God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem

Kafka then exhaled softly, his smile unwavering as he finally spoke.

"I see." He murmured, his tone light, almost casual. "If that's how you see me, then I suppose there's nothing I can do about it."

His words were simple, his demeanour relaxed, but Bella's father took them as something else entirely. He mistook them for acceptance, for submission. And that only made him go even more out of control.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, a smug expression settling on his face. "At least you understand that much." He said, his voice dripping with self-indulgence.

Bella clenched her fists, barely holding herself back. 'He doesn't understand anything about him...He doesn't.' She thought bitterly.

Kafka then tilted his head slightly, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes. "But sir, even though I understand what you're saying, I am curious about one thing." He continued casually. "If I'm not good enough, then tell me—what exactly does your perfect son-in-law look like?"

Her father raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by the question, before scoffing.

"That's easy." He said, straightening his posture. "A man worthy of Bella has to meet a certain standard...I wouldn't let just anyone near her."

Bella bit the inside of her cheek, already dreading what was coming next.

"A good job is essential." Her father began, his tone confident, as though he were stating the obvious. "Something respectable. High-ranking. Something that matters. None of those dead-end careers where you waste your time scraping by...I want someone who actually has a future."

Kafka hummed softly, nodding as though he were listening intently. "A stable career." He echoed, "What else?"

"A proper education." Her father continued. "None of this 'self-taught' nonsense. He needs to have gone to a good school, a prestigious one. Degrees, qualifications, proof that he's actually worth something."

Bella felt a fresh wave of disgust roll through her.

"A man like that should also have good manners." Her father went on, his voice taking on an air of authority. "He should respect his elders, speak properly, and carry himself with dignity, unlike someone in front of me."

Kafka merely raised an eyebrow. "Dignity." He repeated, his voice almost teasing.

Her father didn't seem to notice.

"Of course." He continued, warming up to his own words. "He should come from a respectable family. Not just any ordinary background. A name that means something. A family with prestige, with power...Connections matter after all."

Bella felt dizzy as she heard her father's rant while Kafka gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable. "So, status." He mused. "A wealthy background."

"Exactly." Her father said smugly. "Status is everything. You can tell a lot about a man by the family he comes from. If he's from an ordinary background, what does that say about him?...That he's average? Mediocre?" He scoffed. "Not good enough for my daughter."

Bella inhaled sharply, as she didn't even try to hide her disgust anymore.

Her father, completely oblivious to the effect his words were having on her, continued proudly, as if giving a lecture.

"And at the end of the day..." Be said, his voice turning downright arrogant. "...what matters most is money and power."

Bella's jaw clenched.

"Love? Compatibility?" He let out a short laugh. "That's what fools focus on. A relationship should be practical; I won't accept some average nobody who can't even provide properly."

"...A man needs to have influence, wealth, and the ability to elevate his family—not drag them down."

Bella felt sick...Sick that he was talking about her like she was some bargaining chip.

Sick that he thought so little of what she wanted.

Sick that she had once looked up to this man as her father.

But most of all—she was sick of his arrogance.

And just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, he proved her wrong.

What made her stomach truly churn, what made her fingers twitch with the overwhelming urge to grab something and throw it across the room, was what he said next.

Her father tapped his chin, as if considering something, then let out a small chuckle. A smug, pleased chuckle that sent a fresh wave of revulsion down Bella's spine.

"You know." He said, tilting his head slightly. "Now that I think about it, I already know someone who fits every quality I just listed."

Bella felt an instant, gut-wrenching sense of dread crawl up her throat.

Her father smiled, completely oblivious to the way her hands clenched into fists.

"He's the son of my boss."

Bella's entire body stiffened.

Her father's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, like he had just revealed a masterstroke.

"He's perfect." He continued. "He comes from a very powerful family. Their company has influence everywhere. He's well-educated, extremely well-mannered, and set to inherit an empire."

Bella could barely breathe.

"And, in fact..." Her father added, as if he were dropping the best part. "I've already told him about you, Bella."

A sharp ringing sound filled Bella's ears.

"He was interested the moment he saw your picture." Her father said with a self-satisfied chuckle. "And guess what? He's coming here soon. He wants to meet you."

Bella felt like she was going to throw up.

Her father's smile widened, as if he were announcing fantastic news.

"If everything goes well—and if you behave yourself—this could turn into something real." He said, his tone dripping with self-importance. "An engagement. A marriage. Imagine it, Bella." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming. "Our family on a whole new level...Can you even comprehend what an opportunity this is?"

That was it.

Bella snapped.

Her vision blurred with rage. Every muscle in her body locked up, then exploded with the uncontrollable urge to lunge across the table, flip it over, grab her father by the collar, and shake him until he understood exactly what kind of sickening garbage was coming out of his mouth.

To sell her off—because that's what this was—to some random rich boy just to elevate his own status?

No.

No.

She was going to break something.

She was going to break him.

Her hands shot forward—

But then, she saw it.

Kafka's gaze.

Cold. Silent. Calculated.

Bella's breath stopped like she saw a ghoul. Her body immediately froze, her fingers twitching slightly as her overwhelming rage simmered down into something else entirely.

A deep, unsettling expectation...Because she knew.

Bringing up another man in front of Kafka?

That was the last straw.

Her father had no idea what he had just done.

Bella swallowed, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. She had been this close to losing control. To cause a scene.

But now?...She wouldn't have to.

Because Kafka was about to give her father a lesson he would never forget.

Kafka finally moved.

His head tilted slightly, his eyes locking onto Bella's father with a gaze that sent a slow, creeping chill through the room. His expression remained composed, the ghost of a smirk still playing on his lips, but Bella—who had spent enough time around him—knew exactly what that meant.

It was over.

Her father had already lost.

"So..." Kafka said in an amused manner. "Since you've made it clear that money, power, and status are what truly matter to you when it comes to Bella's marriage...I have a question."

Her father narrowed his eyes, his smugness flickering slightly at Kafka's confidence. "What is it?" He asked, though his voice carried a note of suspicion.

Kafka leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, his smirk widening just a fraction. "What would you do if someone far, far more competent came forward as a potential candidate?"

"What do you mean?" Her father's brows furrowed.

Kafka's voice remained calm as he stared at Bella's father's wrinkly face. "I mean..." He continued. "...what if someone came along who had many times more money, many times more power, and many times more influence than this son of your boss?"

"...Someone with enough resources to erase that very company you're so desperate to latch onto with just a few words?"

The room fell silent.

Bella's father blinked, his posture shifting slightly. His expression—once smug, once filled with self-importance—suddenly sharpened into something else entirely.

Interest...His eyes lit up.

He leaned forward slightly, licking his lips, and let out a short chuckle. "Then I'd be an idiot to ignore that opportunity." He said, his voice carrying a new kind of enthusiasm.

Bella felt her stomach drop.

Her father let out another short laugh, rubbing his chin as though genuinely considering the scenario. "If a man like that were interested in Bella…" He continued. "I'd do everything in my power to secure him."

Bella clenched her teeth, revolted by her father's behaviour.

Her father barely took a second to consider it—barely even hesitated to throw away this "perfect match" he had just been praising in favour of someone better.

Someone stronger...Someone richer.

And just when she thought it couldn't get worse, he added, "If he had that much status, I wouldn't even hesitate to get on my knees and beg him to marry my daughter."

Bella's breath caught in her throat.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Her father—the man who always pretended to be so composed, so dignified—was openly admitting that he would grovel without shame if it meant elevating himself higher.

It wasn't about Bella...It was never about Bella.

Before she could even process how shameless he sounded, Kafka shifted beside her.

With the same casual smile on his face, he turned slightly, glancing at Bella.

"Bella..." He said lightly, as if they were discussing dinner plans. "Can you be a dear and please bring me my phone?"

Bella froze...She barely had time to register what he had just said before his gaze flicked back to her father, his smirk sharpening just slightly.

"Sir, if you're really willing to get on your knees for the right person." Kafka said, his voice mocking and slow. "Then let's see if you live up to your own words."

The room plunged into silence. Bella's heart stopped.

Her father blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. "...What?"

But Bella knew exactly what Kafka was about to do, even though she didn't know how exactly he was about to accomplish such a feat when he was simply a high school kid.

And for the first time since this conversation started, her father was about to learn what true power looked like…