Chapter 907: A Night in Venice

Hela spent a few more minutes analyzing restaurants on Vergil's phone, treating every review as though she were investigating a possible scam against Helheim.

When she finally chose a place near the Grand Canal, she turned the screen toward him and showed him the route with a satisfied expression.

"This one. The pictures look good, they have seafood, pasta, and no one in the comments mentioned food poisoning. I consider that a victory."

"Excellent criteria," Vergil replied, following the map directions as he slowed the Jesko. "Especially the last one."

"You laugh, but humans write terrifying things on the internet. There's a woman complaining that the waiter took eight minutes to bring her wine. Eight minutes, Vergil. She wrote six paragraphs."

"Maybe it was a very important moment in her life."

Hela laughed and kept reading a few reviews until she noticed Vergil entering one of the areas near Piazzale Roma where they would need to leave the vehicle.

"So that's the end of our grand trip in the absurdly expensive car?"

"Unfortunately."

"It lasted less than some public executions I've watched."

"It's Venice. I'm not the one who built the city on top of canals."

Vergil parked the car in a private garage that had clearly already been prepared to receive him.

An employee appeared almost immediately, but Vergil simply handed over the spare key and told him not to touch the vehicle any more than necessary.

Hela waited beside him with her arms crossed, amused by the contrast between that excessive care and the man who, only a few hours earlier, had been using Mjölnir to pulverize dragons.

"You really like that car," she commented as they started walking.

"I do."

"More than Yamato?"

The sword vibrated at Vergil's waist.

He immediately looked at Hela.

"Don't ask dangerous questions."

Mjölnir trembled on the other side.

Hela smiled.

"That reaction answered everything."

Vergil sighed and kept walking, allowing her to hook her arm through his again.

The city was completely different from Helheim.

People talked in the streets, tourists stopped in the middle of the way to take pictures, waiters carried trays between outdoor tables, and small boats moved through the canals beneath old bridges.

Hela watched everything with more attention than Vergil expected.

She already knew Venice, but she had always seen it through some function connected to death.

That night, for the first time, she could simply walk without waiting for someone to take their final breath.

As they crossed a small bridge, Hela slowed down and looked at a couple taking a photograph near the water.

"Humans really like recording everything."

"Because they don't live long."

She fell silent for several seconds.

"Probably."

Vergil looked at her.

"Does that bother you?"

"No. I just never thought about it that way."

Hela rested her arms on the bridge railing and watched a boat pass beneath them.

"When you manage the dead for long enough, you start thinking of life as a line. Someone is born, lives, reaches me, and then becomes another administrative problem. It's easy to forget that for the person standing in that line, that short part is everything."

Vergil stopped beside her.

"You're getting philosophical on the first date."

"I can go back to talking about sex if you prefer."

"Philosophy is fine."

Hela laughed and pulled him by the arm again.

"Coward."

The restaurant she had chosen was on a narrow street near the canal, with only a few outdoor tables and a small interior.

Vergil had not reserved anything, but that did not end up being a problem.

After a few minutes, the two got a table beside an open window overlooking the water.

Hela sat across from him and opened the menu as though it were a diplomatic document.

"Do you speak Italian?" she asked.

"A little."

"So do I."

"Then why are you looking at that like it's a primordial rune?"

"Because there are fifteen different kinds of pasta and they all look the same."

Vergil rested his chin on one hand.

"That would probably make an Italian try to kill you."

"I'm difficult to kill."

"That's not the point."

She started laughing and pointed at one of the options.

"This one has squid ink."

"Are you going to order it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It's too black."

Vergil stared at her.

Hela noticed.

"Don't say anything."

"You rule Helheim."

"I told you not to say anything."

In the end, Hela chose seafood pasta exactly as she had planned, while Vergil ordered something simpler along with wine.

When the waiter left, she picked up the glass and slowly swirled the liquid, smelling it before taking a sip.

"This is good."

"You sound surprised."

"We don't exactly have vineyards in Helheim."

"You could import it."

"The dead don't drink."

"You do."

Hela stopped with the glass near her lips and looked at him.

"That is a dangerously good argument."

Vergil smiled.

"I have a few."

The food arrived a few minutes later, and the conversation lost any specific direction.

Hela asked about Sparda, about how Vergil managed a kingdom filled with so many different races, and especially how he had managed to accumulate such an absurd collection of people around him.

Vergil tried to explain that most of it had not been planned, which only made Hela laugh more.

"So you don't build alliances," she concluded, twirling pasta around her fork. "You simply walk into somewhere, cause a disaster, and leave with new subordinates."

"That is an offensive simplification."

"But is it wrong?"

Vergil thought about Asgard, Bifröst, Mjölnir, the Valkyries, and Niddrog.

"…Not completely."

"I knew it."

He pointed at her with his glass.

"And you? How many people ended up in Helheim because you solved one problem by causing another?"

"That's different."

"Of course."

"I'm a professional."

Vergil laughed.

"You tried to kiss me five minutes after meeting me."

"Professionally."

He nearly choked on his wine.

Hela looked absolutely pleased with herself.

After dinner, Vergil paid without even properly looking at the bill, which made Hela comment again about him having too much money.

He simply answered that they had already settled that discussion, and the two returned to the streets.

This time, they had no specific destination.

They walked toward Rialto Bridge, blending into the crowd and occasionally stopping whenever Hela found something interesting.

She bought a small black-and-gold Venetian mask from a souvenir shop simply because she found it amusing that humans sold objects historically used to hide identity as tourist decorations.

She put it on and turned toward Vergil.

"Well?"

"It suits you."

"That's all?"

"Do you want a full aesthetic analysis?"

"Yes."

Vergil stepped closer, lightly held her chin, and studied the mask for several seconds.

"You're still beautiful. The mask doesn't help much because half the people are still going to stare."

Hela fell silent for a moment.

Then she removed the mask.

"You're improving."

"At what?"

"Flirting."

"I was always good."

"No. You're confident. There's a difference."

Vergil opened his mouth to answer, but she had already started walking again, satisfied that she had gotten the last word.

When they reached Rialto Bridge, Hela stopped in the middle of the crossing and looked over the Grand Canal.

Boats moved below them, lights reflected across the water, and hundreds of people passed around them.

Vergil remained beside her without saying anything.

There was no need to fill every second with conversation, and Hela seemed to enjoy that.

After a few minutes, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"This is strange," she murmured.

"What is?"

"I'm not doing anything."

"That was the plan."

"Normally there's always someone asking for something. A soul wanting to argue about fate, a dead person insisting they were sent to the wrong place, some spirit trying to escape, some creature trying to cross a border…"

She closed her eyes for a moment.

"Here, no one knows who I am."

Vergil watched the people passing.

"Better that way."

"Don't you miss being recognized?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"Being recognized usually ends with someone trying to kill me."

Hela smiled.

"Fair."

They kept walking until they reached a small area where gondolas were available.

Hela stopped and looked at Vergil.

"No."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't say anything."

"You thought it."

"You can read minds now?"

"No. You made that face."

"What face?"

"The face of someone about to put me in a gondola because we're in Venice."

Vergil remained silent.

Hela pointed at him.

"I knew it."

"It's tradition."

"That is extremely touristy."

"You searched for a restaurant on Google Maps."

She had no answer.

A few minutes later, both of them were sitting in a gondola.

Hela spent the first few minutes complaining that it was a commercial trap for tourists until she realized she actually liked the ride.

The boat moved slowly through smaller canals where the noise of the streets almost disappeared.

Old buildings rose on both sides, small bridges passed above them, and the sounds of the city grew distant.

Hela sat closer to Vergil.

"Don't say anything."

"I wasn't going to."

"Liar."

"Completely."

She gave his shoulder a small shove.

"Idiot."

Vergil wrapped an arm around her waist, and this time Hela did not complain.

She simply settled against him and continued watching the facades pass by.

For several minutes, neither of them said anything.

By the time they got off, it was later.

Hela found a gelateria and decided she needed to try something because she had seen three people walking around with ice cream.

Vergil bought two, even though she had initially said she did not want one.

Less than a minute later, she was stealing his.

"You have your own."

"This one is better."

"It's the same flavor."

"Then it doesn't matter."

Vergil moved the ice cream away from her.

Hela tried to reach it.

"You rule an entire kingdom."

"Give it to me."

"No."

"Vergil."

"No."

She finally grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand closer, stealing a spoonful with a victorious smile.

"Queen of the dead," Vergil muttered. "Defeated by pistachio."

"A victory is a victory."

Later, they reached Piazza San Marco.

The crowd had thinned a little, although there were still groups scattered across the square.

Hela walked slowly through the open space, observing the Basilica, the bell tower, and the cafés around them.

A musician was playing violin beneath a nearby awning, and she ended up slowing down.

Vergil noticed.

"Want to stop?"

"Why?"

"You're listening."

Hela looked slightly surprised that he had noticed.

"Just for a few minutes."

They sat at a more distant outdoor table and ordered two drinks.

For a while, Hela simply listened to the music while playing with the small ornament on the mask she had bought earlier.

When the violinist shifted into a slower composition, she looked at Vergil.

"Do you dance?"

"No."

"Lie."

"Why would that be a lie?"

"You fight with a sword like you're dancing."

"That doesn't mean I dance."

Hela stood and extended one hand.

"Then learn."

Vergil looked at her hand.

Then at the people around them.

"You want to dance here?"

"You faced Odin."

"I don't see the connection."

"Are you embarrassed?"

Vergil stood immediately.

Hela smiled.

"That worked."

"You're learning quickly."

She took his hand and placed her other one on his shoulder, while Vergil rested his free hand on her waist.

They did nothing particularly elaborate.

Hela guided the first movements until Vergil understood the rhythm, and then he began following naturally.

"See?" she said. "You know how."

"This is just coordination."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"You talk too much."

"And you're still dancing with me."

Vergil smiled.

Hela did too.

When the music ended, they did not immediately move apart.

They remained close for several seconds, and Hela realized that the attraction that had started simply because he humiliated Odin no longer felt quite so simple.

Vergil was irritating, arrogant, and carried an absurd amount of trouble with him, but he had also managed to do something very few people ever tried.

He treated her like a woman before treating her like the Queen of Helheim.

"So?" Vergil asked.

"So what?"

"Is your fire still completely dead?"

Hela stared at him.

Then smiled slowly.

"Maybe it came back a little."

"A little?"

"Don't get full of yourself."

Vergil laughed and offered his arm again.

"We still have a city to see."

Hela took it without hesitation.

"Then walk, darling."