God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 844

Chapter 844: You’re The Ideal Maid

Seraphina, still red from June’s relentless compliments, set down her knife with a sigh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She turned slightly, her voice low and uneasy.

“June…could you at least finish up quickly?” She muttered, glancing around the kitchen nervously. “Or maybe move to another room. Somewhere private.” Her blush deepened. “Sooner or later, Master’s going to wake up and come down here for breakfast, and I…I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Like what?” June blinked innocently from behind her camera.

“Like this!” Seraphina hissed, motioning to the lace-trimmed maid uniform clinging to her frame. “This ridiculous outfit! It’s humiliating enough without him seeing it! If he sees me like this, he’ll probably start laughing!”

She frowned, crossing her arms and looking away, her tail swishing slightly in embarrassment.

“I’d rather jump out the window than be laughed at by my Master…”

But before June could respond with her usual playful tone, another voice drifted in from the corner of the room.

“It’s alright, Seraphina.” He said, laced with mischief and amusement. “I’ve already giggled and chuckled in the corner enough. I promise, I won’t laugh anymore.”

Seraphina froze. So did June.

Both women turned sharply toward the sound. And there, standing with that ever-infuriating smirk on his face, was Kafka.

“Good morning.”

He greeted to which June’s face instantly broke into a delighted smile.

“Ah! Good morning, Kafka!” She chirped, lowering her camera. “You’re up late today!”

But Seraphina’s reaction was far less cheerful. She jumped to her feet, panic spreading across her face as she waved her hands.

“I-It’s not what it looks like, Master! It’s not what it looks like at all!” She stammered. “June—June forced me into this! I told her it wouldn’t fit, that it wouldn’t look good on me—but she insisted! She said I had to wear it!”

Kafka couldn’t hold back his laughter this time.

“What do you mean, it doesn’t fit you?” He said between chuckles. “If anything, that outfit suits you better than anything else you’ve ever worn. It’s practically made for you.”

“What?” Seraphina blinked, confused. “Why would this, of all things, suit me, Master?”

“Because it’s a maid outfit, obviously.” Kafka pointed playfully at her. “And who else in the world goes around calling the person they love Master every five minutes?”

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, while he continued with a smirk.

“No matter how many times I tell you to stop, you always keep doing it. And then there’s how you handle the chores, how you’re always at my side, always ready to serve or protect me. If anyone in the world was born to wear a maid outfit, it’s you, Seraphina.”

Her face went warm, her fingers fidgeting nervously with the ruffles of her apron.

Meanwhile, June burst out laughing, nodding enthusiastically.

“Exactly, Kafka! That’s exactly what I thought too!” She said, raising her camera proudly. “The whole inspiration came from how she always calls you ‘Master.’ Once that idea popped into my head, I couldn’t stop myself! I had to make her a maid outfit.”

She posed proudly beside Seraphina, gesturing grandly.

“And tell me she’s not so pretty! Look at her, so elegant, so pure! Who would ever believe she could annihilate an entire battalion in minutes?”

“You’re right.” He said warmly. “She’s absolutely adorable right now.”

Hearing this ,Seraphina’s lips pressed into a thin line. She fiddled with her gloved fingers, mumbling quietly,

“I…I suppose if you think so, Master…Then it’s true.”

Kafka smiled at her softened tone. He could see it, how she was flustered yet faintly proud.

The assassin who once hid behind blades was blushing over compliments about frills.

But he then turned toward June, admiration softening his features as he said,

“But you really outdid yourself, June. Honestly, I thought you’d bought that outfit somewhere, but you made it?”

“Of course I made it, Kafka! Do you really think I would let my dear Sera where store bought clothes.”

June puffed up proudly, eyes gleaming, before pointing at Seraphina’s dress.

“Look closely, see this little lace edge here? That’s all hand-done. And the stitching on the bodice? Took me two nights! Every thread was woven with my love for how utterly adorable she’d look in it!”

Kafka leaned in slightly, eyes tracing every stitch of the outfit with genuine appreciation.

“You’re right.” He said with quiet admiration. “The craftsmanship is incredible, the embroidery’s delicate, the frills are perfectly balanced, and the color contrast…that’s precision. A tailor with real vision made this.”

June’s grin widened instantly as she clapped her hands, delighted. “I knew you’d notice the details! Isn’t it perfect on her?”

“Perfectly humiliating…” Seraphina muttered under her breath, her cheeks faintly pink.

Kafka chuckled, reaching out to rest a gentle hand on June’s head, his fingers ruffling through her hair with easy affection as he couldn’t help but praise,

“You really are something, June. Talented as always.”

June froze for half a second, then that warm, goofy smile spread across her face, brighter than anything had ever given her.

Even at forty, after everything she’d endured, that simple touch, the soft, unthinking affection, made her feel like a giddy girl again.

“Ah, stop.” She said, laughing softly. “You’ll mess up my hair.”

But she tilted her head just slightly into his hand all the same.

“You always know how to make a lady melt, Kafka.”

And he really did, as for the first time in years, she felt it again, that small, sacred kind of joy.

After a lifetime of loneliness and a marriage that had left her numb, Kafka’s warmth had slowly taught her what love was supposed to feel like.

Her previous husband had never looked at her the way Kafka did, never touched her with kindness or treated her as anything more than an obligation.

He’d been cold, detached, irritated by her disability, as if her presence alone were a burden he was forced to carry.

Those years had been filled with silent tears and nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering if life had already given her everything it could.

But then she met Kafka, and the world changed.

Now, not a single day went by without laughter echoing through the walls, without teasing, warmth, or the comfort of simply belonging.

It had taken forty years—but finally, she had found what happiness really meant.

Seraphina, standing nearby, watched the gentle scene with a faint smile tugging at her lips.

She understood that feeling all too well.

Her own life had been spent in shadows, carrying out the will of others, obedient, efficient, and hollow inside. She had lived as a weapon in the hands of powerful men, enduring commands that sickened her, killing to keep her sisters safe.

But here, with Kafka and the family he had built around himself, things were different.

He had given her warmth instead of orders.

Freedom instead of fear.

A home instead of a mission.

And though she still pretended to be distant at times with the others, holding on to the quiet mistreas-servant relationship that had once defined her, she knew the truth deep down: she loved every single one of them.

Not as comrades, not as fellow survivors—but as family.

And for that family, she would give her life without hesitation, not out of duty, but out of love.

But just as those two were reminiscing the past, Kafka noticed the crutch under June’s arm. A faint frown creased his mouth before he gave her a crooked smile.

“When…” He said lightly. “…are you finally going to ditch that crutch, June? Your leg’s already fine, you could probably run a marathon with how good it looks now. Yet here you are, still holding onto it like an old friend.”

June’s smile faltered into a guilty little curve.

“I—well, I’ve tried.” She admitted, lowering her gaze. “My leg may be healed, yes, but my body’s forgotten what it feels like to walk without support. It’s strange, almost…naked. I suppose it’s become part of me after all these years.”

She brushed a hand over the handle, the gesture almost affectionate.

“Give me a few more months. Once I’m fully used to the strength again, I’ll let it go. For now, it still gives me balance.”

“Take all the time you need.” Kafka’s grin softened. “No one’s rushing you.”

And that was true.

The day Vanitas had met June, she’d healed June’s crippled leg as easily as one might snap a thread.

The scars, the stiffness, the pain, all gone in a single breath.

And in response, June had wept for hours, clinging to Kafka, to Olivia, to anyone who reached out. She’d spent half her life living with that burden; to have it vanish felt like being reborn.

Now, even though she could walk freely, she still kept the crutch, maybe out of habit, maybe out of fear of letting go.

But Kafka didn’t mind. Watching her take her time to adjust was part of what he loved about her, how human she still was despite everything divine happening around her, like the fact that she was in love with a demi-god who’s mother ruled the universe.

His gaze then dropped to the camera hanging from her neck. Without warning, he reached forward and gently took it from her hands.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun.” He said with a teasing smirk. “Every picture on this roll is of Seraphina. It’s about time you’re on the other side of the lens. Go on, stand over there. I’ll take a few of you two together.”

June blinked, then beamed with childlike glee.

“As you command, Mr. Camera man!”

She chirped with a mock salute. She then hobbled over to Seraphina with a hop and leaned in.

“Come on, Seraphina! Time for a new set, give him a good pose!”

“P-Pose? What kind of, what do I even do?” Seraphina flailed slightly, the hem of her frilled maid skirt fluttering with her panic.

June huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

“Have you already forgotten everything I taught you, you ungrateful disciple?” She said like she was offended. “You’ve got the figure of a goddess and the grace of a queen—just do what you always do when you’re showing off those moves with your daggers. Think of it as a performance!”

Then, to demonstrate, June struck a confident pose, hand on her hip, chin tilted, her elegant blue skin glowing under the kitchen light.

Flustered but determined, Seraphina tried her best to mimic her, legs slightly apart, arms up like a defensive stance, her eyes sharp but her blush betraying her embarrassment.

“Like this?”

“Perfect!” June exclaimed, beaming. “You really are my disciple, Seraphina! You’ve mastered my lessons beautifully. See, I told you, you’d make a wonderful model someday!”

“Be quiet, June.” Seraphina muttered, her ears red. “I’m only doing this because Master asked.”

“Master or not.” June teased, winking at Kafka. “You look stunning. Now, Mr. Camera man, shoot away!”

Kafka chuckled and lifted the camera, snapping a few shots.

“Alright, let’s see…good, hold that pose, perfect lighting, yes, another one!”

He said in a professional tone before going on to take a bunch of different photos as they changed poses.

“Beautiful!”

“Breathtaking!”

“Give me fierce now, yes!”

“Now soft smile, excellent!”

“That’s art!”

The two women couldn’t stop giggling between shots, June throwing her arm around Seraphina’s shoulders while Seraphina tried to hold her composure.

They kept at it until they were both panting lightly, June fanning herself with one hand while laughing breathlessly.

“Alright, alright.” June said finally, wiping a tear from her eye. “That should be enough! We must have taken enough photos to fill the entire memory card by now.”

Seraphina exhaled, placing a hand over her forehead. “Good. Because if I see one more camera flash, I’m going to faint. My head’s spinning already.”

But as she turned toward Kafka, she remembered something and perked up.

“Ah! Master, Olivia prepared breakfast earlier. I reheated it for you, it’s in the oven right now.”

Kafka smiled. “Thank you, Sera.” He was about to head toward it when he paused and gave her a mischievous grin. “But before that, I do have a favor to ask.”

Seraphina straightened immediately, ever obedient.

“Of course, Master. Anything for you.” She stepped closer, eyes steady but full of curiosity. “What would you like me to do?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze drift downward.

Her eyes followed his, and when she realized what he meant, color flooded her face. She opened her mouth, closed it again, her thoughts scattering completely.

For someone who had ended countless lives, nothing unnerved her more than this.

Still, after a moment of hesitation, she bowed her head and said softly.

“Of course, Master. Anything you desire. Shall we…go to your room?”

Kafka smirked. Finally, someone was agreeing with him after a whole morning of rejections.

“That sounds perfect.” He said lightly, already imagining the sweet victory.

But before he could even take a step toward her, June abruptly jumped in front of Seraphina, blocking his path.

“Oh no, no, no!” She said firmly, wagging a finger at him. “She’s on a break right now, yes—but only a short one. We’re going to continue this photoshoot later, and I’m not letting you whisk her away before we’re done.”

Kafka blinked, exasperated. “I’m not just taking her away, June. I’m taking you as well.”

“W-What?” June froze, eyes widening as a faint blush crept across her cheeks.

“You heard me.” He said with a teasing smile. “I want both of you to come along.”

Honestly June was tempted as after experiencing Kafka in bed, she didn’t think there was anything else greater in bed and she would often find herself craving his touch.

But then she thought of the person who was waiting for him and she quickly shook her head, waving her crutch defensively.

“Nope! Not happening! I’m staying right here. And so is Sera!”

Seraphina frowned slightly. “But, Master wants me…” She said, conflicted. “It’s my duty to serve him. Even if it’s embarrassing, I can’t refuse.”

June sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple.

“Seraphina, you don’t understand…”

She then leaned close, rising on her toes until her lips brushed near the assassin’s ear. Kafka could see her whisper something, but he couldn’t make out the words.

Seraphina’s expression shifted, from confusion, to realization, to deep, burning embarrassment. She looked at Kafka apologetically, bowing her head.

“I…I’m sorry, Master. I can’t help you right now. I really am busy. Please forgive me.”

Kafka blinked in confusion, his brows furrowing.

“Wait, what? Why’d you suddenly change your mind?” He asked, crossing his arms. “What did June whisper to you just now? What did she say?”

Seraphina’s fingers twitched against her apron, her eyes darting between him and June. For a heartbeat, she looked like she wanted to obey, to tell him everything.

But she hesitated, her lips parted, then closed again. That inner conflict was written clearly across her face, torn between loyalty to him and whatever strange pact June had just made her swear.

Kafka’s curiosity sharpened, but before he could press again, June stepped forward with a bright, mischievous smile that could melt glaciers.

“Oh, come now, don’t interrogate my poor model like that!” She said, waving her hand theatrically. “She’s just following instructions. Besides…” She leaned closer, her tone soft but playful. “…there’s a certain someone in this household who’s very eager to help you out right now.”

“…What?” Kafka blinked, thrown off.

June’s grin widened. “Mhm! Someone who’s practically waiting for you to ask. I’d tell you who it is, but that would ruin the fun. Let’s just say she’s been wanting to spend a little…personal time with you. You’ll know when you see her.”

“Now go on.” June added cheerily, clapping her hands together and steering Kafka toward the doorway. “Go, go! Off with you! You’ll get nothing from us right now.”

Kafka raised a brow. “Wait, what are you—hey!”

But June was already pushing him, surprisingly strong for someone leaning on a crutch.

“Shoo! You’ll thank me later.”

As he stumbled toward the hall, Seraphina quickly approached with a small tray, balancing a warm plate covered with a napkin.

“Master…this is the breakfast Olivia prepared. Please take it with you.”

“Seraphina, hold on—” Kafka tried, but before he could finish, June gave one final, decisive push, sending him fully out of the kitchen.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Now, Kafka stood there, plate in hand, his hair slightly tousled from the rush. Silence filled the hallway except for his exasperated sigh.

He’d gone into that kitchen thinking he might finally score some love. But instead, he’d been outmaneuvered and literally kicked out with breakfast like a wayward husband late to work.

“Unbelievable.” He muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Every damn one of them’s scheming today…”

He could still hear June’s laughter faintly from behind the door, light and teasing, followed by Seraphina’s flustered voice scolding her for being “too forward.”

Seeing that he had no choice, Kafka groaned and trudged down the hall, the warm plate in his hands doing nothing to soothe his growing frustration.

“First Abigaille and Evangeline, then Nina and Olivia…now even June and Seraphina?”

“This morning’s cursed.” He muttered to himself, shaking his head.

But then, as he turned the corner toward the living room, he heard voices. Three distinct voices.

Light, cheerful, and dangerously teasing.

His ears perked up.

His eyes gleamed with hope.

And a grin slowly crept across his face.

“If I strike out now, I’m done for the day.” He muttered under his breath, stuffing another bite of eggs into his mouth. “But if not…”

He exhaled deeply, squared his shoulders, and made his way into the living room, confident stride returning.

“Alright.” He smirked to himself. “Let’s see if I score…or if I’m going to have to do it the old fashioned way and browse the internet for so material to spank myself off too.”

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