CHAPTER 836: I DON’T WANT TO BE A HYPOCRITE

"We’re...the ones who can’t...?" Abigaille’s voice quivered.

"No. No way. I’m perfectly healthy! I’ve had checkups, everything’s fine!" Nina’s face scrunched in denial.

Camilla ran both hands through her hair. "Oh god, don’t even say that, Abi. Don’t curse us like that."

Bella whimpered softly. "B-But what if it’s true...?"

The room descended into anxious murmurs, each woman’s voice overlapping with the next, until Kafka suddenly clapped his hands once, the sharp sound cracking through the panic.

"That’s enough." His tone was firm, cutting through the tension. "Enough illusions and delusions for one day."

Everyone froze, eyes snapping to him, as he folded his arms, brow furrowing in irritation.

"I’ve heard enough wild theories to last me a lifetime. If we’re going to clear this nonsense up, then let’s do it properly." He sighed, shaking his head. "It’s about time I set the record straight, and clear my good name."

"Oh, you have a good name now?" Camilla arched an eyebrow.

Kafka shot her a look. "Quiet, you. Anyway..." He exhaled slowly. "I know exactly why none of you have gotten pregnant. Because I’m the one who made it that way."

Every single woman blinked in confusion.

"You...what?" Abigaille leaned forward.

Kafka rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish now that all eyes were locked on him. "Yeah. It’s on purpose. I made sure none of you got pregnant."

The room erupted in overlapping exclamations.

"What?! How does that make any sense?!" Nina shouted.

"You’re kidding." Camilla’s jaw dropped.

Bella’s wings fluttered in distress. "W-Why would you do that, Daddy?!"

"Kafi!" Olivia gasped.

"Relax! It’s not like I don’t want it to happen ever." Kafka held up his hands. "I just, didn’t think now was the right time. With the trials going on, and the requests, and me still figuring things out—I didn’t want to bring a child into that mess. I thought I’d wait until the world was stable, until I was sure I could give them peace."

Camilla’s mouth opened and closed.

"Okay, but, hold on. You’ve been holding back? How? It’s not like you’ve been using protection or anything."

"Yeah!" Nina added, waving a hand. "You’ve been finishing inside us every damn time! How does that count as ’holding back’?"

Kafka gave a helpless laugh. "That’s the thing. You all don’t know what I’ve actually been doing."

They all stared blankly at him, while he smirked faintly, rubbing his temple and said,

"The thing is, I’ve been...shooting blanks this whole and not actual bullets."

The collective silence that followed could’ve shattered glass.

"What." Nina blinked rapidly.

"I’m sorry, what did you just say?" Camilla leaned forward, eyes wide.

Kafka gestured vaguely. "You heard me. I’ve been firing blanks, on purpose."

Bella tilted her head in confusion. "You mean...you can choose that, Daddy?"

Kafka nodded, matter-of-fact as he said, "I’m not human, remember? My powers give me control over my body and so...well, that as well. I can basically decide if what I release has life energy or not. And every time so far, it’s been not."

The women stared at him in disbelief, the explanation sinking in like a thunderstorm rolling in slow motion.

Finally, Nina burst out. "You’re telling me you’ve been pretending this whole time?!"

Camilla let out an incredulous laugh. "So all those times we thought you were finishing deep and meaning it—"

"I was!" Kafka cut in, exasperated. "I just...wasn’t letting anything happen. You think I’d be that irresponsible?"

Abigaille blinked through her shock, her expression softening slowly into something between relief and astonishment. "So...all this time...it wasn’t that you couldn’t."

"It’s that I didn’t." Kafka smirked faintly.

The realization washed over the room, melting confusion into stunned understanding.

Nina groaned, falling back against the couch. "You absolute bastard. You could’ve just said that."

Camila laughed weakly. "Yeah, instead of letting us spiral into existential fertility crises."

Bella pouted. "You really scared us, Daddy..."

"Well. At least my son still has his honor." Vanitas huffed, half-proud, half-scandalized.

Kafka spread his hands with a grin. "Glad we got that cleared up."

But just as Kafka was laughing along with them, a sudden thought struck him, sharp and heavy.

He realized it was only a matter of time before someone in the room asked that question. The one nobody had voiced yet, but was bound to come.

The question of why Vanitas didn’t want Abigaille to carry his child first, why she denied Abigaille’s wish, and why she was so adamant that she, and no one else, should be the first.

Kafka of course already knew the answer.

Vanitas hadn’t exactly been subtle. She had made it painfully clear that she wanted to bear his child before anyone else. That this, more than anything, was her deepest desire.

But everyone else in the room? They didn’t know that. Not yet.

And if they were the ones to ask, if the question came from them instead of him, the whole room would descend into chaos. Panic, confusion, accusations, awkward silence, and then an explosion of questions and misunderstandings.

It would be just like earlier. Another storm. Another moment spiraling out of control.

So Kafka made a decision.

He would explain it. He would clear the air before the tension could build again. No matter how awkward or difficult it was to say out loud, they deserved the truth. And more than that, he just...didn’t want to see everyone panic again.

This time, he’d face it head-on.

So he cleared his throat, straightened up, and looked around at all of them. "Alright." He said evenly, his tone careful. "I know what some of you are probably thinking right now."

The women blinked at him curiously.

He continued, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You’re wondering why exactly my mother denied Abigaille’s wish. Why she told her that it was the one wish she could never grant to anyone else. Why she said it was hers alone to have first." His voice grew softer, but no less serious. "I know it sounds strange. Confusing, even. But the truth is..."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening.

"...the truth is, my mother wants to bear my child."

The words fell like a stone in water, quiet, heavy, rippling outward.

He braced himself. He expected the shrieking, the gasps, the horrified stares.

Expected Nina to start yelling again, Camilla to choke on air, Bella to faint into a couch, and Abigaille to look like she’d been struck by lightning.

He expected absolute pandemonium.

Instead, silence.

Then a single voice, Camilla’s, broke the stillness with a light, almost bored laugh.

"Oh, we already know that, Kafka."

Kafka blinked.

"...You what?"

Camilla shrugged, smiling wryly.

"Yeah, we already know about it. Vanitas already told us about her...desire." She waved her hand vaguely in Vanitas’s direction. "It’s old news. Why are you saying it like it’s some huge revelation?"

"Exactly. You’re late to the party, big guy." Nina nodded, stretching lazily.

Even Bella chimed in brightly. "Yeah, Daddy! We didn’t know about Auntie Abigaille’s wish—but we definitely knew about that one!"

Kafka just stood there, staring at them as his mind short-circuited. His expression collapsed into absolute disbelief, and, if one looked closely, something almost like grief.

"You, what, how—" He gestured wildly, sputtering. "How are you all so calm about this?! I just told you that my own mother wants to carry my child! Doesn’t that freak you out? Doesn’t that make you feel weird? Awkward? Anything?!"

He looked from face to face, eyes wide with disbelief.

"I was expecting all of you to panic, to shout, to, hell—I don’t know, react! But you’re sitting there like I just told you we’re out of coffee!"

He pointed helplessly at Vanitas.

"That’s my mother! You’re all just okay with that?!"

But once again, Nina scoffed, tilting her head. "Really, Kafka? Is it that big of a deal?"

"Yes!" He gawked.

Nina smirked, crossing her arms. "Look, sure, if you’d told me that before I met any of you, I’d have been horrified...But now?" She shrugged, nodding toward Abigaille. "After seeing how you and Abigaille are together—I’m honestly not shocked by anything anymore. Somehow, I’ve just...gotten used to it."

Camilla chuckled, brushing her hair back.

"Same here, Kafka. When I first heard about your relationship with Abigaille, I was shocked out of my mind. But after a while, it just...made sense. And, well..." She glanced at Vanitas with a sly little grin. "This isn’t really that different. If anything, it’s kind of exciting."

"Exciting?!" Kafka blinked.

"Hey, don’t judge me. You asked." Camilla raised an eyebrow.

He then looked around wildly.

"You’re all insane! You realize that, right? Abigaille may be my mother, but she’s not my blood mother. This, this is completely different!"

Bella giggled softly, then smirked, wings twitching mischievously.

"So what you’re saying, Daddy, is that Auntie Abigaille isn’t as important as Auntie Vanitas?"

Kafka froze. "What?!"

Bella leaned forward, grinning like a devil.

"I mean, if you’re saying that what you had with Auntie Abigaille doesn’t count because she’s not your blood mother—then that must mean you think she’s less valuable than Auntie Vanitas. Right?"

Abigaille, who had been watching quietly, blinked at that, and her face fell instantly. Her smile trembled as she looked down at her hands, eyes shimmering faintly.

"Kafi..." She whispered, her voice small.

Kafka’s heart plummeted.

"No, no, no, wait, that’s not what I meant!" He stammered, panic flashing across his face. "I didn’t mean it like that at all! Mom, please don’t look like that—"

She gave him a weak, watery smile. "It’s okay. I just...I didn’t realize you thought of it that way."

"I don’t!" Kafka said desperately, running a hand through his hair. "That’s not—ugh, this is exactly why I didn’t want to have this conversation!" He turned on Bella, pointing at her like a frustrated teacher. "And you, stop twisting my words!"

Bella hid a laugh behind her hand. "I wasn’t twisting them, Daddy. I was just...clarifying."

"Clarifying my ass." Kafka groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Olivia, sitting meekly on the edge of the couch, finally piped up in a quiet voice. "Um...for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s that strange anymore, either..."

"Mom! Not you too!" Kafka turned to her, looking betrayed.

She blushed, fumbling her hands together.

"It’s just, everyone here already blurs the line between normal and...not normal, you know? It’s kind of impossible to be shocked anymore."

"...Not to mention that I also want to bear your child Kafi, so for me to deny Vanitas, your mother just like me is quite hypocritical don’t you think?"