Kafka did not know the meaning of fear, but now, for the first time, she felt an emotion called "flustered."
All because she had heard that word from the boy's lips—"Mother."
Every woman has, at some point, fantasized about the day she becomes a "mother."
Kafka was no exception.
But that fantasy was always fleeting. As a former "Devil Hunter," she didn't believe she was qualified to be a mother.
Because the only thing that can hunt a devil is an even stronger devil.
"Kid, if you keep joking, Big Sis is going to get angry, you know~"
As she said this, her eyes were still smiling, but they held a chill that was terrifying.
Perhaps Zāwù felt that chill.
Kneeling on her lap, he began to tremble slightly, his fingertips gripping her white shirt even tighter.
But he wasn't joking, nor was he lying.
Zāwù didn't know why he was here.
He had forgotten how he was born.
He couldn't recall any memories of his past.
The only meaning for his existence that he could find, the only thing that allowed him to continue living, was just...
"...I want to find a mother who will truly love me."
Even though every time he said that word, it felt as if he had to fight against an infinite tide of pain and sorrow, the boy still chased after it with such stubbornness.
Like a kite runner.
Kafka's pupils flickered, the sharp thorns within them breaking one by one.
So that's how it is...
An abandoned child...
Just how much suffering had he endured to have such a fragile voice, like porcelain? A voice that could so easily be shattered, made hoarse, and twisted into sobs.
Kafka had to admit, she felt pity for Zāwù.
Having just been harsh with the boy, faint ripples stirred in her heart.
"Ai."
She let out a soft sigh and raised a hand to the back of the boy's head. With a gentle push, Zāwù's cheek was pressed against something exceptionally soft, with the faint, sweet scent of milk...
Kafka never skimped on rewards for obedient children.
And for pitiful children, she did not skimp on comfort.
"Zāwù is a good boy, right~"
"A... good boy?"
"To me, anyone who listens is a good boy."
"..."
"If Zāwù is a good boy, then the one who threw him away is an out-and-out bad mother."
"We don't need a bad mother like that."
Kafka spoke these cruel words in the gentlest of tones.
But for Zāwù, who had never encountered such a concept, they stirred up a storm in his heart.
A child... can also abandon their mother?
He had never thought of it, never known it was possible.
Before this, he had always thought that it must be because he wasn't good enough, that he was a bad child, and that was why he was all alone now. That was why he thought of destruction, of death.
But now, Kafka's words spread through Zāwù's keen mind like a virus.
And life evolves precisely in this way—by shattering one piece of common sense after another, by constantly accepting reality.
Zāwù was in a daze for a long time.
Kafka's hand gently soothed his back.
Soon, the boy let out a low gasp. The skin from his cheeks to his earlobes was quickly tinged with a delicate, cherry-blossom pink. He still knew shame. His clear pupils shimmered with moisture as he pleaded fragilely.
"Don't... don't look at me..."
"...?"
This time, it was Kafka's turn to freeze.
Wait, wasn't I just comforting him?
Stroking someone's back is a perfectly normal way to comfort them, right?
Could it be...
Zāwù's body is many, many times more sensitive than a normal person's!?
Doesn't that mean all the intimate gestures I've made towards him so far have been akin to dancing on his sensitive spots?
It's basically like I've been doing strange things to him!
No wonder his body has been so limp and weak ever since he got into my arms.
But the real question was—is Zāwù an idiot!?
To be touched so freely by a strange woman, to be bullied until he was blushing, and to not run away or resist.
He was like something out of a nature documentary.
A young animal that hadn't yet had the chance to be taught self-defense by its mother!
Kafka had seen documentaries like that. A naive fawn that doesn't run or hide from a lion, but just stares at it with clear, innocent eyes. In the end, its fate is to have its throat bitten out, becoming a meal for the apex predator.
So then... whose dessert, whose little cake, would Zāwù become?
If she just let him leave the Stellaron Hunter base, leave this planet, Kafka could almost perfectly predict his fate. With his pristine beauty, he would be easily tricked by some bad woman in the galaxy, toyed with, humiliated, mentally controlled, and even imprisoned. He would go from being a blank sheet of paper to being covered in ink and bodily fluids, until he was torn to shreds.
Kafka took a sharp breath.
She was getting a headache.
She really shouldn't have gotten into a relationship with the boy...
Oh, no, she meant involved with him.
Now he was a hot potato in her hands. She couldn't throw him away, but she couldn't keep him either.
And from Zāwù's few words, Kafka could basically confirm he had been abandoned by his own mother. If Kafka were to abandon him again, that thin string inside Zāwù's heart, already stretched to its limit, would instantly snap!
—The boy would fall completely into the abyss of destruction.
"Did Zāwù... do something wrong?"
The white-haired boy's body began to tremble again.
Kafka snapped back to reality, her eyes shifting away. She didn't know how to face the boy's upward gaze, which was filled with a strange attachment. It was like a young animal instinctively imprinting on the first creature it sees as its mother, terrified of being abandoned again.
He needed affirmation.
Otherwise, he would lose his reason to exist.
"No, Zāwù didn't do anything wrong," Kafka replied, a rare occurrence of her meeting someone's expectations.
Zāwù's pupils instantly brightened, as clear as a washed sky. The light jade color was like a pristine lake, reflecting Kafka's face.
And only her face.
"Then... can I call you..."
"Mother?"
The moment the boy's words fell, the door swung open. Silver Wolf and Blade, who had just returned to the base, walked in and naturally heard every single word.
DUN DUN DUN!
The petite girl with the high, silver ponytail felt her world shake.
Kafka!
Her private life is WILD!!!
Even though she understood that Kafka, as an adult woman, would naturally have... needs.
And that was perfectly legitimate.
But couldn't she do this sort of thing in a discreet hotel room outside!?
Why bring a man back to the base!?
And it was some kind of really messed-up roleplay!
Couldn't she spare a thought for me? I'm not old enough to be exposed to this kind of thing!
Wait a minute—is the boy on top of Kafka younger than me???
Silver Wolf felt like her entire worldview was being rebooted.
So this is the world of adults... how terrifyingly messed up!
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