SSS-Class MILFs And Their Yandere Daughters, I Want Them All!

Chapter 441: It Was Just A Prank!

Hearing this complaint, Mika’s playful demeanor faded.

He instead looked at Nadia with a sad, almost disappointed expression—the kind a child makes when they’ve been caught doing something wrong and are about to apologize.

"You’re right." He said quietly, his voice carrying a note of genuine remorse. "That prank went too far. I shouldn’t have scared you like that."

Nadia blinked, caught off guard by his sudden change in tone.

"I just wanted to do something fun. Something like we used to do back in the old days."

He let out a small, rueful laugh.

"I guess I got carried away. Overstepped a bit."

He shifted Astrid’s weight on his back, making sure she was still comfortable.

"I’m sorry about that. Really."

"And..."

He paused, looking down at his feet for a moment before meeting her eyes again.

"I won’t make such pranks again. I don’t want to disturb you anymore. Things aren’t like they were in the past—we’ve all grown up, changed."

"So I’ll just...stop. No more pranks. I promise."

The words hung in the air and Nadia’s face went pale.

Her heart stopped.

She felt as if someone had plunged a knife into her back—a cold, sharp, devastating blow that stole the breath from her lungs.

’No more pranks.’

’Mika won’t prank me anymore.’

’He’s going to stop.’

The memories came flooding back, unbidden, overwhelming.

Images from a time when the family was whole, when laughter filled these halls, when she had something she hadn’t realized she treasured so deeply.

Back then, she had loved pranks. Silly, harmless things.

Wrapping clear foil across doorways and watching people walk into it.

Switching salt and sugar to see the surprised faces when someone took a bite.

Jumping out from behind corners to scare people.

They were simple pranks. Stupid, really. The kind of thing any ordinary person might do to their family.

But her family was far from ordinary.

They were Battle Angels. Beings of overwhelming power and supernatural perception.

Yelena could see through clear foil like it wasn’t there, stepping through without breaking stride.

Fauna could smell the difference between salt and sugar from across the room.

She would take one sniff of the "sugar" bowl and give Nadia a knowing look before calmly using the real sugar she had hidden in her pocket.

And the children? The young ones, with their enhanced senses and supernatural awareness?

They would know she was behind them before she even moved. She would leap out with a "BOO!" and they would just turn around, blinking, completely unstartled.

No one reacted.

No one was surprised.

No one gave her what she wanted.

They would just look at her with those pitying expressions, the ones that said "Oh, Auntie Nadia’s trying to be normal again." and she would feel that familiar ache in her chest.

But there was one exception.

One person who always, always fell for her pranks.

Mika.

Whenever she pranked him, he fell for it. Every single time.

The foil wrapped around the doorway?

He walked right into it, flailing and sputtering, his face a picture of confusion and indignation.

The salt in the sugar bowl?

He took a huge spoonful, made the most horrible face, and spat it out while she watched, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

And the jump scares?

Those were the best. He would yelp, stumble backward, clutch his chest like he was having a heart attack.

His eyes would go wide, his face would turn red, and he would shout—

"NADIA!"

And then he would chase her.

Through the halls, around the garden, up the stairs, down the stairs. She would run, laughing silently, and he would run after her, shouting threats that neither of them meant.

And that reaction—that was what she craved.

Because most of the time, when she tried to interact with people, it went wrong.

Her voice was too flat. Her face was too still.

People couldn’t read her, couldn’t understand her, couldn’t tell if she was joking or serious or happy or sad.

Conversations would become awkward, stilted, uncomfortable.

People would become wary, even afraid.

But with Mika?

When she pranked him, he reacted. He showed emotion. He laughed, cried out, got flustered.

He made her feel like a normal person—someone who could play, and joke, and connect with another human being.

It was the most precious thing in the world to her.

And he pranked her back.

Oh, he pranked her back magnificently.

Their prank wars were legendary in the household.

He would spend days setting up elaborate schemes just to catch her off guard.

Once, he had built an entire device that would flashbang her whenever she entered her study—not dangerously, just brightly enough to make her blink and stumble.

She had walked into that room three times before she figured out the trigger.

Another time, he had given her a beautiful new dress as a present. She had been so touched—so genuinely moved—that she wore it to an important diplomatic meeting the very next day.

Halfway through her opening speech, the dress had started playing a song.

Not just any song.

An embarrassing, childish, utterly ridiculous song from a cartoon they had watched together when Mika was small.

It played at full volume, echoing through the diplomatic hall, while she stood frozen at the podium, her face burning, her carefully crafted image crumbling around her.

She had been mortified.

She had also, later that night, laughed so hard she cried.

Those moments—those precious, irreplaceable moments were some of the best in her life.

Because in those times, she wasn’t the Battle Angel. Wasn’t the Ambassador of Worlds. Wasn’t the woman who could cause earthquakes with her grief.

She was just...Nadia.

A mother who played pranks with her son.

A person who could make someone laugh.

Someone who was understood.

And now Mika was saying he would stop.

Now he was saying they had grown up.

Her heart shattered.

"No."

The word came out sharper than she intended. More desperate.

Mika blinked, surprised by her sudden intensity.

"Nadia—"

"No, Mika. Don’t. Please don’t."

She stepped forward, her usual composure cracking at the edges.

"This prank—this one—may have gone too far. I’ll admit that. It scared me. But the others? The silly ones?"

"The ones where you wrap everything in my room in wrapping paper?"

"The ones where you turn my bathroom door into a portal that sends me into an icy dimension while I’m in my undergarments?"

Her voice cracked slightly—just slightly.

"Those are...those are fine. More than fine. They’re..."

She struggled for the word, the right word, the word that would make him understand.

"—free reign! Do whatever you want! However you want! I don’t want you to hold back. I don’t want you to stop."

Her voice was growing more desperate, though her face remained frustratingly still.

"Please, Mika. Please don’t stop. Not because of what I said. Not because I overreacted."

"Just...please. Don’t take that away."

She looked at him, and for once, her face wasn’t blank. It wasn’t hard to read.

Her eyes were bright with emotion. Her lips trembled slightly.

She looked like she might cry.

Mika stared at her and for a long moment, neither of them moved.

And then—

He started laughing.

Mika burst out laughing.

It was sudden, unexpected, completely out of nowhere.

"You—" He wheezed, pointing at her. "—you fell for it, Nadia! You actually fell for what I said!"

Nadia’s expression shifted from distress to confusion.

"What?"

"You fell for it, Nadia! You actually fell for it!"

He was laughing so hard he had to lean against the doorframe for support, careful not to jostle Astrid on his back.

"That was a prank! I was joking! I was acting all sad and pitiful to get your emotions worked up!"

He wiped tears from his eyes.

"I know you, Nadia. I know exactly how you’d feel if I said something like that. And it worked perfectly! The way you panicked—the way you grabbed my arm—"

He caught himself, waving a hand as he added,

"Okay, okay, there’s nothing much to look at on your face, I’ll admit. But I could hear it in your voice. The way it cracked. The way you were rushing your words. You were completely freaking out!"

He laughed again, bright and warm.

"It’s so easy to get you, Nadia. You’re so freaking easy!"

Nadia stood there, frozen and her face was doing something unusual.

Her lips were twitching and she should have been angry.

Mika’s pranks were always so ruthless, so targeted. He didn’t just go for the simple tricks—he went for her emotions.

He found the one thing that would make her react, the one weakness in her armor, and exploited it perfectly.

But looking at him now—laughing, carefree, happy—she couldn’t stay frustrated.

Because this was what she had missed.

This was what she had been longing for all these years.

Mika, standing in her doorway, laughing at her expense, looking at her like she was the only one in the world who could give him this kind of joy.

All the frustration drained away.

And before she knew what she was doing, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Mika froze, surprised.

Nadia held him close, her voice cold on the surface but trembling with emotion underneath.

"You’re back, Mika."

Her voice was cold—it was always cold, always flat. But the words themselves carried warmth. Emotion. Love.

"My Mika is back."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes shimmering in the moonlight.

"Yelena and Fauna kept telling me you were different. That you weren’t the same as before."

"That you were coming back to us, changing, becoming the person you used to be and I even got glimpses of that before."

She touched his face gently.

"But now I truly see it. Looking at you, standing here, laughing at me for falling for your prank..."

Her voice cracked again.

"You’re truly back, Mika. My baby boy is back."

She pulled him close again, one hand resting on the back of his head, holding him like she had when he was small.

Mika was caught off guard, unsure what to say for a moment. Then, slowly, a warm smile spread across his face. He wrapped his free arm around her and hugged her back.

"I’m back, Nadia."

His voice was soft. Warm. Certain.

"Your little prankster Mika is back."