Chapter Extra: The Irreversible Prank

Extra: The Irreversible Prank

---

He always pulled pranks that gave people headaches, but he could always fix them, making the endings turn out just fine.

He stole Apollo's sacred cattle, leaving Apollo furious and threatening to pull down his pants and spank him, but he offered Apollo a homemade instrument instead. Apollo left gleefully with the instrument, looking as if he'd scored the deal of a lifetime.

See? The endings always turned out well. He acted like he didn't care, occasionally pulling a little prank here and there just to make life a bit more interesting.

It was fine. He wasn't a god known for great strength, but he had brains. No matter how angry or troubled the victim of his prank was, he could always think of a way to turn it into a laughing matter for everyone.

Even if he didn't understand why people cared so much about certain things, he knew enough to bring out better things to make the grumpy gods laugh.

For that reason, he had never sincerely admitted his faults or regretted his actions.

[That's right, just a little prank like usual, then wrap it up with a perfect ending.]

With this thought, Hermes quietly shifted his gaze toward the pure white figure that Poseidon and Hades were staring at intently.

It was the first year that the child had started offering worship.

He didn't understand the fascination. Sure, the small, snowy figure was cute, but did they really have to keep staring like that? Sitting on clouds all day, watching that little island?

Hades had even quietly warded off all the plagues trying to reach the island to keep the child from getting sick.

Well, that was normal enough. Not many people offered worship so diligently and without expecting anything in return. And the kid was cute; keeping him from getting sick wasn't a problem.

But Poseidon...

Was it necessary to fling every hero who approached the island away?

Even his own children didn't get this level of protection!

But not him! He had no need for such dull behavior.

He was just a trickster, after all. Plenty of mortals worshipped him with all sorts of requests, and they offered things far better than burnt meat.

Sure, the kid might get dirty, offering things with a devoted look on his hungry face, but the taste—still terrible!

Wait, you two aren't thinking of stealing him from me, are you?

He'd never forget the look Poseidon and Hades gave him after they gobbled down the kid's offering.

To avoid being the first god toppled over because of burnt offerings, Hermes stuffed the meat into his mouth.

Ah, terrible technique, all burnt, no seasoning; it probably tasted only a bit better than scorched earth.

Really? This is what you two are so worked up about?

How dull…

Maybe it was time to give them a headache with a little prank.

Watching the small figure huddled by the fire pit, he fell silent.

First, let's go steal Ares' offerings...

Though Ares ended up chasing him for a day and a night after finding out.

Those days were comforting. Sitting on the clouds daily, watching the little figure wander in the woods, waiting for the kid's unappetizing offerings.

The gods on the clouds increased from the original three—Hades, Poseidon, and him—to more and more. Gods of high stature, capable of altering the heavens and earth with a wave, were willing to sit on clouds all day doing nothing, just waiting for that child's bad offerings.

Watching him grow old and die like this wouldn't be so bad. Mortal lives pass in the blink of an eye for gods. A small break from pranking wouldn't hurt.

One day, the child decided to leave the island and the "mothers" who had always "loved" him.

He heartily agreed with this—he'd run away as a kid too.

Maybe because it was the first time the child had made a clear request, Poseidon wielded his trident, clearing the path for the small wooden boat to reach its destination, even pushing away all the ships in its path with waves.

[Let's find a way to sneak away some of that child's hair.]

He eyed the bundle of white hair clutched tightly in Poseidon's hand with a strange look.

Just plain white hair—it's useless, so just give it to me!

But with the trident now pressed against his side, he had to give in.

Later, he managed to convince Hades to use his invisible helmet to steal back a few hundred strands, thinking Poseidon wouldn't notice the difference.

But Poseidon did notice…

A furious Poseidon pressed his trident into Hermes's side, threatening to split him in half, while Hades, his partner in crime, coolly sat in the Underworld, acting aloof.

Small matter, small matter!

As always, he used his smooth tongue to convince Poseidon, with the promise that he would regularly update him on the kid's whereabouts.

See? A happy ending.

Not only did he avoid a crisis, but he also got a valid reason to keep an eye on the child, and Poseidon went back with a smile.

The child finally grew up, but come on—don't lie to yourself. It's not that you hate heroes; you just don't want to become those people you detest.

So don't hold back—act on your own will. [Do what you can do.]

Becoming a hero isn't something you decide, but you're the only one who can decide what kind of person you want to be.

But that kid sure was stubborn…

So he had to put his skills to use, stirring up a little prank to make things just a bit more challenging.

That child didn't hate heroes or want to avoid helping those suffering from hardship. He was simply shy, doing what he could but uncomfortable with the way people idolized him. He felt uneasy, unable to walk calmly among others, unable to hold an ordinary conversation.

Heroes in this world are viewed in mixed light—they're saviors as well as plunderers.

He didn't want to be one of them.

Then go and become the kind of hero you can truly admire!

What you do comes from your true heart; that's enough. Whether you're a hero or not—let the future decide.

But child, in times like these, someone like you can hardly avoid becoming a hero.

Such gentleness almost seems out of place in this era.

Whenever he played his pranks, that child would always respond with a helpless smile. With just a bit more toughness, he'd be right there, offering advice with a cheerful grin. Yet that child always faced each trial head-on, relying solely on his own hands to overcome them.

What if he asked, 'Why not lean on us a little?'

The child would surely smile and say, 'I've already received the best from all of you.'

Watching him steadily tackle the impossible trials, he felt an immense joy, as if that child were his own.

He bore witness to the birth of a true hero.

But, isn't succeeding just like that a bit dull? Once the trials are over, there won't be any excuse to spend time with that child. Yet, the child has grown up now. Yes, that's it—one last prank!

On that day, he finally saw that child struggling.

Ah, after all, three women make a play, three goddesses make a war—even that child would be stumped by that.

Just a bit longer and he would have his grand show… huh? It's over already?

No way! His final prank ended just like that!

The child hadn't even relied on him once!

He secretly wished he could see that child looking at him with admiration, saying, 'Lord Hermes, you're amazing!'

But he let it go. That child is so capable; there's hardly any chance to show off around him.

As he brooded over a chicken leg, he overheard a conversation between Zeus and that child.

No... it can't be...

That child was going "there"...

From that day on, he never again saw that pure, white figure on this continent.

In his numbness, he searched every inch of land.

He called the child's name over and over.

He knew where that child was, but he couldn't reach him, and he couldn't go. Denying reality, he kept fooling himself that the child had simply been driven away by his prank and would eventually come back with a coincidental reunion, grinning as though nothing had happened.

The child was so kind—he would surely forgive him.

But it was no use; he could deceive other gods, but not himself.

He knew that the child would, in time, gather every blessing, but it wouldn't be easy. He wanted that child to finish his trials quickly.

He had considered Zeus's stance but, as always, arrogantly thought he knew best.

If you're afraid, then don't give it. If you're going to give it, don't worry about the rest.

But it was too late… he was the one who had pushed that child down.

Kneeling powerlessly by the river, he looked at the miserable reflection of himself on the water's surface.

What is that expression?

Is that truly the face of the carefree Hermes?

Pranks can eventually lead to irreversible consequences.

In his arrogance, he had believed his cleverness could always undo any damage before it went too far.

"Hey, the prank has gone on long enough… it's time to end it…"

Hermes, almost in prayer, reached out to touch his reflection on the water.

"I'm begging you—you're a god, aren't you?

Change all of this…"

"You've only ever caused him trouble; he's never relied on you or told you how amazing you are. So please…"

He could do nothing, had achieved nothing.

Blessings that couldn't be received lay like junk in that place; the compass that was meant to guide forward was nothing but trash.

"I was wrong… I really don't dare to…"

His once-arrogant self bowed low, pressing his forehead firmly to the ground in prayer.

"I'll never dare again."

"Please, let that child return."