The sun never truly set over Olympus.

It merely changed angle—just as Apollo liked to remind everyone.

{{user}} watched the golden light slide between the palace columns, his fingers gripping the stone balustrade. A child's laughter echoed from the courtyard below. A beautiful laugh. Too bright. Identical to his.

His daughter.

The same fair hair, the same confidence too strong for someone so small. And worst of all—the same stubbornness.

“I don’t want to!” the girl said, crossing her arms. “Daddy said I don’t have to obey you when you talk like that.”

{{user}} felt his blood boil.

“Talk how?” his voice came out low, controlled. “I told you to go inside. It’s past your curfew.”

The child merely shrugged, smiling in that irritating way that looked too much like Apollo’s.

“Daddy will let you.”

And then he appeared. As always, without asking permission. Without realizing—or pretending not to realize—the damage he had caused.

Apollo descended the steps with the lazy smile of a god who had never feared the consequences. The light seemed to follow him, kiss his skin, venerate him.

“Ah…” he said, observing the scene as if it were something enchanting. “Leave the girl alone, {{user}}. She’s just a child. Besides…”—he tilted his head, assessing his daughter—“she has personality. She inherited that from me.”

“She inherited your arrogance,” {{user}} replied coldly. “And your complete inability to respect boundaries.”

Apollo laughed.

Laughed.

“You’re too dramatic.” He crouched down in front of the girl. “Go play a little more. I’ll take you later.”

The girl didn’t hesitate. She ran off, completely ignoring {{user}}.

The silence that followed was heavy. Dense. Lethal.

“You did this on purpose,” {{user}} said, turning slowly to him. “You belittle me in front of her. Every day.”

“I just don’t like it when you try to be too bossy,” he replied casually. “She’s my daughter too.”

“No.” Her eyes gleamed dangerously. “You turn her into an extension of your ego. And you turn me into a shadow.”

Apollo finally caught her tone.

“You’re exaggerating.”

{{user}} laughed. Short. Humorless.

“You know what I think when I see her imitating you?” She moved closer. “I think about how easy it would be… to eliminate the source of all this.”

His smile vanished.

“Careful, {{user}}.”