"Wait—what?" Kafka blinked, confused about his title that she mentioned.
"That title, Kafka. It's not a metaphor. It's not symbolic...It's real." Vanitas nodded solemnly as she continued saying, "When your divine heritage awakens fully...you'll be able to ensnare hearts with a look. Women, be they mortals or gods, will be drawn to you like moths to flame. You'll be a walking aphrodisiac—a universal Casanova who could even make the stars themselves fall from the sky."
She sighed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
"But...that kind of power comes with a price. Just as women will be helplessly drawn to you, men will sense what you are. They'll feel it in their bones, that primal threat, that instinctive hatred. To them, you'll be an unnatural predator that wants to steal away their own women. The kind that could take everything from them. And they'll hate you for it. Fear you. Hurt you."
