SSS-Class MILFs And Their Yandere Daughters, I Want Them All!

Anya's eyes lingered on Charlotte for a long moment, her smile soft but weary.

"I still don't understand you, little sister." She said, her voice carrying through the silent hall. "This could have been handled in a dozen better ways. You could have called me. You could have reported it. I would have dealt with it. But instead…"

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with exasperation.

"…instead you go and do this. And now I'll have to explain to Aunt Yelena why her daughter won't be home for a month, and I'll have to fight with my mother over why I sent you away."

"Do you realize the mess you've made for me?"

Charlotte didn't speak. She only lowered her head, shoulders tense, as though accepting the judgment. For once, her usual fire was swallowed by silence.

Seeing that she wasn't willing to speak, Anya gave another sigh and straightened her glasses, about to say—"Come on then, let's go and deal with this mess properly."—when a sharp voice cut through the tension.

"It wasn't her! It wasn't her who broke my knees!"

The crowd stirred and the bespectacled boy, the same one Mika had shattered first, staggered forward, his face pale but eyes blazing with hatred.

His finger shot out like a spear, trembling but determined as he shouted, "It wasn't Charlotte! She's just covering for him! It was that dog, that mutt she keeps chained to her side!"

The word dog hit like a slap. Charlotte's head snapped up, eyes flashing with murderous rage. Her fists clenched, and for a moment it looked as though she would leap across the floor and tear him apart with her bare hands.

But Anya's reaction was stranger still.

Her smile didn't falter, it only grew brighter, as though she'd just been told a delightful secret. She then turned slowly, her eyes glinting.

"The dog by her side?" She repeated, her voice lilting with curiosity. "Oh? Could you elaborate on what you mean by that?" She tilted her head, almost playfully. "What exactly are you saying?"

The boy's face lit with desperate hope thinking that Anya was finally willing to listen to her.

"I'm saying she didn't do it!" He barked. "It was him, Mika! He's the one who shattered our knees. He's the one who stood over us with that hammer! Charlotte only watched. She's protecting him! But the truth is he's the one behind this!"

He took a shaky step forward, emboldened by Anya's gaze.

"So if anyone deserves punishment, it's him. Not just a month in the Titan Realm, he should rot there for a year! Break his knees like he broke ours, and let him crawl in the sand until he begs for death!"

The rage in his voice silenced even the murmurs. All eyes turned toward Anya, waiting for her verdict.

But she only kept smiling, lips parting in a laugh that was soft but chilling.

"I see, I see…" She murmured, her tone syrupy sweet. "So you're saying it was Mika. That he did all this...And my dear little sister is innocent?"

"Yes!" The boy cried, nodding rapidly. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. I'm not lying, I swear it! It was him, not her! Punish him, not her!"

Anya's eyes glimmered. "Mm. Interesting." She folded her hands behind her back, her smile never faltering. "And tell me...where exactly is Mika right now?"

The boy's arm shot up again, trembling but confident. "There! He tried to hide in the crowd, but I saw him!...He's right there!"

The students parted like water before a pillar, leaving a clear path through the center of the room.

And there he was.

Mika stood in the open, calm as stone, Maria at his side.

He didn't flinch. He didn't speak. He only stared at the boy with those sharp, unreadable eyes.

"See?" The boy screamed, his voice cracking with triumph. "There he is! He's the one who deserves punishment! He's the one who should suffer!"

But Mika did nothing, no defense, no denial. Just that steady, unnerving gaze.

And among the crowd, Thomas let out a long, pitying sigh. He shook his head slowly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Oh...poor boy."

Adam, startled, turned to him.

"What do you mean?" He asked in confusion. "Why do you sound sorry for him? He's not the one who's about to suffer, it's Mika, isn't it? He's the one about to be punished!"

But Thomas didn't answer. His eyes never left Mika, and that smirk only deepened.

"No…" He whispered, almost as if to himself. "You've got it backwards. It's him."

He nodded towards the boy with glasses, who was still pointing and shouting.

"That boy is the one who's pitiful. Very, very pitiful and is about to suffer a horrible fate."

Adam blinked, still confused by Thomas's cryptic remark, his lips parting to press the question—but he never got the chance.

Anya, who had gone utterly still the moment Mika was revealed in the crowd, suddenly brightened. Her smile spread slow and tender as she turned back to the boy with glasses.

For a few seconds she just studied him, eyes glittering with a strange joy, like a cat that had finally cornered a mouse. Then, in a voice that carried across the hushed hall, she asked,

"One last time...Can you really confirm this?" Her hand gestured lightly toward Mika. "That it wasn't my dear baby sister at all, but him? That he was the one who shattered all of your knees?"

"Yes! I swear it!" The boy nodded furiously, desperate, eager. "I swear on my life it was Mika. You can ask anyone!"

Almost as if on cue, scattered voices rose from the crowd.

"Yes, it was him!"

"It was Mika, not Charlotte!"

"That dog, he's the one who did it!"

Each voice layered onto the other, creating a rising chorus of testimony, mostly coming from the students who has their knees shattered and wanted revenge.

And the moment she got this confirmation, Anya's expression transformed, suddenly radiant, her smile glowing with relief. And then to the boy's surprise, she stepped forward, seized his hand in both of hers, and shook it warmly

"Thank you!" She said, her voice warm and dripping with gratitude. "Thank you so much! You've no idea how much this means. With this truth, my sister can be set free. No Titan Realm, no punishment, no explaining to my mother why I sent her away."

"I was feeling so guilty just moments ago...but now?Now I know it was Mika who started this mess, and I don't have to carry that weight anymore...Thank you, truly."

The boy's face flushed deeper, his chest puffing out as he stammered.

"I-It's really no big deal, Miss Anya. Really. I just...I didn't want someone innocent to be blamed for something they didn't do."

His words were earnest, but in his fervor, he seemed to forget his original intent, to throw Charlotte under the bus, not Mika. The thrill of holding Anya's hands, of being acknowledged by a daughter of a Battle Angel, clouded his judgment.

Anya's smile softened, but her eyes glinted with something darker. "Oh, but before I move on, could you help me with one small favor?" She asked, her tone almost playful.

"Of course! Anything, anything at all!" The boy's chest puffed out.

"Wonderful." Anya murmured, before she guided him by the arm, pulling him closer to the Dream Drifter.

"Just wait here." She said as she brought him over to the machine in the middle, before turning to Charlotte. "Charlotte, the last time I came by, wasn't there a part of this machine that burned hot—so hot it's enough to strip skin from bone?"

Charlotte's eyes widened. She knew instantly what Anya was about to do. For a heartbeat, pity stirred...but then she remembered the boy's words, remembered the insult, that dog by her side, and any sympathy vanished.

Jaw tight, she raised her hand and pointed to a cuboid crystal apparatus that looked like a fridge that was made of glass.

"The flux generator." Charlotte said flatly. "Once it's active, it burns hotter than most forges. Even a touch will scorch the skin straight off."

"Splendid." Anya clapped her hands once, delighted. "Then turn it on for me."

Charlotte hesitated, but then obeyed. She pressed the sequence of buttons, and the generator flared to life.

The temperature spiked instantly, heat waves rolling out in a visible shimmer. Even standing several feet away, Anya's skin prickled with warmth.

Charlotte added, "Normally we keep a protective barrier around it—"

"No need." Anya said, shaking her head, savoring the heat. "This is perfect."

She then turned to the boy, her smile dazzling, and beckoned him closer. He came willingly, breath quick, still half-convinced this was some strange test of loyalty, or perhaps an invitation to something greater.

"Now." Anya said softly, leaning close,

"You see, I need your help with something special. Next week, my family's having a barbecue, and I'm supposed to be the grill master...But it's my first time, and I need to practice—figure out how long it takes to grill meat just right, how much heat it can take before it burns."

The boy blinked, confused but eager.

"A barbecue? With your family?"

His voice trembled with excitement, his mind racing with the possibility of meeting the Battle Angels, of being invited to such an exclusive event.

"Of course, I can help! Just tell me the date, and I'll be there to help with the grill. It's no problem at all!"

But Anya shook her head, her smile turning sharp and territorial as she said, "Oh, no, there's no need for you to come to the barbecue. I'll handle the grilling myself."

She paused, letting her words sink in, her eyes glinting with something cruel.

"What I need is for you to help me practice here. You see this machine, this flux generator, it can act as a grill, which I can practice my meat roasting skills. And you, the part where you'll help me is that…"

Her voice dropped to a chilling whisper.

"...you're going to be the very meat I'm going to test my skills on."

The boy's face froze, his excitement morphing into confusion.

"W-What?" He stammered, his voice shaking as he immedietly thought it was a weird joke.

"You're joking, right? That sounds...crazy. You can't mean—"

But before he could finish, her hand clamped the back of his neck like an iron vice.

And then—to the horror of every student watching—Anya slammed his face straight into the glowing flux generator.

Sizzle!!!!

The boy didn't even have time to scream, his lips melted into the molten glass, his skin searing away in an instant, half his face dissolving into a grotesque, bubbling mess.

The acrid stench of charred flesh filled the air...and just like that the crowd erupted into horrified cries, students stumbling back, some retching, others frozen in disbelief.

"What the hell—what the hell is happening?!"

"She's burning his face off!"

"His face—oh God, his face is melting!"

"The smell! The smell! I can't breathe!"

"I can hear it! His skin—it's peeling, it's dripping off!"

"Murder! Murder! Somebody stop her!"

But no one did anything since they were scared beyond relief and just as they thought they were already witnessing something straight from hell...Anya took it to another level.

With a casual cruelty that froze every witness to the marrow, she yanked the boy's head back from the flux generator.

Pachak!

But what came out was no longer a face—it was a half-melted ruin, gooey blood boiling and sliding down his chin, skin sloughing away in clumps. His spectacles, once perched neatly on his nose, had fused grotesquely into the molten mess of flesh, warped glass embedded into what little remained of his features.

Seeing this mess, she tilted her head, still smiling, as if admiring a cut of meat on a grill.

"Hm..." She mused cheerfully, her voice carrying across the suffocating silence. "I thought it was done...but no. It still needs to cook some more."

And before the boy could even gurgle a plea through the shredded ruin of his mouth, Anya slammed his head forward again.

Psssttt!

The sickening hiss of flesh against the burning glass filled the laboratory. His body convulsed violently, arms and legs jerking like a puppet with its strings pulled too tight. The stench of burning hair and charred skin grew unbearable, coating every tongue in the room with its acrid taste.

And that was the breaking point.

Several students vomited where they stood, collapsing to their knees as the food they ate last night splattered the floor.

Others fainted outright, bodies toppling limply amidst the chaos.

And those still conscious stumbled backward, clutching their mouths, tears streaking their faces, unable to process the sheer horror unfolding in front of them.

And Adam...Adam's world shattered.

Only moments ago, he had stared at Anya with shining eyes, his heart swelling with pride at the noble idol who enforced justice without fear or favoritism.

But now...now he could only stare in horror. His chest tightened, his stomach roiled, and his breath came shallow.

Because the same figure he had admired, the same girl he had thought embodied justice, was smiling while cooking a human face like meat on a grill.

He couldn't comprehend it. His mind screamed that this was wrong, that this wasn't her, that his idol wasn't supposed to be this monster. Yet his eyes refused to lie.

This was Anya.

This was reality.

And the sound of flesh sizzling on hot glass seared the truth forever into his memory...