“So… you said you are the son of love?”

  "Descendant of Cleopatra. I make money as a beauty influencer," Art corrected me. He seemed to really care about this.

  "And those people just now...?" George asked.

  “Oh, they’re Seth's men.” Art waved his hand as if he were used to the appearance of numerous burly men.

  "Seth?" George blinked, looking puzzled.

  "The god of chaos from Egyptian mythology," I explained. "Have you completely forgotten our last cultural lesson?"

  George gave an awkward smile. "Uh... I was a bit overworked back then..."

  "You mean sleeping in class or running to the toilet to eat candy?" I blinked helplessly.

  George blinked, then made a face. "I think it's both."

  "Whatever..." I sighed. Art blinked; he clearly found our interaction amusing. "In short, you can't kill all those guys; they're always causing chaos."

  I raised an eyebrow. In other words, Art had clearly encountered this group before. The fact that he was still alive and sitting in this Italian restaurant treating us to a meal meant he was no ordinary person.

  “What about the snake?” George asked.

  Art paused for a moment. “Oh, you mean Wadjet?” Art showed a smile. “She is the patron goddess of Egypt. You know Cleopatra committed suicide by snake venom, right? Therefore, I have the ability to summon all snakes, including Egyptian deities associated with them. Which means,” Art added, “that I can control snake venom.”

  "But Seth’s men's numbers have increased recently... I can't handle it by myself." Art toyed with the fork in his hand.

  "Is that why you came to us?" I raised my eyebrow.

  "Yeah, you could say that. That's one of the reasons." Art sat up straight, looking serious.

  I frowned slightly; this didn't seem quite right. If those thugs were Seth's men, it meant they were mythical beings, but the organization Loki and Hermes asked us to eliminate was causing people to lose faith in the gods. Logically, these mythical beings should have disappeared as well.

  "That doesn't make sense," I said, my mouth moving before I could even react. "If they were Seth's men, they should have disappeared because humanity lost its faith in the gods."

  Art winked, a surprising smile appearing on his face. “Oh, so you guys already know?”

  “Of course," I said. “Loki told us.”

  Art's eyes widened, his mouth gaped open, and he looked utterly shocked. "Wait—Loki?"

  George and I exchanged a glance, realizing we hadn't introduced ourselves yet. So, I spoke first. "Oh, I'm Loki's daughter. A killer," I said, a hint of reluctance in my voice.

  "And I am a descendant of the royal family of Atlantis. A weapons maker," George said with a big smile.

  Art looked at me for a long time, then took out a small notebook from his lady bag. It was a navy blue notebook with Egyptian runes drawn in gold thread. "Thoth gave it to me." He opened the notebook in front of us.

  The first page contained five short words: Leader, Maker, Lover, Summoner, and Controller.

  “Thoth told me there are four other people I need to find.” My gaze swept over the five words. Maker must be George; after all, his dedication to weapon making and technology is unparalleled. Lover must be Art, which best fits the identity of a descendant of Cleopatra.

  As for me... am I the leader? Or the controller? After all, I can control my appearance, but I'm always the one in charge of every mission George and I undertake.

  "So we still have two more people to find?" George asked. "Loki and Hermes didn't mention any of this when they commissioned us."

  "Commission?" Art looked bewildered.

  "Those gods said they want us to kill the leader of that organization for them," I explained. "Once we complete the task, they will pay us for the rest of our lives."

  Art winked, looking very shocked. “Really?” he almost yelled. “Thoth didn’t tell me about this! He only told me that if I don’t do this, I’ll disappear, because those gods wouldn't exist if people don’t believe in them.”

  “Well, Loki told us the same thing.” I paused. “It’s quite abstract, isn’t it?” I said with a mocking tone.

  “But how can we disappear? I mean, we’re already here! And there are other people who know we exist,” George asked.

  “No, George. I’m pretty sure if we disappear right now, they won’t ever notice.” I immediately regretted saying that, because it sounded like something a really pitiful freak would say. But George didn’t refute me; he just shrugged his shoulders.

  Well, maybe we’re pitiful freaks... No, George isn’t one. Actually, I bet if George lived without me, he would definitely become a popular kid. He was funny, nice, and always knew how to comfort others. But me? I’ll always be the person who stands in the dark because I’m stubborn, irritable, and difficult to approach.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  I unconsciously clenched my fists under the table. Why? Why am I the only one who's fallen to this state? George grew up in a warm family with loving parents. Judging from Art's clothes and jewelry, his family was quite well-off, and he certainly had never experienced hunger.

  I lowered my head. Pay for my entire life... Do the gods really think humans are such materialistic, money-grubbing creatures? Frankly, as an assassin, money isn't a big problem for me. Even if I stop taking cases now, I can still live comfortably for a while. Those foolish ancient creatures actually think they can buy me off like this?

  “Enola?” When I finally reacted, George was waving his hand in front of my face with a worried look.

  “Oh… I’m sorry, just… thinking…” I said. But George didn't seem relieved at all.

  “So, back to what we just talked about, how do we find the two remaining people?” Art tapped his finger on the table, grabbing our focus.

  “Well, I think—”

  “I didn’t say I was going to join this.” George and Art both looked at me in shock.

  “What?” George almost screamed, his voice cracking.

  “I didn’t say I’m going to join this, from the beginning until now,” I said without any expression.

  George's mouth was wide open. “B-But, aren’t we just talking about that right now?”

  "And if you don't join, you will disappear along with the gods!" Art added.

  “They asked for it,” I said, my green eyes locking on Art. The latter involuntarily tensed up. "The gods need to be taught a lesson. They have to be held accountable for what they've done."

  Now it was Art's turn to look confused. "If they so easily forget about people, perhaps it's time they experienced what it's like to be forgotten."

  George frowned. “Enola—”

  “No, let me finish.” I stood up, and my shadow covered Art. “I’m not a good person, Golden Boy. I never was, and I never will be. I don’t have George’s kindness, and I don’t have your sense of responsibility. I’m a selfish guy.”

  "But..." Art whispered, "you will disappear too."

  “I don’t care,” I said. "Anyway, no one will care if I disappear."

  An awkward silence fell. Art's eyes widened, and for the first time, an imperfect expression appeared on his otherwise perfect face, as if he were hearing someone say that for the first time.

  George looked like he was about to cry. "I will!" His voice became hoarse. "What nonsense are you talking about, Nola? I will!"

  “George, you’ll be better without me,” I said softly. George blinked, bit his lower lip, and then began to tremble.

  Holy shit…

  "No! It won't get any better!" George raised his voice, and the other customers in the restaurant began to turn and stare at us. "Why won't you believe me—" He stopped abruptly, tears welling in his eyes.

  I panicked instantly. George rarely cried, but I'd seen him cry before. This was the first time he'd cried because of me.

  "Oh, it's okay." But as I reached out my hand, Art grabbed George's shoulder first, pulling him into his arms.

  "You should think about how he feels," Art said gently. I knew he meant no harm, and I almost softened my stance instantly. But subtly, I sensed a power in Art's words—a kind of enchanting whisper.

  This wasn't normal persuasion; it was a forced demand that I let go. What right did Art have? He didn't understand me, nor did he understand George. He and George weren't even friends of five years, so what gave him the right?

  “Shut the fuck up, you witch who uses enchantments.” I slammed my hand on the table. Art gasped, and George jerked his head up, his eyes red-rimmed.

  "You don't understand me," I said through gritted teeth. "You live such comfortable lives; you've never experienced what it's like to be without parents!" I roared, and the surrounding guests now completely focused their attention on us.

  "Your hand..." George said, his voice trembling.

  I suddenly lowered my head. Flames shot from my fingertips, but I felt no burning pain, and my skin seemed undamaged. Instead, a ring of charred marks was left on the table. I raised my hand, and the flames continued to burn.

  Flames... I clenched my fist, and the flames were instantly extinguished. Then I raised my index finger, and a tiny flame burned on it.

  I can control fire.

  But by the time I realized what was happening, the wooden table was already ablaze. My eyes widened, and I stumbled back several steps. Art grabbed a water glass from the side and tried to put out the fire, but it did not extinguish when the water was poured on it.

  "It's no use," George muttered to himself. "Because only Enola can extinguish this fire... and..." He stood up, then raised his hand, spreading his fingers and clenching his fist. The air around his hand seemed to tremble, and then puffs of water formed around it. When they fell into the flames, the fire was effectively extinguished.

  I should have breathed a sigh of relief, or been amazed at how calmly George controlled the water. But my first thought was: I hurt George.

  I turned away, ignoring the flames burning my sleeves. I started running, dashing out of the Italian restaurant. Just like every time I encounter difficulties: Mom dies? Run. Gangsters chasing me? Run. Father appears? Run. Now even George had become someone I wanted to run from.

  George yelled after me, trying to stop me; his voice sounded more weary than I'd ever known it. But I didn't stop; instead, I ran faster and faster. Flames began to spread across my body, yet strangely, my clothes remained completely unharmed. The flames leaped from my arms to my shoulders, then to my face. The intense heat seared my eyes, and my breathing became difficult. I stopped in an alleyway, even though I was still like a fireball.

  For the first time in my life, I felt a nameless fear. Was it death? No, that was only a matter of time. Was it loss? But I had nothing to begin with, so what could I possibly lose?

  "Hey." Just then, a hand landed on my shoulder, and the flames on my body suddenly went out.

  I knew who it was without even turning around. "Loki."

  I turned slightly, my gaze landing on Loki. He had his baseball cap pulled low, as if afraid someone would recognize him. But this time, Loki wasn't his usual joking self. He looked at me seriously, a hint of worry in his green eyes. "Still can't accept it?" He sighed.

  "I will never accept that," I said coldly. "I don't believe in blood ties."

  "But you know you've survived mostly because of the abilities I passed down to you, right?" Loki said weakly.

  I raised an eyebrow. "But if you hadn't abandoned me and my mother, I wouldn't have needed that damn fire control ability at all."

  Loki let out a squeak that was hard to describe. He frowned and slumped his shoulders in dejection. "Listen, child, I don't want this to happen either, okay? But—" He interrupted himself, turning his head away. For a moment, I almost thought the eyes under Loki’s baseball cap were about to cry.

  “I’m not begging you to do this…” he said. “You can be angry with me; I won’t mind. I know I'm a bad father. But it's not like nobody in this world cares about you," Loki added softly. "Think of George; he really does care about you."

  I frowned slightly. "But I hurt him." George's fearful and weary eyes were etched in my mind.

  "You're hurting him now too," Loki blinked. "Believe me, child. Even though I'm the god of mischief, I can still see that he cares about you like family."

  I tilted my head slightly. Loki's blank gaze fell on the flowerbed not far away, his once bright green eyes losing their sparkle for the first time.

  "I want you to join this operation, not for me." Loki sighed, putting his hands in his jeans pockets. "You don't need to... but think of yourself! Think of those you love and those who love you."

  “George will be better without me,” I said, lowering my head.

  “Who knows?” Loki gave me an unexpected answer. "Don't jump to conclusions before the outcome is certain."

  "Enola!" No sooner said than done, as Loki gave me a meaningful look, George rushed forward, panting. "Holy shit, are you okay?" George hurriedly pushed Loki away and pulled me into his arms.

  I was silent for a moment, then patted him on the back. "It's okay."

  "It's not okay!" George wailed. "You scared me! You were on fire!"

  "This is a normal ability for demigods and mortals," Loki interjected.

  George paused, looked up, and gave an incredulous smile. "Your dad?"

  "Loki," I corrected him expressionlessly.

  George stuck out his tongue. "Loki, okay," he repeated.

  "She's decided to join the plan." Loki raised an eyebrow at George.

  George paused for three seconds, as if his computer was still booting up, then he gasped and grabbed my shoulders. "Really?"

  I wanted to say no, to say that I had never agreed to it, but seeing that familiar smile return to George's face, I decided to accept it.

  "Yeah." Even so, I still gave Loki the middle finger from an angle where George couldn't see, and the other guy grinned and returned the gesture.

  George let out a joyful exclamation and hugged me tightly. This time, he didn't say anything mushy. He simply whispered, "Remember, I care about you a lot, okay?"

  After a moment's hesitation, I hugged him back. I could see Art rushing over from a short distance away, giving me a thumbs-up.

  "We need to get ready! The hunting starts!" he cheered as George finally let go of me.

  Watching George and Art high-five, my gaze shifted to Loki. "I'll join, but I have one condition."

  Loki blinked with interest and didn't refuse.

  "You set aside time each week to teach me how to use my abilities."