Chapter 149
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 149
Chapter Title: Take Responsibility for the Ruined Mood
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"You ruined the mood, so take responsibility."
"What the heck?"
".....Huh?"
Oops. Korean slipped out in my surprise.
This conversation at Hestia's hearth was just that—a simple chat, with no proper stage setup.
With Hestia's hearth as the backdrop, I'd been about to kick off the show as the Heroic Tournament victor, delivering an opening speech of sorts...
But then this blond delinquent suddenly appeared and wrecked everything.
"Hey, Pewss. Give me a cup of wine."
"My name's Orpheus. But why wine all of a sudden?"
He picked a nit effortlessly, but Orpheus dutifully handed over the wine jug anyway.
I downed it in one go. Instead of suppressing the buzz, the inner energy amplified it, sending the sharp alcohol scent straight to my brain.
I tossed the amphora aside roughly. Marsyas and Orpheus eyed me warily as I got pleasantly tipsy.
"Um, Dianes? Dionysus's banquets are always like this. Just calm down a bit..."
"Still, he owes us an explanation."
This god of wine—or whatever he was—hadn't just trashed the banquet hall.
We'd already struggled without a proper stage; Orpheus and Marsyas had racked their brains, and I'd added ideas for staging and props. All of it was now smashed to bits.
The quick-witted troupe members had grabbed their instruments and gear and bolted, but it was obvious the upcoming performance would suffer.
Sure, it was a rushed opening cobbled together in hours, and even I had second thoughts about debuting such advanced stuff in this early era.
Still, as a performer with a career built on artistry, I had every right to call out this rude intruder for wrecking the stage.
"My music master once said something."
Great art never yields.
True artistry demands unyielding resolve.
Worth words from the Qin Maniac, who conquered the imperial palace with a single string and rose to pinnacle of demonic arts.
"The price for killing a great artist's groove is heavy."
Don't let appearances fool you—I had thirty years on the gayageum.
I'd taught the crown prince of the Great Ming Empire, and the queen of the gods begged for my strings day in, day out. A battle-hardened musician.
Even if a thug crashed the stage and botched the performance, elevating that chaos into the show itself...
That was my job as the star today.
The banquet, heating up with the leads' arrival, chilled in an instant. At the center, drawing all eyes, Dionysus looked flustered like a shy girl.
"Oh no! Sorry! I'm so sorry! Is everyone okay? No one's hurt, right?"
Say what you will—he was Zeus's son.
The mad god who'd roamed Greece showing off his exploits(?).
This sudden entrance was so very Dionysus that everyone just sighed. Meanwhile, the man himself apologized nonstop while personally clearing debris.
His rowdy followers set down their cups and thyrsuses, pitching in to tidy the hall.
The vibe? One word: "What the hell is that guy?"
"Hey, son of Semele. We warned you."
"We said get drunk and drive a chariot, not feed booze to leopards!"
"Trying to turn into a 'treosos' instead of Dionysus? Gonna dive into fire again like last time?!"
But he was a god. No one dared step up first amid the mad god's divine antics. As heads shook, his Cyclops cousins grumbled and started hauling wreckage.
"Hahaha! My dear mighty cousins! Long time no see! Whoa!"
Dionysus bounded joyfully toward the one-eyed giants.
But in a way unworthy of a god, he tripped on a log he'd scattered himself. Everyone's spines chilled...
-Thud!
"Whoa! That was close...!"
A quick hand shot out, grabbing the beautiful god's arm. Semele's son avoided a face-plant.
"Thanks! Who knew someone so brave would step up? Everyone's too scared of gods to approach!"
That's because it's me—and there's wine involved.
Dionysus turned, grinning cheerfully at his savior.
There stood Darkness, backing away with eyes like he'd spotted something bizarre.
"Oh! Black hair, black clothes! You must be today's star—I, Oi—"
"Ahem! The god's had too much! What if you puke here?!"
A firm hand clamped over those grape-like lips mid-bombshell.
Hey, my head's already splitting over that—now you wanna dive headfirst into demigod drama?
Oh, sorry. Booze makes my mouth flap like butterfly wings.
Eye contact flashed instantly.
With godlike wit and insight, Dionysus read the intent, crescent-moon eyes beaming a lovely smile.
More fun than I thought...?
The ecstatic oracle, glimpsing his future and power before any prophet, smiled secretly.
Save himself, only the seer nailed to the peak knew of this outsider Dianes.
And even Dianes himself was clueless about the marks on his heart and forehead!
This black storm shaking the gods' realm—unchanged despite countless jug-drunk visions—was pure fortune for the mad god Dionysus.
"...."
Reading Dionysus's thoughts, or perhaps wary, the black-clad man released his hand and slipped back.
"Whew! Quite the grip. Nice to meet you, great hero. I'm Dionysus, host of this feast!"
"...Dianes."
What?
This fresh demigod, body still mortal, had willpower sturdier than most Olympians.
Normally, even those wary of him melted—man or woman—under a smile rivaling Aphrodite's.
But those black eyes stared past caution, like at some creepy sea creature.
"Sigh..."
Huh...?
Yet with one deep breath, wariness and disgust morphed into feigned embarrassment—a first-rate actor's shift.
"Even for a god, this is too much."
-Gasp!
The room held its breath at the bold rebuke.
Who was Dionysus?
He'd doomed Thebes' King Pentheus—doubter and insulter—to horrific shame and death. Trakia's Lycurgus mocked him as girly, went mad, slew his sons, and died by his people's hands. The mad shepherd god.
To openly chide such a god.
And it didn't stop there.
"Chairs, tables, debris everywhere. Karyklo's banquet spread scattered like dog food. Folks hyped for the stage, now rabbit-eyed in shock..."
Like a master thespian, black eyes slowly surveyed each detail, then spun back to the god.
"You ruined the mood, so take responsibility."
Frankly, my first impression of Dionysus was off-putting.
Hedonistic madness plus prophetic glaze in his eyes sparked instinctive revulsion, beauty be damned.
Plus, the culprit behind my Oedipus lightning bolt wrecked our prep from the jump.
I had every right to hold him accountable.
But my words plunged the already chaotic mood into deep freeze.
Atalanta gaped, eyes teary. Jason silently scolded my recklessness.
Asclepius sighed, eyes shut. Heracles cheered me on, true to form.
As most recoiled in horror at the madman's stunt, I gazed skyward, shameless.
Ah, how do you hold back with Dionysus right there?
...Truth be told, any Korean would've cracked. Not just me.
The source himself appears, perfectly teeing up the line—who'd pass?
I'd watched live on the orphanage's crappy CRT, pre-meme era.
"What...? Ahahaha!!"
Dionysus clutched his belly, roaring with laughter, then lifted a bizarre staff from the chariot side.
"Hahaha! Right, I must take responsibility. I'm the god of festivals—kill the fest's vibe, and yeah, I owe you!"
[Now, let the festival begin!]
-Boom!
Dionysus slammed the staff down. The air around shifted dramatically.
Is that a god's miracle with divine duty?
Post-Oedipus riddle, the heart-rooted divine duty gave no messages, but its influence seeped into my senses.
Prime example: my eyes.
No longer mere Spirit Eyes, half-divine at least—they clearly showed the divine power from Dionysus's staff morphing form.
"Oh! Wine!"
"Honey oozing from the leaves!"
"Dionysus's miracle!"
Purple divine power thickened to sludge, hit underground veins, surged as wine.
Golden power spread to trees, turned sap to honey.
I see it!
Creating something from nothing—a god's domain.
I'd mimicked Artemis's feat, mastered post-Poseidon and Amphitrite hell-training.
But Dionysus reworked the whole environment in intricate detail per his will.
Like my energy to spear and sword, but his divine finesse and natural manipulation? Complex, profound.
A hacker tweaking code effortlessly—his natural orchestration awed me.
"Mmm~ My homemade wine's the best, right? Here, have some."
Dionysus poured from his hip flask, lips twitching in amusement, dying to hear my reaction.
"Thanks, then."
Couldn't refuse an elder's pour. Plus, with everyone chugging gleefully, my mouth watered.
I downed it.
-Gulp.
"Oh..."
"Good, right? Not divine power-made—this is my special batch, from growing the grapes myself!"
Wine god indeed.
Aromather, sweet, bitterly fiery—the finest wine I'd tasted.
"Wow!"
Purple flames licked my insides, intense.
Flavor, acidity, proof, aroma—flawless. Divine nectar.
"So? Mood lifting now?"
"Yeah, enough for a tune."
That artistic elixir ignited the stalled banquet.
Bone-deep buzz swelling, I hummed my prepped melody.
"Living is...."
"Living is what? Sudden life philosophy?"
"That's~ life. We all come empty-handed...."
The Greece-shaking Heroic Tournament.
And the mad dance time erasing it all—curtain up.