God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 868

Chapter 868: Not As A Mother, But A Woman
The moment he realized it, Kafka didn’t feel disgusted, repulsed, or even awkward.

He just…wanted to laugh.

To laugh at himself, at the absurdity of everything.

For months, he had been the one rejecting her advances, scolding her whenever she got too close, telling her to behave properly.

He’d acted like a teacher lecturing a student, the responsible one, the rational one.

He had told himself that she was the one who had crossed the line—that he was just trying to correct her, to bring her back to reason.

But who would’ve thought that, after all that, he would end up falling too?

The irony of it made him want to throw his head back and laugh until his voice broke.

The greatest hypocrite in existence—that was what he was.

All that righteous indignation, all those lectures and sighs and boundaries—what a joke.

He had fallen right into the same forbidden emotions he’d condemned her for.

And instead of shame, what he felt in that moment was almost relief. A strange, liberating kind of truth.

He could finally see it. He could finally admit it.

And part of him even wanted to thank that damned copy of himself, the other Kafka for forcing him to confront this.

If not for this madness, if not for being pushed into this corner, he might have kept denying it forever.

The truth would’ve stayed buried deep inside, festering in confusion and guilt, never to see the light.

But now he knew.

He loved her.

And the knowledge of it burned—sweetly, painfully, beautifully.

But the moment he thought that, the sound of footsteps snapped him out of his trance.

He looked up—and his heart stopped.

The other Kafka had moved. Just one step, but that was all it took.

He was now only a breath away from Vanitas.

For a second, Kafka’s mind went blank. Then it exploded into motion.

Blood roared in his ears. His instincts screamed louder than his reason. Every cell in his body ignited with fury—not the blind, godlike wrath of a divine being—but the raw, primal rage of a man seeing someone try to steal the woman he loved.

He didn’t even think.

“YOU…BASTARD!!!!”

Kafka roared, his voice echoing across the garden like a thunderclap.

“TAKE…YOUR…HANDS…OFF…MY…WOMAN…NOW!!!”

Both Vanitas and the other Kafka turned in shock.

They barely had time to register what was happening before Kafka’s body moved on its own.

The world blurred.

The ground cracked beneath his feet.

And in less than a heartbeat, he was upon them.

The other Kafka’s eyes widened.

But it was too late.

A single punch landed square on his jaw, faster than light and heavier than a meteor. The impact resounded through the garden like an explosion.

“Boom!!”

The other Kafka didn’t even have time to cry out.

His body was launched backward, crashing through a line of celestial trees, the shockwave scattering the petals of glowing flowers into the air.

“Kafka—!” Vanitas gasped, her hand flying to her lips.

Hearing this, Kafka thought she was calling out for the other one. He thought she was concerned for that fraud lying in the dirt, maybe worried he’d struck too hard.

The thought soured immediately in his chest, but still he tried to sound calm.

“Don’t worry, Mom.” He said, forcing a grin. “Even though I hit him pretty hard, I…kind of threw up a protective shield around him at the last second. I don’t even know how I did it—it just happened. So he shouldn’t have exploded into pieces or anything. He’ll be fine.”

But to his surprise, Vanitas shook her head and instead stepped right up to him, taking both his hands in hers.

“Kafka, I’m not talking about him! I’m talking about you!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you!” Her voice trembled. “You punched him so hard…what if something happened? Now, before anything, let me see your hand, please!”

She turned his palm over, inspecting it as if he were made of porcelain.

Meanwhile, Kafka blinked, stunned that even in this moment, after everything that had just happened, she was more worried about him than anyone else.

Her warmth, her voice, her touch; all of it made him smile softly despite himself.

‘That’s my mother.’ He thought. ‘Always putting me first.’

“Oh, thank goodness.” Vanitas finally breathed, letting out a shaky laugh. “It’s a good thing I gave you that indestructible body, or else—”

She froze mid-sentence. Her fingers shook slightly on his hand, her violet eyes widening as something seemed to strike her all at once.

“Wait…” She whispered. “W-Wait a minute, Kafka. Did I just hear what I think I heard a moment ago?”

Her voice quivered, her lips parting.

“Was I dreaming…or did you actually say—did you just call me your woman?”

Kafka exhaled, scratching the back of his neck, then smiled.

“Yeah.” He admitted quietly. “Yeah, I did, Mom. I called you my woman.”

Vanitas blinked, still in disbelief.

“You mean—” She stammered, searching for any possible misunderstanding. “You mean like, my woman as in family, or as in—”

He shook his head, cutting her off gently but firmly.

“No. I meant exactly what I said.”

He took a step closer, meeting her stunned gaze.

“I really did proclaim you as my woman.”

Vanitas’s breath hitched. Her hands trembled against her chest, tears filling her eyes. She stared at him as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

Kafka continued, his tone quiet but sure.

“I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how or how long I’ve felt this way. But in those few seconds, I finally understood everything. I realized what I’ve been fighting all this time…and what I’ve been trying to deny.”

He smiled ruefully, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“I’ve fallen too, Mom. Somehow…I fell for you. Just like you love me, I love you too.”

Vanitas’s knees nearly gave out. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she clasped her trembling hands over her mouth.

“K-Kafka…” A choked laugh, half-cry, escaped her.

Her whole body shook, overwhelmed by emotion—joy, disbelief, awe, love—all crashing together in one staggering wave.

She could barely breathe. “I…I can’t believe it.” She whispered.

But Kafka wasn’t done. He turned toward the other Kafka, who was weakly trying to rise, still dazed from the blow.

“You heard that, right?” Kafka said, his voice rising with pride. “My mother—my woman—doesn’t need you anymore.”

He stepped protectively in front of Vanitas, one arm sweeping back as if to shield her.

“She doesn’t need any favors, and she doesn’t need you in her life. Honestly, after what you’ve done, I should probably just eradicate your existence this very moment.”

The other Kafka’s eyes flickered as he weakly looked back, but Kafka kept going.

“But still…I’ll give you this much. You helped me realize what I truly feel. You made me understand my heart. So for that, I’ll let you live.”

His tone hardened again, divine power rippling in the air.

“So go. Go somewhere I can never see you again. I’ll take it from here. I’ll make sure my woman—my mother—is the happiest woman in existence. She deserves that, and I’ll give it to her.”

He reached back and pulled Vanitas gently into his arms and in response, she gasped, eyes wide, her face pale with shock and emotion.

“K-Kafka…” She whispered.

She could barely stand from the force of it all. The world spun in colors around her, her mind blank except for him.

Meanwhile, Kafka felt unstoppable. Like a sovereign, standing tall after claiming both his truth and his destiny.

But before he could say another word, the other Kafka, still kneeling, still smirking llifted his head.

There was no anger there. No pain. Only

satisfaction.

“It took you long enough, you idiot.” The double said softly, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Kafka froze.

“What…did you just say?”

The other Kafka chuckled faintly.

“I said it took you long enough to admit it, you damn bufoon.”

And before he could respond or even blink—the air around the double began to distort.

The shape of his body rippled.

The black coat shimmered into a flowing sapphire gown, his broad shoulders narrowing, his hair spilling into waves of gold.

His face also softened, refined, eyes gleaming with cold, knowing amusement that her plan has gone perfectly.

And in the blink of an eye—Kafka’s double was gone.

And in his place stood Evangeline.

“E-EVANGELINE—?” Kafka sputtered, stumbling back in shock. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE!?”

But she only smiled, calm and composed as always, her hands clasped in front of her as though she had just finished orchestrating the most intricate symphony in the universe.

Then, turning slightly, she looked over where he was and said,

“You can come out now…It’s over.”

And immediately—

From the empty air behind her, the silence shattered into noise—cheers, laughter, clapping, voices echoing.

“We did it!”

“We actually pulled it off!”

“Auntie Vanitas finally got her wish!”

“Let’s Goooo!”

“Oh no! I feel like crying! No I actually am crying!”

Kafka spun around, eyes wide, as figures began to appear one after another out of thin air—his entire family—Abigaille, Olivia, Bella, Lyra, June, Seraphina, Nina and Camila—their faces bright with joy and mischief.

They surrounded Vanitas, hugging her, congratulating her, all while she stood in utter shock, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.