Morning sunlight streamed through the grand estate, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors. The peaceful atmosphere, however, was shattered by the sound of frantic footsteps.
A silver-haired blur dashed through the halls, giggling wildly.
"Catch her, Sebastian!"
"I'm trying, Miss Rael, but she's fast!"
Sebastian, the former demonic beast-turned-butler, sprinted after the tiny escapee, his cat-like reflexes struggling to match the sheer chaotic energy of a six-year-old who really didn't want to take a bath. His once dignified composure was utterly ruined as he dodged furniture, his tail flicking in frustration.
Violet was having the time of her life.
Her tiny feet pattered against the floor as she weaved through the hall, her fluffy white nightgown billowing behind her. "Heehee! You can't catch me, kitty!" she taunted over her shoulder.
Sebastian scowled. "I am not a kitty—!"
His words were cut off as Violet suddenly ducked, causing him to skid to a stop to avoid crashing into a chair.
Rael, the ever-composed head maid, sighed as she gracefully stepped in to block Violet's path. "Young Miss, it is bath time."
Violet gasped dramatically. "Nooooo!"
Without missing a beat, she twirled on her heel and darted in the opposite direction, slipping past Sebastian once again.
Sebastian groaned. "How is she this slippery?!"
"She has a strong will," Rael observed.
"She has Callian's will," Sebastian muttered, exasperated.
As if summoned, Callian's voice echoed from the study nearby.
"Sebastian, Rael, keep it down. I'm working."
The two servants froze.
Violet, meanwhile, took the opportunity to slide under a nearby table, holding her breath as she peeked out.
Callian sat at his desk, golden eyes calmly scanning a sheet of paper. Unlike his usual casual tunic, he was dressed in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a dark vest that gave him a refined look. A quill twirled between his fingers as he made notes.
Around him, a few spirits hovered, listening intently as he described his newest project.
"…The material should be light but durable," Callian mused. "Something easy to move in, yet elegant."
A storm spirit, now in human form, nodded. "For yourself or the Young Miss?"
"Both." Callian leaned back slightly, his gaze thoughtful. "A formal suit for me. A dress for Violet."
Hearing her name, Violet's ears perked up. She slowly inched closer, curiosity overriding her previous mission to avoid the bath.
Rael and Sebastian exchanged glances but said nothing as they watched the little girl quietly approach.
Callian continued, unaware of his tiny audience. "I prefer a modern cut. Something fitted. Double-breasted, maybe. Black with gold accents." He tapped his fingers on the desk. "For Violet… something soft. A dress that allows movement. Maybe lace details. White and violet would suit her."
Violet's eyes sparkled.
Callian designing a dress for her?
She completely forgot about her bath escape and eagerly crawled closer, resting her chin on the desk.
One of the spirits noticed her and smiled. "Ah, Young Miss."
Callian glanced up, blinking. "Oh. There you are."
Violet grinned. "Papa, you're making clothes for me?"
Callian nodded. "Of course."
Violet gasped, clapping her hands. "Really?! Can it have ribbons?"
"Mm. If you want."
"What about a cape?!"
Callian raised an eyebrow. "A cape?"
Violet nodded enthusiastically. "Like a hero!"
Callian chuckled. "Then a cape it is."
Sebastian groaned. "Master, you're rewarding her for running away from her bath."
Callian tilted his head slightly, as if considering. "So?"
Sebastian nearly collapsed.
Rael, meanwhile, sighed and walked over to pick up Violet. "Come now, Young Miss. We must bathe before you get new clothes."
Violet gasped. "I—"
Callian tapped her nose. "No running this time."
Violet pouted but nodded. "Okay, Papa…"
Sebastian let out a deep sigh of relief. "Finally."
As Rael carried Violet toward the bath, Callian leaned back in his chair, shaking his head fondly.
A cape, huh?
Perhaps he really would make one.
*****
The morning was now unusually quiet.
Callian stood by the entrance of the estate, his golden eyes fixed on Violet as she adjusted the hem of her outfit.
It was a mix of a knee-length skirt and a coat-style top, fitted perfectly to her small frame. Her silver hair, usually left flowing freely, was tied up in a neat ponytail, emphasizing her bright violet eyes. A pair of cute, polished shoes completed the look, making her seem more mature than her usual carefree self.
She looked adorable.
And that was exactly why Callian hesitated.
He had dressed her himself, adjusting her collar, tying her hair with careful fingers, and making sure she had everything she needed. But now, as she stood before him, ready to leave for her first lesson at the main manor, an odd feeling settled in his chest.
Violet beamed up at him. "Papa, do I look okay?"
Callian's lips twitched. "You look perfect."
Violet giggled, spinning slightly in place to make her skirt flare. "Like a noble lady?"
He tapped her nose lightly. "Like my lady."
The girl grinned at that, puffing up with pride.
A distant rumble of wheels signaled the arrival of the carriage. Callian's fingers instinctively twitched. He knew this was the right decision—Violet needed to learn proper etiquette, history, and noble customs. The Grand Duke had insisted that she be educated alongside noble children, and logically, Callian agreed.
But the thought of sending her away, even just for a few hours, made something deep within him stir in protest.
Sebastian, standing nearby with a composed expression, noticed Callian's reluctance and smirked. "Master, you look like you're about to send her off to war."
Callian shot him a sharp look, but before he could retort, Violet giggled again. "Papa, I'll be fine."
He let out a slow breath. Right. She would be fine.
Probably.
The carriage finally rolled to a stop before them.
Callian ignored all of them.
With a composed expression, he bent down to fix the ribbon on Violet's wrist, brushing her hair lightly before speaking. "If anything happens, tell me."
Violet nodded obediently. "I will, Papa."
He paused. "…Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"
Violet smiled and shook her head. "I have to do this on my own, right?"
Callian's chest tightened. When had she grown so wise?
"…That's right."
Still, he hesitated.
Violet reached up and squeezed his sleeve. "I'll come back before dinner, I promise."
Callian sighed. "Alright. Go on, then."
Violet hesitated for just a moment before throwing her arms around his waist in a quick hug. "Love you, Papa!"
He smiled, ruffling her hair. "Love you too, Violet."
Then, with the grace of a proper lady-in-training, Violet turned and stepped into the carriage.
As the door closed and the wheels began to turn, Callian stood in place, watching until the carriage disappeared from view.
Sebastian crossed his arms. "So… how long until you go check on her?"
Callian exhaled through his nose.
"…Give me an hour."
*****
Violet sat quietly in the grand study hall, her hands folded neatly on her lap. The room was filled with the scent of ink and parchment, sunlight filtering through tall windows. Bookshelves lined the walls, towering and filled with thick tomes of knowledge.
Despite the beauty of the place, Violet felt uneasy.
It was her first lesson at the main manor, and she had just met her cousins.
Sylvia Ashville, the eldest at twelve, had a calm, elegant presence. She had the same silver hair as Violet, though her eyes were a sharper, colder shade of violet. She sat with perfect posture, her expression unreadable, as if she was already used to the expectations placed upon her as the daughter of William Ashville, their oldest uncle.
Then there were the twins, Vincent and Sienna, both nine years old.
Vincent was already someone Violet was familiar with. The last time they met, she had scolded him for throwing rocks at a cat. He had the same silver hair, but unlike Sylvia's cold elegance, he had a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he enjoyed stirring trouble.
Sienna, his twin sister, was different. She was quiet, watching everything with sharp eyes. Her posture was proper, and she didn't speak much, just observing with a thoughtful gaze.
And finally, there was Fiona.
The girl was only a year younger than Violet, barely five, with golden-blonde hair. But unlike the other children, Fiona's face was twisted into a scowl as she glared openly at Violet.
Violet ignored her.
Instead, she took her seat, straightened her back just as Papa had taught her, and prepared to learn.
The lesson began, and it was supposed to be simple.
Basic multiplication. Tax divisions.
Violet tilted her head.
This was… too easy.
Papa had taught her how to count using apple pie. When they baked together, he would cut slices and ask her simple questions: If we have eight slices and eat three, how many are left? Or If we bake three pies, each with six slices, how many slices do we have in total?
Violet had learned quickly because it was fun.
Now, as the sleepy-looking instructor scribbled a problem on the board, she couldn't understand why the other children were struggling.
"Vincent," the instructor called, "what is 46 times 12?"
Vincent groaned. "Ugh… I don't know. Can't we just use a counting board?"
"Absolutely not. Sienna?"
Sienna pursed her lips but shook her head.
The instructor sighed. "Sylvia?"
The eldest cousin calmly replied, "Five hundred and fifty-two."
"Correct."
Violet blinked. That was right, but why did it take so long to answer? Papa had taught her a trick—just break the numbers apart. 46 times 10 is 460, and 46 times 2 is 92. Add them together—552.
Easy.
The instructor continued, calling on each student, but soon, his questions became harder.
"Violet," he finally said, "how much tax should be collected if a village of 1,384 people each pays 17 silver a month?"
Violet tapped her chin.
Papa had explained taxes before. When he sold things in the café, he had to count the money properly. He even taught her how to round numbers to make things faster.
She thought for a moment before answering confidently, "23,528 silver a month."
The instructor blinked.
He adjusted his spectacles and rechecked his notes. "...Correct."
The other children stared.
Violet tilted her head. "Was that hard?"
Vincent muttered, "What kind of kid thinks that's not hard?"
The instructor cleared his throat. "Very well, let's continue—"
But now, he was excited.
He kept throwing more questions at Violet, and she kept answering.
Even when the problems got harder, she could still figure them out. She was used to numbers. Papa had made sure she understood them so that she wouldn't be tricked by merchants when buying sweets.
It was going well—until finally, she couldn't answer.
The instructor wrote something long, something complicated with multiple steps that she had never seen before.
Violet furrowed her brows.
She tried to break the numbers apart like Papa taught her, but they didn't fit neatly.
Her fingers twitched, wanting to reach for a quill to work it out, but she wasn't fast enough.
Silence.
The instructor finally smiled, satisfied.
"...I see. Even you have limits."
Violet pouted. She didn't like that tone. It sounded smug.
But before she could ask Papa to teach her later, the instructor frowned. "Who taught you?"
Violet blinked. "Papa did."
The instructor scoffed. "Impossible. He's just a commoner."
Violet's expression darkened.
Of course Papa could read and write. Of course he knew math. How else could he run a café?
But before she could argue, the instructor dismissed the class, walking off while mumbling about how it "must have been a fluke."
Violet huffed.
Then—
"You're just a half-breed."
The words were sharp, cutting through the room like a blade.
Violet turned to see Fiona standing with her arms crossed, her golden brows furrowed in a deep frown.
"That's why Mother didn't want you," Fiona continued. "She chose me instead."
Violet felt something twist inside her.
So this was her half-sister.
The child Julianna chose.
She should have felt… something. Sadness? Anger?
Instead, she just tilted her head.
"Fiona."
The blonde flinched at how calmly Violet said her name.
Violet's violet eyes stared at her, unblinking. Then, with genuine curiosity, she asked:
"You grew up in a good place, right?"
Fiona hesitated. "...Obviously."
Violet tilted her head further.
"Then why are you still stupid?"
Silence.
Vincent choked on a laugh. Sylvia said nothing, merely flipping a page in her book. Sienna just stared, unreadable.
Fiona turned bright red. "W-WHAT?!"
Violet blinked. "Papa taught me, and I understood everything. You have a real teacher, right? And you still can't do math?"
Fiona trembled, fists clenched.
Vincent snickered. "Damn, she's not wrong."
Fiona turned on him. "Shut up!"
Sienna, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "You shouldn't start fights you can't win, Fiona."
Fiona's eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to cry. Instead, she stomped her foot.
"This isn't fair!" she shouted.
Violet simply turned away, already forgetting about her.
The lesson was over, and she wanted to go home.
To Papa.