FRESH OFF MT. OLYMPUS WE PRESENT YOU HEPHAESTUS. HERE IN SEOUL THEY ARE KNOWN AS SON JUWON, SAID TO BE TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD. LOCALS SAY THEY LOOK A LOT LIKE JI CHANG WOOK, DO YOU SEE IT? EITHER WAY, I WONDER WHAT THEIR FATE WILL BE.
i.
he opens his eyes in lemnos, an island just off the coast of greece. a soft breeze caresses the side of his face, his back resting against a bed of sand. as if after a lapse in memory, hephaestus slowly regains consciousness, the fire in his veins return.
his legs ache, the sun is so bright in the sky that he needs to bring his hand up to save himself from helios’ fiery gaze. it only bothers him for a few seconds, before he fully understands what has happened. cast off mount olympus, his clenches his fists and sits up, looking down at his own mangled legs, the memory of being powerful and lavish just on that very mountain. i’ll go back, he promises, and the next thing he knows, sintians have come to his aid, singing praises and showering him with medicine and food.
ii.
the god is pleased to say the least, those who are called destroyers worship him so well that he takes them under his own wing, and promises them power as long as they continue their praise. it only takes some time until the god is back in his previous glory, working with them, teaching them his own craft as they forge metal with unforgiving fire.
hephaestus makes them extraordinary weapons fit for gods, and it just takes another war for him to prove his worth yet again. thetis comes to him, and he makes a great shield fit for a great warrior. for achilles, a shield and a sword are forged of excellent quality, strong yet light in weight; stories written on that surface that leave every mortal to marvel at its beauty. even gods are jealous of his crafts, so he is called once again to forge them whatever they wish, his own pride swelling at praise coming from such lips.
iii.
a lot more happens in the span of an eternity. bonds are made and broken, many words that take the façade of truth turn out to be a lie after all. and hephaestus, more humanlike in emotion and mind than he would ever like — gets caught in a wave he doesn’t know how to get off.
he tells himself it’s love, he believes it is love — what else can it be? that warmth of a feeling that swells inside him, making him forget his lameness, the deformaiton so clear to see on his face. he believes and loves, perhaps unlike his own worshippers that lie at his own feet. he showers her with calm, rough hands worshipping her silky touch, well-crafted pieces of jewelry, his own masterpieces — made just for her.
and as all good things do, it all ends. it leaves him bitter, heartbroken, furious in a way that he doesn’t remember ever being. it’s hard to channel all that emotion, so hephaestus finds solace in two things; creating more, and drinking more.
iv.
then something interesting happens — hephaestus had never been too interested in fights between gods that at first, he thinks it’s nothing but that — but this, it’s not a simple strife between lovers or enemies. this concerns them all in a way that he doesn’t know what to do with it. he opens his eyes in a haze from ambrosia and wine; and sees the sky filled with fire he hasn’t ignited himself.
screams fill the air, war chants that come from no one but the titans themselves. gods around him are in a frenzy, and before hephaestus can even begin to understand what the hell is going on, everything turns dark, and that’s the last memory he has of his previous life.
000.
this time, he opens his eyes in seoul, in a small flat with big windows, night lights of the city illuminating the dark room. and just like that, he isn’t hepheastus anymore. the god of fire has lost all his power, and learns that he can’t even make a simple spark with the snap of his fingers. it’s all gone, and to wake up in a mortal body is more disorienting than he ever thought it would be, more disorienting than that day he washed up on the shore of lemnos.
you’re not hephaestus, a voice supplies unhelpfully. son juwon, that’s who you are. and memories come back in a rush, an unfamiliar past that’s supposed to be his. it’s not too well-constructed, he supposes, this person has no wealth or power — but it gives him a clear vision of who son juwon is, and who he himself is supposed to be.
he stands on steady feet, and raises a hand to his face, traces the foreign lines with hands that are much softer than he remembers. a frown spreads to his lips as he searches for a source of light, blindly touching the walls until he finds the device to turn them on. there’s a mirror at the corner of his room, and in a matter of seconds, juwon stands in front of it, looking at the physical body he’s in.
his heart leaps, an odd feeling fills his chest — there is no deformation, no obvious scars that became a part of himself; and even though that fire in his veins is dimmed, he finds that he likes standing on two steady, strong feet. it’ll take some time getting used to, he supposes, and wishes if only he had powers too.
001.
it’s a punishment, that much is clear — yet hephaestus finds out soon enough that son juwon isn’t too different in character at all. he also works with machinery, skilled hands work on wires, forging the casing of different machines. it has more to do with technology than he would have ever thought, but he learns that juwon is an engineer, a good one at that, dabbling in both theoretics and practice.
on his free time, he works for a friend of his, a goldsmith, working with her clothing line and designing jewellery like he used to. it’s clear to see this job is much more creative, yet juwon cherishes the contrast between his day-to-day job and working on jewellery with her, skilled hands crafting gold and silver to go with the designs she makes.
002.
it takes a lot less time to get used to a mortal body than he would have ever thought — and even less than that to fall back into his old habits. the earthly vices are strong, maybe nowhere near those on mount olympus, but juwon finds out that some scars remain, and drinking is quite helpful to forget.
there is no ambrosia, or divine delights, but he makes do, enjoys his work in the day, and drowns his sorrows with liquor at night. some nights he spends by his desk working, designing, crafting, and some nights he doesn’t even remember the night before.
it’s a much weaker body, but juwon continues on living — when he’s so drunk at night that he can’t remember the day before, he even questions if this life is any different, but then again, a damned headache in the morning always reveals that yes, yes it is.