It had been less than a year since that fateful night of fertility, and a lot had happened in the Vanitas household since then. A lot.
Like how Evangeline's obsession with oranges had gone so far she bought land and became a full-fledged farmer, running her own flourishing orange orchard.
Camilla's sauce business had reached divine heights—literally—her recipes now sold to the gods themselves, who couldn't get enough of her fiery flavors.
Bella, meanwhile, discovered her hidden gift for singing; her voice was so pure and beautiful that the gods dubbed her the Angel of Melody.
And June?...She opened a fashion boutique in the heavens, where gods and devils lined up for her celestial designs.
But through all the achievements and hilarious moments, one thing had remained constant.
Every single woman from that night had ended up pregnant. At the same time.
Kafka truly lived up to his title as the Incarnation of Lust; not one of them was spared.
