Was the person a man or a woman?
Too stunningly gorgeous, that's for sure.
But that voice, that Adam's apple—both were off.
Wait...
That face!
I've seen it before.
Pansy's heart jolted as several portraits of Gold Saints flashed through her mind.
He was... the Pisces Gold Saint, Aphrodite!
In the Sanctuary's Twelve Zodiac Temples, each House is guarded by a powerful Gold Saint.
Pisces is the Twelfth House, the final one of the Zodiac, and the Gold Saint stationed there is Aphrodite—the Gold Saint closest to the goddess Athena.
According to the intel probed by the Underworld, Aphrodite of Pisces is dazzlingly androgynous in looks, withdrawn in temperament, taciturn, and seldom steps out of the Pisces Temple, leading a reclusive life in the Sanctuary—appearing and vanishing like a dragon.
She never imagined he would show up in the graveyard.
After all, the only one here was a babbling, unhinged gravekeeper, Damian.
These two had nothing to do with each other. By rights, Aphrodite shouldn't appear in the Sanctuary graveyard.
So why was the Pisces Gold Saint Aphrodite in the graveyard, holding her and spinning her around?
And yet there he was, wearing eye-catching feminine attire. That burly bull's voice gave Pansy a real fright.
If not for that bull's voice giving him away, she would have thought he was a world-class beauty.
A Gold Saint, of all people, had put on a red lady's outfit, face powdered and painted, dressed like a flower in full bloom.
He was even wearing a pink dress, a gauzy golden sash tied in a big bow at the waist. With drifting locks at his temples, his figure looked willowy and long, and his eyes were so sultry they could hook a soul.
Tsk, tsk, tsk...
Only with her true body's looks and figure could she compete with him.
In sheer looks alone, many women wouldn't measure up to a fraction of his. If not for that bull's voice being so shockingly out of place, his beauty would be enough to overwhelm any man—and women too.
A pity—Aphrodite wasn't a woman. He didn't have what we women have.
Wait!
What was that feel?
She looked at his chest and her whole body jolted.
What on earth... how outrageous was this?
How could a man be like that?
Pansy stared at Aphrodite in shock, utterly speechless.
She, Pandora, had seen every storm and wave—long inured to glory and disgrace, calm and unflappable, her nerves made of steel—and even she was startled by him.
This was too "magnificently undulating"!
More exaggerated than Damian's two pecs.
"Ahem, ahem!"
Aphrodite seemed to realize his register was too rough. He cleared his throat at once, pointed ahead with an orchid-hand gesture, fluttered his lashes, and pinched that bull's voice thin: "Damian, is this child the disciple Shaina just took?"
The pronunciation was still odd; it couldn't hide the bull's timbre.
"Right. Her name is Pansy."
Damian nodded.
Pansy seized the moment and suddenly burst into tears. Pea-sized teardrops rolled down her cheeks—pitiful beyond words.
It was a plea for help—and a way to press her case.
Aphrodite's face cooled and he looked at Damian. "Water in your brain again? You're tossing around a little junior sister this pretty and cute like she's trash?"
"Yeah, I'm tossing her for fun."
"By the way, didn't I tell you to stop running to the graveyard all the time?"
"If someone sees you dressed like that, they'll think there's something between us."
Damian looked utterly unconcerned.
Indeed, that enchantress across from them—who made even women feel inferior—was the cross-dressed powerhouse himself, the Pisces Gold Saint, Aphrodite.
Don't let the manhood fool you. Once in women's clothes, he transformed from a stalwart pretty boy into this vixenish bombshell.
You had to admit it was easy on the eyes—seduction and allure in equal measure.
And in women's clothes, Aphrodite's mannerisms and bearing tilted feminine too—natural coquetry, brilliant charm. He became more woman than most women, enough to make the vast majority of them feel outclassed and eclipsed.
If not for that explosively bovine voice, he'd be the dream of more than a few men.
Pansy felt like she'd grabbed a lifeline. With a Gold Saint stepping in, not only was she saved, she could counterattack and lodge a complaint against Damian.
"I come when I like, and I even put on women's clothes. So? Do I look good?"
Aphrodite pouted.
"Mm, you look good. If you train your voice, you'll be perfect."
Damian teased.
"Hmph!"
Aphrodite rolled his eyes, then stroked Pansy's head with a slender hand tipped in red polish. "Pansy, I'm a Saint. If you've been wronged, you can tell me. Has this muscle-brained guy bullied you?"
The chance had arrived!
Pansy pursed her lips, wiped the tears from her cheeks, puffed her little cheeks, and began to cry her case: "Senior Brother Damian is very strict with me. He won't wear clothes, says he's training muscles. I'm very afraid of senior brother. Please, help me..."
Halfway through, the cross-dressed stunner already had his brows knit.
But before she could finish, Damian cut in, "Abu, did you bring what I asked for? Don't forget—you still owe me."
"I came to pay you back this time."
Aphrodite shrugged, gently set the girl down, then reached into his full chest and pulled out two rose-shaped fruits, each too big for one hand to hold, round and soft. He tossed both fruits straight to Damian.
In an instant, that exaggerated, towering chest became flat.
Pansy's mouth went stiff in a look of sudden realization.
Her gaze went straight to the two red fruits. They looked familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen them.
Wait!
There was something off about these two.
Yes—Damian was only a gravekeeper, not even a Saint. In this power-above-all Sanctuary, he showed not a shred of deference to Aphrodite, a Gold Saint.
What was going on?
Pansy's sharp senses caught the issue at once.
Unless these two had an unusual relationship.
"That place was really dangerous this time. I even owe Deathmask a favor. Only then did I get these two..."
Aphrodite's tone inexplicably softened, his gaze fixed. "Damian, could you not fuss so much? Pansy only just became a disciple. If you shock her with some bizarre training method, it may not even work."
"None of your concern."
Damian cupped his hands. "I figure our martial uncle will be back around this time, so I baked a batch of egg tarts. I'll take you."
"Egg tarts! Hahaha, that's perfect. I picked the right day to come."
Aphrodite's eyes lit up and he smiled, scarlet skirts swaying as he sped off after Damian, leaving Pansy all alone on the spot.
Hey, hey, hey!
This Aphrodite forgets himself at the mention of egg tarts? Are egg tarts really that irresistible?
Watching the two of them vanish without a trace, Pansy could only grit her teeth and press on, just hoping she wouldn't get lost—or she'd be stuck here with the bones of the dead.
Step by step she walked, feeling more and more stifled.
She, the commander of the Underworld, had ended up like this—toyed with in the palm of a madman's hand, nearly losing her life.
This wasn't in her plan at all.
Completely outside her expectations.
No—she had to find a way to change this passive situation.
Looking at the gray, tangled graveyard, black light welled in Pansy's limpid eyes, and a phantom of a luxurious necklace appeared at her neck.
Space beside her began to warp, and a nether aura spread...
Thanks to the Saints for voting—your support is my Cosmo.
Thanks for reading!If you enjoyed the chapter, don't forget to drop a Power Stone and leave a review.Your support keeps the cosmos burning and helps me write more epic Saint Seiya battles!