The manor stood at the very edge of the estate, isolated from the grand halls and lavish gardens of the Asheville family.
Far away. Forgotten.
Callian stared at it. It was a wreck.
The roof had holes, the stone walls were cracked, and the front doors creaked ominously as the wind passed through. Vines crawled up the sides, and the once-pristine windows were covered in dust. The entire place smelled of damp wood and neglect.
Even from the outside, it was clear—no one had lived here in years.
The group of servants who led them here stood back, their expressions barely concealing their amusement.
"This is the leftover estate," one of them said, voice dripping with condescension. "It's the only available space left."
Callian nodded. "I see."
The servants exchanged looks. They had expected outrage. A commoner—receiving a noble manor? They had been looking forward to the complaints, the demands for better treatment.
Instead, he just accepted it.
The head servant sneered. "You're lucky to receive any lodging at all."
Callian smiled slightly. "Indeed. I am grateful."
The servants' faces twitched. Somehow, that response felt even more mocking than an insult.
Without another word, they turned and left.
Not a single one remained behind to assist.
It was clear—no one here wanted to serve a commoner.
The moment they stepped in, a thick cloud of dust rose around them.
Violet sneezed.
Callian blinked at the sheer disaster before them.
Cobwebs clung to the walls. The wooden floors creaked dangerously. The grand chandelier above was missing half its crystals. An old piano sat in the corner, covered in mold.
Violet clutched his sleeve.
"…Papa," she whispered. "It's broken."
Callian looked down at her. Her large violet eyes were wide with uncertainty, her small hands gripping him tightly.
She wasn't crying.
But she was scared.
Callian exhaled. "It's fine."
Violet hesitated. "But…"
Before she could say more, he knelt down and tapped her nose.
"Didn't you say you liked fairy tales?" he said. "Where the hero fixes a ruined castle?"
Violet blinked.
"…Yes?"
Callian grinned. "Then we'll do the same. But better."
Violet's lips parted slightly.
"Better?"
"Of course," Callian said. "We have magic."
He raised his hand, closed his eyes, and murmured:
"Farterra Fortuna."
The air shifted.
A soft golden light spilled across the room as tiny figures began to appear.
Violet gasped.
Fairies.
Dozens of them, shimmering like little fireflies, flitted through the air. Their delicate wings sparkled as they twirled around the room, their laughter soft and musical.
They danced through the dust, leaving behind sparkling trails that cleaned everything they touched.
The cobwebs vanished. The broken furniture repaired itself. The floorboards gleamed.
Violet stared in wonder.
One of the fairies flew toward her, tilting its tiny head. It was no larger than her palm, its golden eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Violet hesitated—then gently cupped her hands together.
The fairy landed in them.
She giggled.
"Papa," she whispered. "It's so soft!"
Callian leaned against the wall, watching her with amusement.
"Mm," he said. "Fairies like kind people."
Violet's eyes sparkled. She lifted the tiny creature to eye level. "Then they like Papa too!"
The fairies stopped.
They turned to Callian, hovering for a moment—then swarmed toward him.
"…Wait."
Callian froze as dozens of fairies climbed onto him. They clung to his hair, perched on his shoulders, even hung from his sleeves like tiny ornaments.
Violet burst into laughter.
"P-Papa—" She clutched her stomach. "You look like a tree!"
Callian sighed. "So I do."
He gently plucked one off his collar, setting it on the windowsill. The fairies pouted but listened, fluttering back into the air.
As they worked, Callian turned his attention to the manor itself.
It wasn't beyond saving.
Yes, it was neglected.
Yes, it was falling apart.
But the location was peaceful.
There was a large garden in the back, untouched and wild. From here, he could see the mountains in the distance, the gentle flow of a river beyond the estate's walls.
The quiet suited him.
…If only it weren't for that problem.
Callian exhaled.
He knew he could leave.
He could take Violet and disappear—go far away, raise her somewhere safe.
But.
The heroes' prophecy.
He remembered the story.
He remembered how Violet suffered.
Violet was a kind child. She wouldn't sit by if something bad happened. She would help.
And if she got dragged in again—?
Callian closed his eyes.
It won't happen.
He wouldn't let it.
He looked at Violet, who was now running through the hallways, fairies flitting around her like a tiny parade.
She was happy.
That was all that mattered.
Callian rolled up his sleeves. "Well. Let's get to work."
With a wave of his hand, magic pulsed through the manor.
The chandelier glowed. The floors gleamed. The bookshelves repaired themselves.
Violet ran up to him, beaming.
"Papa, Papa! Can I have a flower bed?"
Callian raised an eyebrow. "One?"
Violet hesitated. "…Two?"
Callian smirked. "We'll make an entire garden."
Violet's eyes widened.
She clapped her hands. "Yay!"
Callian chuckled. This place wasn't so bad.
Who needed servants when you had magic?
Besides.
His mana capacity was bottomless.
*****
The manor, once abandoned and in ruins, had transformed in a matter of hours.
Where dust and decay once filled the halls, polished wood now gleamed. The once-broken chandelier now bathed the entrance in golden light.
The windows, once clouded with grime, now revealed breathtaking views of the vast gardens outside.
It was still quiet.
But it was no longer lifeless.
Callian, standing with his arms crossed, surveyed his work. Not bad.
But there was still one problem.
No servants.
Technically, they didn't need any. Callian had lived alone with Violet for years, and he could clean, cook, and care for her just fine.
But he couldn't always be around.
What if she needed someone when he wasn't home?
What if she wanted a playmate?
What if she got lonely?
Unacceptable.
Callian sighed and glanced down at the "kitty" sitting on the couch.
The demonic wolf.
Or rather…what used to be a demonic wolf.
Because right now, there was a man sitting stiffly in its place.
A tall, well-built young man, his wild purple hair still holding the slight fluffiness of his past form. His gray feline-like eyes glowed under the chandelier light, and most noticeably—his tail and ears still remained.
But what stood out the most was his attire.
Because he was now wearing a sharp, pristine black suit.
Violet stood in front of him, staring.
The cat-man—formerly known as a terrifying demonic beast—stared back, his tail flicking.
A long, painful silence stretched between them.
Then, Violet lunged.
"Kitty!!"
The man flinched but had no time to dodge.
SMACK.
Violet wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.
He scowled and tried to pry her off. "W-Wait, you little brat—!"
Then he felt it.
A glare.
Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his head.
Callian was watching him, arms still crossed, but his golden eyes were sharp.
The message was clear.
Obey.
The former demonic beast immediately straightened. His scowl vanished, replaced by a tense, forced smile.
"…Ahem. Of course, little mistress. As you wish."
Violet beamed.
"Sebastian!"
The cat-man blinked. "…What?"
"Your name! Sebastian!" Violet announced proudly.
The newly-named Sebastian twitched. "No."
"Yes!"
"No."
"Yes!"
"…Ugh."
Sebastian slumped in defeat. What had his life become?
He, a once proud and terrifying beast of the Forest of Death, was now…a butler?
What did this man do to him?!
Sebastian turned to glare at Callian.
Callian only smiled. "Just a little magic."
A little—?!
Sebastian ground his teeth but said nothing. He could feel the imprint of Callian's magic binding him to his new form. Not just his body—but his mind, now filled with human knowledge, customs, and etiquette.
A perfect butler.
Sebastian wanted to throw himself into a wall.
Violet giggled and patted his head. "Good kitty!"
Sebastian's ears flattened. …This was his fate now.
One butler wasn't enough.
Callian knew that.
He needed more.
So, as Violet played with Sebastian, Callian lifted his hand, calling upon old names.
Names of companions.
Names of warriors, legends, and rulers of past ages.
Names that, in his world, had shaken gods.
And so, as the air thickened with magic, three figures appeared.
First, a burst of flames erupted in front of him, blazing hotter than the sun.
From the fire, a man emerged.
Tall and proud, his long crimson hair tied behind him, his sharp golden eyes gleaming. He wore a chef's uniform—but his presence felt like that of a conqueror.
Callian smirked. "Falcon. Still burning, I see."
The man—Falcon, once the greatest Phoenix King—snapped his gaze toward Callian.
His mouth opened—then froze.
Because behind Callian, standing with wide, innocent eyes, was a little girl.
And in Callian's arms, he was holding her tiny shoes, gently dusting them off.
Falcon's brain shut down.
This was his master.
The same cold, ruthless man who once tore a god apart.
Now coddling a child.
Falcon paled.
"…You. You have a child?"
Callian glanced at Violet, then back at Falcon.
"Obviously."
Falcon almost collapsed.
Meanwhile, a gentle breeze swirled through the room.
A second figure appeared—graceful, elegant, her long blue hair flowing like silk.
Rael.
Once, she had been the most beautiful wind spirit to ever exist, feared and worshiped alike.
Now, she stood before Callian, dressed in the refined uniform of a head maid, her emerald eyes calm.
She observed Callian for a moment.
Then turned to look at Falcon.
Falcon, still in shock.
Rael sighed.
"Still dramatic, I see."
Falcon snapped out of it. "You don't understand! This man has a child!"
Rael arched an eyebrow. "Yes. And?"
Falcon flailed. "And?! He—he's—he—!!"
Rael ignored him. Instead, she turned to Violet.
Then she knelt.
"Little miss," she said softly. "I am Rael. It is an honor to serve you."
Violet tilted her head.
Then, suddenly—she gasped.
"You're so pretty!"
Rael blinked.
A small, warm smile formed on her lips.
"Thank you, my lady."
Callian, watching the exchange, nodded in satisfaction.
Good.
With Falcon as a chef, Rael as a head maid, and Sebastian as a butler, Violet would be well taken care of.
But he wasn't done.
With a flick of his fingers, Callian turned to the other spirits in the room—those lingering in the air, still invisible.
And, with a pulse of magic, he changed them.
One by one, they took human form.
The fire spirits became cooks.
The wind spirits became messengers.
The earth spirits became gardeners.
The water spirits became housekeepers.
Even the fairies from before twirled in delight, shifting into young maids.
Falcon gaped.
"…You just made an entire household."
Callian grinned. "Obviously."
Violet clapped her hands in delight.
"Our house is full now!"
Falcon turned to Rael. "…Are we just going to ignore that he basically created a kingdom overnight?"
Rael sighed. "We are."
Sebastian, finally regaining his ability to think, turned to stare at Callian.
Then, slowly, he turned to Violet.
"Little mistress."
Violet looked up.
Sebastian's golden eyes were unreadable.
"…Your father. He's a god, isn't he?"
Callian chuckled.
Violet looked at Callian. Then at Sebastian.
Then back at Callian.
She tilted her head.
"…Papa is Papa."
Sebastian's ears twitched.
"…That's an even scarier answer."