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

Seraphina studied Kafka's face for a long moment, surprised by how calm he seemed despite everything that had been laid before him. His eyes were steady, his breathing controlled, and though the weight of revelation hung in the air, he looked more focused than broken.

She assumed—wrongly, that his composure was just a mask, that beneath it he must be drowning in turmoil and she decided to say some words of consolation.

"It's all right to be confused." She said, her tone measured but gentle. "It's all right to be worried about what's going on. After everything I've revealed to you, after so much truth has been stripped bare at once, it's only natural that you would be in pain and turmoil."

She expected his nod, expected his weary agreement.

But instead, Kafka blinked at her, baffled, as if she had started speaking in a language he had never heard before.

"What?...Who said I'm in pain right now?"

His brows knit as though the suggestion itself insulted him.

"Do I look like I'm suffering or anything?"

His confusion caught her off guard. She hesitated, lips parting, then pressed.

"No, it's not that...I only thought that with everything revealed, you'd have some turmoil inside. That you'd be struggling with what comes next."

To that, Kafka scoffed, short and sharp, then leaned back with a faint, crooked smile.

"Struggling? Sure, I'm confused, hell, I've got a massive headache just thinking about what's going to happen later on...But pain? Worry? Not really."

His eyes softened, and when he spoke again, the words carried the tone of someone grounding himself in something much simpler, much warmer than gods or ascensions or sovereignty.

"At the end of the day, my family is safe. They treat me like they always have. There's no threat looming over me, no blade hanging above my neck."

"...That alone is enough. I feel relieved—honestly. More than relieved, I'm on cloud nine after the nightmare I went through."

Seraphina exhaled slowly, surprised by his steadiness. She had expected outrage, despair, some form of collapse after all these revelations.

But instead, here he was, rooted in the simple comfort of his family. It struck her as remarkable, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration.

Of course he was Lady Vanitas's son, he carried her blood, but his spirit...that was wholly his own.

Kafka tilted his head back, his eyes tracing the scatter of stars overhead, then lowering again to meet hers. The starlight painted his face with a calm glow that clashed with the weight of his words.

"It's just that I'm still confused." He admitted at last. "Even though you've told me everything, even though you've explained her reasons, it would be better if I heard it from her mouth...I still have questions. So many questions.

"Like why in the world did she even abandon me in the first place if she was going to regret it so much later on? Why leave me at all?"

His voice tightened with longing more than anger.

"I'd rather just sit down with her. Talk to her. Have a real conversation. None of this mess, none of this game of half-truths and guesses."

"But she disappeared again." He let out a deep sigh of regret. "And I don't even know when I'll get the chance. I'll probably be stuck lying awake at night with all these questions running through my head."

Hearing this, Seraphina's expression changed, her gaze grew sharp, assessing, as if turning over a decision in her mind. Then, as if the conclusion had been drawn, she straightened slightly, her voice steady but carrying the weight of promise.

"Then perhaps there is no need to wait. I had thought to set up a proper conversation between you and your mother later, once tempers cooled and your mind was steadied. But seeing you now, your composure, your clarity, it seems you are prepared already."

"And if you wish for answers tonight, then tonight is when you will have them." She paused, her eyes glinting. "After all, your mother hasn't gone anywhere. She hasn't disappeared."

"...In fact, she's just standing behind you."

"What?"

The word was a sharp crack in the night. Kafka spun around, his eyes wide, scanning the empty space.

But there was nothing. No one, no matter where he looked.

"What do you mean? Where is she? I don't see her at all."

Seraphina didn't answer him. Instead, she looked past his shoulder into the darkness.

"Lady Vanitas..." She called out, her voice calm but firm. "With how emotional you are, your energy is fluctuating all over the place. Normally, your camouflage would be flawless, but tonight...it's so obvious you're hiding right there. So, I think it would be better to show yourself."

Kafka turned again, his gaze darting around frantically, but still, he saw only shadows.

Seraphina's gaze didn't waver as she said in a persistent tone like she was trying to convince someone in the darkness,

"I know why you hesitate. You're ashamed. You think yourself unworthy to show your face, after everything you've done. You fear your son's eyes, fear the judgment you'll see there. But Lady Vanitas…"

Her voice softened, almost pleading.

"You've run long enough. This is your son. He deserves to see you. He deserves your words. You've avoided your responsibilities more than enough. It's time to face him."

"And I promise you, nothing will go wrong. This will be just a conversation. Nothing more."

For a long moment, silence pressed down heavy on them both. Then, out of nowhere, a voice lanced through the air, regal, sharp, laced with irritation.

"You truly are nosy, Seraphina." The voice said, dripping with disdain. "Forever prying into matters that are not yours. Forever butting into the lives of others."

Kafka froze. His breath caught, his stomach twisting and slowly, he turned toward the sound. And then he saw her, right in front of her.

Vanitas.

She stood tall, impossibly beautiful, her very presence suffocating in its weight right before him. Her form shimmered faintly, as if she had been standing behind him there the whole time, simply hidden until now.

Seeing her so close, Kafka's heart lurched. She was taller than him, her shadow spilling over his frame, and he immidietly felt small before her. But what stunned him most wasn't her majesty, it was her face.

She looked nervous.

Her gaze fell upon him with a flicker of hesitation, her lips parting as though words might spill but refusing to come. For all her power, for all her grandeur, she looked like someone trembling at the edge of vulnerability.

The sight and sudden appearance was so jarring that he instinctively took a quick step back.

"Whoa—when did you get there?" He stammered, his heart hammering against his ribs. "I didn't even see you!"

"And just because you're a Goddess and have a bunch of tricks up your sleaves, doesn't mean you can sneak up on me out of nowhere; you're going to give me a heart attack."

He waited for a reply, a sharp retort, anything.

But he was met with a profound silence. Vanitas simply stared at her son, her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to speak but couldn't form the words.

Confused, Kafka turned to Seraphina, his voice a bewildered whisper. "Why isn't she answering?"

"She is likely ashamed." Seraphina stated, earning a sharp glare from Vanitas. "She realizes how horrible her actions were, and how she almost made her own son carry the guilt of killing her. That is why she is struggling to open her mouth."

"And...she doesn't know what to say to you. After all, this is the first time the two of you will be talking...normally."

"Oh." Kafka managed, nodding slowly. "I see."

He turned his gaze back to his mother. He stared, and as if his simple look was a physical weight, Vanitas's eyes flickered away, avoiding his.

He watched, utterly bewildered, as the Ruler of the Entire Universe grew nervous under his gaze...