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

Chapter 446: I’m Not A Admirer—I’m Family!

Seeing that there was no direct entrence for someone like him who just rocked up—Mika flagged down one of the security guards who was patrolling along the barrier.

The guard approached warily, his hand resting on the baton at his hip, his eyes scanning Mika up and down.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Mika put on his most pleasant expression.

"Yes, actually. Can you let me in, please?"

The guard blinked.

"Let you in? To the building?"

"Yes. I’m here for the meeting. Nadia—I mean, Lady Nadia herself invited me."

The guard stared at him.

Then he laughed.

Not a polite laugh. A full, genuine, disbelieving laugh that made several people nearby turn and look.

"Right." The guard said, still chuckling. "Lady Nadia invited you personally. Sure she did."

Mika’s expression flickered. "She did. I have proof—"

"Look, kid." The guard’s tone shifted from amused to dismissive. "I’ve been working these events for fifteen years. Do you know how many people come up to me every single time, claiming they know Lady Nadia? That they’re personal friends? That she invited them?"

He gestured at the crowd behind Mika.

"Half these people would say the same thing if you asked them. Especially the ones who really want to get in."

Mika’s eyes narrowed.

"But I actually do know her. I have photos. I can show you—"

He pulled out his phone, scrolling frantically through his gallery until he found what he was looking for.

A picture of him and Nadia together, taken years ago, with him smiling at the camera and Nadia trying to smile.

"See?" He held it up triumphantly. "See? This is me. With Lady Nadia. We’re clearly together. This is proof."

The guard took one look at the photo and scoffed.

"Young man, do you think you’re the first person to show me an edited photo?"

"Do you know how many people come here with pictures they’ve photoshopped, claiming they’re best friends with Lady Nadia?"

He pointed at the crowd.

"Look around you. Half these people have the same kind of photos on their phones. They’ll show you if you ask."

As if on cue, several people nearby pulled out their phones, eager to show off their own "proof."

Mika glanced at the screens and saw photo after photo of people who had clearly edited themselves into pictures with Nadia to his disbelief.

One showed her at a café, laughing with a stranger.

Another showed her at a bowling alley, high-fiving someone who had never met her.

A third showed her at a festival, her arm around a random fan who had clearly superimposed themselves into the image.

They all looked proud of their creations.

But they were all fakes.

And now the security guard was looking at him with barely concealed contempt.

"You see?" The guard said, gesturing at the crowd. "Every one of them has a photo. Every one of them claims to know her. And every single one of them is trying to get past these barriers for their five minutes of fame."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping.

"You want my advice, son? Go home. Take your little edited photo with you. Because whatever delusion you’re living in, it’s not worth getting arrested over."

"Wait, hold up! I’m not delusional!" Mika was almost shouting now. "This is real! I actually know her! She’s—she’s family!"

The guard’s expression hardened.

"That’s it." He grabbed Mika’s arm. "You’re coming with me. We’re going to have a nice little chat about harassment and trespassing."

"Wait! No! Let me just call her! I can call her right now—"

But just as the guard was about to drag Mika away for a long, unpleasant conversation—and the girl who had been talking to him was nervously contemplating whether she should try to help—a massive commotion erupted from the far end of the crowd.

"LADY NADIA! LADY NADIA IS HERE!"

"She’s arrived! Oh my God, she’s so beautiful!"

"LADY NADIA, OVER HERE! PLEASE LOOK OVER HERE!"

The crowd surged forward, voices rising to a fever pitch. The excitement that had been simmering all morning suddenly exploded into full-blown chaos.

Hundreds of phones were raised higher, cameras clicked frantically, and the chants grew louder, more desperate, more worshipful.

The guard’s grip on Mika’s arm loosened as he, like everyone else, turned to look.

And then they all saw her.

For a moment, it seemed as if a goddess was descending from the heavens.

Nadia floated down from the sky, her form silhouetted against the noon sun, her movements slow and graceful, as if gravity itself was merely a suggestion she chose to indulge.

She was beautiful—more beautiful than any photograph could capture, more striking than any memory could preserve.

Her face was calm, composed, utterly serene, betraying no emotion at all.

But what caught everyone’s attention was what she was wearing.

Unlike the other officials who had arrived in standard black suits and formal business attire, Nadia was dressed in a flowing blue gown that caught the light like liquid sapphire.

It was elegant, ethereal, completely out of place among the sea of dark suits—and yet, no one dared to question it.

She was Nadia, after all. She could wear whatever she wanted.

Anyone who complained would probably find themselves beaten up by the very crowd that now worshipped her.

She descended slowly, her feet touching the red carpet with the delicacy of a falling leaf. The moment she landed, the cameras exploded.

Flash after flash after flash, a continuous strobe of light that turned the scene into something almost surreal. Photographers screamed for her attention, their voices competing with the roar of the crowd.

"LADY NADIA! THIS WAY! PLEASE!"

"ONE PHOTO! JUST ONE!"

Media outlets broadcast the scene live, their announcers practically weeping with excitement.

"LADY NADIA HAS ARRIVED! THE BATTLE ANGEL WHO SAVED OUR WORLD IS FINALLY HERE AT THE TEN-YEAR COALITION MEETING!"

The announcer’s voice cracked with emotion, as if she herself was struggling to contain her awe.

And who could blame her?

This was the woman who had brokered peace between worlds, who had faced down the Eternal Queen’s remnants, who had shaped the very course of history.

Even the protesters—the ones who had been chanting against the coalition, against demi-humans, against everything Nadia stood for—fell silent.

Their signs drooped. Their angry faces slackened into something approaching reverence.

Because whatever their political disagreements, they couldn’t deny who she was.

A battle angel.

A savior.

Someone who had literally saved the world.

The guard who had been manhandling Mika moments ago finally snapped out of his daze.

He blinked, looked at Nadia, then looked back at Mika with a teasing smile.

"Hey, kid." He said, loud enough for the surrounding crowd to hear. "There’s your ’family member.’ If you’re really so close to her, why don’t you call out to her? I’m sure she’ll come running."

He chuckled.

The people nearby laughed too. It was a joke, obviously. A way to humiliate this delusional young man who had been wasting everyone’s time with his fake photos and ridiculous claims.

The girl who had helped Mika earlier looked at him with pity.

He was handsome, yes, but clearly too far gone. Poor thing.

But Mika smiled.

And instead of running away in embarrassment like everyone thought he would—he raised his hand casually, as if he were hailing a taxi, and called out in a voice that carried across the crowd.

"Nadia! Over here! I’m over here!"

The guard’s smile widened. This was going to be good.

"Come get me!" Mika called out, pointing at the guard with a grin. "This old man is holding me back! He’s stopping me from seeing you!"

The laughter around him grew louder.

The guard shook his head, still smirking.

"Oh, that’s a good one. Kid’s got delusions of grandeur, but he’s got guts, I’ll give him that."

He started to pull Mika away again—

—but then the world stopped moving.

Nadia, who had been walking down the red carpet with the practiced grace of a woman who had faced thousands of cameras before, suddenly paused mid-step.

She tilted her head, almost imperceptibly and then she turned.

The crowd froze.

All those hundreds of people, all those shouting fans and clicking cameras and jostling reporters—they all went completely, utterly still.

Because the woman who never reacted to anything—had just heard something that made her stop.

She scanned the crowd slowly, her eyes moving across the sea of faces. And wherever her gaze landed, people flinched.

It was like being looked at by a force of nature—something vast and powerful and utterly beyond mortal comprehension.

Then her eyes stopped.

They fixed on a single point.

On Mika.

On the young man leaning casually against the barricade, his hand still raised, his smile easy and unbothered.

The crowd parted around him like water around a stone.

People stepped back, away from the invisible pressure radiating from Nadia’s gaze. Even the guard, who had been so confident moments ago, found his hand dropping from Mika’s arm, his legs turning weak, his heart pounding in his chest.

Nadia lifted from the carpet.

She floated over the barricade, over the heads of the stunned crowd, her gown trailing behind her like a comet’s tail.

She descended slowly, deliberately, until she was standing directly in front of Mika.

The crowd held its breath.

"Why are you still out here?" She asked, her voice flat, uninflected, utterly ordinary. "I expected you to be inside already."

Mika’s grin didn’t waver.

"How was I supposed to go inside when no one knows who I am?"

He gestured at the crowd, the barricades, the guards.

"I’ve been standing in this crowd for half an hour, Nadia. Half an hour."

Nadia tilted her head in confusion.

"What are you talking about? I already sent you a verification document exactly for this purpose. You just needed to show it, and they would have let you in."

Mika’s expression flickered. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his messages, and—

There it was.

A file. A verification document. Sent yesterday, with clear instructions on how to use it.

He had completely missed it.

"Oh." He said, his voice suddenly sheepish. "I...I thought that was one of your dumb memes. You know, the ones you send all the time."

"I just...I didn’t open it."

Nadia’s eyebrow twitched.

The crowd held its breath.

And then, to the absolute shock of everyone watching, the Ambassador of Worlds—lifted her hand and knocked Mika lightly on the head.

"Those memes aren’t dumb." She said, her voice still flat, still monotone, but somehow carrying a note of genuine offense. "They’re funny. Very funny."

She looked at him with an expression that might have been a pout, if her face was capable of such things.

"And next time I send you one, I want you to react to it. Comment on it. Tell me what you think. I feel sad when you leave them on read."

Mika rubbed his head where she had hit him, but he was smiling.

"Fine, fine. I’ll look at your memes. Happy?"

Nadia considered this for a moment.

"...Acceptable."

The crowd was stunned into silence.

This was Lady Nadia. The unapproachable, untouchable, emotionless ice queen of diplomacy. And she was standing in front of a random boy, having a casual conversation about memes.

And then Mika did something that made the guard’s blood run cold.

He pointed directly at him.

"Nadia, look at that guard over there."

His voice was teasing, like he was tattling to the teacher.

"He’s the one who stopped me from seeing you. He called me a liar. Said my photos were fake."

He grinned.

"I think he deserves some punishment for what he did...Don’t you?"