The silence that followed the Supervisor's final decree was not the heavy, suffocating quiet of a system being managed—it was the stunned, deafening stillness of a group processing a life-altering truth.
Agung stood in the center of the kitchen, his mind reeling as the roster burned into his memory. Twenty-one names. Twenty-one lives he had inadvertently shattered through the "deadbeat" script of his shadow-self. And children—he looked at Hime, then at Aoi and Yuki, realizing with a jolt of both terror and profound protectiveness that there were more of them out there, growing up without him, believing he was the man who didn't care.
Maki, who had been standing closest to him, stepped forward. She didn't look angry anymore. Her face was pale, her eyes wide, but her posture was rigid with an iron resolve. She looked at the list of names—her fellow idols, her friends—and then at the man she had just started to forgive.
"Kanda, Numazu, Odaiba..." Umi whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she processed the geography of their new, massive, and fractured family. "Hong Kong? New York? We aren't just talking about a house anymore, Agung. We're talking about an empire of broken hearts."
Agung felt the "Infinite Stamina" hum within his marrow—a terrifying, constant pressure that felt like standing inside a roaring furnace. He couldn't teleport. He couldn't snap his fingers to bridge the oceans or the cities. He was human, bound by the physics of the world, but with the endless energy of a god.
He looked at the women in the room—the μ's members—and saw the realization hitting them. They weren't just his wives; they were the vanguard.
"I can't cheat my way to them," Agung said, his voice ringing with a newfound, gravelly authority. "No portals. No magic shortcuts to their front doors. If I want to fix this, I have to walk the distance. I have to earn every single apology, in every city, across every mile."
Eli stepped up to his side, placing a steadying hand on his forearm. Her eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, were softened by a fierce, protective glint. "You won't be walking it alone, Agung. You think we're going to let you face twenty-one women who think you're a monster by yourself? You'll be lucky if they don't lock the doors—or worse."
"We go together," Nozomi added, stepping out from the shadows of the doorway with a knowing, cryptic smile. "The 'deadbeat' might have divided us by distance and neglect, but if we're all in the same universe, then we're all just one long journey away from home."
Agung looked at his hands—those "marshmallow-soft" hands that had just stirred a pot of simple, honest food. He realized that the "Creation Magic" wasn't meant to be his crutch; it was his tool for the work ahead. He could manifest the resources, the travel, the support—but the *mending*? That was sweat and tears.
"We start with the closest," Agung said, his gaze sweeping over his family. "We secure this house, we make sure Hime, Aoi, and Yuki are safe, and then we move. We map the route. We travel. We don't stop until every single one of them knows the truth."
He looked at the empty space where the Supervisor's window had been. The "brattish" operator had played a cruel game, but he had inadvertently created something stronger. He had created a man who had everything to lose and the infinite stamina to fight for it.
Agung walked to the counter, pulled out a large, physical map of Japan—and the world beyond—and pinned it to the kitchen wall. He took a red marker and circled Kanda, then drew lines stretching out to Numazu, Odaiba, Kamakura, Hong Kong, and finally, New York.
"The 'Deadbeat' had three years to build this mess," Agung declared, looking at his wives. "It won't take me three years to tear it down. Pack your bags. We're going on the longest tour of our lives."
He turned to the room, the golden light of his spirit casting long, determined shadows. "Does anyone have a passport? Because we have a lot of apologies to make."
The atmosphere in the room shifted from shock to action. The idols, once passive subjects of a simulation, were now the architects of their own redemption.
As they began to gather their things, the weight of the task ahead—the children he hadn't met, the wives who currently despised him, the sheer physical distance—hit him. But as he looked at Maki, Umi, and Kotori, he knew that for the first time since he arrived, he was finally, truly, in control of his own life.