Death Knocks on Hell’s Door Chapter 27

Chapter 27 Deception

Venus returned to Olympus and stepped into his palace, pausing before the mirror to admire himself. Cyprus, his sacred island of birth, was covered in blooming white roses. Adonis had woven those roses into a delicate wreath and placed it upon his golden hair, making the God of Beauty appear even more radiant and divine.

He couldn’t bear to take it off. With a whisper of magic, he froze the roses in time, ensuring they would never wither. This way, he could wear them forever. If any of the other gods saw, they would simply assume he had plucked them from his own garden.

Oh, how he longed to see Adonis again tomorrow. The God of Beauty, experiencing love for the first time, could hardly wait.

They had only just parted, yet Venus already found himself drowning in thoughts of him.

But tomorrow, he was supposed to go for a walk by the river with Hephaestus, and the day after, he had promised to go horseback riding with Ares.

Ugh, those two always got in the way of his love life.

Seated at his vanity, Venus propped his chin in one hand, his expression clouded with unhappiness.

He liked Hephaestus and Ares as friends, but who could blame him for loving Adonis more now? To prioritize beauty over friendship was the nature of the God of Love.

Unlike Venus, who was already losing interest in their plans, Hephaestus was anxiously preparing for their outing, anticipation tightening in his chest.

Standing before his mirror, he changed outfits again and again, determined to find the perfect one. He wanted to look his best, to appear as handsome as possible when he saw the one who held his heart.

Hephaestus finally settled on a magnificent red robe, vibrant and fiery like a blaze. Satisfied with his choice, he allowed a small smile to lift the corners of his lips, the crimson of his eyes gleaming with warmth.

But then, his gaze caught the reflection of the birthmark on his face. His eyes darkened instantly, his smile fading.

What was the point of dressing well when he had been born with such an ugly face?

How dare he even look in a mirror?

When Hephaestus suddenly started frequenting Venus’ rose garden, the gods of Olympus were utterly astonished.

“He actually leaves his forge now? Doesn’t he avoid socializing with the other gods?”

“Apart from the three virgin goddesses, no god can escape the charm of His Highness the God of Beauty. Hephaestus must be lusting after him as well. Forgive my bluntness, but isn’t this just a toad dreaming of eating a swan?”

“Exactly. With so many handsome gods and beautiful goddesses already vying for the God of Beauty’s affection, does he seriously think he stands a chance? Never mind his face, would the God of Beauty ever fall for a cripple?”

Hephaestus had long grown used to such scorn and ridicule. He had learned to ignore it. He had always been an outsider on Olympus, and he had convinced himself that appearance was merely an accident of birth. Everyone had the right to pursue love, and to judge someone solely by their looks was disgraceful. Compared to their cruel words, his own scars felt far less ugly.

And yet, staring at his own half-ruined face, Hephaestus felt an unfamiliar, crushing sense of powerlessness and shame.

Reaching for the golden mask he had forged himself, he placed it over his right eye, hiding half of his birthmark.

In an instant, the man in the mirror was transformed. The God of Fire now looked dangerously striking, his allure rivaling even Apollo, the most handsome god on Olympus.

Of course, that list of Olympus’ most handsome gods never included Venus. Comparing other gods to the God of Beauty himself would be unfair. He belonged in the judge’s seat, not the competition.

Hephaestus, naturally, had no place on that list. The gods of Olympus were all striking in appearance. Among such beauty, even being merely average was enough to be considered ugly. And he was far worse than average, burdened with a birthmark that marred half his face. He rarely lifted his head, and few gods ever truly looked at him.

Because of that, no one ever noticed that beneath the scar, Hephaestus’ features were almost unnervingly exquisite. Without that birthmark, he could have outshone even Ares, the famously handsome God of War.

But there were no “ifs.” His fate had been sealed at birth. His face was flawed, his legs crippled, and not even Zeus could change that.

Even with the mask, he could fool himself while standing still in front of a mirror. But the moment he moved, his limp would betray him.

Venus didn’t care about such things.

But Hephaestus did.

How could someone so imperfect as he ever deserve the perfect Venus?

Lifting his gaze, he stared at his reflection. In the depths of his crimson eyes, a storm of unwillingness and defiance burned.

The next day, Venus arrived at the riverside, where Hephaestus had already been waiting.

“You’re early,” Venus remarked, then paused, noticing the mask on Hephaestus’s face. His eyes gleamed with admiration. “That mask is beautiful.”

Hephaestus replied, “Then I shall forge one for you as well.”

“Hephaestus, I was just giving you a compliment. You don’t have to make me one of everything,” Venus said with a laugh.

Hephaestus’ gaze drifted to the wreath of white roses resting on Venus’ golden hair. “Your flower crown is beautiful, too.” You are even more so.

At the mention of Adonis’ gift, Venus immediately perked up, his eyes gleaming with pride and a hint of boastfulness. “Thank you. I think it’s beautiful, too.”

Seeing him so delighted, Hephaestus’ mood lifted as well.

They strolled along the riverbank, their conversation drifting lazily from one topic to another.

Yesterday, when Venus had walked with Adonis, he had been shy and quiet, his gaze often lowering to the ground. But with Hephaestus, he had no such reservations. He chattered away, his words flowing like the river beside them. Hephaestus listened quietly with a smile, occasionally responding, his eyes filled with gentle affection.

But this peaceful, picturesque scene was far from pleasing to a certain god deep beneath the sea.

In his underwater palace, Poseidon sat upon his throne, his expression as cold as ice as he gazed into the water mirror before him.

Reflected in its shimmering surface was the image of Venus and Hephaestus, walking side by side, talking and laughing beneath the sunlight.

As the ruler of all waters, Poseidon could see everything that happened near his domain. He kept a watchful eye on Olympus’ rivers, ensuring that whenever Venus appeared by the water’s edge, his every movement was captured in Poseidon’ sight.

He knew all too well how adored Venus was among the gods.

On the one hand, he felt that such a unique treasure as Venus deserved to be loved by the whole world. And yet, another part of him wanted nothing more than to claim that treasure for himself, to hide him away in the depths of the sea, where no one else could ever lay eyes upon him.

Countless times, Poseidon had been tempted to storm Olympus and seize Venus, to take him to the depths of the sea and raise him himself, but in the end, he regrettably stopped.

Without the divine power of Olympus to nourish him, Venus’ divine essence would never fully form. He might grow up possessing only the strength of a demigod.

That would be imperfect.

Poseidon desired a lover who was perfect in every way. It was an obsession, and not even he could break the rules of fate.

So despite his growing frustration, he could do nothing but wait.

The palace guards, attuned to the shifting moods of the sea, silently cursed their misfortune.

A century ago, when the God of Beauty had first been born, their king had been in excellent spirits. For a time, the seas had known an unprecedented peace, and even they had been able to enjoy a rare period of tranquility.

But that peace had not lasted long. When the King of the Sea could no longer see the God of Beauty, his mood darkened once more, and the storm made a comeback.

At some point, the King of the Sea had developed a peculiar habit. Every so often, he would leave the palace and spend a day on the island of Cyprus. And every time he returned, his temper would be notably improved, allowing the sea to rest once more.

The water gods had speculated that there might be something like a tranquilizer on the island of Cyprus that could sooth His Majesty’s irritability.

After much debate, they always arrived at the same conclusion. Cyprus was the God of Beauty’s sacred island. If the mere birth of the God of Beauty had once been enough to lift Poseidon’s spirits, then perhaps visiting the island now, surrounded by traces of his presence, was enough to bring him peace.

But this time, the King of the Sea had only returned from Cyprus for a day, so why was he unhappy again?

The answer soon became clear as a third figure appeared in the water mirror.

Venus and Hephaestus, still walking along the riverbank, had crossed paths with the God of War.

Six eyes met. The air grew tense.

The moment Ares saw Hephaestus, jealousy flared hot in his chest. His voice was sharp as he turned to Venus. “Why are you with him again? You turned down my invitation to go riding today. Was it so you could spend time with him instead?”

Venus had spent two consecutive days walking with Hephaestus, while Ares had only managed to claim a single outing. He felt utterly slighted.

Hephaestus frowned and stepped forward, shielding Venus behind him. “Venus’ time doesn’t belong to you alone. He accompanied you horseback riding yesterday, so what’s wrong with me accompanying him for a walk?”

Venus’s heart skipped a beat. Oh no. He was about to be exposed.

Sure enough, Ares’ expression darkened. “What are you talking about? Didn’t Venus spend yesterday walking with you?”

Hephaestus was equally displeased. “He was clearly horseback riding with you—”

Both gods fell silent at once. Realizations dawning, they turned to look at Venus.

Ares was the first to break the silence. “Venus, where exactly were you yesterday?”

Venus: “……”

He paused for a brief moment, then answered calmly, “I didn’t go anywhere. I was in my garden the whole time, making flower wreaths.”

The white rose wreath atop his golden hair lent credibility to his words.

“But,” Ares frowned, still suspicious, “you told me you were going on a walk with Hephaestus yesterday. Why did you lie to me?”

Venus’ mind worked fast. With a soft sigh, he said, “I was planning to walk by the river with Hephaestus, but we rescheduled for today.” His tone carried just the right hint of exasperation. “I felt a little dizzy yesterday afternoon and didn’t want to go out, so I postponed my appointment with Hephaestus, and that’s why I told you I was free the day after tomorrow. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d worry.”

To Ares, this explanation made perfect sense. He was, after all, the God of War, known for his well-developed physique but simple mind.

So it turned out this was a kind lie from Venus, because he didn’t want him to worry about his health. Even though he was dizzy, he still agreed to go horseback riding with him. Venus must care about him a lot.

Ares was immediately touched. His suspicion melted into guilt. “If you weren’t feeling well, why did you still agree to ride with me? You shouldn’t push yourself so hard. Are you feeling better now? Honestly, if you’re still unwell, I don’t mind waiting until later……”

But Hephaestus had caught onto something.

Something didn’t add up.

In his understanding, Ares had been the first to ask Venus for an outing. If Ares had invited him before Hephaestus did, then why had Venus told Ares he was already going on a walk with him? Venus wasn’t the God of Prophecy. He couldn’t have known Hephaestus would come looking for him.

Unless, of course, he had been lying.

Before Hephaestus could raise his questions, Venus looked at him and said, “Hephaestus, even if you hadn’t come to find me, I was planning to invite you for a walk.”

Hephaestus’ mind went blank.

Venus had already intended to ask him?

His heart pounded in disbelief. He could hardly fathom that he could actually receive the favor of the God of Beauty himself.

So even though Ares was the first to ask Venus out on a date, Venus told Ares that he wanted to take a walk with Hephaestus first, because he had already decided in his heart to go on a date with him today. The fact that his date was scheduled before Ares’ meant that he held a more important place in Venus’ heart than Ares. As for Venus telling him yesterday afternoon that he had already promised to go horseback riding with Ares, it must have been because he didn’t want him to realize that he was actually feeling unwell and couldn’t go out at all.

Venus was always so kind.

It all made perfect sense.

Hephaestus softened, his concern returning. “Are you still feeling dizzy?”

“I’m fine now.” Venus shook his head, offering a sweet, innocent smile. “I just needed a little rest. I even had the energy to make flower wreaths.”

Only then did Ares and Hephaestus relax, their suspicions completely dispelled.

Meanwhile, deep beneath the sea, Poseidon watched from his throne, his gaze fixed on the water mirror. There, Venus continued to lie effortlessly, deceiving both the God of Fire and the God of War without so much as a flicker of hesitation.

The ice in Poseidon’s eyes melted, replaced by delight.

How could he not know who was with Venus yesterday afternoon?

Even Hermes, the God of Deception himself, would have been impressed by Venus’ flawless ability to lie with a straight face.

If you enjoy this novel, support the Translator ginevre on her ko-fi account :))