Kafka sat still for a long moment, staring at the faint light pouring through the window. The weight of everything—his trial, the women, the decisions ahead, crushed against his chest like a landslide.
And then, slowly, he exhaled.
"I'll deal with it later." He said at last, letting his head fall back. "One problem at a time."
Evangeline raised a brow, as Kafka then shrugged, exhausted.
"There's already enough madness to deal with. I'll figure things out with Fiona, Tanya, Emily...all of them. One by one...But right now? It's not the biggest fire to put out."
He looked at her, and for a moment, his eyes were serious, almost pleading.
"This may sound stupid to you." He said slowly—"but...what if I just never become a Demi-god? What if I never ascend at all?"
Evangeline didn't react, yet and Kafka went on, hope laced in his words.
"I mean...I don't care about power. I never asked to be a god. If I just don't ascend, then I don't have to complete that final request, right? No baby. No weird fate. No...romantic relationship with my mother. We can all just live normal lives, one big, happy, normal family."
He looked at her, as if begging her to say yes.
But, of course, Evangeline shook her head.
"...That won't be possible."
Kafka's gaze faltered, as she sighed and went on.
"I told you before, your mother's desire to carry your child...it isn't a simple impulse. It's her greatest, deepest longing. The kind that shapes fate. That warps reality. That bends existence itself."
Kafka flinched.
"That's why she attacked you earlier." Evangeline continued. "That's why she couldn't hold back. Because that desire, it's haunting her. It's consuming her. If you keep stalling, she will either lose control and drag you to bed...or she'll hold it in."
Her eyes darkened.
"And that might be even worse."
"If she resists...that desire will fester. It will twist. It will rot. Until it forms into something called a 'Heart Demon.'"
Kafka blinked. "A what demon...?"
"A Heart Demon." Seraphina's tone dropped into a whisper. "A parasitic obsession born from suppressed divine longing. Even True Gods fear it. If it forms inside her...it will eat her mind, her soul. And since she is the embodiment of existence, if she implodes..."
Kafka went pale. "Then everything else goes with her."
"Exactly." Evangeline said grimly.
Kafka just sat there for a beat, before finally chuckling darkly, his voice laced with disbelief. "So basically...the fate of the entire universe hinges on whether I...impregnate my mother."
"As absurd as it sounds..." Evangeline nodded. "...yes. No tricks. No divine loopholes. Whether you place a child in her womb or not...that is the trial's final truth."
Kafka looked like he might cry, before slumping forward, gripping his hair with both hands.
"Dammit...She's my mom, Seraphina...The women who gave birth to me."
"I know." She said softly.
"And she's not like Abigaille or Olivia. She's my actual mother. I can't just...I—"
He couldn't finish. The weight was too much.
But just then, a sudden noise broke through the silence, a loud thump from the living room.
"What the hell was that?" Kafka's head snapped up.
There was another clatter. Something fell again. Then quick footsteps. Laughter. Possibly shouting.
Evangeline took another sip of her tea and calmly said, "That would be Lady Vanitas."
"Alone?" Kafka's eyes narrowed.
"No." Evangeline smirked. "She's with the rest of your family."
"...You mean, Abigaille and Olivia?" He slowly asked.
"The rest of your family as well." Evangeline shook her head. "Camilla. Bella. Nina. They're all there too."
Kafka's face turned pale.
Evangeline explained saying, "Apparently, they were all supposed to go out on a group date today, but they found you unconscious instead. Abigaille and Olivia also woke up earlier...so I took the liberty of informing them."
Kafka's eyes widened in horror. "You what?!"
"Calm down." She said quickly, waving a hand. "I only told them the bare minimum. That you're the son of a god, and this world is a trial set up for you. That's it. I didn't mention your actual tasks or the nature of your trial."
Kafka let out a shaky breath of relief. "Oh thank god. If they found out that I only got close to them because of some request..."
His voice trailed off.
He swallowed hard. "And if they knew I'm not even the original Kafka...That I replaced their son..."
His eyes widened. "Wait...the other Kafka. What happened to him?!"
Evangeline sat still.
"Don't dodge it." He said firmly. "I need to know. Please. He might've been a brat, yeah, but...Abigaille and Olivia raised him. I stole that from them. Just tell me...is he okay?"
Evangeline sighed. "...If you're that desperate to hear it, he's alive."
"He's alive?" Kafka's eyes lit up with a mixture of hope and guilt.
"He's in the other world." She confirmed. "Safe. Whole. In no situation where you have to worry about him."
Kafka's breath hitched, and then he sighed in genuine relief. "Thank God...Thank God...Wait, my mother is god, so I'm basically thanking my mother right?"
He then opened his mouth to ask more, but Evangeline cut him off.
"I'm not saying anything else." She said firmly. "Not until you go out there and meet your family. They've been worried sick about you."
"But—"
"And Lady Vanitas..." She added. "...is with them right now."
Kafka stiffened.
"So you can imagine what's happening out there." Seraphina's eyes narrowed meaningfully.
Panic hit him like a thunderclap.
His mother. With the others.
His obsessive, possessive mother was now face-to-face with every other woman in his harem.
He didn't waste another second.
"OH NO—" He blurted, ripping off the blanket, leaping out of bed.
He sprinted for the door.
Because for all the apocalyptic threats he'd faced, nothing scared Kafka more than what his mother might be doing to his other wives.
Nothing scared Kafka more than the idea of his mother being alone with the rest of his wives.
Yes, he trusted her. He truly did. She loved him deeply, more than anyone, perhaps. And she wouldn't do anything he outright despised...probably.
But obsession was a double-edged sword. Her love was vast, endless, but so was her jealousy. And in a moment of emotional weakness, he knew, anything could happen.
What if one of them made a joke about who loved Kafka the most?
What if Abigaille casually mentioned being the one to kiss him first?
What if Camilla claimed her cooking was his favorite?
That would be enough to set his mother off.
And worst of all, he didn't know how they were reacting to the truth. That he was a demi-god. That he was here on a trial. That the man they fell in love with...might not be who they thought.
Kafka braced himself as he slammed the bedroom door open and...
...his breath caught.
The scene in front of him wasn't what he expected.
In fact, it was the exact opposite.
No one was crying.
No one looked shocked.
No one even looked like they were emotionally devastated.
Instead, what he saw...
Was something out of a dream.
Or a divine fever fantasy.
The massive garden just outside the living room had transformed into a surreal wonderland—something plucked straight from a celestial painting or a divine lucid dream.
First, his eyes landed on Camilla.
Or rather...Camillas.
At least fifteen of them.
They were everywhere—lounging under the lily blossom tree, sitting in circles, clinking teacups with one another, and chatting happily like best friends.
Kafka blinked.
Rubbed his eyes.
Looked again.
Still there.
Multiple Camillas. All perfect copies. All animated with joy, each with a different expression, outfit, or pose. Like someone had pressed Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V on the most eccentric member of his harem.
"What the..." He muttered, dizzy.
But it only got weirder.
Next, just a little to the right, stood Nina.
Except she wasn't in her usual work outfit or tomboyish clothes.
She was wearing armor.
Not just any armor.
Heavenly Battle armor.
A glistening, obsidian-black full-body set that gleamed with divine runes, shimmering silver spikes, and a half-cape flowing behind her like thunderclouds. It wasn't just cosplay, it looked like mythical battle gear, forged in the depths of a divine forge.
To top it off, she was wielding a sword, a massive, two-handed blade that looked too big for her petite frame. Yet she swung it around gleefully, humming to herself and slashing the air like she was reenacting an epic battle scene.
"What in the hells is she wearing—?" Kafka's jaw dropped.
But before he could even finish, his eyes caught the next sight.
Olivia.
She wasn't standing. She was dancing.
Completely barefoot, twirling slowly at the center of the garden.
All around her, vines were swirling, blooming into roses, lilies, and strange, exotic flowers Kafka didn't even have names for.
Petals fluttered in the air, catching sunlight like butterflies.
She moved one hand, a tree sprouted behind her.
Another motion, a flower burst from the ground, blooming instantly.
She didn't look human.
She looked like Nature Incarnate.
Smiling, glowing, blooming in tune with the very earth beneath her feet.
"...Okay, I'm definitely dreaming." Kafka whispered, gripping the sliding door for support.
And just as he tried to process that, his eyes were drawn upward—
Where he saw two figures soaring through the sky.
His mother, Vanitas...and Bella.
Flying.
Not hovering. Flying.
They soared above the house like angels, their silhouettes slicing through clouds in radiant loops and wide spirals. Vanitas floated with divine elegance, her dark hair flowing like a galactic veil.
Beside her, Bella beamed like a child with the world's best new toy, her arms outstretched, her smile brilliant.
Wings.
Bella had actual wings, massive, semi-translucent appendages made of golden light and wind, flapping effortlessly behind her. She darted left and right, giggling with each movement as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
Kafka's entire brain blue-screened.
He just stood there, slack-jawed, twitching slightly, questioning whether this was real, whether he had actually woken up or was in some shared lucid dream.
None of them had noticed him yet.
They were all just...happy. Radiantly, impossibly happy.
Not a single tear.
No somber mood. No anger. No awkwardness or brooding or existential dread.
Just a bunch of Camillas chilling with lemonade, one knightly Nina playing with god-slaying weapons, a nature goddess Olivia blooming sunflowers from nothing, and Bella and his mother soaring like Valkyries through the sky.
The secret he thought would break them...
Had turned into something completely different.
And Kafka...
Didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or faint again, seeing this sight...