I'm Secretly the Father of the Yandere Villainess's Daughter

Roger swallowed hard, the dry click in his throat echoing in his own ears as he stared in disbelief at the first question. It wasn’t just answered; its complex magical formula had been meticulously dismantled, flawless down to the last detail. At that exact moment, Roger felt that something was fundamentally wrong with this wretched world—something that defied all common logic.

His trembling eyes instinctively darted to the second question, only for the horrifying reality to slap him in the face. It, too, had been solved with the same terrifying precision.

Across the room, Amelia sat silently on the plush sofa, legs crossed with an elegant, imposing pride. A majestic, profound aura began to radiate from her small body—an aura that didn’t belong to a five-year-old child at all, but to a true, unquestioned ruler.

Meanwhile, Cain watched Roger, whose face betrayed utter shock in every line and wrinkle. Thoughts swirled in the Duke’s mind as he noted his daughter’s progress. ”Did she truly solve multiple questions this quickly? It proves her exceptional talent, but her limitations will surely show in the advanced questions on the following pages. My little girl must learn that arrogance is dangerous in the world of magic, and that knowledge is a shoreless ocean.”

Little did Cain know, his daughter wasn’t merely swimming in that ocean—she was the one who had designed its waves in her past life.

While Cain quietly sipped his tea, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, Roger tried to speak. However, the words refused to leave his parched throat. He was entirely paralyzed by a shock that rattled the very foundations of his soul.

He saw with his own eyes that the three-page exam had been mostly solved by a five-year-old girl without her even blinking, treated with a cold indifference as if it meant nothing to her vast intellect. Even worse, her solutions included intricate sub-theories that he himself didn’t know or understand.

But suddenly, a glimmer of hope flared within him as he remembered the ultimate hurdle: the final question at the bottom of the third page.

This specific question had been crafted by his late Imperial Mentor. It was the only question in the empire’s history that every single one of her disciples had failed to decipher. To this day, no official model answer existed in the records because, at its core, it was a philosophical and moral riddle rather than a purely magical one. Moral questions were always subject to endless debate; after all, even ordinary humans historically argued whether taking innocent lives for a greater good was justifiable or a heinous crime.

The riddle read as follows: [Can you truly be considered a powerful star mage if your magic cannot kill ordinary humans?]

It was a deeply contradictory question. Any mage in this world, even one without rare star magic, could naturally harm or obliterate the fragile bodies of commoners if their mana was strong enough. At the same time, an immensely powerful star mage had no instinctual need to slaughter civilians just to prove their dominance to the universe. Yet, if your magic was physically incapable of harming them, did that make your magic weak? Did it make you weak?

It could ultimately be summarized as an open-ended question dependent on perspective. But Roger knew his late master never wrote open-ended tests; her exams always demanded definitive, unyielding answers that left no room for debate. He had always wondered in secret if there was a singular, cosmic answer that his own intellect simply failed to grasp.

But now, as Roger’s eyes fell upon the little girl’s elegant handwriting, his bewilderment vanished, replaced by a sly smirk. Her written response began simply:

”The question itself is flawed.”

Beneath it, she broke down the dilemma.

”The premise of the question assumes that the ability to slaughter the weak and defenseless is the sole metric of true power. This assumption is scientifically corrupt. If a mage possesses a cosmic-tier magic capable of slaying a god, yet this magic is structured with precise mana pathways so it never interacts with or harms ordinary human bodies for their protection—does that make the mage weak? The answer is a definitive no. Therefore, the very foundation of the question is invalid, making it impossible to measure true strength through it.”

Roger let out a sigh of relief and laughed aloud, desperately trying to reclaim his shattered dignity in front of Cain. ”Hahaha! The final question is completely wrong, young Mistress! This riddle was designed to never have a definitive answer. Your philosophical reply is nothing more than a personal opinion, not a scientific conclusion, isn’t it?”

Amelia met Roger’s gaze with eyes as calm and cold as death itself, asking in a mocking tone, ”Do you, then, have a definitive, scientific answer to this question you claim to understand?”

Roger stared at her. Though no visible magical aura swirled around her small frame, a sudden suffocating weight pressed hard against his chest. It felt as though he were being silently crushed under the sheer gravity of her presence. Swallowing hard, he tried to keep his composure. ”Of course I have an answer. I am the one who brought this test, after all!”

Amelia sneered. ”Then since you have it, it must be a decisive, scientific answer. Otherwise, your response will be just another foolish personal opinion, and you will have to fulfill our wager!”

Driven by pure ego and self-preservation, Roger refused to concede defeat at any cost. He couldn’t allow his pride to be shattered by a little girl, especially in front of the Supreme Leader. He tried to maneuver around her logic.

”But your explanation is what’s flawed! How could a terrifying magic capable of killing a god possibly be incapable of harming a fragile civilian? In the laws of magic, wouldn’t such an inability just make the mage weak and incompetent?!”

Amelia let out a faint smile, one filled with utter contempt for her former disciple’s staggering stupidity. She delivered a decisive blow that completely silenced him:

”That is because any average mage can kill ordinary civilians with ease—even a weak novice can do so effortlessly. If the metric for supreme power in this world were merely the ability to slaughter the defenseless, then by your logic, every single mage in existence would be equal in strength, with no hierarchy between them. Therefore, your entire conclusion is scientifically bankrupt!”

A deathly silence blanketed the grand hall.

Roger’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. He took a staggered step back, staring in genuine horror at the little girl before him. Deep in his trembling soul, a terrifying thought echoed:

”Is it truly possible for such a miraculous, definitive answer—one that completely cracks the laws of magic—to come from the mouth of a five-year-old child?! Or am I facing a monster in disguise?!”