The silence in Room 4 was so thick you could have cut it with one of Umi's practice arrows. Fourteen wives and three concerned friends stood like a forest of judgment, their collective aura heavy enough to crack the floorboards.
Agung's eyes fluttered open.
In the dim moonlight, he saw them. It was like a "Who's Who" of legendary school idols, except they weren't on a stage; they were standing around his futon in a formation that suggested they were either going to perform a miracle or perform an exorcism.
He blinked. Seventeen pairs of eyes—some weeping, some furious, some clinically confused—were locked onto his "panda-like" face.
He didn't scream. He didn't scramble backward. Instead, the "thirteen-years-ago" Agung, the one who hadn't yet been crushed by the weight of being a "Deadbeat," took a long, slow look at the sheer scale of the demographic crisis he had apparently fathered.
He cleared his throat, his voice surprisingly calm.
"You know," he started, his voice a low, tired rasp. "I have 'Infinite Stamina' from the supervisor. It's a literal cosmic gift."
He paused, glancing at the line of women stretching from his bed to the hallway—Umi, Eli, Nozomi, Maki, Kotori, Nico, Dia, Mari, Kanan, Yoshiko, Riko, Ruby, Kanata, Lanzhu, Ai, Shioriko, and Mia.
"But even with that," Agung continued, his face perfectly deadpan, "there is physically no way I can satisfy all seventeen of you in the remaining four hours of this night. I'm a god, not a miracle worker."
The air in the room didn't just freeze; it hit absolute zero.
"So," he added, waving a dismissive hand toward the door while adjusting his blanket, "just... come back here one by one starting from tomorrow night. Form a line. Take a number. I'll see you then."
Without waiting for a response, he rolled over, pulled the futon over his head, and closed his eyes. Beneath the blanket, his shoulders were shaking. He was fighting a losing battle against a massive, hysterical laugh, his mind picturing the exact "Loading..." icons currently spinning over seventeen of the most famous heads in Japan.
For a full ten seconds, the only sound was the distant crashing of waves against the Shizuoka coast.
"He... did he just...?" Nico's voice broke the silence, vibrating with a level of offense that could be heard in Tokyo.
"That shameless, arrogant... PANDA!" Mari hissed, her billionaire poise finally snapping as she reached for a heavy ceramic vase on the bedside table.
"Agung-sama!" Lanzhu shrieked, her Hong Kong dignity evaporating into pure indignance. "You think you can just schedule us like a dental appointment?!"
"Infinite stamina?!" Umi's face was a shade of red that defied the laws of physics, her hands trembling as she looked for her non-existent bow. "How dare you speak so vulgarly after thirteen years of—!"
"He's laughing," Maki interrupted, her eyes narrowing as she stepped closer to the shaking bundle of blankets. "The idiot is actually laughing. He thinks this is a joke."
The comedy of the situation hit the room like a physical wave. He was a man who had been missing for years, a man who had children he hadn't met, a man who had nearly been killed by Ayumu—and his first instinct upon being cornered by his entire past was to suggest a **scheduling system.**
"I'm going to kill him," Dia whispered, her voice surprisingly calm as she began to roll up her sleeves. "Creation magic or not, I am going to end this timeline right now."