Retired S-rank father becomes a teacher

Saturday. The clock just struck midnight. 12:00am. My heart was hammering against my ribs, and I was staring at the dark ceiling of my bedroom while the rhythmic ticking echoed off the cold walls. I hadn't slept a wink last night, and I still had five hours to go before Papa said he would teleport me to the castle.

Turning on the lamp on my nightstand, the soft light filled my room. My dress was already prepared and laid out on the bed next to me. It was a beautiful, long, black lace gown with silver embroidery on the bodice. A crinkle stood out to me. Imperfect. My body burned, sweat forming on my skin.

"One. Two. Breathe, Victoria," I muttered to myself.

Pushing the white comforter off, I placed both my feet on the soft carpet of my room and stood up. "It was just a single crinkle, nothing to worry about," I said and nodded to myself. With calm, steady steps, I eased around the bed to the side where the dress lay.

The crease stared back at me, mocking me. Clenching my fist, I raised my hand and then took a deep breath. No. Don't rip it. Just smooth it out with your hand.

The silk was soft under my fingers, the black lace delicate and I gently ran my hand over it, feeling the crinkle and smoothing the fabric out. It disappeared, and I sighed in relief.

Turning around, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. The bright light of the screen made me blink a few times, and the clock read 12:03am.

Five hours.

The moon was bright in the night sky, visible from my window, and from the corner of my eye I could see my dress. The crinkle. It returned. My stomach churned, my spatial mana surged, and I tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like my throat was closing. Reaching for my ears, I rubbed my amethyst earrings; the stud felt smooth. Papa's blood was inside it. Soon he'd be inside me.

The thought of him helped, and I closed my eyes. Breathe. There was a straightening iron in my closet. I could fix it.

My body moved, taking the dress to the vanity, and then I pulled out the pressing board. Placing the dress on it, I grabbed the iron and turned it on. There were four options; the one for lace was on. Then I turned the temperature knob to the right, all the way to the hottest setting; steam came out of it, and I had to wipe my forehead from the sweat.

No, it wasn't too hot—the crinkle needed to burn.

With slow, perfect, and steady movements, I ironed the light lace. The metal scorched dangerously close to my finger, but I didn't care—Papa would say it was a necessary sacrifice to win the fight. Steam rose up, filling the mirror reflections with thick vapor. I kept pressing and pressing. At one point, the sun was shining through the window, and my shoulders ached, but I refused to let a measly crease ruin my perfect day.

A hand touched my shoulder, and I jumped. The iron almost dropped on the floor. "Papa," I said, because he was the only one who could sneak up on me.

"Nope." My mom, Liz, giggled; her emerald eyes looked at me with amusement. She wore her pink silk pajamas, the same ones she wore every night, and she smelled like vanilla. Always vanilla. My shoulders relaxed. I put the iron on the board.

"Morning, mom," I replied with a small smile. Her eyes scanned my face, then the dress, and finally the iron. She tilted her head and green magic flowed from her fingertips as she put her fingertips on my forehead like she was taking my temperature.

"You haven't slept at all, did you? Oh, Victoria." Her voice was full of concern. It felt like warm honey on my ears, and I shook my head.

"Of course I slept. I wouldn't be tired..." I stifled my yawn with my hand. "On such a special day," I finished.

With a raised eyebrow, she crossed her arms. I could feel her motherly aura suffocating me, and I quickly turned to grab the dress, holding it against me, warm from the iron. I didn't want her advice today—it was supposed to be only papa and me. She and Kathy were supposed to go anywhere but Earth. I told papa to send them to Pluto for a day. He said no. I had to settle with sending them to the Maldives.

Mom's hand rested on my shoulder again, and she forced me to look at her. Then she shook me, and the room started to spin; my stomach turned. The fan was loud, the bed sheets were suddenly blue, and I felt like throwing up.

"What was that for!?" I screamed as I regained my balance. My mother stood there with a satisfied smile on her face.

"Vic, you have to breathe. The day hasn't even started, and you're already about to collapse. It's just a little crinkle."

Goosebumps rose on my skin; she said the C-word. How could she know about that?

My lips pressed in a thin line.

"How do you know about the thing?" I asked, my voice cold and flat.

She just shook her head.

"Honey, you heated the entire mansion with your iron and I heard you muttering about the evil crease. Even Kathy had to escape the heat by going outside." She walked to my vanity and put the iron away, turning it off.

My body felt cold, and I shivered. How embarrassing. I wasn't my usual self right now. Taking another deep breath, I sat on the edge of my bed, and my mom came over, her arms wrapping around me in a hug. If I acted like this around my mom, how would I be around papa? Would I freak out even more and ruin his plans? He prepared everything for me, and here I was being a useless lump of flesh.

A sudden flick to my forehead snapped me out of my spiral.

"Ow! What was that for?" I rubbed the red spot. She was still A-rank after all. I forgot that sometimes.

"Don't think so hard, Vic, about your first time with your dad. It will be okay. The most important thing is to be present and in the moment," she said, kissing my cheek.

I sighed. Of course my mom would give good advice about sex. But she didn't understand—this wasn't just sex for me; it was everything. The first step in a life of devotion.

With a nod, I got up, still holding the dress in my hands and hugged her back.

"Thanks, Mom," I mumbled into her neck.

"Always, sweetheart."

Maybe I should have Nina be her servant today instead of mine. Mom earned it. The alarm clock rang at 5:00am. My heart skipped a beat.

It was time. And I still had to shower, do my makeup and hair, and get dressed.

"Get out, Mom!" I pushed my mother towards the door; she was laughing as she opened it. I grabbed the handle and shut it in her face. My breathing was hurried, forceful as I ran to the shower, my feet cold against the floor. Hurry. Hurry.