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

Kafka's brows arched sharply. The word again, goddess.

First Nina, now Camila and his mind spun with unease, a gnawing curiosity twisting in his chest.

Could it be the same woman?

Camila's voice floated through the receiver, smooth as wine.

"Kafka, it wasn't just me and Bella who were shocked. Even the instructor, the lady running the pottery class, was floored. I swear, the moment that woman walked in, the poor teacher froze like a deer in headlights."

"For a few seconds she couldn't even speak. Just wide eyes, mouth opening and closing...Then finally she stammered out some nonsense about reservations, asking if she'd signed up for the class."

Camila gave a small laugh at the memory.

"And do you know what that lady said? She shook her head and said she just wanted to check it out...Normally the teacher is strict, Kafka, you know how these women are, 'rules are rules,' no exceptions...But this time? She couldn't even say no."

"She looked at me, practically begging me to decide, as if I could overrule the schedule. And of course I said yes...Who could turn that beautiful face away?"

"...All she needed was to open her mouth and the rules bent around her like clay."

Kafka leaned forward, suspicion flickering across his face. "She was really that pretty?"

"Most definitely." Camila breathed. "Kafka, you know me. You know how smooth I am when it comes to making friends, especially after opening the shop. I can hold a conversation with anyone, glide through with charm. But when I tried with her…"

Camila paused, her tone softening into something almost shy.

"I faltered. I'd start with a smile, a line I've used a hundred times before, but the moment she looked back at me and smiled, I lost it. My tongue knotted, my face heated. I, me, Kafka...Iwas the one blushing."

Kafka's brows shot higher. He barked a disbelieving laugh. "You? Blushing in front of someone?"

"Yes!" She insisted, her voice rising with a strange mixture of frustration and awe. "That's what I'm saying, this woman was lethal. She has a face card no one can deny. I felt like every word I spoke had to be measured, precise, or else I'd disappoint her. Me, of all people, second-guessing myself!"

Kafka let out a long breath, shaking his head. "That really is surprising. You never care what anyone thinks. If even you were knocked off balance...then she must be one hell of a woman."

"She is." Camila confirmed softly. "And not just me. Bella too. She couldn't even focus on the class anymore. Didn't shape a thing, just pressed her hands into the clay and stared at her the entire time...Like she'd seen a living celebrity."

"Every time I tried to call her name, she barely responded, just little absent 'oh...yes...no…' answers, all while staring at that woman as if bewitched."

Kafka grimaced. "That must have been awkward for that women, being stared at like that."

But Camila chuckled.

"Not at all. She's different. Calmer, gentler, with this aura...this maturity. Like nothing could rattle her..She carried herself with that soft, perpetual smile, unbothered, as if even being ogled was beneath notice."

"She even chatted casually with Bella for a while, as if nothing was strange. Said she'd recently moved here, wanted to explore the town's little corners, so she wandered into the class."

"...Everything about her, so natural, so poised, it was disarming. Like she belonged everywhere and nowhere at once."

Kafka's chest tightened. The description was ringing too many familiar bells.

"And Kafka..." Camila went on, lowering her tone. "I even spoke about you."

His head snapped up. "Wait, she brought me up?"

"No." Camila said quickly. "I did. We were talking about local places to see, and you came to mind. I told her that if she wanted to see a real attraction, she should meet you, the town's very own playboy. A man who can charm every woman he lays eyes on."

"Come on, Camila." Kafka groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I'm not that bad."

"Sure, sure." She teased. "Keep telling yourself that. Everyone else knows the truth."

But then her tone shifted again, more serious now.

"What surprised me was her reaction. The moment your name came up, her eyes lit up. Brighter, sharper. She leaned in, curious."

"She started asking questions, what you were like, what our relationship was, what I liked about you. At first I didn't understand why she cared so much...But then it hit me."

Kafka's heartbeat quickened. "And? Why was she asking?"

Camila exhaled, then delivered her theory with certainty.

"She must be a cougar, Kafka."

"…What?" He asked flatly.

"Yes. I'm telling you, she's mature. Older. She gave off that vibe. And when your name came up, she got...excited. Interested."

"Clearly she's got a taste for younger men. So you'd better be careful. You've handled strong women before, but this one? She's different...If you're not careful, Kafka, you'll be the one getting devoured."

Kafka let out a low laugh.

"Sure, sure. That's what you think. I doubt it, but alright, if it makes you feel better." He shook his head, still unsettled, then asked. "Where's Bella? Can I talk to her, see what she thinks?"

Camila's voice tightened.

"That might be difficult. She's not in a normal state right now. The moment we got back, she ran straight to the computer. She's been searching nonstop for that woman ever since."

"She's convinced she must be some celebrity, that someone that beautiful has to be famous. She's been glued to the screen for hours."

Kafka frowned. "Can you at least try to hand her the phone?"

"Alright, I'll try." Camila sighed, her voice moving away from the receiver. "Bella, honey! Your daddy is calling. Your daddy wants to talk to you!"

A muffled, distracted voice carried faintly over the line. "Mom, tell Daddy I'm busy right now. I'll call him later. I've got work to do!"

Camila came back, a smirk in her voice. "See? Your daughter rejected you flat-out. How does it feel, Kafka?"

Kafka closed his eyes, groaning. "It hurts. It hurts a lot. I can't believe she replaced me already. She's chosen a new idol instead of her daddy."

Even though Kafka had been joking around with Camila a moment ago, deep down a tight knot of suspicion was coiling in his chest.

This "goddess" kept being brought up, first Nina, now Camila, and Bella indirectly too. And no matter how casually he tried to brush it off, the repetition couldn't be ignored.

Someone who could floor even Camila and leave Bella dazed. That wasn't coincidence. He wanted details, anything, a name, a hint.

But before he could ask anything, it happened again.

On the other end of the line Camila suddenly shouted. "Oh no! Oh no, Kafka, I completely forgot about the dish on the stove! It's going to burn!"

"...I have to go now, bye, Kafka, I'll talk to you later!"

The call cut.

Kafka sat staring at the phone in disbelief.

"Seriously…" He muttered, dropping it onto the sofa beside him.

First Nina had slipped away mid-story, now Camila abandoned him with the same vagueness. Not a single name, not even a description beyond goddess. It was as if none of them were willing, or able, to say more.

He leaned back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling, mind churning.

Maybe...maybe this wasn't random. Maybe this was the work of the gods again.

Another trial candidate, another woman being carefully woven into his orbit.

Someone he would eventually be introduced to, someone he would have to deal with according to their inscrutable requests.

That was the only explanation that made sense, why else would three different women, completely separate, stumble onto the same person in a single day?

But if that was true...what were the gods even doing?

They'd gone silent for weeks now. No requests. No guiding whispers from above. The link felt cut, like a dead line.

Were they watching? Had they abandoned him? He didn't know. And the silence made the puzzle ache all the more.

Just as his thoughts began to spiral, the quiet of the house was broken by the soft pad of footsteps.

Kafka lifted his head and turned.

There she was. Abigaille.

She also froze for a moment when their eyes met, clearly surprised to see him lounging on the sofa.

But then her whole face lit up like the sun breaking through storm clouds.

"Kafi!" She cried, her voice trembling with joy. "You're finally back!"

Before he could rise, she dashed across the room, skirts swishing, and practically launched herself into him. The sofa creaked under the sudden weight as she landed in his lap, arms wrapping tight around his neck.

She snuggled against him with childlike affection, raining kisses across his cheeks, his jaw, even the corner of his lips.

"Oh, Kafi! I love you so much, my dear Kafi, my baby boy, oh, I love you so, so much!"

Kafka chuckled helplessly, wrapping his arms around her soft waist, holding her close as her body squirmed against his. The scent of her hair filled his nose, warm and sweet.

He nuzzled against her ear and teased, "What's wrong, Mom? Why so affectionate all of a sudden? Did something happen?"

She immediately puffed her cheeks and pulled back just far enough to pout at him. "Wrong? What do you mean wrong, Kafi? Am I not allowed to show affection to my son whenever I want?"

He lifted his hands in surrender, still smiling.

"Of course, of course, Mom. You can show your love to me as much as you want. There's no problem with that."

Then his expression softened, eyes narrowing slightly.

"It's just...you rushed off so early this morning. Didn't even say a word to me. I thought you'd have something heavy on your mind, something about yesterday...About what happened between you and Mom "

"I thought you'd be clouded with worries about our relationship. But looking at you now…"

He pinched her rosy cheeks gently, tugging them until she giggled.

"…you don't look troubled at all. You look...happy. Like you had a very good day."

Abigaille clapped her hands together, her whole body bouncing with excitement.

"Oh, I did, Kafi! I most definitely did!" Her eyes shone, cheeks flushed with delight. "To tell you the truth, when I rushed out this morning, I...I needed time. Time alone. To sort my feelings, to come to a conclusion about what to think of...us."

"About this relationship, what it means, where it could go. I felt guilty too, for lying to Olivia, for acting the way I did yesterday. I didn't know what to make of it all."

She pressed a hand to her chest, as though holding in a racing heart.

"But then, Kafi...then I met someone today. Someone who changed everything. She appeared out of nowhere, like the answer to all my tangled thoughts. Just talking to her, looking at her face, I felt awe. Pure admiration."

"Like I was in the presence of something higher. And after meeting her, after our conversation...everything inside me shifted. I understood. My doubts vanished. My guilt washed away. I finally knew what I wanted."

Kafka's arms stiffened around her. His smile wavered and a shadow of suspicion darkened his gaze.

That word again...That same story again.

Nina. Camila. Bella.

All of them, separately, had "met" this same woman today.

And now his mother sat in his lap, cheeks glowing with reverence, describing her with the same words the others had used: awe, admiration, goddess.

Kafka's brows drew together, his eyes narrowing as a cold certainty began to take shape.

Whatever this woman was, whoever she was, Abigaille had crossed paths with her too and he was starting feel like things weren't as it seemed and this women wasn't just a trial candidate but something much more dangerous…