Vendors called out their wares, children ran past with sticky sweets in their hands, and the scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air.
Callian walked at a leisurely pace, his golden eyes scanning the surroundings with mild interest.
But really, he wasn't paying attention to anything.
Not the merchants. Not the knights patrolling the streets.
No.
His gaze was locked onto the tiny silver-haired child walking beside him.
Violet.
She clutched his hand, her other hand pointing excitedly at everything they passed.
"Papa! Look at that!"
He followed her gaze. A street performer was juggling apples, flipping them mid-air with practiced ease.
Callian nodded. "Mm."
Violet's eyes sparkled. "That's amazing! Can you do that, Papa?"
Callian smirked. "Of course."
He reached out, grabbed three apples from a nearby fruit stand (ignoring the vendor's startled yelp), and tossed them in the air.
For a split second, they hovered—then fell straight down.
Callian barely caught them in time.
Violet giggled. "That was bad!"
Callian cleared his throat, placing the apples back on the stand. "It's different when you're holding a sword."
The vendor huffed. "Are you buying those or—?"
Callian wordlessly tossed a silver coin onto the stand, grabbed the apples, and handed one to Violet.
She took a big bite, cheeks puffing up like a little hamster.
Callian's lips twitched.
Too cute.
He reached out, gently pinching her cheek.
Violet swatted at his hand. "Papa, no!"
He smirked but withdrew.
Damien had left them alone for the afternoon, claiming he had business to attend to.
Which meant—
Callian exhaled.
Which meant there was no one to stop him from indulging his daughter.
The next hour was a blur of Callian giving in to Violet's every request.
First, it was sweets.
She had spotted a stand selling small honey cakes, her violet eyes widening as she tugged on Callian's sleeve.
"Papa, those look yummy!"
Callian, already weak to her big, pleading eyes, handed the vendor another silver coin.
Violet happily nibbled on the treat, kicking her feet as they sat on a nearby bench.
Callian watched her, resting his chin on his palm.
She really was cute.
Too cute.
It was dangerous.
She could ask for the entire empire, and he'd probably consider getting it for her.
Violet turned to him, holding out a piece of her cake. "Papa, want a bite?"
Callian blinked.
Sharing sweets?
His little princess was sharing?
He leaned forward, taking a small bite. The honey melted on his tongue, rich and warm.
Violet beamed. "Good, right?"
Callian hummed, ruffling her hair. "Mm. My little princess has good taste."
Violet giggled, kicking her feet.
But it didn't stop there.
After sweets, she found a small shop selling dolls.
Callian had never been in a doll shop before.
The moment they stepped inside, his senses were overwhelmed by soft colors and frilly designs. Shelves were lined with delicate handmade dolls, each with its own unique dress and expression.
Violet stared in awe.
She carefully picked up a doll with braided brown hair and a pink dress.
"Papa…look."
Callian tilted his head. "You like that one?"
Violet hesitated.
Then, she gently placed it back on the shelf.
Callian narrowed his eyes.
Ah.
He knew this tactic.
She wanted it, but she wasn't asking for it outright.
Being considerate.
Trying not to be greedy.
Callian, being the weak father he was, immediately grabbed the doll, along with two more, and placed them on the counter.
Violet's eyes widened. "Papa, I—"
"You like them," he stated.
"But—"
Callian arched a brow. "Are you saying I can't buy a gift for my daughter?"
Violet flinched. "N-No, but—"
"Then it's settled."
He tossed another silver coin onto the counter and handed the bag of dolls to Violet.
She held them close, pressing her cheek against the soft fabric.
"Thank you, Papa."
Callian ruffled her hair. "You're welcome, little princess."
After leaving the shop, Violet tugged on Callian's sleeve.
"Papa, where are we going now?"
Callian sighed dramatically. "That depends. Have you run out of things you want yet?"
Violet grinned. "Nope!"
Callian smirked. "Then lead the way, little princess."
She did.
Through the market, past the stalls, to a small park with a fountain in the center.
Callian sat on the edge, arms crossed, as Violet played nearby.
She ran up to a flock of birds, watching them scatter with delighted laughter.
Callian exhaled.
Peaceful.
He was never much for crowded places, but watching Violet enjoy herself made it worth it.
He closed his eyes for a moment—only to open them when a sudden weight pressed against his side.
Violet had climbed onto the fountain's edge, leaning against him with a content sigh.
"Tired already?" Callian asked, amused.
Violet shook her head. "Just resting."
Callian wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.
They sat like that for a while, the fountain's gentle trickle in the background.
Then, Violet mumbled,
"Papa?"
"Hmm?"
"Why are you always so nice to me?"
Callian frowned. "What kind of question is that?"
Violet hesitated. "Because…I heard some parents don't buy their kids everything they want."
Callian snorted. "That's because they have self-control."
"Do you have self-control?"
"No."
Violet giggled.
Callian poked her nose. "It's not about spoiling you, Violet. I just like seeing you happy."
She blinked. "Really?"
"Mm."
Violet thought for a moment. Then, she smiled brightly.
"Then I'm the happiest!"
Callian chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Good.
That's all he wanted.
As long as his little princess was happy, nothing else mattered.
*****
The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of burning wood and spiced food from the plaza. The inn they were staying in was close enough that the sound of laughter and music drifted through the open balcony door.
Violet, sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs swinging, had been mesmerized by the fireworks just moments ago. Now, though, her gaze was fixed on Callian.
He raised an eyebrow. "What is it, little princess?"
Violet tilted her head, silver hair glowing under the lantern light. "Papa, sometimes you don't seem like other people."
Callian blinked.
Not seem like other people?
Was it because of [Nobility Charisma]? No, that shouldn't be affecting her—it only worked on strangers, not his own daughter.
"How so?" he asked.
Violet pursed her lips. "I don't know… but you feel different."
"Different how?"
Violet thought for a moment, then scrunched her nose in frustration. "I can't explain it! It's just—" She wiggled her hands. "—like you're really, really strong."
Callian chuckled, ruffling her hair. "I am strong."
Violet pouted. "No, Papa. Not just strong. Like… really strong. Too strong."
Callian's smile froze slightly.
Sharp, as always.
Violet had grown up in a quiet cabin in the middle of the forest, far from knights, nobles, and warriors. But even she had picked up on the fact that her father wasn't normal.
Magic in this world was slow, formulaic, bound by rules. But Callian had no such limitations. To him, magic was instinct, something he shaped at will.
And even though Violet had never seen him fight seriously, she could feel it.
She was only six.
Yet she had already noticed something that others failed to recognize.
Callian sighed, leaning back against the headboard. "Violet, do you like bedtime stories?"
Violet perked up immediately, her previous thoughts forgotten. "Yes!"
Callian smirked. "Then I'll tell you one."
Violet clapped her hands excitedly before crawling closer, settling in his lap.
Callian's voice softened as he began.
"Once upon a time, in a world different from ours, there was a hero of humanity."
Violet's eyes widened.
"A hero?"
Callian nodded. "He was strong—so strong that people believed he could protect them from anything. Monsters, disasters, war… no matter what stood in his way, he never lost."
Violet listened intently, gripping his sleeve.
"But he was also alone."
Violet's brows furrowed. "Alone? Why?"
Callian's voice grew distant. "Because he didn't belong anywhere. He existed for others, not for himself. He worked tirelessly, never resting, because destruction was always waiting at the edges of his world. Every time he saved someone, another person needed saving. Every time he fought a battle, another war began. And so, he kept going… until, one day, he lost himself."
Violet's hands clenched into tiny fists.
"That's sad," she whispered.
Callian smiled, though there was something wistful in his gaze. "Yes, it is."
For a while, neither of them spoke. The fireworks outside had died down, leaving only the sound of the crackling fireplace.
Then, Violet hesitated before asking, "What happened to him?"
Callian's fingers gently ran through her hair.
"He woke up… in a new world."
Violet's breath hitched.
"A new world?"
"Yes," Callian murmured. "A world that didn't need a hero. A world where he didn't have to fight anymore."
Violet's violet eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Was he happy?"
Callian exhaled. "At first, he was lost. He had spent so long fighting that he didn't know how to live for himself. He thought he would just wander forever."
Violet leaned in closer, waiting for the rest of the story.
"But then," Callian continued, his voice softer, "an angel came into his life."
Violet's lips parted slightly.
"An angel?"
Callian nodded. "She was small, with silver hair and the brightest violet eyes he had ever seen. She wasn't afraid of him, even when others were. She wasn't scared of his strength, his past, or his scars. She simply held his hand and smiled."
Violet's breath caught in her throat.
"The hero, for the first time, had something he wanted to protect—not because it was his duty, but because he wanted to."
Violet didn't say anything.
Instead, she slowly leaned forward, resting her head against Callian's chest.
"…Papa?"
"Hmm?"
Violet's voice was quiet. "The angel… she made the hero happy, didn't she?"
Callian closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his daughter.
"Yes," he murmured. "She gave him a reason to live for himself."
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
Violet simply curled into him, warm and safe.
Tomorrow, she would meet her mother.
She didn't want to be hated.
Callian, sensing her unease, finally spoke. "Why would you be scared, Violet?"
She hesitated. "Because… Grandpa said Mom has a new family. Maybe she doesn't want me anymore."
Callian's expression darkened slightly.
But his voice remained steady. "If your mother doesn't want you, that's her loss."
Violet fiddled with the edge of his sleeve.
Callian lifted her chin gently. "Listen to me, little princess. If you want the world, I will bring it to its knees. If you want the stars, I will reach out and take them for you."
Violet giggled sleepily. "Papa is silly."
Callian smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Maybe."
As time passed, Violet's breathing slowed, her small body relaxing in his arms.
She had fallen asleep.
Callian exhaled, his gaze drifting toward the window.
The sky was dark. Starless.
He wondered if this was the same sky from before. The same sky he had once looked up at, drowning in exhaustion, waiting for the next battle.
He had already changed fate.
Violet was never supposed to be his daughter.
She should have been born from a drunkard father, abandoned in the slums, living a life of hardship. She should have had dull brown eyes, common and unnoticed.
But instead—
She had his.
Bright violet. Unmistakable.
Proof that fate had been rewritten.
Callian closed his eyes.
He had no regrets.
Because no matter what world he was in—
Violet would always be his daughter.