Chapter 470: No One Can Compare To You

Mika blinked, genuinely caught off guard.

"Wait, hold on. What do you mean?"

She looked away again, clearly struggling to articulate something she found awkward.

"Earlier, when I saw the photos, the ones with the daughters, I didn’t really mind."

"It was embarrassing, yes, and awkward, but those were girls your age. Your life, your choices. I wasn’t going to say anything."

She hesitated, then added quietly,

"But the videos you showed me...those are older women. Much older women. And not only does it feel extremely strange that you’re playing around with women who are twice your age or even more, especially in the case of elves and vampires who are definitely much older than you, but it also makes me really angry."

Mika stared at her, genuinely taken aback. Nadia was someone who had built her entire existence around staying calm and composed no matter the situation.

To see even a hint of real anger from her—anger she was openly admitting to was rare enough to surprise him.

"Why is that?" He asked, voice careful. "I mean, if you’re angry about my preference, there’s nothing I can do about it. I prefer older women, after all."

He said in a righteous manner.

"You can’t change that, and I myself can’t change it either since it’s built into me."

He lifted his chin with a touch of pride.

"I’m a firm, passionate lover of older women—and that won’t change no matter what."

Nadia didn’t know how to feel about the declaration. It completely overturned another piece of the image she had carried of her son.

She had always assumed he would be like any other boy his age—drawn to girls his own age. Instead he was the exact opposite, and the realization left her conflicted and unsettled.

But she still shook her head, forcing herself to focus.

"I didn’t know about that, Mika. It’s surprising to hear. But that’s not the reason I’m angry."

Her voice was steadier now as she looked up at him indignantly and said,

"The reason I’m annoyed is because you’ve been spending all your time with those older women instead of me. Instead of your family."

He frowned. "What?"

She leaned forward, her eyes bright with something between frustration and hurt.

"Think about it, Mika. For so many years, you disappeared from the family. Everyone wondered what you were doing, where you were, who you were with. Especially me."

Her voice cracked slightly.

"I thought about you every day. Wanted to call you, to talk to you, to hear your voice. But I held myself back because I wanted to give you space."

"I wanted to respect your boundaries. I told myself you were dealing with your own feelings, working through whatever had driven you away."

She gestured at the phone, at the videos, at everything.

"And instead, you were out there having fun with older women. Women my age." Her jaw tightened. "If they were younger, I wouldn’t mind. But older women? I can’t accept it!"

She looked at him, and there was something raw in her gaze.

"Just think about it from my perspective, Mika. I’m a mature woman myself. I’m about the same age as all the women you’ve been with. And because of that, it makes me feel like they’re stealing you away from me."

He went very still.

"Not to mention, those women are mothers as well." She continued, her voice rising slightly.

"They’ve been with you, spent time with you, shared your bed—and it feels like they’re stealing my son away from me. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit."

She looked away, her hands clenching in her lap.

"I know it sounds strange. I know it doesn’t make sense. But every moment you spend with them, every hour you give to them, is time you’re not spending with me."

"Your actual mother."

"The one who raised you, who loved you, who waited for you to come home."

Her voice dropped.

"It’s almost as if they’ve stolen the love that was supposed to come to me. And I-I..."

"...I can’t stand it."

The barrier around them trembled slightly.

Mika stared at her, genuinely stunned.

He had expected anger about the morality of his actions, perhaps disappointment in his choices, maybe even disgust at his promiscuity.

But jealousy? Possessiveness? The sense that he had been stolen from her by other women?

Not to mention that she had, in her own indirect way, stumbled upon the truth.

Because she was right. On some level, all those older women had been replacements. Substitutes for the relationships he couldn’t have with the Battle Angels.

He had sought comfort in their arms because he couldn’t find it in hers.

He had vented his frustrations on their bodies because he couldn’t express them to her.

But it had never worked. Not really. The ache always remained.

But he couldn’t tell her that. Couldn’t admit that she had been the standard against which all others were measured, and that all had been found wanting.

So instead, he smiled.

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, and spoke in a light, teasing tone.

"Come on now, Nadia. You’re completely misunderstanding everything. Overthinking it."

She didn’t respond, her body stiff in his embrace.

"How could I possibly love them more than I love you?" He pulled back to look at her face. "You’re acting as if I care for them more than you."

She turned her head away, her expression stubborn as she indignantly said,

"Isn’t it true, Mika? Don’t you prefer them to me? You certainly seem to prefer spending time with them rather than your mother, who’s been waiting at home."

He chuckled as he admitted,

"Well, I do care for them. Even though I used them for my revenge, I genuinely care about their feelings, about what they’re going through. I still keep in touch with them to this day. I didn’t just use them and throw them away."

Nadia’s expression softened a fraction at that. She was relieved to hear he hadn’t been cruel or disposable with them; it showed a level of responsibility she could respect.

But then she got angry once again when she realised he was expressing his care for them right in front of her.

But before a pout could returns, he added,

"Of course, no matter how much I care for them, it will never match up to how much I love you, Nadia."

He cupped her cheek, tilting her face so she had to look at him.

"No matter how many older women I’ve been with, no matter who they are, what their position may be, what their race is—they will always be second to you."

"After all, you are number one in my heart and at the top of my world."

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes wide.

"Nothing will ever change that, Nadia."

He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"And do you know why?"

She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper.

"Why, Mika?"

He smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Because you’re my mother. My beloved mother."

He pulled back to meet her eyes.

"At the end of the day, no matter who they are—how could they ever match up to the woman who raised me? Who loved me, coddled me, spoiled me ever since I was a baby?"

He shook his head slowly.

"That kind of love, that kind of affection—no one will ever match it. No one could ever come close to you."

Nadia felt something in her chest unlock.

All the jealousy, all the resentment, all the fear that she had been replaced, that she no longer mattered—it dissolved, replaced by a warmth so intense it almost hurt.

His eyes were sincere. She could see it, feel it, know it in her bones. He wasn’t lying.

He loved her. Truly loved her. Not in the way he loved those other women, but in a way that was deeper, more fundamental, more unshakeable.

She was his mother. Nothing would ever change that.

A comfortable silence settled between them. The barrier steadied.

Then a thought occurred to her—mischievous, perhaps a little dangerous. She looked up at him with a slight, teasing smile.

"Then tell me, Mika. Since you have five mothers, not just me—out of all of us, which one do you feel closest to? Which one do you value the most?"

His face soured immediately and he quickly shook his head in denial.

"No, Nadia. Don’t even try to pull that shit on me."

She tilted her head innocently. "What do you mean?"

"I’m not falling for that trap." He crossed his arms. "The moment I choose someone, all hell will break loose. There’s no way in hell I’m choosing between you."

She opened her mouth, but he pressed on.

"Not only would it cause too many issues—but I genuinely can’t choose. I love you all equally. All five of you are my mothers. From the bottom of my heart, I can’t pick one over the others."

Nadia was slightly disappointed he hadn’t singled her out, but she understood. All five of them were his mothers, after all, and there was no way he would rank them.

At the same time, she didn’t mind too much.

They were her sisters—family. Unlike those other women who weren’t part of their circle, the Battle Angels were completely accepted.

She let out a small, contented sigh and snuggled deeper into his chest, the earlier tension finally easing.

But Mika knew he couldn’t let that relief settle for long. He needed to keep her on edge, constantly teetering between comfort and curiosity, safety and something far more dangerous.

Luckily for him, he knew exactly how to do it.

Just as Nadia was beginning to relax, his voice cut through the comfortable silence.

"Of course, when it comes to you and your sisters, there’s no way I could ever make a choice. You could glare at me all day and night, and I’d keep my mouth shut."

Nadia’s lips twitched. She knew it was true. If he ever picked one over the others, the family would tear itself apart.

Even if they didn’t come to blows—though that was always a possibility—they would certainly hold grudges. The delicate balance they had maintained for years would shatter.

It was good that he refused to choose.

"But." He added, his voice shifting. "When it comes to every other woman in the world and you alone? There’s no doubt..."

"...I would choose you every single time."

She blinked, caught off guard.

"Setting aside the fact that you’re my mother for a moment—you are, quite simply, a ravishing woman, Nadia."

He said it casually, as if commenting on the weather.

"Your beauty is something the world can’t even comprehend."

A faint blush crept across her cheeks. She rarely blushed—almost never—but the sudden, unexpected compliment caught her off guard.

"And it’s not just your beauty." He continued, his voice warm. "It’s the way you carry yourself. The dignity you possess. The strength that allows you to command respect from everyone around you."

"That sets you apart from every other woman I’ve ever met."

She looked away, embarrassed, but pleased despite herself.

She didn’t know why he had suddenly started showering her with compliments, but she couldn’t deny that they made her feel...something.

Something warm and unfamiliar.

Her happiness however was short-lived.

His voice dropped lower, more intimate as he said,

"Honestly, Nadia...sometimes I feel pity. That you’re my mother. My own mother."

She went still.

"Because I’d much prefer it if we didn’t have that relationship. If you were just like every other woman."

He smiled, but there was something darker beneath it.

"I think that would make me much, much happier. If the title was gone, if that barrier didn’t exist...I would have the time of my life with you."

The words hung in the air.

Nadia felt as if she had been dropped into ice water.

She was perceptive—painfully so. She could read between the lines, could sense the direction he was heading even when he didn’t say it directly.

And right now, she could feel the conversation veering into forbidden territory.

Territory a son should never enter with his mother.

She should stop him. Should shut this down, right now, before it went any further.

Should tell him that this was inappropriate, that she was uncomfortable, that they needed to change the subject.

But she didn’t.

A part she didn’t want to acknowledge was curious. Craving, even. Because his words, his tone, his implication, they painted a picture of how he saw her.

Not as a mother, but as a woman. An attractive, desirable woman.

What would he think, She wondered. If she wasn’t his mother? If she was just a woman, and he was just a man? How would he look at her then? How would he treat her?

She knew the thoughts were wrong. Knew they were dangerous, taboo, the kind of thoughts that led down paths she shouldn’t explore.

But she couldn’t stop herself. His words had planted a seed, and it was already taking root.

She looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper.

"What do you mean, Mika?" She swallowed. "What do you mean when you say you’d prefer me as a woman...and not as your mother?"

She hesitated, then forced herself to continue.

"Can you...elaborate on that?"

Mika’s smile widened. Satisfaction flickered across his features, quickly masked.

She had fallen into his trap. Again.

And now, he was going to enjoy pulling her deeper.