Seven Mothers: All Seven Of My Mothers Are Heavenly Goddesses?!

The movie played on, but I couldn't focus. Not because of the plot or the dialogue, but because my mother was staring at me. And not just the casual, glance-every-few-minutes kind of staring...No. This was the full, unblinking, intense kind of staring.

The kind that makes the back of your neck itch and your skin crawl.

I tried to ignore it...Really, I did.

But it was impossible. Every time I thought she might've given up, I'd catch her out of the corner of my eye, leaning just slightly forward, her gaze boring into me like she was waiting for something to happen.

Finally, she leaned in close enough that I felt her breath on my cheek, and I let out a long, exasperated sigh. Pausing the movie, I turned to her with a deadpan expression.

"Alright, what's going on? Why are you looking at me like I stole your purse or something?"

Her lips curved into a teasing smile, but her eyes sparkled with expectation. "I'm waiting."

"Waiting for what?" I blinked, confused.

"For you to make your first move on me, obviously." She said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"My first move?" I repeated, having no idea what she was talking about. "What are you talking about?"

She scooted even closer, her face now mere inches from mine. "You know, Luca...Your big opening move...I figured since you're so confident, you'd already be pulling out all the stops to try and make me feel something for you."

"Pulling out all the stops?" I leaned back, trying to create some distance between us.

She nodded earnestly. "You know. The smooth lines, the compliments, the charm." She started gesturing with her hands as if painting a picture. "'Oh, Mom, your beauty transcends time itself.' Or, 'How could I ever compete with the radiant glow of your eyes?"" She clasped her hands dramatically over her chest. "'No flower could rival your elegance.' That sort of thing."

"You seriously thought I'd start spouting that kind of stuff?" I stared at her, torn between laughter and disbelief.

"Well, yeah." She said, crossing her arms and pouting slightly. "You're supposed to be the big charmer, right? I thought you'd at least start with something dramatic to impress me...But instead, you just accepted the bet and went back to watching the movie. It's...anticlimactic and boring, to be honest, as I was expecting to get a load of praise from my son."

I couldn't help it—I burst out laughing.

"Hahaha!~ You really think I'm going to start throwing out cheesy compliments like that? What, do you want me to serenade you, too?"

"It wouldn't hurt." She raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too serious for my liking.

"Unbelievable." I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "You're actually disappointed that I didn't start with some over-the-top nonsense."

"Well, it's a competition, isn't it?" She said, shrugging. "I thought you'd take it more seriously."

I waved her off casually and pushed myself back into the couch. "I don't use cheap tricks or flashy lines...That's amateur hour."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? Then how do you usually…'take down' these women of yours?" Her tone was playful, but I could see the genuine intrigue in her expression.

I smirked, letting the silence hang for a moment as I considered my response. "Let me tell you a story." I began, gesturing as though I were about to impart some ancient wisdom. "It's about how a tiger hunts."

"A tiger?...Those kittens that look so cute but would maul me before I even have a chance to let them?" She blinked, her head tilting slightly.

"Yes, Mom...Those killers in the shape of adorable plushies." I said, my voice steady, almost theatrical. "The tiger is one of the most powerful predators in the wild. With its sheer strength and agility, it could easily take down any prey it desires in a direct confrontation."

"So…it just pounces on its prey?" She raised an eyebrow, but she was clearly listening.

I shook my head, a sly smile curling on my lips.

"Not quite, Mom. A tiger doesn't rush in blindly...No, it understands patience. It knows that to guarantee its success, it must wait for the perfect moment. It hides in the bushes, its body low, its gaze fixed on the prey. It doesn't move, doesn't make a sound, until…"

Her eyes widened slightly, caught up in the imagery. "Until what?"

"Until the prey lets its guard down." I continued, my tone dropping to a whisper for effect. "That's when the tiger strikes...One precise, powerful move, and it's over."

She stared at me, a mix of amusement and disbelief on her face. "And you're saying…This is how you 'hunt' women?"

"Exactly." I said, leaning forward slightly as if to emphasise my point. "You don't go charging in with cheesy lines and grand gestures. You observe, you understand, you wait. And when the moment is right…" I snapped my fingers. "…you strike. That's how you make an impression that lasts."

"So, what you're saying is that you're a tiger?" Her lips twitched, threatening to break into a grin.

"Precisely." I said, my grin growing smug. "The apex predator of romance."

She tilted her head slightly, her curiosity getting the better of her. "So, tell me, Mr. Tiger, am I the prey about to be devoured?" Her voice was playful, teasing, but there was a flicker of something else in her gaze—an unspoken challenge.

I didn't reply immediately.

Instead, I turned toward her slowly, letting my expression soften. My hand then rose gently, brushing against her cheek, my fingers trailing along her skin with deliberate care.

When she suddenly felt me caressing her cheek in a loving manner, her teasing demeanour faltered for a moment, her breath catching as I leaned in close, so close that my crimson eyes locked with hers. And for a brief second, the room felt smaller, the air thicker.

"Yes, Mom...You are my prey." I murmured, my voice low and steady, a smile playing on my lips. "My plump little deer…and I'm going to sink my teeth into your soft flesh sooner or later."

When my mother heard my words, her eyes widened, the teasing glint in them replaced by something else entirely.

The sudden shift in the atmosphere had thrown her off balance, and for just a second, I saw it—the uncertainty, the hesitation. My words hung in the air, and I could almost see the flurry of thoughts in her mind as she tried to process whether I was still joking or if there was something more to my words.

And then, as quickly as I'd closed the distance, I pulled back just a fraction, tapping her cheek lightly with my fingers. "But the moment hasn't arrived yet." I said with a mischievous smile. "So, my cute little fawn, just wait quietly until I get hungry...I'll make sure to devour you until not even a bone is left behind."

With that, I leaned back into the couch, picking up the remote as if nothing had happened and turning my attention back to the TV.

My mother blinked, her hand instinctively rising to her cheek where I'd touched her, her composure clearly shaken.

"W-What…" She stammered softly, her voice trailing off. Her hand trembled slightly before she clenched it, shaking her head firmly as if to rid herself of whatever ridiculous thoughts had crept in.

"Stupid." She muttered under her breath, her tone half-scolding, half-defensive. "I'm letting him mess with me. He's just making fun of you...He's just being...Luca."

But even as she sat back in her seat, trying to focus on the TV, I noticed the wary glance she cast my way from the corner of her eye.

Her expression was conflicted, her usual confident demeanour slipping just enough to reveal that I'd managed to get under her skin.

I smirked inwardly, keeping my gaze fixed on the screen, but the satisfaction was impossible to hide. She might tell herself it was all a joke, but deep down, I knew I'd left an impression.

For now, though, I was content to let her stew in her thoughts...