Chapter 45 – A Secret in the Heart and I Finally Understood
The late afternoon sun bathed Rome in a golden glow as Annabeth and Dante stepped out of the upscale clothing boutique, the bell above the door tinkling softly behind them. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of fresh espresso from nearby cafés and the faint floral notes drifting from window boxes overflowing with geraniums. After kissing quite a bit inside the clothing store's private fitting room—hidden behind heavy velvet curtains in a space that felt like their own little world—Annabeth and Dante finally emerged, cheeks flushed and smiles lingering.
Dante, feeling finally free from carrying the growing pile of shopping bags, remembered his power and casually opened a shimmering spatial portal right there on the quiet side street. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed all the purchases through—it vanished into the hotel room back at their accommodation, neatly arranged on the bed. The portal closed with a soft pop, leaving no trace.
Dante held her hand gently, his fingers warm and reassuring against hers, while asking: "So, where do you want to go next?"
Annabeth said, her eyes bright with excitement as she scanned the bustling street ahead: "Well, let's visit the places I was anxious to see—the ones I've only dreamed about from books and movies."
Dante said without hesitation: "No problem. Let's go. What do you think about renting a motorcycle to do part of the Italian movie tradition? You know, wind in our hair, scenic roads—like in all those classic films."
Annabeth said, a spark of adventure in her voice: "Well, I don't see any reason to say no. That sounds perfect."
She then took his hand more firmly and pulled him eagerly in the direction of the nearby rental agency that catered to tourists, her steps light on the ancient cobblestones.
Dante, seeing her smiling so freely while pulling him along—her dark brown curls bouncing with each enthusiastic step—thought quietly to himself: Well, she really liked this date. But well, being trapped since childhood in a place because if you go out, monsters kill you... how could she not be happy finally doing something she likes without having to worry if a monster will jump out of nowhere to kill you? This freedom—it's something she's never had before.
Annabeth glanced back at Dante, noticing his thoughtful expression amid the lively street sounds—vendors calling out, scooters zipping by—and asked: "What is it? What are you thinking?"
Dante said, smiling warmly to reassure her: "It's nothing. I just thought your smile is really beautiful. You should smile more—like this, all the time."
Annabeth teased lightly: "So you're saying I don't smile?"
Dante said playfully: "Well, when we first met, that didn't look like a smile at all when you glared at me in the Big House."
Annabeth said, a hint of defensiveness but mostly amusement: "Well, it's because I was worried you might be dangerous to the camp. After all, that's the only place most of us can call home—our safe haven."
Dante said thoughtfully, the conversation deepening as they walked past historic fountains and gelato stands: "Well, you know, Annabeth, I've always had a question: why don't most of you hate your divine parents? Like, after all, it was them who were irresponsible and had a child they knew they couldn't stay to protect, and they also knew that child would attract monsters that would put the child's life and the parent who stayed to care for them at risk. So why don't you hate them for making you go through all this?"
Annabeth fell silent hearing that, her steps slowing slightly as they passed a street performer playing accordion. She then said with a tired smile, her voice carrying a mix of resignation and longing: "You know, sometimes I catch myself thinking the same thing. Why do I keep waiting for a sign, a visit from a mother I know won't come see me? Why do I insist on earning her approval? You know, I really don't know. I just think she's my mother. She must want to meet me too. And it's just the gods' rules that stop her from coming to see me."
Dante, hearing that vulnerable admission amid the vibrant Roman evening, fell silent and thought deeply: It's true. It's too easy for me to judge them from my superior position for wanting their parents' affection. But after all, unlike them, I had another life. I have memories and learned early to fend for myself. And in this life, even though I made drama about reincarnating here, I have an incredible family: a father who, despite not communicating well with his children, always supported and protected as he could; a mother who protected me since I was little, killing all the monsters that got near our house without ever letting me know; and a sister who, even with her flaws, is still a great sister to me. So, in this situation, what right do I have to judge a bunch of teenagers wanting approval and praise from their parents? After all, even if they're trash in my opinion, they're the parents they have. I really can't understand wanting attention from someone who doesn't care about you, but I won't judge someone who just wants praise, approval, a phrase saying 'you did well, son.' I don't have that right.
Dante then closed his eyes briefly, sighed as if releasing a long-held judgment, and smiled looking at Annabeth—her face softened in the golden hour light—and asked gently: "You know, dear, if you could sit and talk to your mother and say everything you've always wanted to say all these years, would you like to?"
Annabeth was surprised by that question, her eyes widening for a moment before she smiled wistfully and said: "Well, of course I would. But it's a shame that's impossible. But let's drop this pointless and depressing conversation. Let's rent the motorcycle to explore Italy—like normal people."
She then started pulling him again, her enthusiasm returning as the rental shop came into view.
Dante looked at the sky—now turning shades of orange and pink as sunset approached—and thought with quiet determination: Yeah, Zeus, it looks like the universe wants us to face off. After all, even if I politely ask you to let the two meet, with your arrogance you won't allow it. So be it. We'll fight then. After I punch your face and show I have the power to kill you, let's see if you still say it's against the rules... or let's see if your life is worth more than the rules.
Dante then looked at the sky with his dragon eyes—golden slits glowing faintly for a split second—as if he could see Zeus sitting arrogantly on his throne high above Olympus.