There were still a few weeks left until the festival would actually happen, so Hedin returned the next day bright and early with Ottar in tow.
The tall Boaz would dwarf any person when they stood shoulder to shoulder, but Harry wasn't any person; he stood taller than this giant of a demihuman. They shook hands, and Bell's personal little hell had begun.
Day in and day out, he was forced to cram into himself how to treat Syr according to Hedin's vision of perfection, which was pretty tough to get. After this training came the more physically intense one; he was pushed to Level 6, and even then, he was pushed beyond his limits. In 2 weeks, Bell had reached Level 7 under the care of Hedin, Ottar, and Harry, along with either of his wives that just randomly joined in on the torture—I mean training.
It was really tough, but the fruits of it would be amazing. Bell even defeated Ottar once he became a Level 7 Adventurer, shocking Hedin with his progress speed, and Ottar regained his drive for improvement.
Today was the day Syr and Bell will go to the Goddess Festival and Harry was readying up as well, he had to juggle multiple dates at once, so he first dressed in something nice and with style: A black two-piece suit and white button-up shirt, a black tie and some golden chain accessoires to add some rich vibe to it. he went for classy shoes to finish off his look for the day.
As for how he would handle dating his 6 wives, Loki, Hephaistos, Ais, Ryuu, Riveria, and Hestia, he'd have to make clones and decide whom he'll go with in person, though it's very likely he'll go with Hestia.
Snapping his fingers, 11 clones appeared, perfectly identical to himself, the original. Once they had formed completely, they nodded and went out in order to pick up their respective partners for this festival and maybe secure their creator some more ladies.
The Festival had come and so has the time for the Dates.
The city of Orario was alive with color and music. Lanterns swayed in the evening breeze, glowing with soft hues of pink, blue, and gold. Delicate scents of candied fruits and sizzling meats filled the air. The Goddess Festival had arrived.
And Bell Cranel had never been so nervous in his life.
He stood in front of the mirror, wearing a sleek, midnight-blue jacket tailored to his lean frame, paired with silver-accented black slacks. His white dress shirt was crisp, and a pale blue tie completed the look, chosen specifically because Syr once said she liked light colors on him. His silver hair had been combed carefully, and his red eyes held both nerves and something else—resolve.
Behind him, Harry gave a smirk, arms crossed as he looked over the freshly polished Bell. "You look like a young prince."
Bell chuckled sheepishly. "I feel more like a scared squire."
Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Then show her you're brave enough to face a dragon—and charm it."
Bell nodded. That was all he needed.
He left Hearth Manor, walking through the glowing streets until he reached the Hostess of Fertility. Waiting outside was Syr—no, Freya—dressed in a soft white and silver gown that shimmered faintly under the lanterns. Her silver hair was tied in a loose braid that fell over her shoulder, and a flower circlet adorned her head.
She turned, and for a moment, Bell lost all breath.
"Bell," she greeted warmly, her voice soft but filled with delight. "You came."
He stepped forward and smiled. "Of course I did."
He offered his arm, and she took it gracefully.
Their walk through the Festival was like something out of a dream. Bell was surprisingly composed—Hedin's brutal etiquette training had paid off. He opened doors, offered her sweets, complimented her thoughtfully, and kept pace with her desires without being overbearing.
They watched a lantern release ceremony by the bridge, where Syr leaned slightly into him, her eyes glowing softly in the reflection of the water. The air was filled with floating lights—wishes drifting into the heavens.
As they sat together by a quiet spot beneath a tree, she finally broke the silence.
"Bell… there's something I must tell you." Her fingers tightened around his hand.
He turned to her, expression calm. "I already know. Harry told me."
Her eyes widened in surprise—she hadn't expected that. Not the quiet acceptance on his face, nor the gentleness in his tone.
"You know… and you still came?"
Bell nodded, smiling faintly. "Yeah. I came because I like you. Not your name, or your status as a goddess, or the Familia you lead. Just… you."
Syr—no, Freya—stared at him, eyes shimmering with disbelief. Slowly, her lips curled into something tender. Her usual seductive air melted away, replaced by raw, earnest emotion.
"Bell Cranel… you foolish, sweet boy."
She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his. "You are the only one who ever saw me. Not the beauty. Not the goddess. Just… Syr."
And then she kissed him.
It wasn't rushed or hungry. It was warm. Slow. Gentle. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her like she was precious—and she was.
When they pulled apart, they stayed close, breaths mingling. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this," Freya whispered.
Later, they found themselves in the center plaza, where music had begun to play. Lanterns floated above the dance floor, and couples spun gracefully beneath them.
Freya took Bell's hand with a mischievous twinkle. "Care to dance, my knight?"
"I'm still learning," Bell admitted.
"Then let me lead, just this once."
They danced slowly, in perfect harmony, as the music wrapped around them like silk. All around them were gods, mortals, and adventurers, but for Bell and Freya, there was only the music. Only the stars. Only this moment.
And as they moved together, swaying in time, Freya looked up at him again. "I want you, Bell. Just you. All for myself."
Bell paused, caught in the spell of her voice, her eyes, her touch. And for a moment, he nearly said yes.
But then he remembered Harry's words, spoken in quiet wisdom days before.
"The time apart, the struggle, the longing—it makes the reunion all the sweeter. That's love, Bell. Not possession. But presence."
So Bell smiled, gently loosening his hand from hers and lacing their fingers instead.
"I… I don't think I can leave Hestia Familia," he said carefully. "They're my family. I love them too."
She nodded slowly, looking disappointed—but not angry.
"But," he added, pulling her in closer as the music reached its crescendo, "I want to keep seeing you. Syr or Freya or whoever you are. I want this. Us. Like this."
And she smiled then—truly smiled—and it was radiant. She kissed his hand and whispered against it, "Then I'll wait for the day you come to me… because you want to."
Meanwhile… in Eleven Places at Once
Across the city, Harry's clones were all simultaneously engaged in their own romantic subplots—each woman laughing, blushing, or threatening to castrate him (depending on the moment).
But one clone looked toward the center plaza and smiled as Bell and Freya danced, surrounded by floating lights.
The original Harry, walking hand-in-hand with Hestia, smirked to himself.
"That boy's growing up fast."
Hestia giggled and leaned into him. "You're a good teacher."
He shrugged. "Eh, I just shoved him into hell and let him swim."
"Sounds like you."
And above them, the Goddess Festival reached its peak—music, love, laughter, and lights painting the sky.
AN: I hope this kinda captured the dates. If you want, I could make a chapter solely focusing on each one of Harry's 12 dates, but I think this is good enough.