Danmachi: Strongest Familia

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In a place like this, drawing too much attention could be a double-edged sword. If anyone noticed his rather "unsettled" state, it could lead to endless gossip and ruin his reputation.

"Sol, are you alright? You look a bit... tense," a familiar voice cooed beside him just as Sol was considering how to shift his sitting posture.

Looking up, Sol found himself greeted by the sight of a stunning, white dress and delicate headpiece. A serene smile, framed by silver hair, met his gaze—Freya. She looked every bit the pure and elegant goddess.

Compared to her usual attire, this outfit was rather modest, though the fitted dress still highlighted Freya's lithe figure perfectly.

Gulp.

'These goddesses... Are they purposely taking turns teasing me?' First Demeter, now Freya? He was barely managing to hold himself together as it was.

While his eyes roved over Freya, capturing her image in detail, she sat down gracefully beside him.

"Enjoying the view?" Freya asked casually as she poured them both a glass of wine, leaning close as she handed one to him. The thin fabric of her dress did nothing to conceal the warmth radiating between them.

"Anything looks good on you, but this dress, in particular, is stunning," Sol replied earnestly, drawing a pleased smile from her.

Across the room, a few gods let out quiet sighs as Freya's smile left them entranced. Several of them tried to inch closer, nonchalantly pretending to "mingle" in Sol and Freya's direction. 

'Spineless,' Sol thought irritably, noticing their pathetic attempts to blend in.

"You're still as popular as ever; these moths seem drawn to your flame," he muttered, shooting a glance at the encroaching gods, his annoyance plain on his face. 

Anyone familiar with Sol knew he wasn't fond of such noisy gatherings. If he'd wanted to be the center of attention, he wouldn't have chosen a quiet corner.

"Don't worry, I'm long bored of those boring guys," Freya said, just loud enough for the nearby male gods to hear, her teasing tone a blade slicing through their hopes. In an instant, they all backed off, their expressions wounded.

The newfound silence pleased Sol. He didn't want to move again, and it would be great if those gods could disperse by themselves.

It would be even better if there weren't so many people watching them from a distance.

"There's no one in the way now," Freya murmured with a soft smile, her voice like silk as she leaned close to Sol's ear. Her silver-white hair cascaded over his shoulders, brushing lightly against his skin, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. 

The scent that wafted around her was distinctly different from Demeter's—intoxicating and alluring in its own right, a fragrance that seemed to wrap around Sol like an invisible net. 

Her pale lavender eyes glimmered with mischief, captivating and impossible to ignore. 

He couldn't deny the memory of Demeter's sweetness still lingered, but standing so close to Freya now awakened a new, burning desire. Sol took a deep breath, closing his eyes in a desperate attempt to stabilize his mind. 

Don't lose control. Stay calm. 

"Will you have a drink with me?" Freya's voice carried a sultry satisfaction, her smile deepening as she noticed Sol's internal struggle. 

Gracefully, she raised her goblet, the clear red wine swirling and catching the light with every subtle movement of her hand. Then, as if on a whim, she leaned closer, her delicate nose gently brushing against Sol's shoulder as she inhaled. 

Then her expression shifted, a faint frown creasing her brow. "Is that... Demeter's scent on you?" 

"Demeter was here earlier. We had a brief chat," Sol replied, keeping his voice steady, though inwardly, he marveled at Freya's unnerving sharpness. 

How does this woman pick up on something like that so quickly? Can she really guess just by smell? 

"Oh? A brief chat, was it?" Freya's tone was light, but there was an edge to her words, a faint trace of jealousy that Sol didn't miss. He'd grown accustomed to sensing it—it wasn't too different from what he often encountered in his family. 

For a moment, Sol couldn't help but think, 'What's there to be jealous about? You're Freya, the goddess of beauty. This isn't your usual demeanor!'

"It seems you've had a very good time with Demeter," Freya continued, her playful smile returning, though the subtle clench of her jaw betrayed her irritation. 

Her mind drifted to the memory of her missed opportunity. She'd been so close to claiming Sol for herself, but that idiot Ottar had lingered too long, forcing Sol to leave. And in the end, Demeter had reaped the benefits of her efforts. 

Freya's frustration simmered beneath her calm exterior, her thoughts briefly consumed with plans to throw Ottar into the dungeon for a month of rigorous training. 'Let's see if he ruins my plans again after that.' 

"Are you feeling a little uncomfortable now?" Freya purred, her gaze drifting downward. Before Sol could respond, her delicate hand slid onto his thigh, her fingers grazing teasingly as they ventured lower. 

The boldness of her actions caught him off guard, but Sol quickly seized her wrist before she could explore further. With a firm grip, he captured both of her hands, holding them securely. 

"Go, let's take a walk," he said, his voice firm but tinged with exasperation. 

Freya smirked, unbothered by his restraint, and leaned even closer, the warmth of her breath brushing against his cheek. Her brazen confidence only fueled the tension between them. 

Sol knew she was deliberately teasing him, pushing the limits of his composure. She wasn't even trying to hide it anymore. 

Sol didn't bother to explain too much, realizing he needed to get out of the crowded banquet hall before things escalated further. 

It's just that there are too many people in the banquet venue, and he needs to find a place with few people so that he can concentrate on the next process.