“It’s just funny. Eutostea. You have eyes, ears, a nose, and a heart, so look at these two foolish gods who eagerly desire your affection. Look at Apollo, and look at me.” Dionysus confessed genuinely to Eutostea, telling her that she came first, not second. He even confessed while showing a nervous expression.
Blood stood on the back of Eutostea’s clenched fist. Her deep-seated resentment hardened inside her gut like a stone. Her anger which she could not act upon eventually piled up in her. Eutostea has hurt once again.
Her feelings?
She gave a quiet concussion.
What do they matter? Were they even important from the start? Those who want her affection? Them begging? What does it matter?
From the time she faced Apollo, she had a painful realization when she met the gods one by one. Human beings could never dare to disobey them. For them, Eutostea was no better than an ant they could trample on with their glorious feet.
She would have accepted it if she had been like Artemis.
If her father had treated her like a useless pebble from the beginning, she would have given up, thinking it was her duty.
Is it not more miserable to treat her in a way that made her heart flutter and embrace and caress her eyes like a precious thing? She would not deny that Apollo and Dionysus were attractive men, but it was bizarre sophistry to ask her for love now. From the time she left the palace, her purpose was only to survive because she was leading her life as the mortal Eutostea.
But she did not have to confess everything honestly. There was no need to show the slightest of fears. Funnily, the situation was favorable to Eutostea. First, she was safe from Artemis who wants her life and she gained a stable position as the priest of Dionysus. And second, two deities were pulling their wits to catch her eye.
She was none other than Eutostea herself, a woman who was no more significant than an ant. Thebes’ third princess, who is neither beautiful nor chaste, but moderately shrewd, and had a daring flare.
Eutostea sighed and looked at Dionysus. “My affection is directed at no one, Dionysus. Not yet.”
“…”
The green light in Dionysus’ eyes faded at her last words.
Eutostea noticed the change. She continued her speech. “If I tell you the truth now, I’ll have nothing to do but to face Apollo’s wrath.”
“He’d be running like a crazy dog because you insulted him. You know he’s a dead body without his pride.” Dionysus spoke as if he were playing to the rhythm.
Eutostea looked at him and said, “If he doesn’t notice first, I’ll cooperate with the acting as if I’m cursed by oblivion. Who knows? If I keep pretending I don’t remember, he might stop visiting out of boredom.”
‘No, I don’t think so.’
Dionysus was well aware of Apollo’s obsession and did not fully agree with her plan, but Eutostea said she would continue to ignore him, which made him feel much better. He grinned and passed her a glass of wine.
Something entertaining was happening. In his temple. How disgraceful was it to see two of the twelve Olympians roaring around a human priest?
Dionysus welcomed this mess with joy.
Eutostea watched him with a meaningful expression.
He asked her to stay by his side.
She was going to do exactly that. Dionysus was the god who saved her. The god who lacked in some aspects. And yet still shows a cruel personality. The god she serves. It was nothing more than that. She remembered his face when he was talking in his sleep and shedding tears like dew, but Eutostea erased the memory as if she were scattering a handful of sand on a beach.
However, after hearing Dionysus’ confession, the weight of the golden crown on her head felt heavier.
“It’s just funny. Eutostea. You have eyes, ears, a nose, and a heart, so look at these two foolish gods who eagerly desire your affection. Look at Apollo, and look at me.” Dionysus confessed genuinely to Eutostea, telling her that she came first, not second. He even confessed while showing a nervous expression.
Blood stood on the back of Eutostea’s clenched fist. Her deep-seated resentment hardened inside her gut like a stone. Her anger which she could not act upon eventually piled up in her. Eutostea has hurt once again.
Her feelings?
She gave a quiet concussion.
What do they matter? Were they even important from the start? Those who want her affection? Them begging? What does it matter?
From the time she faced Apollo, she had a painful realization when she met the gods one by one. Human beings could never dare to disobey them. For them, Eutostea was no better than an ant they could trample on with their glorious feet.
She would have accepted it if she had been like Artemis.
If her father had treated her like a useless pebble from the beginning, she would have given up, thinking it was her duty.
Is it not more miserable to treat her in a way that made her heart flutter and embrace and caress her eyes like a precious thing? She would not deny that Apollo and Dionysus were attractive men, but it was bizarre sophistry to ask her for love now. From the time she left the palace, her purpose was only to survive because she was leading her life as the mortal Eutostea.
But she did not have to confess everything honestly. There was no need to show the slightest of fears. Funnily, the situation was favorable to Eutostea. First, she was safe from Artemis who wants her life and she gained a stable position as the priest of Dionysus. And second, two deities were pulling their wits to catch her eye.
She was none other than Eutostea herself, a woman who was no more significant than an ant. Thebes’ third princess, who is neither beautiful nor chaste, but moderately shrewd, and had a daring flare.
Eutostea sighed and looked at Dionysus. “My affection is directed at no one, Dionysus. Not yet.”
“…”
The green light in Dionysus’ eyes faded at her last words.
Eutostea noticed the change. She continued her speech. “If I tell you the truth now, I’ll have nothing to do but to face Apollo’s wrath.”
“He’d be running like a crazy dog because you insulted him. You know he’s a dead body without his pride.” Dionysus spoke as if he were playing to the rhythm.
Eutostea looked at him and said, “If he doesn’t notice first, I’ll cooperate with the acting as if I’m cursed by oblivion. Who knows? If I keep pretending I don’t remember, he might stop visiting out of boredom.”
‘No, I don’t think so.’
Dionysus was well aware of Apollo’s obsession and did not fully agree with her plan, but Eutostea said she would continue to ignore him, which made him feel much better. He grinned and passed her a glass of wine.
Something entertaining was happening. In his temple. How disgraceful was it to see two of the twelve Olympians roaring around a human priest?
Dionysus welcomed this mess with joy.
Eutostea watched him with a meaningful expression.
He asked her to stay by his side.
She was going to do exactly that. Dionysus was the god who saved her. The god who lacked in some aspects. And yet still shows a cruel personality. The god she serves. It was nothing more than that. She remembered his face when he was talking in his sleep and shedding tears like dew, but Eutostea erased the memory as if she were scattering a handful of sand on a beach.
However, after hearing Dionysus’ confession, the weight of the golden crown on her head felt heavier.
