A Name and a Shifting Heart

“On a scale of ten, I’d rate it a nine.”

“Nine… Boss, you must be trying to console me, right?” Yodel was incredulous.

The God of Death shook her head slightly. “No, I’m being sincere. In fact, even if no one from the Immortality Society had died, I wouldn’t have been angry with you.

“Are you surprised? You wouldn’t be if you spent more time with me…

“Of all things in the world, death is the sole ultimate end. Therefore, I’ve never been overly concerned with outcomes, as all paths ultimately lead to the same destination. What truly matters to me is the journey itself.

“To arrive in a new place, utterly ignorant of its culture, society, terrain, and power dynamics, yet in merely two weeks, manage to unite two factions, establish your own intelligence network and combat prowess, and even confront a local power that has been entrenched for a century – regardless of the final outcome, this is nothing short of a magnificent feat, wouldn’t you agree?

“Stop looking around; I’m talking about you.”

The God of Death’s words radiated a subtle warmth, sweeping away Yodel’s anxieties and bringing him a profound sense of clarity.

To have one’s efforts acknowledged would naturally fill anyone with irrepressible joy, especially when the praise comes from someone of such immense importance.

Yet, the God of Death’s barrage of compliments was far from over:

“Furthermore, your belief that you merely stumbled into success and therefore don’t deserve a reward? I disagree with that too.

“In truth, had you not intervened and disrupted their plans, the Immortality Society would likely have already released their living corpse serum into the city center. What difference does it make if it was a fortunate accident? That doesn’t change the fact that your actions severely crippled the Immortality Society. You have every right to be proud, don’t you think?

“So, take the reward. It’s rightfully yours, and there’s absolutely no need to feel embarrassed.”

Yodel pinched his cheek, needing to confirm that he wasn’t dreaming.

In his mind, a boss who possessed such understanding, discerning judgment, and boundless generosity could only exist in the realm of fantasy.

He simply couldn’t comprehend why the God of Death had no followers. Were the people of this world truly so blind?

Having delivered this lengthy, effusive speech, and noticing Yodel’s ears had flushed crimson from her praise, the God of Death finally paused, a satisfied smile gracing her lips.

‘Well, that move should have significantly boosted Yodel’s favorability, right?’

‘Her sole devotee, her only chosen one, the only person who didn’t freeze in terror at the sight of her – she could never spoil him too much. She had to secure his heart firmly by her side; she was utterly weary of tens of thousands of years spent alone.’

With the spiritual encouragement complete, it was time for a material reward. Thus, the God of Death spoke again:

“So, have you decided what reward you’d like?”

Whatever Yodel might ask for, she was mentally prepared, even if it meant him asking for a kiss.

Yet Yodel’s reply completely defied her expectations.

He didn’t ask for immense power, nor for status or glory, nor even for wealth and riches.

Instead, he posed a question that was remarkably simple, yet profoundly difficult for the God of Death to answer.

“God of Death, could you tell me your name?”

Even Yodel himself didn’t know why he’d asked this question; he suddenly felt an urge to understand the God of Death a little more deeply.

“…”

“No, is it… not possible? I’m sorry, if it’s not alright, then I won’t ask.” The God of Death’s silence flustered Yodel, and he hastily began to explain himself.

“I… am a little different from other deities…”

Just as Yodel grew increasingly anxious, the God of Death finally spoke.

“I have no followers, and I dwell alone in the Spirit Realm. There’s no need for me to interact with other gods for work. A name is utterly useless to me; I’ve never had such a thing…

“I am simply the God of Death. I have no other name…”

“Huh?”

Never in his wildest dreams had he anticipated such a response.

Yet, what came next was even more astonishing.

“Why don’t you give me one?”

A deity asking a mortal to name them—if any clergyman in the world were to learn of this, their worldview would shatter instantly.

As the person directly involved, Yodel’s shock was no less profound.

“Don’t look so stunned. I imagine this name will only ever be used by you, so of course, it should be you who chooses it.”

Having said this, she resembled a little girl awaiting a gift, her eyes shining with anticipation as she waited for Yodel’s answer.

Under the God of Death’s gaze, Yodel felt his heart pound with incredible speed, making coherent thought almost impossible.

Several minutes later, he decided to find a name for the God of Death from his previous life.

“Thanatos.”

“How does that name sound? Do you like it?”

“Mm, it’s beautiful. As long as it’s chosen by you, I’ll love it.”

Yodel’s face flushed crimson.

“However…” Thanatos suddenly leaned closer to Yodel, tilting her head as she asked, “Does this name hold any special meaning?”

“It’s the name of the God of Death from the world I originally lived in, but that God of Death was a fictional creation, utterly incomparable to you, the true God of Death!”

No sooner had he finished the first half of his sentence than Yodel distinctly felt the air around them grow cold, prompting him to hastily emphasize that the other God of Death was a mere fabrication.

“Is that so?”

“Of course! In my heart, there is only one God of Death, and that is you, Thanatos!”

“Heh, thank you. I never imagined I’d actually have the chance to be called by a name.”

Although she spoke with a smile, Yodel discerned a profound melancholy within her words, a sadness born of solitude.

He couldn’t fathom how, utterly alone, without friends or family, and facing immense work pressure daily, Thanatos had endured such an immeasurable span of time and persevered until now.

Unable to comprehend it, Yodel could only attribute her resilience to the immense willpower inherent in a deity.

From this moment forward, however, everything had changed.

The God of Death—no, now Thanatos—would never be alone again.

Yodel’s original intention had been straightforward: simply to curry favor with Thanatos, repay her kindness for resurrecting him, then secure more benefits from her, and ultimately live a comfortable and fulfilling life.

In simpler terms, he aimed to become a ‘leg-hanger’ (TL Note: A slang term for someone who clings to a powerful person for support and benefits, often by providing emotional value or flattery.) who offered emotional support.

Yet, Yodel had consistently overlooked one crucial fact: favorability was a two-way street.

Thanatos had held a high initial favorability toward him, but wasn’t his own feeling for Thanatos equally profound?

He felt guilt when unable to complete her tasks, boundless joy at her approval, and a poignant ache mixed with indignation for her tens of thousands of years of solitude.

And then there were the darker thoughts, such as the quiet delight he felt at being her sole devotee, allowing him to ‘monopolize’ Thanatos.

‘When did my mindset begin to shift?’

Perhaps it was Yelica’s hint that made him realize the extraordinary favor Thanatos held for him.

Perhaps it was the day he recognized the profound significance of being a chosen one, prompting him to embrace that responsibility and live up to Thanatos’s expectations.

Or perhaps, just now, when she had actively consoled him in his deepest despair, fostering a nascent attachment within him?

No, none of that mattered anymore. The very act of questioning when his heart had begun to stir indicated that he was already deeply entangled.

‘I was supposed to be maxing out Thanatos’s favorability, to conquer the goddess like a light novel protagonist…’

‘But why do I feel like I’m the one whose favorability is being maxed out…?’