Chapter 332. Golden Pen < Lame Sandwich

Seven Sins System Chapter 332. Golden Pen < Lame Sandwich

She pressed her lips into a thin line, shooting me an annoyed look. The tension was clear, but she couldn't voice her complaints, not when my words were undeniably true.

"Just like last night," I murmured, my voice edged with mischief. I leaned in closer, my eyes locking with hers. "That desperate mortal summoned me, not you."

A flicker of irritation popped across her features, and I relished it, reveling in the way it disrupted her composed demeanor. It was a dangerous game we played, this push and pull.

But what pleased me more than anything was the twist of control, the notion that even under her disapproval, I remained unchained by her disapproval. I could see the frustration in her eyes, her attempts to restrain the surge of her divine essence, I was not blind to it, nor was I daunted by it.

I straightened, allowing a subtle, knowing smirk to curve my lips. "Don't you just hate it when reality doesn't align with your expectations?" I taunted.

She exhaled sharply, her gaze boring into me, but I could sense the underlying acknowledgment of the truth in my words. I knew the rules, the boundaries we operated within. Mortals summoned me, not her, and that irked her to no end.

“But it was me who finally settled everything," she reminded me with a fierce look, her eyes glittering with determination and a hint of defiance.

I couldn't help but let out a dark, mocking laugh, unable to resist the urge to provoke her further. “That was a nice joke," I chuckled, my voice tinged with an evil edge. "Considering it was you who ended up having to pay double. To me and to her," I emphasized, relishing the opportunity to remind her of the price she had to pay for my assistance. "While I... I got a nice payment from her," I added with a self-satisfied smirk, making sure she understood who reaped the most benefits from our little arrangement.

Her response was wrapped in pride and determination. "I don't regret sacrificing something small of myself for something better,” she stated boldly. "Money is just a small thing for a goddess like me. I won't die if I don't have it. But she is different. She would die if she didn't have it. She needs food," she continued, her tone firm and resolute.

I shook my head as I reclined in my chair, propping my elbow on the armrest. Resting my chin on my hand, I couldn't help but mock her at that moment. "So heroic," I uttered, dripping with sarcasm. "Yet stupid," I tacked on, unable to resist adding a touch of devilish glee to the conversation.

Leaning forward, I casually picked up a pen from my cluttered desk, twirling it between my fingers before bringing it up for display. "Why take the hard path when you can opt for the shortcut?" I quipped, showing her the pen, and used my Devil's Craft.

With a swift movement, I infused it with a flicker of my demonic power. In a split second, the pen transformed into a dazzling golden artifact, adorned with intricate, beautiful carvings that would make even the most skilled crafters envious.

The transformation was more than a mere parlor trick. It was a demonstration of the potential for instant wealth—something I had no qualms about showcasing, despite its inherent temptation and shades of greed.

The golden pen, an object that held no intrinsic value a moment ago, now radiated with luxury. It was a glimpse into what she could do, how easily she could obtain riches with a slight deviation from her righteous path. Sure, it was a form of greed, but in this world, sometimes the line between necessity and avarice blurs.

"No," she uttered firmly, snatching the pen from my hand and placing it back on the desk. Suddenly, her angelic power wrapped around the pen, reverting it to its mundane form—a common pen that one could find anywhere.

"That's what a devil does. I'm a goddess, I wouldn't do that," she hissed. Her words cut through the air with a hint of disdain, emphasizing the fundamental difference between our moral stances.

I shrugged, maintaining a nonchalant demeanor. "Suit yourself then," I stated casually, a tinge of indifference coloring my words. "Don't say I didn't try to help you out with this," I added, my voice carrying a note of resignation.

The rift between us was more than just a difference in power or ability. It was a clash of ideologies.

"You did help me," she uttered unexpectedly, her voice oddly calm. Her acknowledgment was unexpected, and it left me momentarily off balance.

“Thank you for the sandwiches. It was delicious,” she added swiftly before I could respond.

Then, in the blink of an eye, she activated her teleportation skill, vanishing from the room. But just before she disappeared, I caught a glimpse of her faintly blushing face. It was a puzzling moment, but my mind was preoccupied with a different puzzle altogether.

“Wait... How could you thank me for a simple sandwich instead of appreciating a skillfully crafted golden pen?” I blurted out, my confusion evident. Her response had left me perplexed. I couldn't fathom her thought process at all.

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