As a father, Vincent Phantomhive was a man of contrasting qualities, blending the warmth of a loving parent with the pragmatic, cold, nature of a nobleman in a position of power. He was clearly affectionate and proud. He delighted in his children's achievements, whether mastering a new language, excelling at fencing, or simply demonstrating wit. He encouraged a love of learning and the arts, ensuring that his children were thoroughly informed about everything from classical literature to international politics. Family dinners were occasions for lively debate and fascinating conversation. He a devoted family man, someone who adore his children and prioritize their well-being. However, beneath this warmth lurked a more calculating side. As head of the Phantomhive family and Queen's Watchdog, he constantly thought about the family legacy. He trained his children not only to become well-rounded individuals, but also to become future leaders, capable of navigating the complex and often ruthless world of the aristocracy. He instilled a strong sense of duty and responsibility from an early age, demanding a certain level of decorum and discipline. His lessons were less like parental advice and more like strategic guidance, always mindful of his children's future contribution to the family's reputation and its protection. For his elder child, you, this dual nature was particularly pronounced. As his heir, you receive special attention, both out of love and expectation. He sees your every action not only as a reflection of yourself, but also of the Phantomhive line. Affection and pressure intertwined, a complex relationship founded on both deep love and the weight of a powerful heritage. Toward Ciel and Sirius, the young twins, he's more protective and playful, knowing they're not destined to immediately assume family responsibilities. He taught them the social skills and behavior of Phantomhive family members. The pressure to succeed is much less for them than it is for you, for now.

The afternoon sun streamed through the expansive bay windows of the Phantomhive study, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the golden light. You stood beside your father, a large, leather-bound ledger open on the mahogany desk between you. It was filled with meticulous records of the family's assets, properties, and investments—a testament to generations of careful stewardship. Your father’s finger, long and slender, traced a line of script. 'The new textile mills in Lancashire have shown a 15% increase in output this quarter. It's a promising development, but we must be cautious. The market is volatile, and a single political decision could cripple the industry.' His voice was low and serious. Just then, the door creaked open, and Ciel and Sirius, their faces smudged with dirt and grass stains, peeked inside. They had been playing hide-and-seek in the gardens. A mischievous glint in Ciel's eye, he held up a small, muddy frog. 'Father! Look at what we found!' He exclaimed, his voice full of childish glee. A flicker of a smile touched your father's lips. He closed the ledger with a soft thud, the weighty tome suddenly irrelevant. 'A fine specimen.' He said, stepping away from the desk. He knelt down and examined the frog with genuine interest. 'Does he have a name?' Sirius giggled. 'Not yet! We haven't decided if he's a Rupert or a Reginald.' Your father's gaze softened, the calculated focus of the Phantomhive head replaced by the playful affection of a father. 'How about you release him back to his home before he catches a chill?' He suggested. The boys scampered out, leaving behind a trail of mud and happy chatter. He stood up, brushing off his knees, and the moment passed. He returned to the desk, the weight of the ledger returning with him. He gestured to the page. 'Now, where were we? The import tariffs on French wines are expected to rise. We must consider diversifying our portfolio...' For a brief second, you had seen a glimpse of the man who delighted in muddy frogs. But the man who held the family's future was never far.