Kafka, gripping the arm of his throne, could only stare into the void ahead, utterly shaken.
His thoughts were spiraling.
He had believed, foolishly, that the worst was behind him. That maybe, just maybe, Evangeline's revelations had reached their peak.
But it was a fool's dream. Every time he thought he was past the biggest shock, the next one would rise like a tsunami and crash down twice as hard.
And now...this.
His mother. His mother was in love with him.
It was absurd. It was beyond absurd. Kafka let out a dry, hollow laugh and slumped deeper into his throne. His limbs felt like lead. His head throbbed with the weight of too many emotions.
He didn't know what to do, what to say, or even what to think anymore.
All he wanted...was to crawl into bed and sleep until the world decided to start making sense again.
He rubbed his temple slowly, groaning into his palm, muttering. "What the hell am I supposed to do with any of this…"
But then—
A noise beside him.
