Dad Returned from a Deserted Island
Chapter 5
Morning came.
However, Vivian did not want to open her eyes.
‘I had such a wonderful dream...’
A dream where Dad returned, scolded Ron, Mary, and Peter, and held her tight.
If she opened her eyes, that scene would be gone, and she knew for certain that a cold, dilapidated room would greet her instead.
Then, she would have to go back to her grueling chores.
“Nooo—”
Flump.
As Vivian turned to her side, she felt something strange.
‘Why is the pillow so soft?’
Warm—
‘Gasp. And why is the blanket so warm?’
The pillow Vivian usually used felt more like straw than something soft, and the thin cloth she used as a blanket was nowhere near enough to keep out the cold.
But now, it was soft and warm, so Vivian was certain she had not yet woken from her dream.
“My princess! It’s time for breakfast.”
If only it weren’t for the familiar voice and the hands that lifted her up.
“Hmm?”
With the warmth of his cheek rubbing against hers, Vivian had no choice but to slowly open one eye.
Filling her vision was her dad’s face, completely devoid of any pretense, crumbling into a soft expression.
“Did you sleep well?”
For the record, Jean had been so shocked by his daughter’s “Who are you?” comment the previous day that he had shaved clean.
His skin was darker and rougher than she remembered, but that only made her more certain this wasn’t a dream. She had never once imagined her dad looking like this.
“Dad...?”
“Yes, it’s Dad. I’ve made breakfast, so let’s go eat.”
Still half-asleep, Vivian was carried to the dining room in Jean’s arms. The smell of delicious food made her mouth water.
“Are you really Dad?”
“Of course! Is there a fake dad out there?”
“No...”
Her small hands touched Jean’s face incessantly. She stroked it, then pinched it.
Jean didn’t stop her, waiting until his daughter was fully satisfied, even though the food was getting cold.
He felt like he was in a dream himself, so he could only imagine how Vivian felt.
Hee.
Finally realizing Jean had returned, Vivian giggled.
Jean giggled along with her, like a fool.
“My daughter, shall we eat now?”
“Yes. But, is Mary, is Aunt Mary coming back?”
Seeing the food laid out on the table, Vivian clung to Jean and asked in a slightly anxious voice.
“...No. Aunt Mary won’t be coming back ever again. I made all of this, you know?”
“Dad did?”
Vivian’s eyes went wide.
Even if they were a destitute noble family with nothing but a title, they were still nobles. Jean had never had any reason to cook in the kitchen himself.
‘Dad made this delicious-looking food?’
Jean smiled triumphantly at his daughter’s gaze and sat Vivian in her chair.
“That’s right! I even learned how to cook so I could make delicious food for my Vivian.”
In truth, it was a humble spread to be bragging about.
Freshly baked bread and soup were the only things that could really be called cooking, while the scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and fruit were more like simple preparations.
Of course, to Vivian, who had spent her days surviving on a single piece of black bread, it was a feast.
The smell of the food made her empty stomach cry out in hunger. Vivian picked up a fork and eyed the food like a predator catching its prey.
“Oh my, princess. You’re spilling it. Slowly, slowly.”
“It’s so good—”
Jean didn’t even pick up his own fork, tending to Vivian instead. It seemed he was full just hearing Vivian praise the food with her cheeks puffed out.
Hee-hoo, hee, hoo.
Once Vivian had eaten until her belly poked out and she began to catch her breath while leaning back in her chair, Jean finally began his own meal.
“I’m finished.”
It was when Jean had finished every last bit of what Vivian had left and stood up to clear the table.
“I’m finished!”
Vivian, who had been lounging, jumped up from her seat, grabbed the plate she had eaten from, and ran to the kitchen.
“Vivi?”
“Dad, just bring the plates! I’ll do the dishes!”
Jean’s hands, which had been clearing the table, stopped.
Dishes?
Vivian was only 7 years old. And she had a frame much smaller than her age.
He had heard about how Vivian had lived while he was away, but seeing it with his own eyes was beyond words.
The term "heart-wrenching" didn’t even begin to cover it.
He wanted to go to the prison right now and tear Ron to pieces.
Suppressing the impulse, Jean bit his lip. He stopped just before the thin skin tore and bled, managing a smile.
“No? You have something else to do, my princess.”
“Hm? What is it?”
“It’s time for snacks! Go sit in the parlor, and I’ll bring them to you in a moment.”
“But—”
“It’s some really, really delicious chocolate. Vivi, do you remember eating it a long time ago? You know, that soft, sweet brown treat.”
“Gasp! Really?”
Sure enough, Vivian began to waver, still holding the plate. Jean swallowed the hot rage rising in his throat and playfully shooed his daughter out of the kitchen.
“...”
Clatter, clatter.
As he cleared the plates, Jean made a vow.
Never again would he let Vivian say something like that.
Since the child had suffered through so much she shouldn’t have had to because of his own stupidity, he would make sure she walked only on silk for the rest of her days.
He would make her say she didn’t want to eat chocolate anymore because she was sick of it—the same chocolate he hadn’t even been able to afford to buy her often.
Jean was confident he could make that happen.
He had to.
He was no longer the ignorant country bumpkin he once was.
“That’s right, I have—”
He had memories brought back from the future.
2 years from now, or in Jean’s memory, over a decade ago.
Jean de Lambert set sail with big dreams in his heart.
His ambition was to bring back luxury goods from the New Continent and make a great profit.
There was only one reason Jean, who had lived a modest life his entire existence, had such a dream.
It was for the happiness of his beloved daughter.
Jean’s wife seemed to be the daughter of a fairly prominent noble family. In truth, Jean didn’t even know which house she belonged to.
He had never asked, and she had never said.
The fact that they loved each other deeply was enough.
But one’s origins cannot be hidden, and Jean could read many things from her stories.
An expensive debutante dress that cost as much as the couple’s living expenses for several years.
Heirlooms passed down through generations.
Countless balls and endless guests.
The servants, whose numbers his wife didn’t even know.
Having abandoned all of that to fly to his side, his wife never missed those things at all.
‘Jean. Look at me. Don’t cry. You have to remember my final moments properly.’
His lovely lover did not express regret until the very moment she passed away while giving birth.
Except for one thing. The fact that she wouldn’t see their newborn baby grow into an adult.
‘I wonder how beautifully she’ll grow up. Tell me later.’
‘She’ll be beautiful regardless of which one of us she takes after.’
‘That’s true. Oh, right. I have some jewels I brought when I left home. If Vivi ever says she wants a pretty dress later, sell them and buy it for her. If she wants to have a debutante... that might be hard. I should have brought more. Don’t you think?’
Knowing her heart, that she was only joking to make him smile, Jean forced a laugh. Only after seeing his smiling face did his wife smile, as if she were finally at ease.
‘Then, please take good care of our princess... I love you, Jean. I’m sorry...’
Feeling his wife’s hand grow cold, Jean made a vow.
He would ensure their daughter had the most beautiful debutante in the world.
But the Lambert family was a destitute house with no proper estate left. Such expenses could not be covered even if he sold every asset he had.
To gain great wealth, one needs adventure.
‘My princess, Dad will be back soon!’
Jean waited until Vivian was old enough to remember him, and once the child turned 5, he sold all his usable assets and set out on a long journey.
Life on the ship at first was boring.
The waves were calm, and the only thing to do on the ship was fish.
It was when he was brainstorming a new card game with the crew with a serious face.
A demonic storm arrived.
The scene of chaos, the screams, the thunder like roaring lightning, the distorted expressions of the people.
Waves as large as houses smashed the ship that had once boasted such majesty and swallowed the people whole.
There was only one survivor among them: Jean.
‘...Where am I?’
The place where the waves spat Jean out was a deserted island.
‘Who... am I?’
When Jean opened his eyes there, he was in a blank state, having forgotten everything.
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