Chapter 1: The reason why she was banned

Soft, radiant sunlight makes the pale pink petals gleam a brilliant white.
A playful breeze carries the sweet aroma wafting from the oven.
It’s a delightful morning here in the courtyard of the Hearth Goddess’s temple, high in the heavens.
I’m desperately holding back the drool threatening to spill as I await the moment to come.

As a reward for successfully completing an extremely important prank mission, the Hearth Goddess promised to treat me to her hand-baked egg tarts.
She’s the goddess of agriculture who brings forth grains, the guardian of homes, and the deity of cooking.
Her confections are so delicious they make your cheeks explode with joy.

On a table polished to a mirror-like sheen from stone, divine nectar—the finest ambrosia of the heavens—is already prepared.
All that’s left is to wait for the tarts to finish baking.
But just as I’m in high spirits, Silky, the household spirit serving the Hearth Goddess, brings an old bearded man to me.
Wearing a pitch-black toga that clashes horribly with the serene spring courtyard, he looks like the kind of guy who can’t read the room at all.
This temple is no place for someone like him.

I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.

“Sneaking Prank-sama, the Pinnacle God summons you. Please come to the grand hall immediately… Wait, what’s with that super reluctant face?”

Of course I’m reluctant!
I’m about to indulge in the Hearth Goddess’s freshly baked egg tarts, and now I get a summons?
I scrunch up my face as much as possible to show just how displeased I am.

“It’s not proper to make such a face at a messenger,” the Hearth Goddess says gently.
“I’ll save some egg tarts for you, so take care of your errand and enjoy them slowly afterward.”

The gentle Hearth Goddess says I can deal with this later, but that old geezer with the body of an ancient man and the mind of a fourteen-year-old bald kid?
When he summons me, it’s 99.9% certain to be for a scolding.
As the goddess of childish pranks, it’s only natural that I pull pranks.
They should realize by now that punishing me is pointless.

Sneaking Prank is my epithet.
I have a proper name, mind you, but ever since the Pinnacle God got obsessed with epithets, we gods have been stuck with this embarrassing habit of calling each other by these ridiculous titles.

Lately, he’s even been trying to make it trendy to slap weird readings onto our divine powers.
Things like Never-Waking Dream ASHITAKARAHONKIDASU or Berserk Rage GYAKUGIRE.*
I want to interrogate him for three days and three nights to find out where he picks up these absurd ideas.

Footnote: The divine power names include playful, exaggerated readings in katakana, a nod to otaku culture’s love for quirky naming conventions, often seen in anime or games.

That said, the Pinnacle God is technically the most important of the thirteen creator gods.
I’m one of them too, but for the sake of appearances before the world gods and lesser deities, I can’t openly defy him or skip his summons.
It’d ruin my standing as a high goddess.
I have no choice but to obey, but this means my egg tarts will definitely be delayed.

“It’s quite a trek from here to the Pinnacle Temple, and with my legs, it’ll take about two hours,” I say.
“You, go ahead and tell the Pinnacle God that.”

“Oh, come now, you’re joking again. Distance doesn’t matter to you, Sneaking Prank-sama, does it?”

Tch…
I was hoping to buy some time to sneak a few egg tarts first, but that bald geezer sent a messenger who knows about my divine powers.
I have no choice but to give up on the tarts for now.
It’s obvious this won’t be quick.
I’ve got a hunch about why I’m being summoned, and the Pinnacle God is undoubtedly furious.
But it’s not entirely my fault!
The other gods were silently pressuring me with their “do something about it” glares, so I had no choice.

I ask the Hearth Goddess to save some egg tarts for me, let out a sigh, and use my divine power to head to the Pinnacle Temple.
Naturally, I leave that tactless bearded guy behind.

The grand hall here is a stone chamber carpeted with thick rugs, ostentatiously decorated with treasures offered by mortals.
It’s needlessly extravagant.
Usually, I’d be kept waiting here, but today, for once, he’s already here, waiting for me.

The Pinnacle God, clad in a black robe adorned with lavish embroidery, lounges arrogantly on a gaudy golden throne atop a five-step dais, glaring down at me.
His trademark long white beard and his utterly barren, gleaming scalp shine as brightly as ever today.

From the fury in his eyes, it’s clear he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Sneaking Prank, I have come as summoned,” I say.

“I have only one question for you,” he growls.
“What did you do to my Charlotte?”

As I approach the throne to offer my greeting, the Pinnacle God speaks through gritted teeth, as if he already knows who’s responsible.
I mean, I did leave a note saying, ‘I, Sneaking Prank, have arrived!’ so I’d be troubled if he didn’t know.
There’s an art to pranks, you see.
If the target doesn’t realize they’ve been pranked or doesn’t know who did it, it’s just third-rate mischief.

As expected, it’s about Charlotte…

“She’s no longer of the heavens or the earth,” I reply.
“There’s no need to trouble your heart over Charlotte anymore.”

“What… You! You fiend!”

When I deliver my prepared answer, the Pinnacle God slams his fist on the throne’s armrest and roars.
Pointing a trembling finger at me, his face red from head to toe, he repeats, “You… You…” like a broken parrot.
He’s so angry he can’t find the words.
This definitely feels like a major punishment is coming.

But I think it’s unfair to direct all his anger at me.
Sure, I’m the one who dealt with Charlotte, but the root cause lies with the Pinnacle God himself.
He was so obsessed with Charlotte that he neglected everything else, which put his wife, the Queen of the Gods, in a terrible mood.
Every time I was invited for tea or a meal, I had to endure her endless complaints, and the other gods kept giving me “fix this” looks.
I was practically wrapped in a mat of needles!

I resolved the issue discreetly before the Queen of the Gods, mad with jealousy, could explode.
If anything, I deserve thanks!
But the Pinnacle God’s eyes, glaring at me, burn with something closer to hatred than anger.
At this point, anything I say would be like throwing a bomb into a fire.

Tempting as it is to toss a massive bomb and watch the explosion, that could affect the mortals below, so I’ll just quietly accept my punishment.
I’m a goddess overflowing with compassion, after all.

“I don’t want to see your face anymore!” he bellows.
“Get out of the heavens! Never return!”

What’s that supposed to mean?
If I’m banished from the heavens, I won’t be able to enjoy the Hearth Goddess’s feasts… I mean, if we gods stay with the mortals, they’ll rely on us and stop doing anything for themselves.

Back in the “Silver Age,” mortals would even ask the gods to pick fruit from high branches because they couldn’t be bothered to think of using ladders or stools.
Realizing that our presence stunted their growth, we gods moved to the heavens.
Has he gone senile and forgotten that?

“Then what was the point of us leaving the mortal world…?”

“Now you bring that up? You’ve been sneaking around the mortal world using your divine powers, thinking I wouldn’t notice!”

Gah! He knew?

It’s true that my divine powers let me freely travel between the heavens and the mortal world without needing the gate gods or transport gods.
I hate all the tedious procedures.
Besides, a creator goddess like me rarely gets permission to descend, and even then, they stick a chaperone on me and limit where I can go.

“Uh, well… I didn’t want to trouble the other gods for my sake…”

“Silence! No more arguments! You are forbidden from entering the heavens until I say otherwise. Absolute Command OREGAHOURITSUDA!”

“Wait! Noooo…!”

The moment the Pinnacle God activates his divine power, a massive hole opens beneath my feet, and I’m dropped right through.
I’m spat out into the sky of the mortal world.
His Absolute Command is a ridiculously overpowered divine power that sets rules within his domain.
With the “no entry” rule in place, the heavens themselves ejected me to the mortal world’s sky.
As long as that rule exists, even my divine powers will just get me thrown out again if I try to return.

Well, I’m sure the Queen of the Gods or the Hearth Goddess will smooth things over once his anger cools.
I feel bad for my attendants, left behind without a word, but until I’m forgiven, I’ll just have to enjoy myself down here.
He’ll regret letting me run wild in the mortal world later.

Looking down, I see the ground approaching at an alarming speed.
The Pinnacle God is as short-sighted as ever.
My divine body won’t be harmed by a fall from this height, but what if I land on something—or someone?