NOVEL NEXT Chapter 818: Divine Punishment
"Wait—what?" Kafka blinked, confused about his title that she mentioned.
"That title, Kafka. It's not a metaphor. It's not symbolic...It's real." Vanitas nodded solemnly as she continued saying, "When your divine heritage awakens fully...you'll be able to ensnare hearts with a look. Women, be they mortals or gods, will be drawn to you like moths to flame. You'll be a walking aphrodisiac—a universal Casanova who could even make the stars themselves fall from the sky."
She sighed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
"But...that kind of power comes with a price. Just as women will be helplessly drawn to you, men will sense what you are. They'll feel it in their bones, that primal threat, that instinctive hatred. To them, you'll be an unnatural predator that wants to steal away their own women. The kind that could take everything from them. And they'll hate you for it. Fear you. Hurt you."
Kafka stood frozen, processing, while Vanitas gave a bitter smile as she continued explaining.
"Had you become a demi-god, had you been raised in the heavens, it wouldn't have mattered. No one would have dared touch you. But instead...you were sent to the mortal world. Alone. Vulnerable. Surrounded by the very kind of people who would come to hate you instinctively."
Kafka's eyes widened, memories flashing through his mind before he realised something pivotal. His voice was low, almost a whisper as he asked,
"Wait...then the man who set the orphanage on fire. He did it because of me, didn't he? Because of this title I carry?"
Vanitas's expression turned solemn, and she nodded slowly.
"Yes. The man who set fire to that orphanage, he didn't even know why he hated you. But it was because of the aura you radiated. Even as a baby, you carried that divine magnetism...And to someone like him, it made you feel like an enemy. Something to be eliminated."
Kafka felt the breath catch in his throat.
"Then...what about the time I was kidnapped as a child?"
She nodded again.
"And the time I was nearly sold to traffickers? The time someone tried to molest me? Or when those officers tried to frame me and throw me into prison…?"
Her lips pulled into a weary, bitter smile.
"As cruel as it is, yes. Every misfortune, every pair of eyes that hated you without reason, every hand that sought to harm you...all of it was born from the title that clings to you. The incarnation you never asked for."
Realising the truth, a hollow laugh slipped from Kafka's throat as he dragged his hands down his face, tears clinging to his lashes.
"All my life...I wondered. Why men always despised me. Why I could never escape misfortune, no matter where I went. I thought it was fate, or just...bad luck. And now I find out, it was because of this damned title hanging over my head all along." His laugh cracked under the weight of grief, sounding more like a sob. "A curse that's nearly cost me my life more times than I can count."
Vanitas took a shaky breath in response, her voice low and heavy with guilt as she said,
"That's why...that's why I knew I couldn't kill myself, Kafka. I knew I had no right to end my life, not after what I'd done to you. I left you in a world where no one would take care of you, where everyone seemed to be your enemy."
"And even though I lost the privilege of being your mother the moment I abandoned you, I still had a responsibility. You were my son, my baby boy, and your life, your safety, it became my purpose...My reason to exist."
She looked at him, her gaze filled with a fierce, unwavering resolve.
"From that moment on, I watched you every single second of your life. I made sure you were safe, no matter what the situation was. I couldn't be there to hold you, to raise you, but I swore I'd protect you in any way I could."
Kafka's brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face.
"Protect me? How? You were up in the heavens, watching from afar. How could you possibly have helped me when you couldn't come down?"
His voice was tinged with skepticism, but as he spoke, a sudden realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. His eyes widened, and a look of horror mixed with disbelief spread across his face.
"Wait...don't tell me. You used the same method to save me as you did during that fire, didn't you?"
Vanitas froze, her expression tightening, as if she'd been caught in something she didn't want to admit. Kafka pressed on, his voice rising with awe and dismay.
"My whole life...men have been a problem for me. They've caused me misfortune at every turn, bullies, thieves, people who wanted to hurt me. But women...women have always been my saviors."
"There was the woman firefighter who pulled me out of that burning orphanage when I was a baby. A female police officer who stopped me from being trafficked when I was a kid. A caretaker who saved me from being molested."
"...Every time I was in danger, it was a woman who stepped in, who protected me."
He paused, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Vanitas, his voice trembling with realization.
"That's why I grew up so fond of older women, they were always there, always saving me. But now, don't tell me...don't tell me that was you. That you were the one influencing them, whispering to them, making them save me."
Vanitas's lips parted, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to deny it, to retreat behind her pride. But the truth was written across her face, and she couldn't hide it.
Slowly, she nodded, her voice soft and heavy with guilt. "It's true, Kafka. Every time you were saved, every time you were pulled from danger...it was me. I whispered to those women, influenced their minds, guided them to you."
"...After all, I couldn't let you die. I couldn't let you be hurt. I may have abandoned you, but I couldn't abandon my duty to protect you."
Kafka's breath hitched, his heart pounding as he processed her words.
"So...all this time—I thought I had some kind of guardian angel watching over me, someone out there looking after me...I used to imagine it, you know? That there was someone up there who cared enough to keep me safe."
"But to think...to think it was you? My own mother? The same mother I hated, the one I despised for abandoning me?"
He let out a shaky laugh, his voice cracking.
"That's...that's almost too much to believe."
But then another thought struck him, and his expression darkened, a new kind of horror dawning in his eyes. He took a step closer to Vanitas, his voice low and urgent.
"Wait. Hold on. Didn't you tell me that...every time you influenced the mortal world, you faced divine punishment? You said that the gods aren't supposed to meddle in mortal affairs."
"And the punishment for that...it's supposed to be unbearable, something even the strongest gods can't handle. No one dares to do it because it's so brutal. Doesn't that mean you—"
"Yes, Kafka..It's what you think."
Vanitas's lips curved into a casual, almost dismissive smile, but there was a flicker of pain in her eyes.
"Every time I influenced the mortal world to save you, I faced divine punishment. There was no escaping it. My body, my soul, they paid the price every single time."
Kafka's eyes widened, his voice rising with horror.
"You...You went through that? Over and over? Didn't it hurt? I-If you did it so many times, you must have suffered so much! That kind of pain...how could you keep doing it?"
But Vanitas only calmy shook her head, her smile softening into something warm and loving as she met his gaze.
"Sure, it hurt. It felt like my soul was being torn apart, like every fiber of my being was screaming in agony. It was an unimaginable level of pain, Kafka, the kind that made me want to collapse, to beg for it to stop. I screamed every time I went through it."
Her voice grew quieter, but her eyes burned with a fierce, unwavering love.
"But it was nothing, nothing, compared to how I would have felt if something happened to you. The pain of losing you, of knowing you were hurt or gone...that would have been far worse."
"So, honestly, it wasn't a big deal. It was simple, easy even. As long as you were safe, as long as you were alive and blessed, I didn't care about the pain. I didn't care about anything else."
Kafka's eyes glistened, his throat tightening as her words sank in. He staggered back a step, his hands trembling as he tried to process the magnitude of what she was saying.
"You...You went through that kind of suffering? For me? All those times, all those years...you were tortured just to keep me safe?"
Vanitas nodded, her smile unwavering, though tears brimmed in her eyes.
"Every single time. I honestly lost count of how many times I faced that punishment. But I'd do it again, a thousand times over, if it meant keeping you safe."
"You were my son, Kafka and even if I failed you as a mother, even if I didn't have the right to call myself that, I couldn't let you go. I couldn't let you face this world alone."
Evangeline, wanting to add in, stepped forward, her voice soft but firm as she said,
"I saw it for myself, Kafka. I saw with my eyes her aura dimming, her body trembling after each punishment. There were even times when she could barely stand, when the pain left her hollowed out."
"...But she never stopped. Every time she sensed you were in danger, she acted, no matter the cost."
Kafka's lips parted, but no words came out. His throat was tight, his chest trembling.
He wanted to be angry at her, to throw her past back at her—but hearing the way she had suffered for him, protected him, endured agony again and again, he didn't know what to say. His body shook with emotions he couldn't untangle…