Got Engaged to the Man They Call Ugly - Chapter 4
The woman snapped with her chin raised. Her voice was ice cold, and made me feel numb.
“If you’re unhappy about it, I can always send you back to the Underworld to meet your fate.”
“No! No thank you!”
She frantically waved her hands in protest.
She did remember the chandelier crashing down above her.
But dying? That was hard to believe.
To think she’d die so pointlessly, just staring at her phone when it happened. She’d heard of people like that, and she never thought she’d become one of them.
Not even hit by a car on the street or anything, no, she died because a chandelier fell on her head while checking spam messages during a free museum visit she’d won?
‘…What kind of rotten luck is this. If I hadn’t come to the museum in the first place, none of this would’ve happened. To think I traded my life for a damn keyring. Boo hoo hoo.’
“What a painfully overthinking mortal.”
The woman with the shockingly beautiful face muttered in clear disdain.
“Well, no matter. Even inferior beings should at least have the eyes to recognize true beauty.”
Her voice dripped with arrogance, every word sharp enough to cut, a far cry from the elegance of her appearance.
“So answer now, Elinne the Mortal!”
“Y-Yes!”
I’m not Elinne.
That thought echoed in her mind, but she had no choice but to respond. All three pairs of eyes on her were far too piercing.
“Present the Golden Apple to the Goddess you believe is the most beautiful among us.”
And with that, she had to wonder if she’d misheard.
“…Excuse me?”
“Are you deaf? I said—offer the Golden Apple in your possession to the Goddess you judge most beautiful among the three standing before you.”
She got the sense that one more “Excuse me?” might just cost her her head.
And… hold on. Golden Apple? What Golden Apple?
‘I didn’t even get the keyring, let alone a Golden Apple…’
Just as the thought crossed her mind, something dropped from thin air.
“…Ah!”
Instinctively, she reached out and caught it with both hands.
What fell into her hands was quite literally an apple that seemed to be made of gold.
A fruit so perfectly smooth it looked like it belonged in a still life painting from art class.
It was heavy, almost shockingly so, and if it wasn’t just plated but made entirely of gold, the price would likely be high enough to make your eyes pop out of your head. It gleamed with the dazzling shine of capitalism itself.
“Elinne the Mortal!”
As she stood there, wondering whether she could get away with taking a bite, the Goddesses spoke again, more firmly this time.
“This is our final command.”
“Present the Golden Apple in your hand to the goddess you deem most beautiful.”
It took a moment for her brain to catch up with the words, they registered just a beat late, distracted by the sheer heft of the thing.
‘To the most beautiful Goddess, I’m to offer… this Golden Apple?’
…Wait a second. Where have I heard this question before?
A cold sweat trickled down her back.
She knew this story, it was a myth.
There was a myth about a prince who was promised the most beautiful woman in the world as his wife if he gave the Golden Apple to the Goddess of Beauty. He accepted, and he did get the most beautiful woman as his wife, but she was already married. That little detail dragged every God into a war and completely wrecked his life.
But this didn’t feel like some hidden camera prank or a social experiment riffing on mythology.
From the indescribable aura around the three Goddesses, to the owl perched on the armored woman’s shoulder with feathers no earthly creature could possess, to the peacock-feather fan held by the sharp-eyed goddess which held an actual eyeball that rolled and blinked inside.
If any of this had been man-made, it deserved UNESCO recognition as a cultural miracle.
“I-I…”
She stammered unconsciously.
Her brain was drawing blanks the more real this all felt.
By all mythological accounts, the apple should go to the “Goddess of Beauty.”
And by appearance alone, the choice was obvious. There was no need to think twice.
Almost involuntarily, her eyes drifted to the woman… No, the Goddess whose beauty had stunned her the moment she first saw her.
A Goddess with ivory hair that shimmered like white sand, delicate features sculpted to perfection, and a voluptuous figure she flaunted proudly with zero shame.
“You may be a brainless mortal, but at least you have some taste.”
The Goddess, clearly sensing her gaze, scoffed in satisfaction.
“Yes, even if you don’t say it aloud, those with eyes would know. I am Vishtar, Goddess of Beauty and Love.”
…Wait a second. Vishtar?
That name rang a bell. Where had she heard it…
After some consideration, it hit her all at once. The name of the exhibition she had last visited. The one she’d won a free ticket to. It was called the Vishtar Exhibition.
