The World Is Mine For The Taking

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.

If someone was born a boy, they were to be raised as a boy.

If someone was born a girl, they were to be nurtured as a girl.

There was no room for manipulation. No reshaping destiny.

A boy was born a boy. A girl was born a girl. No discussion. No exceptions.

To them, this… this was a betrayal.

When I stepped through the gates, the guards stationed there turned their heads. Their eyes locked onto me for a heartbeat too long.

Even though I was on the taller side for a woman, they hadn't noticed my real identity before. I used to keep everything tightly hidden—binding my chest, flattening any sign of femininity under thick layers of cloth. Back then, not even the guards noticed.

But not anymore.

Today, I made no effort to hide who I was.

I let it all show—

My body, my truth and everything.

Their eyes instinctively dropped to my chest, lingering for a moment as their minds tried to process what they were seeing. But they didn't say a single word.

Not a whisper. Not a question.

They simply stepped aside… and let me pass.

I walked the stone path leading to the main building, my boots clicking with each step, echoing in the courtyard like soft drumbeats of war.

As I entered the house, silence fell like a thick curtain.

The maids froze mid-step. The butlers stiffened as if time had paused.

Even the practitioners—the elite swordsmen and women personally trained by my father—gawked at me, their jaws slightly open, eyes wide with disbelief.

They looked at me like I was a ghost. Like someone resurrected from the past in an unfamiliar body.

But... could I blame them?

The person standing before them now was far from the one they'd grown used to. Far from the boy they had once greeted every morning.

Because that boy never truly existed.

He was just a mask. A shell. A carefully manufactured illusion.

And now, I had torn it off.

I walked forward, not slowing down for a second. I reached the heavy double doors that led into the lounge and shoved them open.

The creaking hinges screamed against the silence as I entered.

Inside, I found him.

Sitting in his favorite chair like a king on his throne, swirling a glass of wine in his hand, legs crossed lazily as he rested them near the fireplace, the flames casting flickering shadows along the walls.

"Father," I called out, my voice calm, but heavy with restrained emotion.

He didn't even glance my way.

"Looks like you've come back," he muttered, taking another sip from his glass. His tone was sharp and bitter. "What? You satisfied now? After stirring up that scandal? After dragging my name through the dirt? Ruining my reputation with your drama?"

He scoffed, the corner of his lip curling in disdain. "Well, congratulations. You did it. So… what's next? Planning to post another bombshell on the news? Or whatever the hell that internet thing is?"

"I didn't come to fight," I said. "I came to talk."

"We are talking, aren't we?" he replied dryly, still not bothering to turn his head.

I clenched my fists. "Then answer me. Why did you change my gender?"

There was a pause.

Then he spoke, voice low and cold. "You already know why."

"I want to hear it from you," I said, my voice sharp as a blade. "From your mouth. No more assumptions. No more silence."

He sighed—deep, annoyed and dismissive.

"Enough," he growled. "I don't have a daughter."

His hand rested on the hilt of the sword beside him, and he tapped the tip against the floor with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

It echoed like a warning bell.

"Leave now. Before I slice you in half."

So that was it.

His pride. His ego. Untouched and unrepentant.

"...Are you really that disappointed that I was born a girl?" I asked him, voice quiet but cutting. "So disappointed you had to erase who I was?"

He didn't answer.

"Disappointed enough to rewrite my body? My life?"

"I have no right to answer that," he muttered, gaze still fixed on the flames.

"You do," I snapped. "And I have every right to hear the truth."

I stepped closer, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

"For twenty years, I've been trapped in a body that never belonged to me. A lie wrapped in flesh. You told me I was a man. You raised me like one. You made me believe it. Every damn day."

My throat tightened.

"And when I finally found out the truth… it crushed me. I couldn't even breathe."

I stared at the back of his head, my vision blurring.

"But at the same time… it made sense."

"You always told me I had to be strong. Walk like a man. Speak like one. Think like one. But all of that—it was built on a lie."

My voice trembled, but I didn't stop.

"I'm a woman. I always was. And the truth is… you were afraid. Afraid I'd go back to who I really was. Afraid that your 'successor' would no longer be the weapon you forged."

I stood there, staring at the man who had shaped my entire life with his expectations and silence.

And for the first time, I wasn't hiding anymore.

He let out a long, heavy sigh. "Is this what all of this is about?" he asked, his voice sharp but tired. "You think you didn't deserve any of it? That you should've been someone who didn't have to carry the weight of my expectations? Well then, go to hell with that bullshit. You threw everything away the moment you turned back into a woman."

"Why do you hate me so much just because I'm a woman?" I shot back, my voice rising. "Is being a woman and the Sword Saint not enough for you?"

"A woman could never become a Sword Saint," he said flatly. "Not now. Not ever. In our time, the title of Sword Saint has always been held by a man. That's how it's always been—and how it always will be. That truth was carved into history the moment the title was born and passed down through our bloodline. There's no room for exceptions. No woman could ever truly bear that title."

He rose from his seat, slow and deliberate, then walked over to the fireplace. Without a second thought, he tipped his wineglass and poured its contents into the flames. The fire hissed violently as the liquid hit it, sending a bitter aroma and thin smoke curling upward.

"I've always wanted a son," he said, staring into the fire. "Yes. A son. A daughter wouldn't have been the end of the world, but what I truly wanted... was a son. So when my wife—your mother—gave birth to you, I was devastated. Crushed. My firstborn, the heir to my legacy, came out a girl. And I couldn't accept that."

He turned his gaze to me, cold and unflinching.

"So I made a decision. I changed your gender. Did it without your mother's knowledge, and definitely before you could think or choose for yourself. I wanted no guilt, no burden of consciously forcing someone to change who they were. I just wanted it done."

He paused.

"I assume you met her? The Black Witch. Yeah, that's who I hired. She's the one who changed you into a man. When I saw you afterward—when I held you and saw you as a boy—I felt relief. Pure joy. And then I returned home, where your mother was still recovering from childbirth."

His expression darkened slightly.

"But she must've felt it. Deep down, she knew something was off. Her instincts screamed it. Even if she never saw your gender before giving birth, even if she passed out the moment you were born... she knew. She sensed it. Something wasn't right."

His voice dropped, rougher now.

"I felt guilt. I won't lie. I did. Changing you like that... it haunted me. But I didn't do anything to fix it. I lived with it. I raised you as a man and made you into what I wanted. And in the end... your mother died never knowing the full truth."