortless elegance that made one feel unworthy to gaze upon her.

Suren frowned slightly but held his peace. After all, by the rules of the Underworld, shouldn't he seek an audience with Hades first upon reaching its capital?

"Ordinarily, yes. The dead are Hades' business, and I rarely interfere in his affairs."

The beautiful woman, Persephone, seemed to sense his confusion and explained with a gentle smile. "But I feel… beautiful creatures deserve a little... privilege, don't you think?"

"A delicate life, wilting in the prime of its 'springtime.' Such a pity…" She sighed, casting a wistful look at him. "So, I've opened a back door for you, my dear. How about becoming my gardener here from now on?"

"Why, little one, my garden here is far more beautiful than that Elysium of Hades', and you're only the second soul to ever set foot here!"

According to Underworld rules, those who braved the arduous journey across the five rivers and past Cerberus to reach its capital were to be judged by Hades himself. He alone would decide whether they entered Elysium or faced Tartarus.

"Suren, at your service, Lady Persephone. It's an honor to meet you."

Suren greeted her with flawless decorum. "Though I must admit, I'm still set on battling through the Underworld to return to the mortal realm. Perhaps, when my journey is truly over and I come to rest here in peace, I'll gladly tend to your garden."

Suren held a respectful view toward the gods, and Persephone's gentle demeanor only made him more inclined toward civility.

"No, no, dear little one!" Persephone shook her head, wagging a playful finger. "The dead belong to the Underworld, and once here, no soul may return to the land of the living."

"Otherwise, where would the rule of the Underworld stand? What would you mortals take the Underworld for, hmm?"

"...I'm afraid my adventure is far from over, Lady Persephone. My journey is only just beginning, and even without your approval, I intend to see it through."

Suren tried to keep the conversation civil, but Persephone's friendly disposition vanished as she sat up, her expression hardening.

"Suren! Do you intend to make an enemy of the Underworld?"

Her divine presence descended upon him, her authority undeniable in this domain where she ruled alongside Hades. Here, in the Underworld, she wielded absolute control.

"I knew it wouldn't be that simple," Suren sighed, shaking his head. He wasn't opposed to showing his strength here; in his mind, remodeling the Underworld was already part of his long-term plan.

Demonstrating his power early on would set the stage for his later reforms in the Underworld.

"Suren, I know you bear the blessings of Hera, Hestia, and Athena."

Persephone looked him over carefully, but continued, "But unless the Almighty Zeus himself decrees it, you'll have to fight your way out if you want to leave. Think you can survive a match against all the monsters here?"

"Perhaps I could even unleash a Gigantes for you?"

The implication was clear: win a resurrection match? Over her dead body.

"...."

Just as Suren was about to respond, his sharp instincts picked up on a change. He remained still, waiting in silence.

Persephone, puzzled by his reaction, was about to speak when, suddenly, a greater power—cold, vast, solemn, and lifeless—swept into the garden. It was a force embodying the end of all life, enveloping this vibrant garden with a deathly aura.

"Enough, Persephone. Don't be so willful." The newcomer's tone was cool, but a thread of tenderness lay hidden within. "Newly departed soul, you have yet to stand before the Gates of Truth for judgment."

"But I am aware of your deeds…"

Hades murmured appreciatively. "Suren, even in the dead silence of the Underworld, I have heard of your virtues and heroism. Today, witnessing your actions, I am certain you are indeed a good and noble hero."

However, he added with a note of regret, "A hero such as you should, by rights, hold a position of authority in the Underworld. I would invite you to become a judge, second only to me, sharing in the governance of this realm…"

At his words, Persephone muttered petulantly, "Second only to you? What about me, then?"

Suren chose to ignore the sudden shift in Persephone's demeanor, sensing that Hades had more to say.

Indeed, Hades continued, "But I suspect that you, Suren, would not remain here, bound to the Underworld."

Suren nodded. "For the living, there are things that must be done. The dead have their own realm."

"My path isn't complete. Even if I've chanced upon the Underworld, I'll return to the mortal world soon enough," he replied, meeting Hades' gaze. "After all, you know as well as I do, in the Age of Gods, 'death' is hardly final."

"Indeed. I have long sought to create a paradise in the Underworld, one as beautiful as the mortal world."

Hades shared his vision with Suren, for he saw in him a kindred spirit. Suren, he believed, might be the only one capable of understanding his ideals.

"The world of the living is chaotic; the world of the dead, serene," Hades mused. "But souls yearn for passion and resist oblivion, hence why they cling to life as they enter the Underworld."

"It only means I have failed as King of the Underworld," he sighed. "If they yearn for the world above, then I haven't made the world below beautiful enough."

"Humans scorn the Underworld but never the heavens," Hades continued. "If I make the Underworld as beautiful as the heavens atop Olympus, perhaps they'd no longer long for life above?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Persephone cut in, her voice sharp. "Hades, have I not told you this before?"

"I oppose your vision."

"Death is the ultimate equalizer, the punishment for all living beings. If the afterlife becomes more beautiful than life itself, who would even want to live?"

Persephone objected to Hades' leniency and love for humans. "Humans should pursue happiness in life. If they find peace after death, what would be the point of living?"

"If this continues, the world above will lose all meaning. Everyone will pursue the afterlife instead!"

Persephone had often criticized Hades for being overly kind and indulgent with humans. Living humans trespassing into the Underworld were merely detained, and he constantly sought ways to make the afterlife more pleasant.

Born in the mortal world as the daughter of the goddess of agriculture, Persephone believed that all beauty should be found in the living world. The Underworld was for the dead, and death itself should remain as terrifying as ever. She saw the Underworld as something that should be kept dark, even dreadful.

Hades, however, didn't seem surprised. This ideological clash between the King and Queen of the Underworld was likely a long-standing matter.

The current state of the Underworld was a compromise—a terrifying abyss for punishing souls, yet also the beautiful Elysium.

He looked at Suren and asked, "What do you think, Suren?"

It seemed Hades hadn't conversed like this with someone in ages. He spoke slowly, yet each word carried his unwavering resolve, conveying his strong convictions.

Suren shook his head. "Your intentions are noble, but humanity… is unworthy of such a paradise in the Underworld."

"You will see, Lord Hades, that intelligent beings require restraint and discipline. If all they know is beauty, they will lose direction, and that loss is a dangerous consequence."

Faced with Hades' grand vision for a perfect Underworld, even Suren, who often championed a divine era of harmony, found himself at odds.

This came as a surprise to Hades, who had assumed Suren would support his vision, perhaps even advising him on making the Underworld a sanctuary suited for human souls.

But Suren had just doused him in cold water, bluntly declaring humanity unworthy.

Harsh words, abstract reasoning—Suren hadn't even fully explained himself.

Hades, puzzled, listened as Suren clarified, "Humans need the freedom to choose."

"Your ideal paradise in the Underworld is simply too perfect, so perfect it leaves no room for choice. Without choice, humans have no future. They would be trapped, endlessly repeating the same life."

"Every day would be a copy of the last, unchanged even after millennia."

"Lord Hades, do you understand? This would be the cruelest punishment imaginable."

"Punishment? How absurd!" Persephone protested before Hades could respond. "If that's punishment, then isn't the Underworld itself a worse hell than Tartarus?"

"Physical suffering and toil are nothing compared to mental enslavement," Suren replied. "Humans need the right to choose, Lord Hades. Pure indulgence isn't the answer."

"Humanity is a restless race, driven by labor and ambition. Take these away, and they lose their essence."

Hades' vision flirted dangerously close to the philosophy of the Beast of Calamity, a harbinger of humanity's downfall. Such a notion would spell disaster for the Greeks if Hades' Underworld mirrored it.

"Ah… It's a pity, Suren. Even you cannot understand my heart."

Hades was disappointed. He'd hoped to gain a reliable ally, yet this was the result.

In fact, Suren's response was harsher than Persephone's. He had essentially rejected Hades' every action.

But Hades showed no anger. Instead, he merely said, "Time will tell. Whether I am right is not for one or two people to judge. I will show you all that I am the answer Greece seeks for death!"

"Suren, if you wish to return to the mortal world, then persuade Persephone and me."

Hades continued, "I acknowledge you as a hero of great worth. Your legend is still unfolding, and if so, you may indeed go back. Yet you still need Persephone's blessing."

Such was Hades, even amid the cold silence of the Underworld, showing boundless indulgence toward humanity.

Even when Theseus and his companion attempted to abduct Persephone, he merely imprisoned the fools near Cerberus' lair.

Had it been Zeus, a thunderbolt would have struck them on the spot.

True, Zeus loved humanity, but he was the god of fatherhood, and his authority always exceeded his affection.

Hades took his leave, and Persephone reclined again, adopting a posture that embodied the languid grace of the Underworld's queen.

She looked at Suren. "Don't get your hopes up. I won't allow you to return to the mortal realm. The dead belong with the dead."

"No soul has ever returned from the Underworld," she declared. "Allowing you to return would mean you'd be known as the 'Conqueror of the Underworld,' as if you had bested us all."

"Hades may not care about such a title, but as the Queen, I certainly do!"

Difficult, was all Suren could think. No one had ever hinted that the Queen, supposedly kidnapped by Hades, was actually this formidable.

Her reasons weren't insurmountable, but she'd made them seem like monumental issues.

"And don't think of forcing your way through. I may not be a battle goddess, but I hold the keys to Tartarus!"

Persephone added as a warning, "Attempt anything foolish, and I'll release a Gigantes."

A Gigantes—again, she brought it up!

The Gigantes were the giant foes of the Olympians.

They were fragments of the White Titan, scattered across the Age of Gods after being defeated by a sacred sword from another world. One head flew to the Asian plains, while the rest fell across various lands.

Thus, legends of battles against giants are recorded in many myths.

The Gigantes fragment in Greece retained enough power to require sealing in Tartarus, awaiting the destined hero who would finally aid the gods in subduing them.

Even after reincarnation, these Gigantes fragments held strength that could stall the Twelve Olympians, proving they were no minor threat.

"...."

What a tactician. Suren rubbed his temples, discarding his plan to fight through the Underworld.

He wasn't afraid of a battle, but should this capricious Queen unleash the Gigantes in retaliation, it could spell disaster for all of Greece—a lose-lose scenario, likely ending in mutual destruction.

Persephone may have been bluffing, but he wasn't about to bet on it. Not yet.

After a moment of silence, he spoke. "Lady Persephone, when I return here one day, I'll stand with you in opposing Lord Hades' ambitions. I also disagree with making the afterlife more beautiful than the mortal realm."

"That is the only thing I can offer to earn your favor. If that's still not enough, then I have no other choice."

Though his words professed defeat, a dangerous aura began emanating from Suren, hinting that he was prepared to fight.

No quarrel was ideal, but he was never one to shy away.

Thankfully, Persephone wasn't wholly inflexible. She could, in fact, be reasoned with.

If Orpheus could charm her with a melody, Suren could surely negotiate too!

Attitude, after all, was but a mask for the heart. Persephone, no matter how stubborn she appeared, would still relent if she gained what she desired.

Finally, Persephone relented, nodding with a radiant smile. "Oh, my beautiful Suren, you're a clever one indeed. You, of all people, are far from the cold silence of the Underworld. A flame still burns within your heart!"

"Then go, return to the world that awaits you."

She pinned a golden branch to his collar and said, "This is a token of my favor, Suren. With this, you may freely traverse between the Underworld and the mortal realm."

If a hero like Suren was fated to leave the Underworld, granting him partial authority here was the natural choice. Now, he would be an extension of the Underworld's power.

"Quite the promotion," Suren murmured with a shrug. By day, a hero; by night, a judge. Free passage between realms was a privilege few could boast.

Though Persephone had pressed him with this "resurrection match," he didn't mind; it granted him significant freedom, and he knew it.

"So, how do I get back to the mortal realm?"

Suren fingered the golden branch on his collar, curious about the path to cross back over.

"Head through my garden, keep going up, and above all—don't look back."

Persephone gave him one last warning. "Remember, you're but a soul right now. Each glance behind will steep you further in the Underworld's aura."

"If the Underworld clings to you too heavily, you'll never make it back to the mortal realm."

"Only if you can regain a living body can you withstand the Underworld's grasp."

---

Suren walked onward, traversing the seemingly endless path of the Underworld in silence.

Around him, echoes whispered, voices that seemed to seep into his very soul. For a spirit obsessed with wealth, they would have sounded like the soft clink of gold coins; for a soul fueled by battle, the clash of weapons.

For Suren, however, it was an unrelenting torrent of suffering, cries of the weak, and desperate prayers for relief. Even the voice of the goddess Athena surfaced, as if every whisper conveyed a single will—

They all wanted Suren to stay.

This was not the lure of illusions or inner demons; it was the natural pull of the Underworld on spirits who sought to break free.

But Suren ignored it all, carrying within him the weight of Greece, the Greece of the divine age—how could the whispers of the Underworld alone stop him?

He continued, walking onward for what felt like an eternity, until at last, he saw a faint glimmer of light.

On the very brink of leaving the Underworld, Suren stopped and made a choice he would make only once in his lifetime—a choice that revealed a sight he would see but once.

He stood at the Underworld's threshold. One step was all it would take to return to the mortal realm.

But he turned back.

And he saw—

Countless tormented souls, lost to despair, damned sinners enduring endless punishment. For centuries, they'd repeated these tortures, their tears pooling into a river of sorrow that flowed eternally in the Underworld.

These souls and sinners, warped beyond recognition by the relentless suffering of the Underworld, had followed him, unknowing, all the way to the gates, only to be unable to cross.

"Pleasure and suffering are two sides of the same coin, Hades. Can't you see that yet?"

"Your love for humanity… has crossed the line into cruelty."

Suren sighed. These spirits were the epitome of souls who could find no peace in death. With no reincarnation, every dead soul was fated to endlessly relive their life's experience in the Underworld.

And with each passing day and year, their sense of self eroded until not even their human form remained.

Hades, however, believed that suffering erased human self-awareness, while pleasure did not, failing to see they were one and the same.

In the moment Suren turned his head, the aura of the Underworld surged toward him like a volcanic eruption, flooding into him with a fierce pull, sweeping surrounding spirits into its gales until some vanished, torn apart by the whirlwind.

With every surge of Underworld's essence, his soul grew heavier.

But even in this pivotal moment, Suren gained new insight.

"Life and death, endlessly intertwined… two sides of the same truth. I have never truly died, so how could I ever be bound to the Underworld?"

"Death is simply another beginning. Only now, at last, do I understand this."

With every ounce of Underworld aura, his soul grew more burdened, further bound to this realm. But Suren knew it was all an illusion of feeling.

Only those with wavering hearts and uncertain minds would feel their souls too heavy to depart.

Now, having pierced through the mysteries of life and death, Suren discerned the essence of reincarnation.

He now knew how to build a cycle of reincarnation in the Underworld, to offer relief to those suffering souls.

Though, at the moment, he couldn't achieve it. It was still just an outline, a thought, a vision.

The heart is stronger than matter—this is true strength.

"At least I've taken the first step." Suren smiled. Though he couldn't finish the work yet, he would never waste his efforts. "If I've gained even this much, my time in the Underworld hasn't been in vain."

"Underworld… wait for me. The day will come when I return…"

Aboard the Argo, Suren's eyes flew open.

Atalanta, who had stayed by his side, noticed instantly. She was about to ask how he felt when she saw the vitality in his expression—nothing like a man who'd just survived a resurrection match in the Underworld.

It wasn't unheard of for a mortal to enter the Underworld. Orpheus had once descended to plead with Hades and Persephone for his beloved Eurydice's soul.

He'd won Hades' favor with his music, moving even stone to sympathy, earning permission to retrieve Eurydice's soul. Though his fear led him to fail in bringing her back, he himself had returned to Greece.

After that, Orpheus had wandered the wilderness for three years, struggling to regain his wits—whether from losing his beloved again or from the horrors he'd witnessed in the Underworld, no one knew.

But Suren had just returned from the Underworld as if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn't died from exhaustion trying to hold the Argo against the Clashing Rocks, but had simply taken a nap.

His heart beat again, and the feeling of immortality returned to him. With his eternal spirit and unbreakable body, Suren could now hold back the Clashing Rocks without being dragged back into the Underworld.

He had grown stronger, edging ever closer to godhood.

Even though he held no divine power nor Zeus's approval to receive godhood.

"Suren, are you alright? How's your body?"

Atalanta's concerned voice tugged him back to reality. "Not bad at all. An unforgettable experience."

Suren touched the golden branch at his collar. Truly, this Age of Gods was one where anything could happen. The golden branch given by Persephone to his spirit remained attached to his collar even now, returned with him to the mortal world.

Such is the power of the gods, he thought, bewildered by the phenomenon.

Initially, he'd intended to use his newfound understanding of life and death to restore his broken body, only to find that it had healed completely.

"Thanks, Hestia. Love you~"

Feeling refreshed, Suren left the cabin and gave each of his fellow Argonauts a good pummeling, banishing their guilt over his death.

With these heroes, physical gestures spoke louder than words. Better to give them a beating than to have them walking on eggshells around him.

Rough, perhaps, but effective. After the brawl, the others grumbled about him but no longer treated him with wary reverence.

"Suren, looks like you're good as new. That means the Argo can set sail again!"

Jason, clutching a sore cheek, grimaced as the other heroes chimed in, "Captain Jason, let's rest another day. Suren's a beast!"

"Alright then, let's have a feast! Wine is a man's medicine!" Jason declared with a clap.

The heroes were always like this—either working or feasting, with no in-between.

If they weren't all heroes, they might have settled for a tamer, quieter party.

Suddenly, Suren spoke up. "If we're having a feast, mind if I skip the wine?"

Jason looked puzzled. "Huh? Don't you drink, Suren?"

Since the other heroes had never invited him to drink, they had no idea that Suren didn't drink.

Suren admitted openly, "What's the big deal? I'm only eighteen—I'm not even old enough to drink."

"What? I had no idea you were just eighteen, Suren!"

Atalanta, already past twenty, suddenly looked crestfallen. Suren had always seemed so reliable that everyone forgot his youth. Who would have thought he was the youngest hero aboard the Argo?

True to his word, Suren refrained from drinking at the feast, clutching a cup of grape juice instead. Watching the others, he finally asked, "By the way, why were all of you so low-energy before?"

He'd barely felt any satisfaction from the fight!

Suren was puzzled. These heroes had godlike constitutions; even an elder without heroic status would have boundless vigor. Making these heroes feel exhausted was no easy feat.

"…Because we're ordinary mortals," Jason admitted after a pause, clapping Suren's shoulder. "Suren, I envy your strength."

"If we all had your power, you'd have an easier time."

Suren's muscles bulged with enough strength to tear through a leather tunic made from mythical beast hide; it seemed only the legendary hide of the Nemean Lion could contain his strength.

But the Nemean Lion was no more—its hide now belonged to Heracles, forming his armor.

With no alternatives, Suren wore the nobleman's toga, though he had hoped Cynthia's self-cleaning leather armor would last him a lifetime.

"If you all had my strength, I'd be even busier!"

Suren's casual response showed that he'd begun to accept these heroes as his own comrades.

After the feast, Suren wandered onto the deck, where the sea breeze cut through the thin, ordinary toga, offering little warmth compared to his old armor.

A hint of longing crept into his voice. "Cynthia… I miss you."

Though Cynthia was only a doe, she had been his family, raising and accompanying him for fifteen years. Last time he'd returned home, he had hoped to see her again, but it had never happened.

The pain of parting lies not in the moment of goodbye but in the sting of unexpected memories.

Suren thought back to his excitement when he'd left the forest, feeling not an ounce of nostalgia for the place he'd lived in for fifteen years.

Who would have thought that, after glimpsing life and death, he would become so sentimental?

The Black Sea was far larger than the Aegean or Marmara Seas, though reaching Colchis from the Bosporus didn't require crossing its entire span—that would be far too dangerous.

Even the Marmara Sea held many perils, let alone the vast Black Sea.

Every voyage in this age of gods bore considerable risk.

The Argo had been sailing on the Black Sea for several days. With no interference from Poseidon and the diligent efforts of the Dioscuri twins, they managed to stay on course.

Before they reached Colchis, however, the Argo arrived unexpectedly at an uninhabited island known as Tynias. The island was untouched by human presence, home only to wild beasts.

Creatures of mythical and divine origins roamed here, and even the bravest heroes wouldn't dare linger.

Jason wanted to press onward, but the seer Amphiarus advised him, "Jason, this may be a sign from fate, or perhaps a god's guidance."

"Let's restock our supplies here—water, food, fruit, spices. We'll need them."

It was the Age of Gods, and islands held every crop imaginable, from olives to cabbages, from potatoes to yams.

The abundance was baffling; who knew how such a small place could hold so many resources?

Best not to question divine matters!

Orpheus, son of Apollo, immediately took Amphiarus' words to heart. They would need to prepare offerings—one never knew when they might encounter a god.

Suren, however, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the wild island.

Because they were about to set foot on an uninhabited island, Suren knew it fell under the domain of Artemis, goddess of the moon and the hunt.

Wild beasts were her creatures, so to ensure a safe hunt, they'd have to offer a prayer to her.

Oddly, people often forgot to offer sacrifices to this goddess, only to incur her wrath as punishment—how much neglect could one god take?

No respect for the Moon Goddess!

Orpheus quickly constructed a small altar. Jason spoke to it, "Oh, Artemis, goddess of the moon and the hunt, bless our harvest. The Argo will offer you our finest catch."

Suren chose not to participate in the ritual, walking straight into the forest.

An odd sense of familiarity had settled within him, a feeling that grew stronger as he ventured onto the island. How was it that everything seemed so familiar…?

Why did this deserted island and its forest feel identical to the one he'd lived in for fifteen years?

Suren didn't believe it was a coincidence.

Especially as he followed the well-worn paths he'd walked for years, seeing a familiar figure—a beautiful doe.

"Cynthia?!"

Despite his suspicions, seeing Cynthia in person still shocked him.

"You—you—"

"Yes, Suren!"

Cynthia's voice was cheerful. "It's been too long, my dear Suren. Have you been well all these years?"

Though Artemis had witnessed every moment of Suren's journey, she wanted to hear it from his lips.

Anything about Suren, after all, could be heard a thousand times and never grow old.

The memories in Suren's mind began to connect, forming a complete picture. The mysterious events, all of it fit together. After a moment of silence, he looked sternly at the doe and asked, "Cynthia, tell me the truth."

"Mmm?"

"Are you, by any chance, the goddess Artemis, Olympian goddess of the moon and the hunt?"

"Wha—who, me?"

Cynthia averted her eyes, nervously pawing at the ground with her foreleg. "How could I be that goddess?"

"Still lying?" Suren crossed his arms, smirking. "Your hoof pawing at the ground? Dead giveaway."

"Cynthia, I'm not a child anymore. You can't fool me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she huffed, all innocence. "Cynthia is just an ordinary doe…"

"When I was nine, the second person I met in the forest was that bard-like man, wasn't he Apollo?"

With his theory in mind, all the details seemed to fall into place, proving his suspicions true.

Realizing she'd been caught, Artemis rose from her doe form, transforming into a tall, fierce figure, every inch embodying the beauty and wild grace of the goddess.

It was the first time she'd shown her true form to Suren.

At a glance, Artemis embodied the cold elegance of the moon, with a presence so aloof and distant it almost felt untouchable.

Her divine aura enveloped the island like a luminous moon rising in a vacant sky, and only Suren could withstand the blinding radiance.

She beamed with joy. "Suren, you can finally bear the full presence of a god!"

But the moment she spoke, her cool aura vanished, replaced by a bright, cheerful demeanor.

"My dear Suren, I only meant to bring you a new set of clothes."

With a delicate smile, Artemis produced a finely crafted leather armor. "Though, I hadn't expected you'd recognize me. Seems there's no hiding it now."

"Cynthia—er, Artemis, this was your idea of 'hiding'?"

Suren pressed a hand to his forehead. "Too crude, too obvious. You'd make a terrible playwright!"

Artemis closed her eyes as she listened to Suren's complaints, barely containing her joy, feeling utterly content in that moment.

My Suren missed me, she thought. Nothing could keep me from him.

---

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