Agung leaned his forehead against the wood, his voice muffled but filled with a desperate kind of sincerity. It was the plea of a man who knew he was outclassed, outmanned, and out-waifed.
"Eli! Tell Maki... tell all of them," Agung called out, his breath hitching. "I'll take it. I'll let her punch me. I'll let Umi kick me. Heck, Nico can use me as a footstool for her next livestream if it makes her feel better. I won't even use the magic to toughen my skin. I'll take every hit as the 'Agung' they want to punish."
He paused, a cold shiver running down his spine as he remembered Maki's medical background and Umi's legendary aim.
"But please," he added, his voice climbing an octave in pure terror. "No needles! Tell Maki to keep the syringes away! And no kitchen knives or practiced archery! I have a quadrillion dollars, but I'm pretty sure I still leak blood like a normal 35-year-old. I'll be their punching bag, Eli... just don't let them turn me into a pincushion or a target board!"
On the other side of the door, there was a momentary break in Eli's composure. A faint, sharp intake of breath—was it a gasp or a stifled laugh?
"You're terrified of needles, but you claim to have fought your way through an interdimensional void?" Eli's voice held a strange flicker of something that wasn't quite hate anymore. It sounded almost like... nostalgia. "The 'other' Agung used to faint during his annual flu shots, too. He once tried to bribe a nurse with a limited edition figurine to just 'pretend' she gave him the jab."
Agung froze. "He did? I mean... of course he did! It's a rational fear! Sharp metal entering the skin is a design flaw in the human body!"
"If you really are a different person," Eli said, her voice receding as she began to walk away, "you're doing a very poor job of being different. You're just as pathetic as he was. But maybe... just maybe... that's what might save your life today."
The sound of her heels faded down the hallway.
Agung stayed slumped against the door, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked at his slightly chubby hands. He had the power of a creator, the wealth of a god, and the "protection" of a 24-year obsession with these women. But as he sat there in the silence of his gilded cage, he realized the biggest hurdle wasn't the wives' anger.
It was the fact that even across dimensions, he couldn't stop being himself.