Retired S-rank father becomes a teacher

The bathroom felt like an oven. The hot water scalded my skin, but I kept scrubbing; the warmth was a welcome distraction from the cold anxiety that was trying to settle in my chest.

A knock on the door startled me. I dropped my sponge.

"Princess?" Silas' voice sounded from the other side of the door, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

"Yes, Papa?" I crouched down and I scrambled for the sponge. He couldn't see me like this. My hair clung to my back, my skin red from the heat, and the white marble tiles made the whole room brighter than I wanted. The steam was thick.

"Is everything okay? Your heartbeat is a bit too fast."

My breath hitched. Of course he could sense my heartbeat. It felt like a betrayal—my body didn't understand the importance of this day and was ruining everything.

I twisted the knob, cutting the hot water, and grabbed a fluffy towel. "Yes. I'm almost done."

There was silence on the other side. Then he spoke again.

"Alright. Don't rush yourself. The castle isn't going anywhere."

My feet padded against the wet tiles as I stepped out, wrapping the towel around me tightly. I wouldn't wait another second; he was ready, I was ready. Everything was perfect, except for my hair. So wet and tangled. Why did I wash my hair again? The white walls of the bathroom seemed to mock me with my reflection.

A sigh left my lips and I dried myself as quickly as possible before opening the door. Silas stood there in a white dress shirt with a black vest over it, his black hair was styled neatly, and his violet eyes softly looked at my messy state.

Before he could talk, I rushed past him into my closet. My towel dropped and my butt was bare for him to see as I grabbed my underwear. I could feel his gaze on me, the heat of it making my skin prickle. I shook my head. Focus.

Slipping the black panties on, I grabbed a matching bra and turned around. He was leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed and his lips in a knowing smile. My cheeks flushed, and I glared at him. He didn't have to be so handsome all the time. It was unfair.

He snapped his finger and my dress appeared in his hands, the black lace shimmering in the morning light that streamed through my window.

"Arms up, princess," he ordered and I did as he said. I took shallow breaths as he leaned in, his warmth surrounding me as he slid the dress over my arms and onto my body, touching my bare skin by accident and on purpose—both ways excited me. The dress felt cold, the lace was delicate, and the zipper, the zipper was agonizing. Every centimeter he pulled up made me quiver. His finger traced the line of my spine as he zipped up.

His other hand went to my chin, tilting it up so he could kiss me. I closed my eyes, letting myself get lost in the moment and his warm lips on mine. Wet. Soft. Gentle. I poured my heart into it. Then he pulled away, his breath tickling my cheek.

"Are you calm now, princess?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

I bit my lip and nodded. His smile was soft and he patted my head.

"Good. Let's go."

"Wait!" I pulled back, and he raised an eyebrow. My hair. I had to do my hair. He chuckled. I sprinted to the dresser, grabbed a brush and combed through the tangled mess of black strands. A princess braid was necessary for a day like this. My hands needed to stop shaking. The braids kept escaping from my grip, but I didn't stop.

A warm presence was behind me again, and papa's fingers went into my hair, helping me with the braid.

"Slow down," he whispered in my ear. My shoulder slumped. His slender fingers weaved through my strands and he started to braid it himself. His touch was magic. My scalp tingled and I closed my eyes.

"I just want to be perfect for you, papa," I confessed. The braiding was a relaxing sensation. The way his fingers gently pulled my hair was nice. A hum came from him and then he kissed the top of my head.

"You're always perfect to me, my princess."

His hands were done and he turned me around, his lips on mine again. My eyes darted to the mirror. Two French braids fell over my shoulder. Two. I wanted one—my dream had one and he didn't know it... I swallowed hard. What else was wrong? The entire castle might be wrong. Did he use the right type of stone? My chest tightened. I felt dizzy. He was already not seeing me as his perfect princess. My knees buckled.

His hands caught me. The feeling of falling was gone as soon as it appeared. I couldn't look into his eyes.

"What's the matter? You were fine a moment ago."

My mouth opened and closed like a fish. I couldn't tell him that his castle was probably wrong, that he didn't pay attention to the little details that I told him, or that my braid was not how it was supposed to be.

He was my papa. I had to be perfect for him.

A finger pressed on my lips, stopping me from whatever nonsense was going to leave them. "Remember what we talked about. Breathe. Then speak."

My breaths came. Quick. The air didn't seem to enter my lungs properly. My head hurt.

"You... you did the braids wrong," I muttered. It was all my mind could think of right now. A pathetic thing to focus on.

His eyes were still gentle, and his hand stroked my cheek.

"I did?" He asked, tilting his head in question.

I nodded. A lump was forming in my throat and my vision got blurry. He would be mad now, I was too difficult and demanding. The castle wasn't ready and my braid was wrong.

"Then how would my princess like her braids to look?" He kissed the tears from my cheeks, his thumb brushing away the droplets.

"One big braid. The other is in the way," I sniffled, wiping my face.

Silas nodded and reached for my hair, undoing one of the braids quickly before rebraiding it all together into one thick French braid that hung over my chest.

I stared at the mirror; his arms were wrapped around me. A smile appeared on my lips.

"That's perfect, papa."

His lips were on my temple.

"Good. I'll remember it for next time," he murmured and took my hand in his. I looked up at him, the reflection in the mirror looked so sweet and lovely; he was the best papa.

"Ready for the castle?" he asked.

My eyes lit up and I nodded.

"Yes, please take me there now." The butterflies were back, but it was a good kind of nervousness.

With a smile on his face, the air warped and space opened up around us, and I held onto him tightly.