"Why didn't you just tell her the truth?" Areum asked. "Mom drugged you. Technically, you didn't cheat."
"Who told you that?!"
Sanghyun's voice rose in anger.
But it wasn't directed at her—it was aimed at Jiwon. He was furious that she'd told Areum something so shameless without considering the impact it might have on their daughter's sense of self-worth and emotional stability.
"She didn't need to know," he said curtly. "What I want people to know is that you are wanted. That you're important to me. That you're not a mistake."
Sanghyun didn't trust his wife, Yoon Sera, to keep from spreading rumors about Areum out of spite for Jiwon. He knew that within elite social circles, gossip spread like wildfire—and he refused to let Areum be reduced to a scandal or whispered pity.
It was bad enough that people knew she was illegitimate. Adding the details of Jiwon's actions to that would only damage her further. He couldn't bear the thought of Areum being talked about as if she were the result of something shameful.
He would rather be seen as an unfaithful husband than have his daughter be labeled a mistake.
She'd already suffered enough from his years of absence and neglect. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her any more than he already had.
That's why he had chosen never to tell Sera the truth—even if it meant putting strain on their marriage and enduring a chaotic, bitter atmosphere at home.
Taking a slow breath, he added, "I just… I don't want anyone associating your character with your mother's choices. You are you, not her."
Areum would be lying if she said that didn't move her.
A part of her still tried to stay guarded, to resist falling for his attempts to establish a deeper connection—because the original Areum, the one he abandoned, was already dead. It was too late. The damage had been done.
But that part of her had grown small and fragile over the years, like a flickering flame almost extinguished by six years of consistent showering of care and quiet affection.
For the first time in both of her lifetimes, Areum felt like a princess—pampered, protected, held in the palm of someone else's hand.
She had lived two lifetimes in loneliness. It would be a lie to say she hadn't been nourished by his presence, his efforts, and his care all these years.
Can I just let go of the fear now? she wondered. It's exhausting to carry it every day. Can I trust again, even if things might change later?
Can I pretend that the man who once ignored the original Areum to death isn't the same one taking care of me now?
Hearing him say she was wanted—not because of how she was born, and not in spite of what her mother had done, but simply for who she was—made her cheeks flush red. Her eyes flicked away, hands fidgeting awkwardly in her lap.
No one had ever told her something like that with such sincerity. She could feel it from his mana field, warm and unwavering.
Sanghyun looked at his shy daughter with a soft gaze. She looked like a kitten caught doing something naughty—her big, expressive eyes refusing to meet his. Unable to help himself, he reached out and gently pinched her cheek.
Areum drew her neck in like a startled turtle.
Clearing his throat, Sanghyun changed the subject. "There's something important we need to discuss. Your school term begins in three months."
"What?" Areum blinked, caught off guard.
"Don't you remember your promise? That you'd attend Daehyun Academy? You're turning sixteen soon—it's time for high school."
Can I take back what I just said about trusting this man? Areum thought, exasperated. How could I have forgotten something so important?
She wanted nothing to do with the main plot of the novel. Attending Daehyun Academy would jeopardize that goal.
Sure, she could try to stay in her lane even if she went there. But what kind of ripple effect would her presence have on the protagonist—Han Soyun?
So far, she had avoided asking Sanghyun about her half-siblings—especially Han Soyun. She didn't know how to face the girl who had once been the center of this story, the one whose life she might already be reshaping without meaning to.
Truthfully, Areum felt guilty. As much as she tried not to, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was taking some of her father's affection—affection Soyun might have received more of if Areum hadn't been here.
Even though Areum knew she deserved that love just as much, the unease still settled in, quiet and persistent.
Because of that, she couldn't tell how much her presence had already shifted the story.
Had Soyun's distrust toward their father grown deeper? Was the original plot already unraveling at the seams?
And if she enrolled at Daehyun Academy… would that only make it worse?
Besides, what could she really gain from school?
Her path didn't lie in grades or college entrance exams. It stretched into a dimension invisible to the naked eye—woven through the currents of mana, rooted in things most people didn't even believe existed. She couldn't imagine how any of that could be nurtured in a place like Daehyun Academy, surrounded by polished uniforms and prewritten futures.
Six years ago, she would've told Sanghyun no without a second thought—and if he'd tried to force her, she wouldn't have hesitated to run away.
But now? Now it felt too cruel to reject him when he was trying so sincerely.
Sure, she'd been saving up these past six years. She had enough money to run away, open a small shop, and live without income for two or three years if needed.
But… running away didn't feel right anymore.
Besides, what kind of responsible parent wouldn't want their sixteen-year-old daughter to attend a good high school?
"I can go to high school," Areum said slowly. "But… does it have to be Daehyun Academy?"
Sanghyun's brows lifted. "What do you have against Daehyun Academy?" he asked, incredulous. "You need to give me a reason I can understand."
Areum racked her brain for a believable excuse. "I don't want to run into anyone from the upper circle. I don't want to be the talk of the town."
His chest tightened at her words. He assumed she was ashamed—ashamed of being his daughter born out of wedlock.
Sanghyun swallowed hard, then gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His voice was steady, his expression unwavering.
"Even if they don't respect you, they'll have to respect me."
He cupped her face with his large, strong hands—the kind of hands that had built empires and buried secrets. "Let me see who dares to say anything once I make a personal visit."
Areum looked up at him. His determined gaze and commanding presence reminded her, once again, that this man—her father—was one of the Four Pillars.
Someone no one dared to disrespect to his face.