CHAPTER 178: CHAPTER 177: CAKE DIPLOMACY & THE TEMPORARY POLYGAMY TREATY

The smell of scorched frosting still clung to the ruins of the chapel. The air shimmered with leftover magical residue. Candles sputtered on cracked marble. Half a dragon tail still stuck out of the ceiling beams like an awkward chandelier.

And in the middle of it all sat Rei, twenty-five-years-old Earth salaryman trapped in the body of a duke’s son, dressed in a shredded tuxedo that had been through more explosions than his entire previous life.

Across from him: six women who had nearly murdered each other less than ten minutes ago.

On the table between them: one lonely strawberry shortcake, slightly tilted, suspiciously glowing, and radiating the aura of impending doom.

Rei swallowed. "So. Welcome to... Cake Diplomacy."

[System Notification: Historic Idiocy Detected.]

[New Political Model Invented: Cake-Based Mediation.]

[Likelihood of Survival: 2%.]

Seraphina, angelic princess, holy hair still dusted in soot, raised her hand with solemn dignity.

"I demand the first slice," she declared. "As divine representative, it is only natural that I bless the cake before any mortal mouth touches it."

Velveria’s crimson eyes gleamed. "Or I could let my shadows consume it, ensuring no one poisons my darling Rei. Holy light doesn’t prevent arsenic, you know."

Rosette, silent maid of knives and questionable ethics, gently slid a tray of forks onto the table. Every single one gleamed faintly green.

Rei blinked. "...Rosette. Did you poison the cutlery?"

She tilted her head. "Merely a precaution, Master. A bride must plan for contingencies."

[System Warning: Contingency = Groom’s Funeral Banquet.]

Drakana interrupted by crunching the entire ceramic plate under her jaw. Porcelain shards and strawberry filling dripped from her lips like battlefield carnage.

"Mate will share food from my mouth," she purred, blowing out a puff of smoke shaped like a heart.

Emilia calmly set down a basket of cupcakes she had apparently baked mid-battle. She smoothed her apron, eyes closed in serene superiority.

"While you barbarians argue, I took the liberty of preparing enough sweets for everyone. Rei will eat mine, naturally."

Rei pinched the bridge of his nose. "This isn’t diplomacy. This is... a bake-off with homicide."

[System Notification: Bride Density Increasing. Danger Level Rising.]

Lilia, saintly shrine maiden with a wedding veil still smoldering at the edges, cleared her throat and unfurled a scroll longer than the table.

"I have drafted the Temporary Polygamy Treaty of Sacred Matrimony," she announced. "It will bind us all in holy wedlock until Rei makes his final, eternal choice."

The others leaned in.

Velveria smirked. "Holy pact? Cute. But real contracts require blood." She unsheathed a dagger that hummed like a cursed violin. "Sign here in crimson, darling."

Rosette’s expression didn’t change as she slipped another parchment under the treaty. "I’ve embedded a subtle soul-binding array. Nothing serious. Just... eternal loyalty enforced by runic shackles."

Rei blanched. "That is serious!"

[System Alert: Groom Has Entered Legal Minefield.]

[Warning: Polygamy Treaties Are Non-Refundable.]

Emilia, ignoring them all, slid forward a tray of delicate cupcakes shaped like wedding rings. "Here. Consider these my addendum. Whoever Rei feeds first is recognized as his legal spouse."

Drakana growled, wings flaring. "Mate feeds dragon first. Or dragon feed mate. Both acceptable."

Seraphina raised her staff high. "I demand ceremonial vows! This treaty cannot be ratified without holy sanction."

The six women began arguing in three different languages, at least two of them extinct.

Rei clutched his head. "I swear, my old job had fewer paperwork crises than this..."

The shouting, the daggers, the fluttering wings—it all blurred together. Somewhere between Lilia’s divine clauses, Velveria’s blood demands, and Emilia’s cupcake bait, Rei’s hand was seized, yanked, guided, and shoved across a mountain of documents.

Scribbles of his name appeared like a crime scene. By the time he blinked, it was done.

Velveria purred. "Five extensions of marital engagement..."

Rosette whispered, "...and one soul-binding clause."

Lilia beamed. "All sanctified in divine ink!"

Rei’s pupils shrank. "Wait. I signed WHAT?!"

[System Notification: Congratulations! You Are Now Simultaneously Engaged, Betrothed, Contractually Bound, Soul-Merged, Spiritually Sanctioned, and Cupcake-Blessed.]

[Side Effect: World Politics Enter Crisis Mode.]

Word traveled faster than magic. By evening, the world had opinions.

The Holy Theocracy issued an edict declaring the "Sacred Sixfold Engagement" a miracle of divine polygamy. They celebrated with fireworks shaped like wedding rings.

The Dwarven Kingdom rejoiced too, citing "Finally, a groom brave enough to survive." Breweries named six beers after Rei’s supposed wives.

But the Western Alliance declared war on the grounds that Rei’s treaty destabilized marital economics. ("One groom absorbing six wives is clearly a monopoly!")

The Masked Empire delivered their response via courier pigeon: a fruit basket filled with suspiciously human-shaped strawberries and a note scrawled in blood that read, "Congratulations, Husband."

Rei gagged. "...They sent me a fruit basket. Why is it... breathing?"

[System Update: International Crisis Unlocked.]

[New Title Acquired: Husband of Mass Destruction.]

Rei’s hands trembled as he shoved the scrolls aside. "I... I can’t... This is too much..."

Velveria leaned closer. "Careful, darling. You wouldn’t want to faint before our wedding night."

Seraphina pressed a glowing palm to his forehead. "Breathe, beloved. Your divinely mandated destiny is secure."

Drakana wrapped him in a possessive tail. "Mate strong. Mate survive treaty. Mate now mine."

Emilia placed a cupcake delicately into his hand. "Eat. Accept your fate gracefully."

Rosette silently checked his pulse. "He won’t last another three minutes."

And then—true to prophecy—Rei face-planted straight into the frosting.

Splat.

The six brides gasped, each reaching to claim him. The ruined chapel rang with shrieks of "He fainted into my slice!" and "No, that’s my frosting!"

[System Notification: Groom Has Entered Unconscious State.]

[Next Arc Unlocked: Negotiations & New Guests.]

The world’s most absurd treaty was signed. A fragile truce was formed. And the stage for greater chaos was set—frosting still dripping from Rei’s cheek.

Rei’s unconscious body, slathered in buttercream, became the hottest battlefield commodity in history.

Velveria immediately conjured a shadow hand to pull him toward her lap.

"My groom rests best on velvet shadows."

Lilia smacked the shadow with her holy staff. "Over my sanctified corpse! He belongs in the embrace of divine light."

Drakana solved the problem the dragon way: she simply bit the altar in half to get closer. "Mate belongs to dragon. Case closed."

Seraphina, scandalized, flapped her wings and conjured a radiant halo above his head. "No! Look—he already glows with holy favor. Proof he is mine!"

Emilia calmly wiped frosting from Rei’s cheek with a napkin, tucked it in her apron pocket like a keepsake, and smiled. "This sugar is mine now. Therefore, so is he."

Rosette silently placed a coffin-shaped lunchbox beside Rei and opened the lid. Inside was... another, smaller Rei doll, perfectly carved from chocolate. She whispered, "I prepared practice husbands for this very moment."

[System Alert: Groom Approaching Critical Objectification Levels.]

[New Condition Applied: Frosting Possession Disorder.]

Unfortunately, Rei fainting wasn’t just a romantic disaster. His collapse under the weight of signatures was instantly reported across magical news networks.

In the capital square, crystal monitors blared headlines:

BREAKING: Duke’s Son Engaged to Six — Cake War Looms

Markets trembled. Bakeries raised prices. Priests wept. Meanwhile, children played "Bride Battle" with wooden swords and cupcakes for shields.

The Elven Federation held an emergency council. The transcript leaked hours later:

"Do we... do we send him a forest?"

"No, we marry him to a tree. That way, balance is restored."

Meanwhile, the Orc Tribes were ecstatic. "Finally! A man who knows true strength. Six brides at once!" They immediately began training for the "World Husband Games."

The Masked Empire doubled down. Their second gift arrived mid-night: a basket of singing carrots, each shrieking in Rei’s voice.

[System Notification: Host Nation Popularity = +100,000 / -200,000 simultaneously.]

[Status: Both Loved and Hunted.]

While Rei drooled frosting in blissful oblivion, the six brides began planning their next moves.

Seraphina: "We must hold an official Divine Blessing Ceremony tomorrow. That will sanctify the treaty properly."

Velveria: "Tomorrow? I was thinking midnight. At a blood altar. With screaming choirs."

Drakana: "Tonight. In sky. While dragon roars across kingdom. Mate roar back. Prove love."

Lilia: "No! There is a proper marriage rehearsal schedule and Rei must follow it to the letter."

Emilia: "I’m baking vows into cookies. Whoever eats theirs first becomes his true wife."

Rosette: "...I’ve already buried a backup husband-shaped mannequin in the garden. Just in case."

[Bride Strategies = 600% Above Human Comprehension.]

[Advice: Fake Death & Relocate to New Dimension.]

Inside Rei’s frosting-stained unconsciousness, he dreamed of Earth. A calm office desk. A lukewarm cup of coffee. A printer jam warning blinking red.

"Finally... peace..." Rei whispered.

Then the printer spat out marriage licenses, each stamped with his name. Six silhouettes loomed over his cubicle.

"Darling."

"Mate."

"Beloved."

"Husband."

"Master."

"Rei~"

He woke up screaming, only to find he hadn’t woken at all—Rosette had leaned into his dream with a runic device. "I was just adjusting your subconscious loyalty parameters."

[System Warning: Dreamscape Breach Detected.]

[Note: You Are Not Even Safe Asleep.]

Finally, the brides agreed on something.

"Until Rei wakes," Lilia declared, "we must guard him together."

"Agreed," Seraphina nodded, though her wings subtly pushed the others further away.

"Yes," Velveria purred, "and when he wakes, he will see my face first."

"Dragon disagree," Drakana hissed, curling protectively around him like a scaly blanket.

Emilia sighed, already baking more cake with sparks of domestic fury. Rosette slid under the table entirely, preparing traps in case anyone else tried anything.

The room trembled under their combined tension.

Rei’s unconscious body twitched. His lips moved faintly.

"...I just... wanted... coffee..."

The six froze, glaring at each other.

"Coffee?!" Seraphina gasped.

"Clearly a code word," Lilia insisted.

Velveria smiled. "Or perhaps... the name of his seventh bride."

The chapel exploded again.

[System Notification: Groom Remains Unconscious.]

[Forecast: Survival Chances Dropping Like Cake in an Oven.]

By the time night fell, Rei was still unconscious, surrounded by six deadly, frosting-coated women, each vowing that tomorrow they’d claim him once and for all.

The "Temporary Polygamy Treaty" sat in the middle of the table, glowing ominously. The fruit basket from the Masked Empire started humming in the corner.

And somewhere across the world, armies marched, priests prayed, and bakers stocked up on flour.

Because the world had realized one thing:

The fate of nations now depended on who got the last slice of cake.

To be continued...