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

Even though Bella was still very confused about what was happening, she still went to the next room and brought over his phone.

Kafka reached for his phone with the same casual smile still resting on his lips. His fingers moved effortlessly, dialling a number with practiced ease, as if he had done this a thousand times before.

Bella swallowed, her mind racing.

'He wasn't really going to-'

"Bella..." Kafka said, his tone relaxed, as if he were simply asking for the time. "What's the name of the company your father works at?"

Bella's heart skipped a beat.

Her father's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

Kafka didn't even look at him. His attention remained on the phone screen, waiting for the call to connect. "Could you please answer the question?" He said lightly.

Bella hesitated. She didn't know how, but something told her that whatever was about to happen next...it was real. Very real.

Still, against her better judgement, she exhaled sharply and said the name of the company.

Her father scoffed loudly, shaking his head. "Are you serious?" He barked, a short, humourless laugh escaping him. "You're making a damn fool of yourself. What do you think you're doing, calling someone? You think you can do something just because you have a little phone?"

Kafka ignored him, and the call connected.

On the other end, a composed, professional-sounding woman picked up immediately. Her tone was crisp and efficient—but more importantly, respectful.

"Sir..." She greeted, her voice steady. "Do you have a request?"

'Sir? Who's calling a kid like him sir?' Bella's father blinked.

Kafka leaned back on the sofa, his expression unchanged. "Yes...I do." He said and then continued saying a devastating statement like he were simply ordering a coffee. "I need you to erase a company. Can you do that?"

Silence...Absolute silence from both father and daughter, who had flabbergasted looks on their faces.

Her father then snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're kidding me, right?" He muttered. "You're seriously—"

But the woman on the phone didn't hesitate.

"It can be done immediately." She responded without missing a beat.

Bella's stomach dropped.

Her father's smirk faltered. "...W-What?"

Kafka's smirk widened slightly. "Good." He said, glancing at Bella's father as he spoke his next words. "And when the owner—CEO, boss, or whoever's in charge—realises their downfall, make sure they know exactly who caused it."

He paused, letting his words sink in.

"Make sure they know." He continued, his voice cold and deliberate. "That it was all because of the man sitting right in front of me."

Bella's father stared at him in disbelief.

His mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again.

A dry, nervous laugh escaped him. "This is a joke." He scoffed, though it was weaker than before. "You're delusional. You're trying to scare me—"

"Understood, sir." The woman on the phone said without hesitation. "Everything will be carried out immediately."

And then she ended the call. The soft click of the call disconnecting echoed through the silent room.

But Bella's father didn't move.

So did Bella.

The air felt thick, suffocating, like the moment before a storm ripped through everything in its path.

Kafka, on the other hand, simply placed his phone down on the table. Then, at last, he looked at Bella's father properly and smiled.

That same casual, relaxed smile like nothing had happened.

Bella's father let out a dry, forced chuckle, though there was a slight hesitation in his voice. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" He muttered, shaking his head. "I won't be fooled by such childish tactics."

His words were firm and dismissive—but Bella saw the slightest flicker of unease in his eyes.

Because no matter how absurd it sounded, no matter how much logic screamed that this was impossible, something about Kafka right now...felt wrong.

Her father couldn't place it.

Logically, this should have been laughable. Kafka looked like nothing more than a college kid—some aimless young man who had gotten lucky with words.

And yet—the calm in his voice. The absolute, unwavering confidence in his expression. The way he didn't even try to defend himself, didn't scramble to prove anything—

It was throwing him off.

Kafka ignored his attempt at bravado and merely shrugged. "You should be getting a call sometime soon." He said smoothly. "Might want to keep your phone ready."

Her father scoffed. "Hah! You really think—"

Before he could finish, Bella stood up and, without a word, retrieved his phone from where it was charging. She placed it on the table between them and then sat back down next to Kafka, her face unreadable.

Her father blinked. His eyes flicked between her and the phone.

His lips pressed into a thin line. "...Whose side are you on, Bella?" He asked, suspicion laced in his voice.

Bella didn't respond. She simply crossed her arms and leaned back into the sofa, keeping her expression neutral.

Kafka chuckled softly. "Relax." He said, his voice carrying that same smooth amusement. "We've got time before the call comes in. While we wait, let's do something else that's interesting."

"And what would that be? A game of chess?...Well I doubt you even know how to play that with how dull you look." Bella's father narrowed his eyes.

Kafka tilted his head slightly as he said, "Well, since you care about wealth so much, I assume that means you have a lot of money, right?"

Her father's lips curled into a smirk at the question. Finally, something he could talk about with full confidence.

He leaned back onto the sofa, a proud, almost boastful air settling over him. "Of course." He said, his chest puffing slightly. "I've been working as a top salesman in my company for years. The commissions I pull in are abundant. I don't live pay cheque to pay cheque like some common office worker."

Bella resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Her father continued, his confidence growing. "In fact, the only reason I'm even staying in this house is because your mother is adamant about it, as it was the house she grew up in." He gave a sharp look toward the kitchen, where Camila was. "If it were up to me, I would've already bought a mansion in the city."

Bella gritted her teeth at the way he spoke about her mother, as if she were holding him back instead of being the one holding the entire family together.

Kafka, however, simply hummed, as if mildly interested. "A mansion?" He echoed.

Her father smirked. "That's right." He exhaled, shaking his head as if lamenting his 'sacrifice'. "I make enough to live wherever I want, but I chose to stay here because I'm a responsible husband and father. And yet, this is the thanks I get."

'He says that like he's ever done anything for us.' Bella clenched her fists.

Kafka's smirk remained, his fingers still tapping lightly against the armrest as he spoke again, his voice smooth as silk.

"A mansion in the city, huh?" He mused. "That should cost a couple of million if it's in a decent area, shouldn't it? Maybe even in the tens if it's really fancy."

Bella's father hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Yeah...around that much." He said, his voice slower, more cautious now. He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Why do you ask? Are you going to buy one?...What a joke."

Kafka smiled. A slow, deliberate smile that made Bella's expression twist—not in fear, but in anticipation.

"Well..." Kafka said, stretching slightly before settling back into his seat. "One of the reasons Bella doesn't want to go back to university is because of her dorm friends."

"Why is he bringing this up now?' Bella tensed at her involvement in this already absurd scenario.

"So." Kafka continued. "Since we're on the topic of housing anyway...Why don't you buy her a new place?"

The room went completely silent.

Bella's father blinked. Bella stared like she was wondering if her hearing had gone bad.

Kafka kept going, his voice completely casual, as if he were suggesting something mundane. Something as simple as picking up groceries.

"Instead of staying in the dorms." He said, his fingers drumming lightly against his knee. "She could live in her own house. No roommates. No issues. Just her own space."

He tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening. "It only costs a couple of million...Right?"

Bella's mouth fell open. Her father visibly stiffened, his posture losing a fraction of its arrogance as his brows furrowed.

"...Are you joking?" He asked, his voice lower now, as though he needed Kafka to confirm that this was just some insane joke.

Kafka simply raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

Bella's father let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "No matter how much money I have, I can't just gift my daughter a house." He scoffed. But there was something different in his voice now. His confidence wasn't as absolute as before.

Bella swallowed, still in shock at what Kafka had just casually dropped into the conversation.

"A h-house?" She finally managed to say, still staring at him like he had just suggested they move to the moon.

Kafka turned to her, giving her a relaxed smile. "Why not?" He said simply. "It's just money."

'It's just money?' Bella's breath caught in her throat.

Her father scoffed again. But this time, it was shaky. "That's absurd." He said, his voice growing a little tighter. "People don't just buy houses for their kids like that. Do you even realise how much that is?"

Kafka didn't flinch. If anything, his smirk grew even wider, his amusement deepening as he leaned back slightly.

"Oh, I most definitely do." He said, while nodding his head. Then, in a perfectly casual tone, he added, "But tell me. What kind of father are you if you can't even give your daughter a little gift? Especially after being away for so long?"

Silence. Pure, stunned silence.

'A little gift? A house?' Bella felt the world tilt for a moment. She turned sharply to Kafka, her mouth slightly open.

Her father looked equally flabbergasted, blinking rapidly, his earlier confidence cracking under the sheer ridiculousness of the statement.

Kafka's smirk didn't falter. His eyes gleamed with something dark. Something knowing.

"It's fine." Kafka continued smoothly, tilting his head slightly. "If you don't love your daughter enough to want to gift her a house."

Bella's father stiffened, his lips parting in shock, as if the words had physically hit him.

Kafka exhaled softly, his smile widening. But there was something colder behind his expression now. "Luckily." He mused, his voice deceptively light. "Unlike you...I cherish her dearly." Enjoy new tales from My Virtual Library Empire

Bella's eyes went wide; a tint of pink appeared on her cheeks.

And then, just as casually, Kafka said, "So. I'll take it as my responsibility to buy her one."

The air froze. Bella's entire body locked up like she was thrown into an ice-cold pond.

Even her father, who had been full of arrogance moments ago, looked genuinely unsettled now.

There was something wrong about the way Kafka said that. Not the words themselves. But the certainty behind them.

Bella's heart pounded. She swallowed, her throat dry, before hesitantly turning toward him.

"Kafka..." She started, her voice slightly unsteady. "Are you...alright? Do you know what you're saying?"

"Hmm?" Kafka turned his head, looking at her with a relaxed expression.

Bella's eyes wandered like she was thinking of what to say before she let out a shaky breath. "How...?" She asked carefully, her brows furrowing. "I mean, how are you going to do that?"

Her father scoffed again. Though this time, it sounded more forced.

"That's right." He said, straightening slightly as if trying to regain control of the situation. "How exactly do you plan to pull that off? A house isn't pocket change, boy."

Kafka chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Oh?" He mused. "Well then. Why don't I just show you?"

And with that, he casually picked up his phone once again, ready to do the unthinkable...