God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem-Chapter 629: I’ve Seen Her Naked

"But...how could they sustain the village like that? If women couldn't remarry, the population would collapse. That's unsustainable."

Kafka's chuckle was awkward, his gaze flicking to Abigaille for a split second before returning to Olivia.

"That's where the main issue comes in." He said, his voice dropping down like he was saying something that couldn't spoken out loud. "To maintain the purity of the bloodline and keep the population stable, the village came up with...a unique solution."

"...That is, when a woman lost her husband, she'd...well, she'd tie up with her son. He'd step into the husband's role, become her partner in every sense..."

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"...They'd go from mother and son to...husband and wife."

Hearing this shocking statement, Olivia let out a sharp gasp, her hand flying to her chest as her eyes widened in disbelief.

"That's unbelievable!" She exclaimed, her voice a full of shock and morbid curiosity. "I've never heard of anything like that! How....how far did these relationships go?"

Her intrigue pushed her to ask, though her cheeks flushed at the taboo implications, her mind racing to understand the extent of this supposed custom.

Kafka, utterly shameless, leaned forward, his grin unwavering. "All the way, Mom. As far as it gets."

"People in the village would hear moans coming from a house where only a mother and son lived.

And then nine months later? A baby would show up, even though the husband was long gone."

"...The son took his place in every way possible."

Olivia's face turned scarlet, her hands clutching at her suit as she processed the scandalous image.

"That's...That's horrific!" She stammered, her voice trembling with fascination and disgust. "You're saying they....they had children together? Mothers and sons?"

Abigaille, listening from the side, felt her own cheeks burn, her heart racing as Kafka's story veered into dangerously explicit territory. She stepped forward, her voice sharp but flustered.

"Kafi, you're going too far!" She scolded, her eyes wide with warning. "Dial it back. You don't need to...to get into all that."

Kafka raised his hands in apology, his grin unrepentant.

"Sorry, Mom. You're right. I got carried away. But if I'm gonna explain the full extent of the custom, I gotta be honest, you know?"

He turned back to Olivia, his expression softening but still laced with mischief.

"The point is, whenever a husband died, the son stepped up. He'd maintain the family, provide offspring, keep the bloodline pure. It became a tradition, a heritage, passed down for generations to keep the village thriving."

Olivia, despite her usual skepticism toward strangers, was completely taken in by Kafka's story when it came to her family. Her guilt over nearly killing him made her especially vulnerable, and the sheer audacity of the tale—too preposterous to be a casual lie, convinced her it was true.

Abigaille's silence, her lack of contradiction, only reinforced its legitimacy in Olivia's mind. She stared at Kafka, her mind reeling, and finally asked, her voice hesitant.

"Is...Is this tradition still going on? Here, now?"

But to her immense relief, Kafka shook his head, his smile reassuring.

"Nah, not at all. Those were old practices, Mom. The village is a proper town now, with new people moving in, modern laws, modern morals...Relationships like that? They're as taboo here as anywhere else. The traditions died out a long time ago."

Olivia let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging as the tension drained from her body.

"Thank God." She murmured, a nervous laugh escaping her. "That would be...way too weird to live in a place where mothers and sons...ugh, I can't even think about it."

She shuddered, oblivious to the awkward cringe that flashed across Abigaille's face, her own taboo relationship with Kafka suddenly thrown into sharp relief.

Abigaille forced a smile, her heart pounding as she tried to mask her unease. "Y-Yeah, definitely weird...Who would have such a relationship in this day and age?"

Abigaille's forced smile faltered, her heart still racing from Kafka's audacious tale about the village's supposed history of mother-son partnerships. She'd barely managed to keep her composure, her quick glance at Kafka a silent plea to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory.

But Kafka, ever the master of improvisation, wasn't done yet. He leaned forward, his grin easy but his eyes glinting with mischief as he addressed Olivia, who was still reeling from his shocking revelations.

"Now, Mom, don't get too ahead of yourself thinking everything's back to normal." He said, his voice teasing but deliberate. "Even though the whole mother-son 'becoming one' thing is taboo nowadays, a little bit of that tradition's carried on. The heritage of this village runs deep, and it's left mothers and sons here...closer than you'd expect."

"...Way closer than any normal family."

Olivia's eyes widened, a fresh wave of alarm crossing her face as she leaned back, her hands clutching the edge of the couch.

"Closer?" She asked, wanting to know the full story of this town she brought herself to. "What...What do you mean? What kind of traditions are they still following? How different are they from...normal families?"

Kafka's grin widened, sensing her intrigue and leaning into it.

"It's kinda split into two parts." He said, his tone measured so that he could make her understand it better and in a more practical manner. "First, there's the emotional side."

"Mothers and sons here are super open-minded, way more than anywhere else. They talk about stuff—deep stuff, feelings, secrets, that you'd never share with just anyone. They treat each other not just as parent and kid, but as best friends, confidants."

"A son might tell his mom exactly how he's feeling, what's weighing on him, and she'll do the same. It's all about trust, about being raw and honest."

Olivia's expression softened, a flicker of warmth in her eyes as she nodded.

"That...That actually sounds wonderful." She said, her voice softening. "Being that open, that close—it's a good thing, isn't it? I'd love for us to be like that, Kafi, to share everything."

Kafka's smile was genuine for a moment, but then his tone shifted, a sly edge creeping in. "Yeah, it's great. But then there's the physical side. That's where it gets...different."

"Mothers and sons here are open physically, too. Like, really open. Skinship's a big deal—hugs, touches, closeness that'd raise eyebrows anywhere else."

"...It's not even weird for a son to see his mom naked."

Olivia gasped, her face flushing scarlet.

"Naked?!" She exclaimed, unable to even imagine the scenario he was portraying. "That can't be true, Kafi! You're saying it's normal for a son to see his mother...like that?"

Kafka nodded, his expression unfazed, as if discussing the weather. "Yup. Totally normal here. Like, it's not uncommon for a mother and son to go to a hot spring together, strip down, and just...hang out, completely naked. No big deal."

Olivia's jaw dropped, her eyes wide as saucers as she tried to process the scandalous image.

"A hot spring? Naked? Together?" She stammered, her voice trembling. "What kind of village is this? I thought I was moving to a peaceful, nature-loving town, not...not some place where mothers and sons do that!"

Abigaille's face was burning, her hands fidgeting as she stood frozen, knowing Kafka was pushing the lie to its limits. She wanted to interject, to stop him before he went too far, but his confidence held her back, her trust in his ability to navigate the moment warring with her panic.

And just when she thought he couldn't shock Olivia or her any further, Kafka dropped another bombshell.

"In fact, Mom, Mom and I have been to the hot spring together a bunch of times as well. I've seen her naked plenty of times as well."

"...Enough that I could probably draw her body with my eyes closed."

Both women gasped in unison, their reactions starkly different.

Olivia's face was a mask of horror, her mind reeling at the idea of her son being so intimately familiar with Abigaille's body.

Abigaille, meanwhile, was floored by Kafka's audacity, her cheeks flaming as she shot him a look of pure disbelief.

How could he be so reckless, airing their closeness however fabricated the context in front of Olivia?

Her heart pounded, fearing Olivia would see through the lie and suspect the deeper truth of their taboo relationship, while Olivia's gaze snapped to Abigaille, her eyes wide with shock.

"Abi..." She slowly said, her voice trembling. "Is...Is this true? Is what Kafi is saying true?"

"...Have you really gone to a hot spring with Kafi whole being completely n-naked? Tell me the truth."