The Legendary Papa System: My Daughter's Pride is My Power

Chapter 6: Accidental Praise

"Millie, your shoe is loose again."

The little girl's voice carried across the corner of the back courtyard at St. Jude's Prep as the recess bell rang. Millie was sitting on a wooden bench with three of her friends. She looked down and saw that her left shoelace was indeed untied.

"I can't tie it tight," Millie replied. "Dad usually fixes the knot every morning."

Emily, a girl with short blonde hair, raised an eyebrow. "Your dad fixes shoelaces?"

"My dad can fix anything," Millie said without hesitation. "He's amazing!"

Miss Patel, the art teacher who happened to be passing by carrying a stack of drawing paper, stopped near them. "Fix anything, Millie?"

Millie nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Miss. If a chair wobbles, Dad fixes it. If a faucet leaks at home, Dad fixes it. If a bag tears, Dad sews it himself. Dad can always fix it."

The third friend, Oliver, chuckled. "When something breaks, my dad just buys a new one."

"My dad doesn't," Millie chimed in. "He says it's better to repair it. So I learn too."

Miss Patel smiled. "That's a nice attitude. Your dad must be very skilled."

"Super skilled!" Millie tied her shoelace as best as she could. "One time the window in our apartment was stuck. Dad just used a small screwdriver and opened it right up. Cool, right?"

Emily nodded. "Pretty cool."

The conversation went on normally. No one shouted. There was no crowd. Just four children and a teacher on a courtyard bench during recess. Millie didn't suspect a thing. She immediately shifted the topic to their upcoming art class.

Meanwhile, in the second-floor hallway, Rovan was wiping down the stair railing when a blue interface appeared before his eyes without warning.

[Sincere praise detected.]

[Source: Millie Miller]

[Location: Back courtyard, in the presence of a third party]

[Reward unlocked.]

[Skill acquired: Advanced Technical Repair & High-Level Asset Management]

[New asset: 100% ownership of small real estate firm "Harrow Lane Properties" in London]

Rovan stopped wiping. He stared at the interface until the letters faded away. The phone in his inner pocket vibrated. He waited until the hallway was clear, then unlocked the screen. An official email from a law firm had arrived. The transfer documents for ownership of Harrow Lane Properties were attached. An address for a small office in a quiet neighborhood. Number of properties managed: twelve rental units.

He let out a quiet breath. The pattern was becoming clear. Every time Millie praised him sincerely in front of others, something arrived. Yesterday in the hall. Today in the courtyard.

He tucked his phone away, grabbed his rag, and carried on working as if nothing had happened.

In the teachers' lounge, the conversation had shifted.

Miss Patel walked in, setting her stack of papers on the table. "The kids were talking about Millie's dad earlier. They said he can fix anything."

Mr. Grant, the math teacher, looked up from his cup of tea. "Millie's dad? The janitor?"

"Yes. Millie said so with pride."

Mrs. Collins, the English teacher, crossed her arms. "This week has been so strange. Langley and Hargrove were fired yesterday. A few parents got warning letters. Now the janitor's kid is talking as if her dad is an engineering expert."

"The Headmaster has changed too," Mr. Grant said. "He looks tense all the time. Yesterday he bowed in the hall. I saw it myself."

Miss Patel shrugged. "Maybe the foundation is cleaning the house. There have been complaints about some of the staff for a while."

"But it's too sudden," Mrs. Collins replied. "And those letters... it's as if someone is pulling the strings from the top."

George, a member of the cleaning staff who happened to be delivering a water jug, stood at the door. "Sorry to interrupt. But yeah, the mood is strange. Doris said she's never seen firings happen that fast."

Mr. Grant looked at him. "Did you guys in custody hear anything?"

"No," George answered quickly. "We just work. Rovan's quieter than usual, though. But he's always quiet."

Mrs. Collins tapped the table. "Rovan. Last night he was in the hall. His kid stood on a chair. Then the Headmaster came in and bowed. Don't you think those are connected?"

Miss Patel chuckled softly. "Connected how? He's a janitor. The foundation wouldn't hand authority to a janitor."

"I'm just saying it's strange," Mrs. Collins said. "Too many changes in two days."

The conversation died down as the recess bell rang. The teachers stood up and filtered out one by one. George nodded at them, then headed back to the utility room.

Rovan was already in there, pouring cleaning solution into a spray bottle. George walked in and closed the door.

"Did you hear the gossip in the breakroom?" George asked.

"No."

"They say everything's been weird since yesterday. Firing teachers, letters to parents, the Headmaster suddenly bowing down. Someone brought up your name."

Rovan didn't turn around. "Why me?"

"Because you were in the hall. Because your kid stood on a chair." George sighed. "I told them you don't know anything. But be careful. People love finding a scapegoat."

"I just mop."

"That's what I said too." George patted Rovan's shoulder lightly. "Just stick to your work. Don't get involved."

George stepped out. Rovan capped the spray bottle. He stood still for a moment in the narrow room. The blue interface briefly reappeared in the corner of his vision, displaying a summary of his new skills. He could feel knowledge about building structures, load calculations, and reading property financial reports as if it had been in his head all along.

He shook his head, picked up his bucket, and returned to the hallway.

In the afternoon, as the children filed out, Millie was already waiting at the side gate as usual. She waved her hand the moment she spotted her father.

"Dad! Today I told my friends you can fix anything!"

Rovan straightened the blue ribbon in his daughter's hair. "Oh?"

"Yeah. My shoelace came loose. Then Emily said her dad always buys new things. I told her my dad is better because he can fix them." Millie grinned broadly. "Miss Patel heard too. She said it was nice."

"You don't need to praise me in front of people."

"Why? It's true." Millie held his hand. "You really are amazing, Dad."

Rovan didn't answer. He simply held her small hand and walked toward the bus stop. Behind them, the school building stood quiet. Inside, teachers were still gossiping in the lounge. In his records, the documents for the new property company were officially valid. In his mind, the newly acquired skills felt tangible.

He stared at the road ahead. The pattern was clear. Every sincere praise from Millie in front of others brought something. And as long as the child didn't know, as long as she still spoke from the heart, the system would keep working.

Rovan adjusted his pace to match Millie's short steps. The bus had not arrived yet. The evening breeze blew gently.

"Dad," Millie said suddenly. "Tomorrow, if something breaks at school, you can fix it, right?"

"Dad is just a janitor."

"But you can." Millie looked at him with complete confidence. "I know it."

Rovan looked at his daughter. Her smile was innocent. Free of ulterior motives. Free of calculation.

He gave a gentle nod. "Let's head home first."

Millie swung their hands. "Ice cream again? Just a little bit."

"Just a little bit."

They stood at the bus stop. Inside the inner pocket of his gray uniform, dirty at the knees, Rovan's phone vibrated once more. A brief notification from the system.

[Reward pattern stable.]

[Continue.]

Rovan didn't unlock the screen. He just stood beside his daughter, waiting for the bus, making sure his expression remained the same as every afternoon before.