The Mystery of Her Origins

Master of Ceremonies. Evenson had no idea what rank or status that office held, but trading a few buckets of instant noodles for an official post seemed like a bargain. If Asgard sold titles and offices like this, they would go bankrupt in no time.

However, Evenson did not respond at all. No matter what the customs of Asgard were, the words "ceremonies" and "chief steward" both made him feel a chill between his legs.

"What? You do not wish to accept my favor?" Hela was somewhat displeased when Evenson remained silent.

After all, she had once been Asgard's second-highest god, only to become its foremost ghost afterward. The contrast was enormous, and after being trapped for so long, despite her outwardly aloof and regal demeanor, she was extremely sensitive inside. She especially wanted respect and recognition from others.

And now, in her eyes, she had graciously bestowed upon Evenson the positions of First Chosen and Master of Ceremonies. Yet instead of gratefully accepting her decree and thanking her profusely, he sat there silent and hesitant. He is looking down on me!

"Um..." Evenson also knew that directly refusing Hela now would be a slap in the face, so he decided to beat around the bush and put it more tactfully. "It is rare for Goddess to think so highly of me. I should naturally be deeply grateful and do my humble best..."

"Heh heh..." Hela said with a smile that did not reach her eyes, "Just get to the 'but.'"

"You flatter me, Goddess." Evenson put on an embarrassed expression. "It is only that, by the time we get out of here, whether Asgard still exists may be another matter entirely."

"Oh?" Hela's eyes widened slightly. "Asgard has run into trouble again? That is hardly surprising. With the way