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

Kafka hadn't even realized that he was crying at first. His chest was heaving, his hands trembling faintly—but it wasn't until Vanitas stretched out her hand, hesitant, almost guilty, as though she wanted to touch him but no longer believed she had the right, and Seraphina's gaze softened with something like pity, that he lifted his fingers to his cheeks.

They were wet.

It was only then realized he was crying and is fingers lingered there, trembling, as he stared at the glistening tears on his fingertips.

A choked laugh escaped him, half-bitter, half-disbelieving, as the tears kept coming, streaming down his face faster than he could wipe them away.

"I...I honestly thought I wouldn't cry." He said, his voice cracking as he tried to laugh through the tears. "I told myself I'd be strong, you know? After all, I've imagined this moment so many times, standing here, facing you, hearing why you abandoned me."

"I honestly thought I'd prepared myself for the worst...I told myself I'd stand tall, no matter what you said, no matter how bad it was. I thought I could handle it."

He wiped at his cheeks again, but the tears wouldn't stop, and another shaky laugh broke free.

"But...it seems that's not true, is it? No matter how strong I think I am, some things...some things are just impossible not to cry over."

Vanitas's heart shattered at the sight of her son crying, his voice trembling with pain and bitter amusement. Her lips quivered, and she wanted nothing more than to rush forward, to wrap him in her arms, to tell him she was sorry, to beg for his forgiveness.

But she held herself back, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. She had no right, no right to comfort him, not when she was the one who had caused this pain.

The guilt tore at her, an excruciating ache that burned in her chest, and she bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, her beautiful eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"But you know...what you said?" Kafka chuckled again, a sound that was equal parts sorrow and disbelief, as he wiped at his face futilely. "It's not even that bad. I mean, compared to what I though in the past."

He paused, his voice catching as he looked at Vanitas, then at Seraphina, his tears still falling.

"You see, when I was a kid, I used to lie awake at night, wondering why...Why was I abandoned? What was so wrong with me? And I came up with so many reasons, so many horrible possibilities."

He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"But the worst one...the one that scared me the most...was that I was an accident...That I was never meant to be conceived."

"That you never even wanted me in the first place, that you were forced to have me, and the moment I was born, you threw me away because you didn't want me."

"That thought, it was too much. It was so painful I couldn't bear it. I'd cry myself to sleep, night after night, because the idea that I was never wanted, not even for a moment, was just...too horrible."

Vanitas's breath hitched, her hand flying to her mouth as she bit down harder on her lip, the metallic taste of blood flooding her senses. Her eyes widened with anguish, and she wanted to scream that it wasn't true, that she had wanted him, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Seraphina, too, lost her usual coolness, her expression crumpling with sympathy as she watched Kafka bare his soul. Her hands twitched, as if she wanted to reach out to him, but she held herself back, letting him speak.

"But...that didn't happen, did it?"

Kafka's lips curved into a small, sad smile, and he looked at Vanitas, his tear-streaked face softening slightly.

"That's not what you said. You clearly stated that my birth wasn't an accident. You wanted me...even if it was for a different reason. You wanted to show me off, to prove to everyone that your child was the best, the greatest. You were happy to have me, even if it was just for a moment."

He turned to Seraphina, his smile growing a little brighter, though the tears still glistened in his eyes.

"And you said it yourself, didn't you? She was proud of me. My own mother...she felt proud when I was born. She was happy, even if it was only for a second. That one sentence…"

His voice broke, and he pressed a hand to his chest, as if trying to hold himself together.

"That one sentence means so much to me...It warms my heart in a way you can't even imagine."

Seraphina's heart thudded painfully in her chest, her usual stoic demeanor cracking as she felt the depth of Kafka's suffering. His words, his ability to find light in the midst of such pain, struck her deeply, and she felt a pang of guilt for ever underestimating his strength.

"But even so…"

Kafka's smile faltered, turning wry and self-deprecating as he looked back at Vanitas, who was trembling with her own unspoken pain.

"Even though that's already so much better than what I feared, I can't help but feel sad. I can't help but feel...betrayed, you know? Because there are so many parents out there who love their children no matter what."

"Parents who are told their child won't live past a few years, parents whose children are born with defects, with challenges, with futures that seem impossible...and they still love them."

"They still raise them, pour their hearts into them, knowing it's going to hurt, knowing it's going to be hard. And I can't help but think...how amazing would it have been if you'd felt that way about me?"

His voice cracked again, and he shook his head, his tears falling faster.

"If you'd looked at me, this enigma, this boy who wasn't supposed to exist, and still loved me. If you'd held me and said, 'This is my son, and I'm proud of him, no matter what anyone says.' I can't help but wish for that, even now."

Vanitas bowed her head, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, while Kafka shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping him as he wiped at his tears again.

"But...that's too greedy of me, isn't it? I should be happy. I should be grateful that you wanted me, even for a moment...That you were proud of me, even if it was fleeting...That I wasn't an accident."

"That's more than I ever hoped for when I was a kid crying myself to sleep."

He looked at both Vanitas and Seraphina, his eyes red and glistening, his voice heavy with sorrow but tinged with a strange, resigned acceptance.

"But I guess...I'm just human, in the end. Demi-god or not, I'm human. And humans...we're greedy, aren't we?"

"No matter how good things are, no matter how much we're given, we always want more. We always want the love we didn't get, the family we didn't have, the love we never received...the mother who didn't hold us."

"I guess those feelings that you can't escape from no matter what are what makes me human. But right now..." He said as he clutched at his chest, like his heart was acheing. "...right now I wish I was a god like you, so I can wash away those feelings since they hurt so much."

His words hung in the air and for a moment, no one spoke.

Vanitas's lips trembled, her eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall, knowing she didn't deserve to cry, not when she was the one who had caused this. Seraphina's gaze softened further, her heart aching for Kafka, for the boy who had carried this pain for so long and still found a way to smile through it.

Kafka then took a shaky breath, wiping at his face one last time with a smile, though the tears still lingered.

"So...that's it, then. That's the truth. And I guess...I guess I'll have to live with it."

Kafka's smile lingered faintly on his lips, but Seraphina could see right through it.

To anyone else, he might have looked composed, resigned, even, but she knew better. Behind that bitter grin, his heart was still bleeding.

His sorrow hadn't lessened, and the wound carved into him by his mother's words—the admission that she had abandoned him without regret, even with relief, would not heal so easily.

She knew, if things were left as they were, even if mother and son reconciled, the memory of that truth would fester in him forever and she knew she couldn't let that happen.

So, as Kafka's smile wavered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and Vanitas stood trembling, consumed by her own guilt, Seraphina stepped forward, her voice weaving through the heavy silence.

"I...I didn't want to interfere." She began, her tone firm but laced with hesitation. "This is between you and your mother, Kafka. Your history, your pain, your relationship. I've no place in it, and I never intended to butt in."

She paused, her lips tightening, before she looked squarely at Vanitas.

"But with how things are going, I can't keep silent anymore. He deserves the entire truth. All of it. And it's obvious, Lady Vanitas, that you have no intention of telling him what really happened."

"What...what do you mean?" Kafka blinked, confused about what Seraphina was saying now as he thought he already knew the entire matter.

Vanitas's eyes also widened, a flash of panic crossing her features as she understood exactly what Seraphina was referring to. And in response, she glared at the other god, her voice sharp and desperate.

"Seraphina, be quiet! Don't you dare say another word! What happened after...it's nothing but an excuse. It doesn't change what I did. It's meaningless!"

Her voice cracked, her composure fraying as she stepped forward, her hands trembling.

"I abandoned him. I felt relief when I did it. There's no justification for that, no story that makes it better. Telling him anything else is just...it's just me trying to ease my own guilt, and I won't do that. I won't cheapen his pain by making excuses for myself!"

Kafka's brow furrowed, his confusion deepening as he looked between the two women.

"Wait, hold on. What are you talking about? Was she lying about something?" His voice was tinged with desperation, his tears still glistening on his cheeks as he searched for answers. "What's the part she's not telling me?"

"No, Kafka, she wasn't lying." Seraphina shook her head quickly, her expression resolute. "Everything Lady Vanitas told you is true...She abandoned you because of her pride, because you were born a boy, because your existence defied everything she knew...And yes, she felt relief when she cast you into the mortal world...That's all true."

She paused, her gaze softening as she looked at him, her voice gentler now.

"But...she's leaving out what happened after. She's omitting the part that she thinks makes her sound like she's trying to excuse her actions. She's villainizing herself, Kafka, because she believes that's what she deserves."

"She doesn't want to tell you the rest because she thinks it'll sound like she's trying to absolve herself of guilt...But you deserve the whole truth."

Kafka's eyes widened, his breath hitching as he turned to Vanitas and then Seraphina, who was now visibly panicking.

"What...What is it? What is she hiding from me?" He demanded, his voice trembling with curiosity and frustration. "If it's not a lie, then what's the rest of it? What don't I know?"

Vanitas panicked, her throat tightening as she stared at Seraphina. "Don't! Don't say it, Seraphina. If you dare—"

But hearing how Vanitas still wanted to cover everything up, despite the turmoil that her son was going through, Seraphina's composure broke, and for the first time—her voice rose with a fiery outrage that stunned both Kafka and Vanitas.

"Shut up, Lady Vanitas!...Just shut up and be quiet!"

The sheer force of her outrage made both Kafka and Vanitas freeze, but she didn't care about any of that and went on scolding Vanitas like she was tired of her antics.

"You...You don't get to silence me here! Not now! Not when your son is standing right in front of you, breaking apart because of the truths you've dripped to him like poison!"

Vanitas's eyes widened, stunned. Seraphina had never spoken to her this way before.

"He's suffering, can't you see that?!" Seraphina stepped forward, her gaze burning with conviction. "He's tearing himself apart while you sit there drowning in self-hatred, thinking only about your guilt."

"You wallow in it, but you don't once stop to consider what he needs...Y-You can't keep doing that, not if you want him to heal."

Vanitas faltered, her lips parting. "…But...What I did next, there's no excuse for it. None. At the end of the day, I still abandoned my son. That truth doesn't change."

Her voice wavered, but Seraphina's expression softened slightly, though her words remained firm.

"Yes. You abandoned him. That cannot be excused...But Kafka deserves the whole truth, not just the pieces you've chosen to show him through your shame."

"...So, let him hear everything, Lady Vanitas. Stop trying to bear all of it alone and let him judge for himself, whether you deserve to be excused or if you deserve to suffer for your sins forever like you think you do."

Vanitas's shoulders slumped, her gaze faltering as she looked between Seraphina and Kafka. Her lips trembled, and for a moment, it seemed she might protest again.

But then, with a heavy sigh, she stepped back, her hands falling limply to her sides.

"Fine." She whispered, her voice barely audible, thick with resignation. "Do what you want. Tell him...But it won't change anything. It won't undo what I did."

Kafka's gaze darted to Seraphina, his heart pounding as he waited for her to continue.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice raw with anticipation. "What happened after she abandoned me?"