Chapter Text
Throughout his lengthy existence, Seokjin hadn't ever made a serious attempt at keeping a secret, either due to the lack of interested parties, or an obscure prophecy spoken by a seer which ultimately dispelled all mysteries - not that the Underworld was heavily involved in the matters of Olympian deities anyhow, its denizens less likely to partake in frivolous mind games. Firstly, Seokjin was usually too busy managing the particular logistics of afterlife to even briefly entertain petty politics born out of boredom: the flow of souls across the Styx remained constant, surging and ebbing along with the mercurial temper of the ruling twelve who loved wreaking havoc among mortals. War kept raging ferociously across the centuries with brief respite of famine and plague further decimating the general population on Earth, while simultaneously inflating the number of residents in Hades, a couple of whom stayed permanently, subject to a variety of punishments, torture for mistakes nobody could even recall anymore.
Understandably, sometimes Hades too needed a break from the daily grind, escape the responsibilities, or rather himself since the realm was just another manifestation of his existence, an extension of power and consciousness that preceded the universe, because stars also came to life, then diminished not unlike humanity, eventually returning to cosmic matter. However, Seokjin found the people of Earth infinitely more intriguing than the cosmic bodies ornamenting the sky - often, he wondered if the curiosity was rooted in a morbid form of occupational hazard, since Hades encompassed not only the souls in transit, but all the memories, yearning and regret as well. Seokjin had never considered denying or resisting this odd kinship which would lead him to seek out the mortal world on occasion, at last culminating in the impulse purchase of a bakery, conveniently situated within a quiet, residential neighbourhood of suburban Seoul where the foot traffic was sparse, mostly limited to school kids and morning commuters.
Although people were initially perplexed by the store's unusual name, Nysion soon became favoured in the local community, its broad assortment of fresh bread and pastries satiating both hassled salarymen looking for a quick bite, and young homemakers alike who were trying to supplement family meals at a reasonable price point. While Seokjin didn't open the bakery for charitable purposes or to gain profit, and he wasn't quite keen on operating a business either, he still relished in the simplicity of maintaining a pastry shop, which straightforward processes, humble products elicited an honest contentment so rare to experience as a divinity inundated by *hubris*. The less poetic reason was merely stress baking, a habit he picked up during the halcyon days, originally starting out with loaves of white bread, then graduating to layered cakes and delicate meringues with advances in time and human technology - the modern oven, precision scales and electronic appliances undeniably helped with the preparation time and overall taste, quality.
Rather than facilitating baking endeavours, magic had the tendency to muddle the results, the adverse effects ranging from unpalatable texture and ungodly flavours to bestowing extreme good luck or misfortune upon the consumer, however, at random which made the bewitched pastries a nuisance to dispose - not that any of the hungry souls had ever complained. The mortal world was a cruel place, far more brutal and unjust than the Underworld, which denizens knew nothing of dearth, the discomforts of existence unless Hades' deemed otherwise and meted out a suitable punishment; sometimes, upon observing the many vengeful spirits that aimlessly wandered the Earth, Seokjin pondered the difference between the human dimension and Afterlife. The Olympian deities sure loved wreaking havoc on the mortal plane, all too amused by the desperation and recklessness common people displayed when facing a situation beyond control, human comprehension, deriving sick enjoyment from chasing helpless, easy prey, instead of risking demise by another divine being.
Hubris was most akin to nihilism, a disease born out of detachment, the timeless, almost directionless existence all gods, even lesser deities must endure and withstand to maintain the universal balance, else risk the unpleasant consequences: throughout the centuries, Seokjin had witnessed the minor divinity fade away, disappear like the writing on the seashore. Considering how the earthbound technological advancements were particularly unfavourable to nature, the passing of gods formerly ruling the winds, rivers and meadows was inevitable, while others - misery, disgrace and stupidity - quickly rose in rank much to the displeasure of the pantheon whose members staunchly refused to acknowledge the new status quo. In response, formerly renowned deities like Demeter or Hestia, goddesses of the harvest and hearth, chose complete withdrawal from the broadening community, not even deigning to mask their contempt whenever the names of Oizys, Momus and Koalemos were mentioned in discussions: humanity was as good as ruined, they claimed, so why bother with earthbound matters?
Albeit Seokjin didn't keep secrets by principle, he also wasn't in the habit of divulging information meant for the privileged few, even if his decision made certain interactions awkward or terse, the spoken words barely audible beneath the roar of implicit understanding, mute knowledge; a pointed glare across the room conveyed the message just fine, he found. The same pair of eyes had once traced along the sombre halls of the palace Seokjin occasionally called home, located at the centre of Hades, amidst the gentle souls of the Asphodel field and the orchard populated with fragrant pomegranate trees, the fruits gilded, bejewelled to entice, entrap the guileless. Demeter's gaze idled on the sapling demarcating the treeline, perhaps assessing its health, growth potential before turning to address her host, who stood a respectable distance away, placid as the night sky; "this place didn't change a single bit," she commented, a hint of approval filtering through the flat, almost toneless quality of her voice.
Eons later, Hades could still recall the verdant green of Demeter's stare which echoed the lush summer flora aboveground - though the goddess wasn't deemed universally appealing to the mortal taste unlike Aphrodite or Hera, her innate grace, crown of golden wheat and sun-kissed skin attracted a fair group of admirers. Hymns had been written and sung to praise her generosity, a simple melody of cheerful notes that played steadily in the back of Seokjin's mind as he peered inside the quaint flower store absolutely burgeoning with plants; the vines, healthy leaves sprawling all over the flat surface until the walls and shelves were drenched in colour. The magic, lively and buoyant, seeped through the hairline cracks of the window frame, spilled out the entrance door propped open much to Seokjin's amusement: unbidden, he was reminded of a fledgling deity chasing butterflies around a hidden meadow, deep within the mountain range, his wide, innocent gaze the mirror image of the florist's standing behind the counter.