God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 802

Chapter 802: Trust Me

The thunderous voice still reverberated in the air when Kafka turned, his grip still tight around Vanitas’s throat. Slowly, stiffly, his head pivoted toward the source of the interruption.

And there, at the entrance of the living room, stood a woman unlike any he had ever seen. Her beauty was so sharp it hurt to look at, like staring at sunlight refracted through ice.

Long hair, golden as molten metal, cascaded down her back in shimmering sheets.

Her eyes were a piercing, crystalline blue, cold as the highest winter skies, carrying a disdain that made the world seem small beneath her gaze.

Her ears swept to delicate points, almost elven in their shape, and her figure, plump, divine, perfectly sculpted, radiated the aura of someone not born of mortal clay.

She looked every inch a goddess. And right now, she was glaring at them both, frustration and anger etched into every line of her perfect face, as though she could scarcely believe the chaos unraveling before her.

Kafka froze. He didn’t know her, had never seen her form before, but the voice…That voice, resonant and calm even when sharp, was unmistakable.

He had heard it countless times. It was the voice that delivered the words of heaven to him, the only tether between his trials and the gods.

“…Seraphina.” He muttered, half in disbelief, half in recognition.

Seraphina’s eyes softened, just slightly, at the sound of her name. She exhaled, a sigh of relief ghosting through the tension that gripped the room.

“It’s good that you recognize me, Kafka.” She said evenly, her voice firm but not unkind. “It saves us the trouble of introductions, when the situation is already this dire.”

Then, her gaze sharpened, fixing on him as though nothing else in existence mattered.

“Now, Kafka.” She said, each word deliberate. “I already understand what is happening here. But I will hear it from your lips nonetheless.”

“…Tell me, why are you trying to kill your own mother?”

The words pierced him. His breath caught in his throat. His arms shook around Vanitas.

Kill his mother?…The greatest sin, the act most unthinkable, and here he was, his hand at her throat, the pressure of his grip promising death.

“I-I don’t know.” He stammered. “I don’t know why…I don’t know why I’m doing this…” His voice cracked again, raw with panic. “She…She threatened—”

But Seraphina cut across him smoothly, her cold gaze flicking to Vanitas.

“She threatened to reveal all your secrets, didn’t she?” She said. “To every woman you’ve ever drawn close. To strip you bare. That is the weight she dangled above you.”

Kafka’s breath caught. His hands tightened instinctively, and Vanitas’ body twitched in his grip. He nodded his head violently, eyes darting between them.

“Yes! That—and, and she said, she said she’d—”

“To kill your mortal mothers.” Seraphina interjected again, her tone steady, merciless in its clarity. “Before your eyes. That was the second threat she pulled.”

Kafka’s mouth fell open. The words had been stolen from him, laid bare before he could form them…How could she know?

His panic rose, but Seraphina didn’t flinch.

“It is for this…” She said softly. “…that you were ready to damn yourself? To commit the deepest sin—parricide?”

Kafka faltered when the sin he was committing in the moment was brought forward while Vanitas, who noticed that Seraphina’s words were having an effect on him, eyes narrowed, her body writhing faintly against his grip.

She glared at Seraphina in response, and that single glare seemed to lance through the Goddess of Order herself.

Drip!

Seraphina staggered, her hand rising instinctively to her lips. Blood welled at the corner of her mouth. A single look, just a look, from Vanitas had drawn blood.

“Seraphina…” Vanitas’s voice was low, warning, as if pushing back a child who had wandered too far into the storm. “Do not interfere. This is between me and my son. You have no right to come in between us.”

Her glare sharpened, fury radiating like heat, but Seraphina did not yield. She swallowed the blood, wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and straightened her shoulders.

Her eyes, cold, unwavering, locked once more on Kafka.

“Ignore her, Kafka…Listen to me.” Her tone softened, firm, but not unkind. “I understand. I know why you raised your hand against her. I know why you thought killing her was the only way forward.”

“…But hear me when I say this: she will not touch them. Not Olivia. Not Abigaille. Not any woman you love.”

Her words were steady, but Kafka’s heart lurched.

“What…What do you mean?” He asked hoarsely.

Seraphina stepped forward, ignoring Vanitas’s seething glare. “What I’m saying is that…her threats are empty. All of them. She won’t act on them.”

“No!” Vanitas spat, voice shaking with fury. “Lies! You’re twisting everything. Don’t listen to her Kafka, she’s lying! Don’t risk your mothers lives over what nonsense she has to say!”

But Seraphina only shook her head, calm despite the blood still on her lips as she went on to say with a look of conviction on her face,

“Kafka, from the beginning of this trial, I swore your safety. I swore the safety of your family and I have not broken my word, and I will not in the future.”

“So, trust me now. Trust me when I tell you this—if you let go of her, nothing will happen to them. Not to Olivia. Not to Abigaille. Not to anyone.”

“…Not a single hair will be touched on any single one of them, which I can vow from the bottom of my heart.”

Kafka faltered, staring at her, confusion roiling across his features.

“Y-You’re lying.” He whispered hoarsely. “You…Youhave to be lying.”

“No, Kafka…” Seraphina shook her head slowly, calmly. “There is no reason for me to lie to you. I am Seraphina, the keeper of order, the balance that binds heaven and earth. I have nothing to gain from falsehoods.”

She stepped forward, ignoring the tremor in her body, ignoring the blood at her lips. Her blue eyes bore into his.

“So, trust me now. Let her go. Let Lady Vanitas go, and I will explain everything.”

Hearing this, Kafka stood frozen, his hand still clamped around his mother’s neck, his chest rising and falling in ragged bursts. Seraphina’s words cut through him like shards of ice.

‘Trust me. Let her go.’

‘Trust.’

That single word echoed in his head like a cruel joke. How many times had he trusted, only to be betrayed?

Vanitas had promised love once, had abandoned him. The world he came from had promised fairness, had spat on him. Even Abigaille and Olivia…gods, they had been his light, his lifeline.

But now, even they were looking at him like a stranger.

And yet, Seraphina’s voice…

That voice had always been the one constant, the messenger between the heavens and himself. Words that steadied him. Words that reminded him he was not completely alone.

But still…Kafka couldn’t move.

He couldn’t decide. It wasn’t just his life at stake, it was everyone’s. Even those who had shown him fleeting kindness across his wretched path.

The weight pressed on his chest like a mountain, choking him even more than the rage he’d felt before.

‘If I choose wrong…I lose them all.’

His thoughts were chaos, until—his gaze shifted.

Vanitas.

She was currently glaring at Seraphina with such fury, such hatred, as if she wanted to tear the messenger apart with her bare hands.

But then, she noticed her son watching her and her expression broke. She turned to him, and the fire in her eyes melted into something bleeding, raw, almost unbearable.

It was not the look of a goddess. It was not the look of a deceiver.

It was the look of a mother.

A gaze that said: Don’t trust her. Trust me. I am your mother. I cherish you. I always have.

Kafka froze, breath hitching. That kind of gaze, it could not be faked. He knew it couldn’t.

Out of all the years he had lived, he had honed one exceptional skill: reading a person’s intentions simply by looking into their eyes.

And in this moment, he knew—though she was trying to meet his gaze with what seemed like hatred, none of it was real.

She was merely a mother, watching over her child, someone who would never, could never, harm him.

And in that moment, he knew what he had to do.

A bitter, wry smile cracked across his face as he thenlooked at them both, Seraphina with her cold resolve, Vanitas with her desperate love. His voice came low, ragged.

“I pray to God…that the choice I’m about to make…isn’t one I’ll regret.”

His eyes locked with Seraphina’s, sorrow swimming deep within them.

“Because if I’m wrong…if the trust I’m giving you now breaks…then everything I love, everything I cherish, will be torn from me. And that fate…is worse than death.”

Vanitas’s eyes widened, her body jerking as though she knew what he was about to do.

“No—!” She started, her voice breaking. “No, my son, don’t you dare—!”

But before she could finish, before she could scream, Kafka did the unthinkable.

He loosened his grip.

Her throat slipped free from his hand.

And just like that…Vanitas fell, her knees striking the ground, her breath ragged and uneven. She pressed a trembling hand to her neck, staring up at him with utter disbelief.

“You…You let me go?” She whispered, her voice small, broken. “No…No, it wasn’t supposed to be like this…You were supposed to…to…” Her words crumbled into incoherence as her entire body shook.

Seraphina, meanwhile, let out a long, shaky breath.

Relief softened her cold features for the first time as she steadied herself against the sofa.

“Usually…” She said with a trembling laugh. “Humans in your world would thank God for such a moment.” She smirked faintly, shaking her head. “But in this case…I am God. And truth be told, even I don’t know to thank right now.”

Kafka couldn’t help it. A dry, broken chuckle escaped him. “Hehe…I always thought that you were a strict and orderly women with how you always spoke in a detached manner.”

“…But it seems like you have a sense of humour as well.”

The tension cracked, for a heartbeat.

But only for a heartbeat.

Because suddenly, Vanitas snapped.

Something surged inside her, a burst of fury, a torrent of rage she could no longer control. She staggered to her feet, her body trembling with power. Her eyes burned, fixed not on her son, but on Seraphina.

“You…” She hissed, her voice venomous. “You ruined it. You ruined everything!”

Her words poured like acid, sharp and hateful.

“How dare you interfere with what was mine! How dare you interrupt the bond between mother and child, you traitor!”

She lunged, her body a blur of divine wrath, charging straight at Seraphina with enough force to shatter the walls around them. Her voice rose in a feral scream as she barreled forward.

Kafka’s heart seized. “No, don’t—!” He moved, ready to intercept, to protect Seraphina despite everything,

But then it happened.

Seraphina didn’t flinch. She didn’t retreat. She simply raised her hand, her eyes cold as steel.

And with impossible swiftness—

SLAP!

Her palm struck Vanitas square in the face.

The impact cracked like thunder. The air itself shuddered.

Kafka froze, his blood running cold, his eyes wide with shock. “What…?”

The supreme goddess, the most powerful being in existence, had just been struck. Struck by Seraphina.

And she staggered back from the blow.

Meanwhile, Seraphina’s gaze remained hard, unyielding. Her golden hair framed her like a halo of fire, and her voice rang out, low and cutting.

“Enough. All this nonsense stops…right this instant.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°

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