On one side was Styx, the chaste and virtuous wife-type goddess whom Eros had practically secured. On the other, a newly met, black-veiled widow-type goddess.
Eros found himself torn, especially after suspecting that the name she gave was likely a false one.
If he didn't leave a mark or bestow a blessing, what if he couldn't find her again later?
By now, Eros had grown very proficient at the act of stamping his mark.
"After all, you're also incredibly beautiful. If I die, I'd hope to see you again in the Underworld."
Faced with Eros's shameless words, the black-veiled goddess chuckled lightly and reached out her hand.
Her pale jade fingers brushed across Eros's face, pausing at the corner of his lips.
"You seem to have run out of space for markings. Maybe next time."
Beneath her bridal veil, the woman's smile was ambiguous, as if teasing.
There was still a lingering trace of another goddess's scent at the corner of Eros's lips. She couldn't quite identify who it was, but the scent felt oddly familiar.
That alone soured her mood a little.
Without saying more, she brought the boat to the shore—her intentions already clear.
"Then, until next time."
Although a bit regretful, Eros didn't force the matter. He stepped ashore with Hypnos.
"Hopefully, that day will come."
The goddess waved gently as she watched them depart.
A mortal man so closely entangled with so many goddesses?
Perhaps she'd been disconnected from the world for too long. Maybe it was time to investigate exactly who this "Eros" was.
With that in mind, she suddenly remembered that she had neglected another guest.
"Almost forgot about you, my dear niece."
The boat drifted further down the River Styx, heading toward the fork at the end.
Meanwhile, Eros and Hypnos had arrived at the banks of the River of Oaths.
The River Styx—also known as the River of Hatred.
Any soul touched by its waters would be forced to recall all the pain, regret, and buried memories they had sealed away.
Sorrow, helplessness, shame—everything would come rushing back.
Even gods, if not careful, could lose their divine power from the river's curse.
"So we're finally here. I still don't know why you wanted to come to this place."
Hypnos crossed her arms, speaking with clear displeasure.
"There's nothing fun here. It's quiet, dead, and there's no one around to prank."
Wearing her mismatched black-and-white stockings, she glanced around, clearly unamused by the silence.
Though she often soaked in the River Lethe, she dared not get too close to the River of Oaths.
Just being near it made her remember unpleasant dreams.
Eros reached out, letting his fingers brush the current.
For a split second, regret washed over him—regret for Styx's tragic fate as told by Poseidon.
Fortunately, his cosmic energy shielded him, and the feeling disappeared quickly.
Seeing this, Hypnos was more convinced than ever that Eros had the power to cross the Underworld's rivers. He just didn't want to.
Eros now faced a problem.
He couldn't just shout Styx's name to summon her. That would be crude.
But he had a better idea.
He pulled out his lyre, tuning it slightly before gently strumming.
In Greece, music and poetry often spoke louder than words.
As his fingers moved, he sang softly, turning his encounter with Styx into a poetic song of longing and ambiguous affection.
He was sure that if Styx heard this melody, she would come to him.
The notes floated across the silent waters of the River of Oaths.
The [Music] skill he received from Apollo wasn't god-tier, but it was refined and masterful.
Once he added a few performance-type skills later, he could even have background music wherever he went.
After all, what kind of powerful hero enters a scene without a dramatic soundtrack?
The melody drifted and echoed.
Hypnos stood aside with folded arms, pretending to be disinterested, though her eyes were glued to him.
She had thought Eros was just good-looking and shameless, but it turned out he had some real talent.
Not that she cared. At most, she'd have him sing for her daily in the future.
She imagined that when she became a great goddess, she would abduct him and have him sing, serve her, and kneel every day.
If Eros knew what she was imagining, he might just say, "No need to fantasize, just do it."
As the melody spread, ripples began to rise on the River of Oaths.
A chariot rode atop the current. Styx had arrived.
"It really is you. That familiar melody and voice..."
Compared to before, Styx's appearance had changed.
She had removed most of her ocean-themed ornaments, leaving her with a more reserved and noble air.
Her black dress was less revealing than before, but her curves and beauty were no less striking.
She now wore finely crafted gold jewelry, appearing more like a dignified lady of the court.
Her expression held hesitation and inner conflict.
She knew very well what kind of man Eros was.
But like a moth to a flame, how could a lonely and long-isolated goddess resist such sweetness?
A man who was handsome, articulate, and genuinely smitten—who wouldn't be swayed?
Perseis was the kind to go all in once her heart stirred.
Styx, on the other hand, was someone who had endured solitude for far too long.
That's why, after the Oceanid banquet, she hadn't rushed back to the Underworld.
When Oceanus finally summoned her, she had mixed feelings: both relief and regret.
Relief that she wouldn't be tempted again, but regret that she might never see him again.
So when she heard this familiar song echo across the river, she couldn't help but come.
Seeing Eros again filled her with joy, but also unease.
"Why are you here?"
She tried to stay composed, but the warmth in her voice betrayed her.
She knew this was dangerous.
Yet once again, she had fallen into the net she wove for herself.
"It's a long story."
Eros looked into her conflicted gaze, his expression soft and full of warmth.
He restrained his cosmic energy, and with a smile, said,
"Let me sit down and rest first, then I'll tell you everything that happened."
Though she knew she should leave, Styx still nodded after a brief pause.
"Alright. Come with me. You too, Lady Hypnos."
As a daughter of Nyx, Hypnos naturally received her respect.
And she wasn't surprised that yet another goddess was with Eros.
Her palace stood deep within the River of Oaths, a place so barren it didn't even have attendants.
"Forgive me. It's been a long time since I've had visitors. I don't keep servants here."
Eros looked around the lonely, quiet palace and couldn't help but ask,
"But don't you have four children? Where are they?"
He wasn't trying to hit on them, it just felt too quiet.
He knew Styx's children had sided with Zeus during the Titanomachy, while Pallas had stood with the Titans.
And now, Pallas's divine essence rested in his hands.
"They're on Olympus, serving His Majesty the King of the Gods. I live here alone. I've never needed servants."
She spoke calmly, but Eros could sense the loneliness beneath her words.
Children distant, bonds estranged, and a hollow palace, it mirrored his own past in some ways.
Eros made a silent vow in his heart.
He would be the one to fill the void in Styx's life.
Not out of desire, but out of sincere affection and companionship.
He gently took her hands.
Styx tensed, thinking he might take advantage of her.
But if he did, would she stop him?
Before she could decide, Eros let out a sigh and slowly let go of her hands.
That hollow, unfulfilled gesture made her even more uncertain.
Was he truly restraining himself?
She had been prepared for flirtation, even welcomed it—but he simply said:
"Actually... I came today to share good news with you."
With a complicated look, he reached into his robe and revealed—
Pallas's divine essence.
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