Ch. 112: Tears of a Weeping God
Why confront Hermes when I already knew the answers to the questions I needed solved? Simple. Hermes didn't know what I knew, and I wanted him to break before my eyes. I wanted to see how a god of his nature, always dancing on the edges of trickery and truth, would react when pushed. His guilt had been festering for too long, and now, it was time to watch him unravel.
Hermes trembled before me, his usual lively demeanor utterly drained. His face, once so full of mischief and cheer, was now a portrait of fear and desperation. He knew, deep down, that this moment was inevitable. His shoulders were hunched, his breath unsteady. The room felt small, the air thick with the weight of his silent confession, though no words had yet escaped his lips.