The moment Abigaille saw Vanitas, her eyes brightened.
"Oh, Vanitas! There you are!" She exclaimed, relief and fondness blending in her tone. "Everyone's been searching for you for so long! We're just about to cut the cake—where on earth have you been?"
Vanitas smiled faintly
"I had some things I needed to take care of, Abi." She said simply, walking closer with her usual unhurried grace. "But it's over now. I'll be with everyone soon."
She paused then, her gaze drifting toward Kafka, her expression shifting ever so slightly.
"But first, I need to speak with Kafka. Just for a moment."
Kafka blinked, confused.
"Mom, can't it wait? Everyone's waiting for us. Let's just talk after the cake—"
But Vanitas shook her head gently, her tone firm but affectionate.
"No, darling. This can't wait. I need to tell you something now."
Kafka frowned slightly, though not in frustration—more in curiosity.
It seemed everyone had been pulling him aside that day to talk, and it was starting to feel like the universe itself was determined to keep him from eating a slice of cake.
Still, there was something in her eyes, a quiet, glowing joy that was almost childlike.
She looked as though she was barely containing her excitement.
He sighed softly, then looked at Abigaille with a reassuring smile.
"Go on ahead, Abi. We'll be right behind you."
Abigaille hesitated, glancing between the two of them. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. We won't be long." He nodded.
She pursed her lips playfully.
"Alright. But if you take too long, we're cutting the cake without you. And you're not getting a piece!" She teased, wagging a finger at him.
"Then I'll make sure to hurry." Kafka laughed.
Abigaille smiled, gave his arm a quick squeeze, and turned back toward the lively glow of lights in the distance. The faint sound ofmusic carried across the field as she made her way back to the others.
Kafka then turned back to Vanitas, her hair shimmering beneath the moonlight.
"Alright, Mom." He said softly. "What did you want to talk about so badly?"
And she didn't answer immediately. She instead smiled, stepping closer, her eyes tender and glimmering with something that looked like pride and maybe a hint of emotion she was struggling to put into words.
"I'll get to that." She said, her voice gentle. "But first, I wanted to ask…how did it go? Your meeting with the other Kafka."
Kafka blinked in surprise, then smiled, warmth spreading across his face.
"It went…perfectly. Better than I expected, actually."
"We talked for a bit. About everything. And I think…we finally made peace with each other. No bitterness, no confusion. Just…clarity."
"It feels like a part of me that's been restless for a while now has finally settled. I feel lighter, happier…freer than I've ever been."
Vanitas's eyes softened as she listened, and she nodded approvingly.
"That's good." She said, her smile faint but filled with affection. "That's very good, Kafka. That's exactly what Evangeline and I wanted for you when we sent you there. I knew you needed that closure. You've carried too much weight for far too long."
Kafka tilted his head, slightly confused. "Wait—you and Evangeline planned that together?"
She nodded. "Of course. We both knew it was time."
Kafka showed a thankful gaze for thinking about him before suddenly silence prevailed as Vanitas just stood there, her eyes fixed on him like she was thinking of something serious.
Her usual calmness wavered slightly, her lips trembling as though she were gathering courage for what came next.
Then, finally, she drew in a slow, steady breath.
"There's actually…one more thing I want to tell you." She said softly. "Something that I think will make you even happier than you are right now."
"Oh, I doubt that, Mom." Kafka shook his head with a chuckle. I'm already on cloud nine. I don't think I can get any happier than this."
Vanitas smiled faintly, her expression unreadable but kind.
"We'll see about that." She said gently.
Then, slowly, she reached into her robe and pulled out a small box—no bigger than his palm.
It was neatly wrapped, tied with a delicate silver ribbon that shimmered faintly under the moonlight.
She extended it toward him.
"Here." She said quietly.
Kafka looked puzzled.
"A gift?" He smiled softly as he took it from her hands. "But, Mom…it's not my birthday, it's the little ones. Shouldn't you be giving this to them?"
Vanitas chuckled softly, her gaze tender and full of affection as she said,
"Just open it, Kafka. You'll see."
He gave her a confused smile but did as she asked. Carefully, he untied the ribbon, peeled away the wrapping, and opened the little box.
For a few seconds, he didn't react. His eyes scanned the contents silently, his expression unreadable.
But then slowly—his pupils widened, his lips parted slightly, and his entire body went still.
And in the next heartbeat, his breath hitched sharply.
His hands trembled.
His eyes turned glassy and tears welled up so fast he didn't even have time to blink them back.
"M-Mom…" He whispered, his voice shaking as he looked up at her. "Is this?…Does this? D-Does this mean?"
Vanitas nodded once, her eyes glimmering.
"Yes, Kafka." She said softly. "It's exactly what you think."
And that was all it took.
The tears that had been threatening to fall suddenly spilled over, streaming down his cheeks as he covered his mouth, a broken sob escaping him.
His body trembled with emotion as his voice caught, half-laughter, half-cry.
"I-I, Mom, I—"
Before he could even find the words, Vanitas stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.
"It's alright, darling." She whispered, her voice gentle and soothing. "It's alright. There's no need to cry."
He clung to her like a child, his shoulders shaking as he wept quietly into her embrace.
"I know how you feel." She murmured, stroking his hair. "It's alright, Kafka. Everything we be alright."
For a while, neither of them spoke—just the sound of his quiet sobs against her shoulder and her calm heartbeat against his ear.
Then, finally, she pulled back slightly, wiping his tears away with her handkerchief, her own eyes shining faintly with unshed tears.
He took a deep breath, still trembling, and looked at her with wide, tearful eyes.
"W-We have to tell everyone." He said suddenly, almost breathlessly. "We have to tell everyone about this! This is…this is amazing, Mom!"
"They need to know! Everyone needs to know!"
He turned as if to run toward the lights in the distance, but Vanitas quickly caught his wrist, stopping him.
"Not now." She said gently but firmly. "Today is the little one's celebration, remember? This is their day. We shouldn't take that from them."
Kafka stopped, blinking. His chest still heaved, and his emotions threatened to spill over again.
"But—"
She smiled softly, brushing his cheek with her thumb.
"You can tell them later, Kafka. For now, let's just enjoy this night together. The rest can wait."
Hearing this, he let out a shaky laugh, rubbing his eyes.
"Fine, fine." He said with a teary smile. "But you can't blame me if I start crying in the middle of the party and blurt it out anyway."
Vanitas chuckled warmly, looping her arm through his.
"Then I'll make sure that doesn't happen." She said teasingly. "I'll stay by your side the whole night to keep you in check."
Kafka laughed through the last of his tears.
"Deal." He said softly.
"Come along now." Vanitas said, gently tugging him toward the lights in the distance where laughter echoed. "We have a birthday to attend…and a cake waiting to be cut."
—
As the glow of the fairies shimmered brighter and brighter over the great heavenly courtyard, laughter rippled through the crowd.
Near the center, a massive table had been set up—and upon it stood a cake so large, it seemed like a monument of frosting and light itself.
Frosted with celestial cream that sparkled like starlight and crowned with nine tiny figures sculpted from sugar, it radiated warmth and joy.
Around it, a small army of family and friends had gathered—gods, demigods, mortals, spirits, demons alike—all trying to maintain order.
Or at least pretending to.
Because the nine birthday babies, each one nestled in the arms of their mothers, were wriggling, squirming, reaching—trying desperately to dive straight into the cake.
"Someone hurry up!" Shouted Lyra with a laugh, trying to keep her daughter's little hands from summoning a light spell. "They're about to fly off!"
"I can't hold them back any longer!" Yelled Camilla from across the table, wrestling with her giggling Cinna, who had somehow summoned a tiny flame on her fingertip that was dangerously close to the frosting. "They're going to attack the cake!"
"Please, someone call Kafka!" Cried Nina, laughing helplessly as Faeya wiggled and kicked in excitement. "They won't listen to anyone else!"
Olivia was practically pleading now, her face red from effort as she pushed Poppy into her plump chest.
"If someone doesn't come soon, I'm not responsible for what happens to this cake!"
Bella, meanwhile, was laughing, though her arms were shaking as her flying Blue kept trying to escape her grasp.
"They're just like their father." She joked breathlessly. "Completely unstoppable!"
Even Seraphina was struggling to keep her child in check, her expression caught between composure and mild panic.
"This is…not ideal. I've already taught my Lumina escape techniques and she's using it against her own mother already." She said through clenched teeth, as Lumina swung her tiny fist toward the cake.
The crowd erupted in laughter. Some even spitting out their drinks at the mayhem the babies were causing.
Meanwhile, Abigaille, holding Coco and Lotte in each arm, gave a glare toward the path leading up to the table.
"If he doesn't get here in the next ten seconds, I'm letting them have it! I'm serious!"
"I say we ditch him." Evangeline added cooly, as she held Orange in her arms. "That just means more cake for us."
Then, finally, someone shouted.
"They're coming! Lady Vanitas and Kafka are coming!"
Every head turned toward the glowing garden path—and sure enough, there they were.
Kafka walked beside Vanitas, his arm looped around hers, both of them smiling warmly under the moonlight.
The crowd burst into cheers.
"Hurry up, Kafka!" June called out while Momo hung off her shoulder, laughing. "We can't hold them much longer!"
"They're about to stage a rebellion!" Abigaille added, grinning.
Kafka chuckled, raising his hands in surrender as he approached the table.
"Alright, alright! I'm here, I'm here!" He said with a teasing grin. "No need to panic! Daddy has arrived!"
At that, the babies, as if they understood perfectly, all started squealing and reaching out toward him at once, their adorable voices filling the night with pure joy.
Vanitas laughed quietly, shaking her head.
"You really are their whole world." She murmured.
"And they're mine." Kafka turned to her, smiling tenderly.
Then he stepped forward to the table, his presence alone enough to calm the little ones down.
They all blinked up at him with wide, sparkling eyes, still squirming but now expectant, their tiny hands clapping in excitement.
"Alright."
He said softly, looking around the sea of faces—his wives, his family, his friends, his children—the people who made his life whole.
"Let's make this official."
Everyone gathered closer. The crowd's chatter hushed. And then, softly, someone began to sing.
"Happy birthday to you…"
The melody spread, voices joining one by one until it became a harmony that filled the heavens themselves.
"Happy birthday to you…"
The mothers swayed gently with their children, smiling through happy tears.
The babies giggled and clapped along to the rhythm.
Even Vanitas, standing beside Kafka, hummed quietly, as she clutched onto her belly, her eyes soft and full of love.
"Happy birthday, dear Coco, Lotte, Orange, Poppy, Momo, Lumina, Blue, Faeya, and Camilla's little troublemaker, Cinna too…"
Laughter rippled through the crowd as the verse ended, and then, all together—
"…Happy birthday to you!"
"Woohoo! Let's goo!"
"Happy Birthday, my little darlings!"
"We love you so much!"
"Babu! Babu!"
Applause and words of love thundered through the courtyard, and bursts of golden light exploded in the sky above, soft fireworks made of holy essence, blooming like flowers against the starlit canvas.
Kafka smiled so brightly it almost hurt.
He looked at each of the children—his children—and then at the women who had given him everything he could ever ask for.
"Alright." He said warmly, wiping a small tear from his cheek. "Let's make a wish together."
As the candles flickered atop the cake, the little ones leaned forward, their mothers guiding them.
And together, with giggles, squeals, and happy little breaths—they blew out the lights, one by one.
And in that moment, beneath the thousand glowing moons of heaven, surrounded by laughter and love, Kafka thought quietly to himself:
'Haha. There's no wish left for me to make.'
'Because…I already have everything I've ever wanted and more.'
'What I wonderful life I have.'
'Truly…What a wonderful life.'
Hey guys, I guess we've finally come to the end of this novel that's been going on for more than two years, and honestly…I don't even know what to say right now.
I'm happy that I can finally put my pen down—or well, my fingers, since I typed this whole thing lol.
But at the same time, I'm also a little sad that I won't be writing about these characters I made anymore.
It's a bittersweet feeling, especially since I never got the chance to write the original ending I had in mind.
Still, I really want to thank every single one of you for sticking with me through this whole journey.
Through the late uploads, the grammar mistakes, the name mix-ups—you guys stayed all the way to the end, and I appreciate that more than you know.
And even though this wasn't the original ending, I hope you at least found it decent and you felt satisfied.
And more then anything, I pray to god that you didn't regret reading this story, and that you carried something from it—whether it made you laugh, feel sad, or even cry a little.
If it gave you anything at all, that's enough for me.
So yeah…That's it for now
And I hope I'll be seeing you guys again in the next novel!