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

As soon as they stepped off the scooter and parked it nearby, Kafka stretched his arms with a relaxed groan and looked around the charming little café that sat right at the corner of a developing street.

The warm yellow exterior faded by the morning sun, was paired with a hand-painted wooden sign that read "Sunny Side Café," and inside, through the wide glass windows, they could already see a few locals enjoying breakfast at rustic wooden tables.

"This place's been around for a while." Kafka said, gesturing towards the door as he held it open for Olivia. "It's not exactly the kind of fancy cafes or five-star hotels you'd find in the middle of a city. We're still a small town, still growing. But for now, this one's perfect, cozy, nice food, not expensive, and not really too formal."

Olivia stepped inside, brushing a few strands of her hair back as she looked around, her eyes trailing across the small hanging planters, the chalkboard menu with little doodles around the corners, and the subtle smell of fresh bread and eggs wafting from the kitchen.

She smiled faintly, nodding. "Honestly, Kafi, I never really went to restaurants back in the city, even when they were everywhere. I barely had the time. I was always either at the office or just ordering in, grabbing something fast. Eating out wasn't even a thought most days."

As they waited by the entrance for someone to seat them, Kafka looked over at her, curious. "So wait...does that mean you don't cook at all?"

At that, she laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact. "Oh, no, no. That's completely Abi's territory. If I stepped into the kitchen for anything more than a glass of water, she'd chase me out."

Kafka narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "Come on. You've never tried cooking?"

Olivia raised both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. The most I've done is heating leftovers in the oven or boiling noodles. That's about the extent of my culinary skills. And even then, it's usually just standing there nervously with my phone open to a tutorial while praying I don't blow something up."

Kafka let out a loud chuckle. "Well damn. I guess I'm keeping you away from any stove in the house from now on. You're banned from the kitchen. Not because Mom says so, but because I actually like that kitchen not being burnt to a crisp."

"Hey!" She gasped, trying to look offended, though her grin betrayed her. "It's not that bad."

"You literally just said you can only boil noodles." He said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "That's like cooking on easy mode. No way I'm letting you near anything with actual fire involved. Mom would personally kill both of us if you touched her spice rack."

Olivia laughed and lowered her head a little, still smiling. "Yeah...maybe that's for the best."

Kafka blinked and turned to look at her as they waited near the entrance for a waiter to seat them. This is part of a series from My Virtual Library Empire (M|V|L1EMPYR).

"But seriously though? Did you really go to any restaurants? Not even occasionally? Didn't you ever feel like getting out, taking a break?"

She shook her head slowly, almost sheepishly.

"Nope. It's actually been a really long time since I sat down in a restaurant like this. Not just fast food or a quick bite. I mean actually sitting down and ordering something. Maybe...eight months? A little more?"

"Eight months?" He echoed in disbelief. "Wait, eight months since you've actually gone out to eat somewhere properly? Not even a little solo treat or something?"

"Well...I mean, technically I've been in restaurants with clients." She clarified quickly, giving him a pointed look. "But that doesn't count, does it? That's work. I'm talking about going in by myself or with someone I actually want to spend time with."

He gave her a teasing side-eye. "You make it sound like I should be honored you're gracing this place with your presence now."

"Oh hush." She muttered, bumping her shoulder against his lightly. Then, as she looked down at her hands, fiddling with her fingers, her tone softened. "The truth is...it's not just the work."

"Hm?"

She glanced at him sideways, hesitating.

"It's kind of embarrassing, but, when I go to restaurants alone, especially the nice ones, it always feels like everyone's looking at me. Not in a good way. Like I stick out or something. All those happy families or couples...I feel like I don't belong. It's stupid, I know."

Kafka's expression softened immediately. "Mom…"

"I know, I know." She waved her hand, laughing nervously. "It's ridiculous. I'm an adult woman, I'm supposed to be strong and capable. But restaurants...they make me feel like I'm all alone in the middle of a crowd."

He studied her quietly for a second, then sighed and smiled faintly. "You really have it bad, huh? That's full-blown social anxiety right there."

Olivia looked at him with a bit of panic. "You don't think I'm weak for that, do you? I mean...I'm your mom. It's pathetic, isn't it? A businesswoman who can't even walk into a restaurant without feeling stared at, "

"No." Kafka cut her off firmly, giving her a reassuring look. "I don't think you're weak. Honestly, it's kind of...cute. Unexpected, sure, but endearing. And strange, yeah, since you're the head of a company. But it makes you feel real, too."

Olivia blinked at him, taken aback by how sincere he sounded.

He grinned and nudged her shoulder again. "And anyway, if you ever feel like going somewhere to eat and you're too anxious to go in by yourself...just call me. Seriously. I'll go with you, no matter what time it is."

Olivia's cheeks flushed with warmth, her heart swelling a little. She smiled quietly, eyes glistening ever so slightly.

At that moment, a waiter in a simple apron finally approached with a friendly smile. "Table for two?"

And the moment the waitress saw Olivia standing there in front of her, her eyes widened almost comically, and her lips parted slightly as though words had completely abandoned her.

She stared, just stared, in complete awe, like someone had painted a Renaissance masterpiece and hung it up right in front of her. Even as Kafka calmly nodded and said,"Table for two." She didn't move. Didn't blink.

It wasn't until Kafka cleared his throat with a purposeful cough that she snapped out of her daze, blinking rapidly and flustered.

"Ah! I-I'm so sorry! Please, follow me!" She said hastily, her cheeks blooming with color as she turned and started walking briskly ahead of them.

As they followed the embarrassed waitress, Olivia leaned closer to her son and whispered, her tone both incredulous and amused. "Kafi...Did you see that? Did you see the look on her face?"

Kafka turned his head slightly toward her. "Yeah. I saw it."

"That's the exact same look I used to get whenever I went to a restaurant alone." She said, her brows drawing together slightly as her voice dropped to a more uncertain murmur. "That mix of shock and awkward awe. Like I was some strange anomaly."

"People always stared like that. And even now, now, when I'm with you, I'm still getting those looks. So just imagine what it's like when I walk in all alone."

He looked at her then, his brows pulling together, a confused expression forming on his face.

"What?" She asked, her tone a bit defensive. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Kafka gave a short exhale, shaking his head.

"You're getting it all wrong, Mom. That wasn't the look people give when they're uncomfortable or think someone's out of place. That waitress wasn't judging you."

She blinked. "No?"

"No." He said, lips twitching slightly. "She looked at me normally. Like I was a random guy. But the moment her eyes landed on you, she went slack-jawed like she was looking at a sculpture in a museum."

"...She was stunned. Completely taken aback. She looked at you like you were some kind of walking dream."

Olivia's eyes widened, a flustered blush rising up her cheeks. "W-What? You think so?"

He scoffed playfully. "Think? Mom, come on. It was obvious. Her eyes lit up like it was her birthday morning. She was dazed. And not the judging kind of dazed. The 'holy crap, she's beautiful' kind."

Olivia was quiet for a beat, then covered her mouth to stifle a shy giggle. "You're exaggerating…"

"No, I'm not." Kafka said, grinning. "Honestly, I get the same face when I look at you too."

"Oh, please." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "The face you make is hardly one of awe. It's more like...a wolf sizing up his prey."

"Guilty." He said with a sly smirk. "But what do you expect? With a body like yours, it's hard to keep things respectful. I'm only human."

Olivia groaned and shook her head, her face a vibrant shade of pink. As they were being guided through the cozy cafe, she suddenly leaned closer again and muttered under her breath.

"Okay, but seriously...everyone's still staring."

Kafka glanced around casually and noticed it too, several heads subtly turned their way, some people doing poor jobs of pretending not to look, others not bothering to hide it at all.

"I swear, everyone in this place is looking at me." She said, hunching slightly and lowering her voice. "See? This is why I get so anxious going to restaurants. This happens every time. It's like all the attention is on me, and I don't even know why."

Kafka turned to her with a sympathetic expression. "I get why that's uncomfortable. But you should know, most of them are probably just admiring you. They're looking at your face, thinking how elegant you are, how graceful you look, "

Olivia looked almost hopeful for a moment, until Kafka leaned in slightly and added under his breath.

"…and then the others are admiring you in a...different way."

She looked at him sideways. "What do you mean, different?"

He gave her a wry smile, then slowly lifted his finger to point toward her face, then traced it downward in slow motion until it landed near her chest.

Olivia blinked, her mouth slightly open. "…They're looking at those?"

"Your face is a masterpiece." Kafka said with a small smirk. "But your boobs? Those are...well, let's just say they're getting their fair share of attention too. And not just from the men, mind you. Even some of the women can't stop staring."

She turned her head and realized with horror that he was right. Several people, some even pretending to glance at the menu, were stealing glances at her chest.

A couple of women exchanged subtle whispers and looks, and Olivia embarrassed deeply, immediately reaching for Kafka's arm and clinging to him tightly, pulling herself close.

Kafka chuckled under his breath, watching her retreat behind him like a shy girl hiding behind her older brother. "You're really using me as a human shield right now?"

"Be quiet, Kafi." She muttered. "It's your fault I'm suddenly so aware of them."

Kafka grinned. "Who's the parent here again?"

She didn't answer, only clutching his arm tighter as they were finally shown to their booth by the flustered waitress, who couldn't help stealing one more glance at Olivia before handing them the menus.