Dad has returned from the deserted island.
Chapter 8
Jean watched Vivian, who had been clutching the egg all through dinner, and asked.
Even if she loved the jewel, this was getting out of hand; it looked like she was ready to take it into the bath with her.
“Vivi, isn't it heavy? Should Dad hold it for you?”
“I'm fine. It's not heavy at all!”
In truth, it was a bit heavy. But the moment she heard Jean, the egg threw such a fit about never being handed over that she couldn't let it show.
Vivian, who had been pouting at the egg, suddenly remembered something and hurriedly called out to Jean.
“Dad, Dad! Come here. There's something you need to do for me.”
“Hm? What is it?”
“First, let's go to my room! I put it there.”
Vivian hugged the egg with one arm and tugged at Jean’s sleeve with the other.
“What on earth could it be? But Vivi, isn't your room on the floor below?”
Vivian mumbled. She couldn't bring herself to confess that Peter had taken her room; the look on Jean’s face when she had offered to do the dishes that morning still weighed on her heart.
‘If he finds out how I’ve been living, Dad will be sad. I shouldn't tell him!’
“...Th-that room, I gave it to Peter. This is my room now.”
“...”
There was no way Jean wouldn't have realized the truth behind those words. But because Vivian’s heart, which was so focused on him, was both beautiful and heartbreaking, he pretended not to notice.
Vivian opened the door and pointed to the corner of the room.
“Ah, Dad! That painting, please take that painting out!”
“Painting? What painting... Ah.”
What Vivian pointed to was a portrait of Jean and Vivian.
Jean, who had been struck by the painful regret that he had no pictures left of his wife, had saved every penny he could to find a painter and have it made.
He had originally hung it where it could be seen the moment one opened the door, but when Ron and Mary tried to tear it down and throw it away, Vivian had begged and begged until they finally kept it in her room instead of discarding it.
It was so large that a grown man had to stretch both arms wide to carry it, and it had been so difficult to lug up the stairs that the scar from that day still remained on his leg.
He had looked at it until it was worn thin, but as his longing grew, he couldn't bear to look at it anymore. He had tucked it into a corner, trying hard to forget, so it hadn't come to mind immediately.
‘But now that Dad is back!’
It was time for the painting to return to its rightful place.
“This painting was still here...”
Jean, who had thought the painting was long gone, walked toward it with a choked expression.
His younger self, dressed as finely as he had been on his wedding day, and little Vivian, held preciously in his arms.
Thanks to the painter’s skill in capturing the way the sunlight streamed through the window, just looking at the painting made him feel as if he could breathe the air of that moment again.
How beautiful the day had been, how light Vivian had felt in his arms, and how lovely the sweet, milky scent of the baby had been.
Having recalled every memory, Jean wiped his eyes and hugged Vivian.
“Thank you, Vivi. You kept this painting safe. Shall we hang it back where it belongs?”
“Yes! I want to see it as soon as I walk into the house, just like before.”
“Of course. And from now on, your room will be the one you used to have. Understand?”
“Yes! But...”
Vivian cupped one hand—she was still holding the egg with the other—and whispered into Jean’s ear.
“Can't I keep sleeping in Dad’s room? I don't want to sleep alone in my room.”
Before he had left, she had insisted on sleeping alone in her own room.
Touched and filled with love, Jean let out a soft laugh and whispered back.
“You are always welcome, my princess.”
one week had passed. Vivian no longer doubted Jean’s existence. The child had become much brighter now that she knew her father wouldn't leave again.
And one week was enough time for Jean to get used to the sight of his daughter carrying the egg everywhere.
But now was not the time. Jean said in a fairly stern voice.
“Vivi. Didn't I tell you not to hold the egg while you're eating?”
“Yes.”
‘No! Don't put me down! I feel like I can hatch any moment now!’
“But you've been saying that for one week.”
‘No, this time it's for real! 5 minutes, just 5 minutes.’
“Ugh.”
“Vivian.”
Caught between Jean’s stern gaze and the pestering egg, Vivian dragged a chair over, placed it right next to her, and set the egg on it.
‘Just bear with me for 5 minutes! Hmm? Hmmm. Good. This seems fine.’
As Vivian sat with her hip and side pressed tightly against the chair—making it difficult to hold her utensils—the noisy, squawking egg finally fell silent, seemingly satisfied.
“Dad, the egg keeps pestering me to hold it, so I can't help it. It says it's coming out soon, so please just wait a little!”
When Vivian spoke like someone exhausted by child-rearing to Jean, who still looked unsatisfied, his stern expression couldn't help but soften.
“I'll let it slide just for today. But from tomorrow on, you have to sit up straight and eat, okay?”
“Yes! I want to sit up straight and eat too, Dad!”
‘To think you'd call the precious opportunity to care for this body such a bothersome chore!’
Vivian just pretended to pick her ear. Seeing that, the egg huffed and puffed in anger all by itself.
“Huh?”
It’s shaking?
Vivian, who had been about to pick up her fork, stopped with her mouth agape.
Indeed, the egg was moving. It couldn't contain its rage, rocking back and forth on the chair like a roly-poly toy, and then, suddenly.
Crack—
Cracks appeared on the surface of the egg, which had been emitting a brilliant light.
“Oh! Dad! The egg! The egg is hatching!”
“What? The jewel really cracked?”
“It's an egg, not a jewel!”
‘Little human! I was secretly thinking it was admirable of you to help me, but how dare you treat my words like dog droppings?!’
“This isn't the time for that! The egg is breaking! Can it come out now?”
‘What? The egg is breaking? Oh, oh my. It really is? Light, it's light! Ooh-ooh-ah-ah! I am free!’
As the egg shook a few more times, the cracks became more distinct. More than half of it was cracked, and soon, the thing that had been talking to Vivian the whole time revealed itself.
‘Ooh-ooh-ah-ah!’
“What... is that?”
Wearing the eggshell on its head like a hat was.
A monkey.
A baby monkey with black fur and red eyes.
“A-A monster! Vivi, c-come here!”
Seeing the monkey born from the egg, Jean was startled; he crossed the table and scooped Vivian up into his arms.
The monkey, which had been stretching its stiff body, heard that and let out an ooh-ooh-ah-ah sound, getting angry all over again.
‘To call this noble body a monster! You ignorant human!’
“Dad, is this a monkey?”
“Monkeys aren't born from eggs, Vivian!”
‘I am not a monkey, human!’
“It says it's not a monkey?”
Vivian replied, pressing her index finger to her lips. Since Jean couldn't understand the monkey that had emerged from the egg, it just looked like Vivian was saying strange things on her own.
But by now, Jean couldn't just dismiss Vivian’s words as a child’s delusion.
Jean, who had been ready to grab a knife from the table to attack the monkey, softened his stance slightly at Vivian’s voice.
“...Were you really talking to it, Vivi?”
“Did you think I was lying this whole time, Dad?”
When Vivian glared at him with sharp eyes, Jean stammered, “Nooo,” drawing out the word.
Whether he heard her or not, the monkey, which had been stretching its limbs, climbed onto the table and puffed out its chest confidently.
‘The outside air is refreshing! Human. And little human. Let me introduce myself properly. I am a divine beast left behind by a dragon.’
“It says it's a divine beast, Dad.”
“A-A divine beast?”
“It says a dragon left it behind?”
In the Empire where Vivian and Jean lived, there was a legend that the child a dragon had with a human had founded the country.
But in a world where monsters and magic had long since faded into obscurity.
People thought of it only as a story from the fairy tales they heard as children, and Jean was no different.
But now, the legend had appeared right before their eyes.
‘Kneel before me and worship!’
‘I don't know what that means, but I don't think I need to tell Dad.’
Vivian ignored the monkey’s words.
Jean, who had no idea how frivolously the baby monkey was speaking, asked with a cautious expression.
“U-Um. Great Divine Beast? May I... ask you one thing?”
‘Yes! Human. Unlike the little human, you know how to show me respect! Speak!’
“It says it's okay, Dad.”
“Why... are you a monkey?”
Silence fell.
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