The mist of the [Fairy Realm] thinned as the girl and the old man stepped forward hand in hand. With each step, their surroundings shimmered, the last remnants of that ancient domain dissolving into radiant threads of light.

“…You’ve changed,” the old man said softly, glancing sideways at her.

The girl—no, the young goddess—smiled, brushing a strand of silvery hair behind her ear. “A thousand years will do that to a person. But I’m still me… your ‘granddaughter,’ remember?”

[Indeed. But… you seem to carry more than just power now.]

She didn’t answer immediately. They continued walking until the world shifted.

Before them opened a grand expanse: floating islands in a sunlit sky, rivers of light weaving between crystalline towers, beasts and spirits coexisting in harmony. This was not the world she was born into, nor the one she had been reincarnated into. It was her world now—shaped by her hands, her trials, her victories.

“This is the [Divine Sanctuary],” she said. “I built it from the fragments of broken worlds. A haven for outcasts, orphans, wandering souls…”

[So this is the world you created?]

She nodded. “It started small. I just wanted to give people a place where they wouldn’t be hated or hunted. But somehow, it kept growing.”

[You’ve done well.]

“Mm,” she replied. “But… I still feel like I’m running.”

[Running? From what?]

She stopped walking and turned to him. Her eyes—once filled with childish fear—now held endless depth.

“From the ‘villainess’ inside me. From the part of me that still wonders if I deserved any of this.”

The old man looked at her for a long moment before gently resting his hand on her head.

[You gave up your first life to protect another. You bore a second life under the weight of scorn. And still, you chose kindness… again and again. If anyone deserves peace, it is you.]

Her lips trembled slightly. “That’s why I came to get you. Not just to thank you… but to share this peace with someone who once shared theirs with me.”

The sky shifted again.

They now stood before a grand temple. At the center was a throne—not of authority, but of rest. A place where weary gods could sleep.

“…Will you stay?” she asked.

The old man smiled.

[If you’ll have me.]

She reached out once more. “Welcome home, Grandpa.”

As he took his seat and leaned back, a warm breeze blew across the temple. Spirits gathered, whispering joyfully.

And the goddess—once a lonely villainess in a cruel game—watched with a quiet smile.

In this world she had built, her story was no longer about survival or redemption.

It was about legacy.