Ambush--! (Please keep reading~)

Under the setting sun.

The door creaked open, revealing a gentle and beautiful face.

Her grey hair was soft, and her eyes held a smile.

The three of them locked gazes.

Hestia's eyes fell upon the face of the girl who had answered the door.

First glance.

Huh, what a pretty person.

Second glance.

Wait... why does she look so familiar? I feel like I've seen her somewhere before.

Third glance.

"Ah... Freya?"

Hephaestus, standing beside her, clearly didn't recognize the person at first.

Hearing her best friend's exclamation, she froze for a moment, then scanned the grey-haired girl's face with suspicion.

Freya?

Hephaestus was momentarily speechless, only able to let out a single, bewildered sound: "...Huh?"

Hestia, unsettled by her best friend's hesitation, began to doubt herself as well.

She stumbled back two steps, nearly colliding with Hephaestus, and hurriedly turned her head to check the house plate—

Thor's home... that's right! The plate was clear as day!

Why would Freya be at Thor's house?

She looked back at the "Syr" inside the doorway, her voice filled with disbelief: "You... why are you here?! Isn't this Thor's house?!"

From start to finish, Syr maintained that impeccable, elegant smile, as if wearing a perfect mask. She neither confirmed nor denied Hestia's accusation, remaining eerily quiet.

Just then.

Hestia's gaze drifted past the grey-haired girl's shoulder.

Deep within the living room, a figure happened to drift into view.

It was Thor.

He seemed to have just stepped out of the bathroom, shirtless, water droplets sliding down his fluid muscle lines, his hair still damp.

He casually ruffled his hair and called out toward the entryway.

"Syr, who is it?"

"Bang—!"

Syr shut the door with crisp, clean efficiency.

The breeze from the door panel hit Hestia and Hephaestus in the face.

Before the two could react, the girl's soft, gentle voice drifted clearly through the gap behind the heavy door.

"Hehe... it's nothing, Lord Thor. Just two... door-to-door salespeople who got the wrong house."

Freya?! How could she be here?

Hephaestus's mind was in chaos.

This shocking discovery left her frozen in place, her thoughts seemingly jammed by that very door panel.

"Charge—!"

Hestia suddenly erupted with a sharp shout, like a small beast with its tail stepped on, slamming both hands against the door and pushing forward with all her might!

Inside, Syr braced her slender back against the door, a flash of annoyance crossing her heart.

A miscalculation...

Her heart tightened.

When she learned last night that Thor had gone to the Hephaestus Familia, she had a vague premonition that the Goddess of the Forge might come knocking.

But for all her planning, she hadn't accounted for Hephaestus bringing along the sharp-intuited Hestia!

If it had just been Hephaestus, she would have been confident in keeping up the ruse.

"Hephaestus! Quick! Help me charge!" Hestia's face turned bright red as she tried to summon her best friend to help.

But Hephaestus only let out a helpless sigh.

She seemed to have a headache.

Syr simply adjusted her breathing, letting her voice return to its usual soft sweetness, though she spoke only toward the interior of the house.

"Lord Thor~ please don't mind the little commotion outside. It's just some tactless 'pests.' Syr will 'handle' them properly; I won't let them disturb your peace~"

"Pests?!" Hestia's voice spiked instantly, like a cat with its tail stepped on, fur standing on end. "Who are you calling a pest?!"

Inside the door, Thor recognized Hestia the moment he heard her signature voice.

He had already paced his way to the entryway.

Water droplets slid down his bare chest, soaking the towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

He raised a hand in resignation, preparing to put an end to this farce: "Syr, don't..."

Before he could finish his sentence.

Outside the door, Hestia, completely ignited by the word "pest," erupted with a raw strength far beyond her usual capacity and slammed forward!

Inside the door, Syr's focus had wavered for a split second as her peripheral vision caught the sight of water beads rolling down Thor's chest, causing her grip on the door to slacken instinctively.

"Bang—!"

The door swung wide open!

Thor's field of vision could only capture a blue blur wreathed in fury, charging in like a cannonball.

And standing before her was a gray-clad figure stumbling forward due to the sudden loss of resistance.

Time seemed to stretch.

He instinctively tried to steady himself, his arm half-raised—

"Thud!"

A dull impact echoed against the floorboards.

Under the immense force, Thor felt his back slam hard against the cold floor, his chest and abdomen suddenly weighed down, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

Hestia had crashed entirely into his arms, her forehead striking his jawbone with such force that he saw stars.

Almost simultaneously, another warm, fragrant body pressed down with uncontrolled momentum, Syr's slender frame clinging tightly to his chest.

In an instant, the narrow entryway was filled only with the chaotic panting of the three.

Thor lay on his back, two warm, soft bodies pressing heavily against his chest.

On his left was Syr, her soft hair brushing against his bare skin, her breath damp and warm.

On his right was the twin-tailed Hestia, who had practically sprawled over him, her sky-blue dress crumpled into a mess.

At the doorway, Hephaestus, having witnessed the entire process of this chaotic intrusion, sighed helplessly and raised a hand to rub her temples in exhaustion.

She had come to visit with a feeling bordering on pilgrimage...

How did it devolve into this farcical scene before her eyes?

Hestia was somewhat dazed by the collision and instinctively shook her head.

Once her vision focused, the first thing that entered her sight was what lay beneath her...

Thor's slightly heaving chest and that face, inches away, wearing an expression of helplessness.

Ugh...

A "buzz" echoed in Hestia's brain, and her cheeks instantly turned scorching red.

Her heart hammered wildly in her chest; the momentum from her door-smashing charge vanished, leaving only a flustered sense of helplessness.

She could clearly feel the heat radiating from their skin-to-skin contact, and her breathing became involuntarily rapid, almost forgetting how to draw air.

Just as she froze, Syr moved.

Like a nimble nightingale whose territory had been violated, she shifted her body with a sudden burst of strength, pushing toward Hestia's side.

She blocked Hestia directly, her voice so soft it could drip with honey: "Lord Thor! Are you alright? Did you get hurt anywhere?"

Her fingertips reached out to touch Thor's jaw, checking the spot where Hestia's forehead had struck, her movements elegant and natural.

Caught off guard by the shove, Hestia nearly toppled over again and immediately bristled: "Hey! What are you doing?! It was clearly you who let go suddenly..."

She scrambled to steady herself, her cheeks flushing even deeper, half from embarrassment and half from the lingering shock of the impact.

"Hestia,"

Syr tilted her head slightly, her face still wearing a perfect smile, though her voice sounded like ice needles wrapped in sugar.

"Violently breaking in without permission and then pinning yourself onto Lord Thor—this is hardly the behavior of a lady. Your recklessness is... as always."

She deliberately emphasized the words "lady" and "recklessness."

Hestia's eyes widened, so angry her twin tails seemed to stand on end, "It was you who closed the door first! And calling me a 'pest'! You..."

"Stop."

Thor's deep voice rang out, instantly cutting through their confrontation.

He sighed helplessly.

His gaze swept over the two faces on his chest—each possessing a distinct style yet both filled with a myriad of emotions—and then to the blacksmith goddess at the door, who wore an expression that said, You lot continue, I'm just watching.

"Bickering is one thing," Thor's tone carried a weary sense of resignation, "but could you... get off me first? And why are you two hugging me even tighter?"

He tried to move his shoulders, only to feel that the two women on top of him hadn't loosened their grip at all; instead, due to the recent argument and shifting of positions, they were pressed even closer.

Syr, in particular, took the opportunity to take advantage, her small hands becoming rather restless...