Johanne's POV
I made my way back to the house... or rather, to the place that used to be my home.
The place where my father raised me—not with warmth or gentleness—but with discipline, pressure, and expectations.
Where he forged me, hammered me into what he envisioned: a Sword Saint. Not just any successor, but his successor.
Where he shaped me to walk a path not meant for me.
Where he raised me, not as his daughter… but as the son he wanted.
Now, that house—cold, looming, and more of a fortress than a home—was crawling with guards. Stationed at every gate, every corridor, and every blind spot.
It wasn't surprising. Not after what had exploded across the net like wildfire.
That truth had torn into the Church's rigid ideals. And those loyal to the Goddess? They were furious.
To them, it was heresy.
To tamper with fate, to defy divine design—especially with something so sacred as one's gender—was blasphemy of the highest order.
