Dad is Back From a Deserted Island - Chapter 19

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Father has returned from the Deserted Island
Chapter 19

To choose a birthday gift for Jang, there was something I needed to know first.
“Do you know what Lord Lamber likes most?”
“Me! Father likes me the best!”
“Aww, how adorable….”
At such an unwavering, confident declaration, Anne found herself clutching her chest once more.
‘Lord Lamber would be delighted with just a birthday greeting from the young lady, but….’
Though Anne had only recently arrived at House of Lamber, she already knew that Jang was a devoted father. In fact, even during the brief interview before arriving, she couldn’t help but notice this man’s complete devotion to his daughter.
But there was no way she could disappoint a young daughter’s desire to give her father a gift.
“That’s true! Lord Lamber loves the young lady more than anything in the world. Hmm, but the young lady doesn’t just want to give a simple greeting, does she?”
“Right, right! That’s it! I want to give him something else. Something way cooler than the picture Peter gave him!”
Who was Peter?
But Anne didn’t ask. As someone experienced with children, she knew that wasn’t what mattered right now.
“Hmm. What would be good? Shall we go over there and discuss it, the two of us?”
The two of them discreetly moved to Anne’s room and began a proper discussion.
Though it was hardly a weighty matter to call a meeting, for Vivian it was the most important thing in the world. Both of them approached it with utmost seriousness.
“Well then, let’s think about what would be best to give him! Since there’s still time, shall I make a trip to Beluang?”
Anne was even prepared to empty her savings. If she thought of it as preparing the birthday gift together with Jang, it wouldn’t feel wasteful at all, especially since Jang was known for being quite generous with his servants’ wages.
Vivian’s cotton-candy-like hair swayed from side to side.
“No, that’s not something I’d be giving to Father. You’d be buying it all. Besides, I don’t have any money to buy Father something with.”
“Ah.”
Anne nodded in understanding at what Vivian was saying.
“Then… we should think of something the young lady can make or create herself. I’ve been thinking, and what about this?”
With that, Anne leaned close to Vivian’s ear and whispered, even though there was no one listening. Vivian’s eyes, which had been sitting quietly and listening, grew wider and wider.

* * *

“Oh dear, I’m late. My little princess must be hungry.”
The next day, Jang returned home with an anxious heart after attending to business in Beluang.
Since I hadn’t asked Anne to prepare the meal and was handling it myself, I worried that Vivian’s dinner would be served far too late.
I had completely forgotten that today was my own birthday.
“I can whip something up quickly… eh?”
I threw my outer coat onto the bed and rushed to the kitchen, where a delicious aroma wafted through the air.
Had Anne prepared the meal in my stead because I was running behind?
“Oh, Miss Anne. I’m sorry for making you prepare dinner…?”
An entirely unexpected sight awaited me.
A table laden with food and Vivian rushing toward me.
Vivian hugged my leg tightly and spoke.
“Happy birthday, Papa!”
“B-birthday?”
“Yes! It’s your birthday today. Didn’t you know?”
I didn’t know.
When I had no memories, I didn’t know when my birthday was and never celebrated it. After my memories returned, I had no leisure to concern myself with such things.
From my perspective, it had been more than a decade since anyone last celebrated my birthday, so it was understandable that I’d forgotten its existence.
Only upon hearing the word “birthday” did I think, ah yes, my birthday was around this time.
“How did you know when my birthday is…?”
“Of course I know! It’s your birthday!”
My eyes already burned with unshed tears. I held back my emotions and lifted Vivian, who clung to my leg, and drew closer to the table.
“Hehe, Papa. Look at that. Anne helped me make it!”
Where Vivian pointed with her small fingers sat a cake.
The fruit decorating the cream cake was arranged in a somewhat clumsy manner, making it immediately clear where Vivian’s small hands had touched.
“And, and!”
Vivian wriggled to be put down, and the moment her feet touched the ground, she scampered to Anne and received something from her.
It was a frame nearly as large as Vivian’s torso.
Vivian waddled toward me with the frame held backward so I couldn’t see its contents, and I watched anxiously lest she stumble.
At seven years old, she wasn’t at an age where she’d easily fall while walking, but a father’s heart worried nonetheless.
Seeing how little she must have eaten during my absence, her frame hardly different from when she was five, I couldn’t help but feel concern.
Fortunately—and naturally—Vivian didn’t stumble and arrived before me, proudly extending the frame.
“This too! This too! I drew it myself!”
“You drew it yourself…?”
With a racing heart, I turned the frame around to see a crudely drawn picture inside.
Did we have crayons in the house?
Something colored in pink and something colored in brown.
Vivian had no talent for drawing.
The abstract picture hardly resembled a person at all, yet I recognized the subject immediately.
“It’s my little princess and Papa!”
“Yes! That’s right!”
“Our Vivian… wanted to celebrate Dad’s birthday, *sniff*.”
Overwhelmed by emotion, my voice barely came out.
I wiped my hand across the frame, tears streaming down my face. If there had been no glass, Vivian’s drawing would have been completely smudged by now.
But what Vivian had prepared today was far from over.
As if determined to dry every last tear from my eyes, Vivian pulled my hand and seated me in a chair, then took something from Anne and stood before me with an expression of utmost concentration.
“Miss. Don’t be so nervous. Just do it the way you practiced!”
From behind, Anne watched with a satisfied smile—she harbored no regrets whatsoever about this extra work. Simply observing a refined beauty like me making various expressions and tearing up was entertainment enough—offering her encouragement throughout.
What else could she have prepared? I wiped the tears from my sleeves and straightened my posture.
Whatever it was, I wouldn’t miss a single moment of it.
What Vivian produced was a blade of grass.
‘Grass?’
Only after watching her bring it to her lips did I belatedly remember.
How Vivian had learned from Anne how to play a grass whistle and had been blowing on it right up until she fell asleep.
Her small lips drew in a sharp breath.
Soon a familiar melody began to flow forth.
The performance could hardly be called excellent.
It wasn’t a fine instrument—after all, a blade of grass could scarcely be called an instrument at all—and she had only just learned, so there were many places where the pitch wavered or the rhythm faltered.
But to me, it was a heavenly melody. Even if an angel descended and performed for me, it could never be more beautiful than this.
“Phew-! D-done. Sniff. I made more mistakes than when I practiced.”
The moment she finished, Vivian’s face fell and her head drooped, but I scooped her up into my arms at once.
“Mistakes? I didn’t hear any at all.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, truly. Dad had even forgotten his own birthday, and yet our Vivian remembered and celebrated it like this for me…”
My nose stung again, and I buried my face in my daughter’s shoulder, unable to continue.
‘I’ve given her nothing.’
I left her alone and abandoned her for years, making her suffer. And that wasn’t enough—I let her starve and sicken until she nearly died.
Though it was undone now, I would carry that guilt for the rest of my life.
“For someone like me to even be called Dad—”
Imagining how this small head had remembered my birthday and pondered how best to celebrate it, a feeling so profound and overwhelming washed over me that words could never capture it.
I could only hold Vivian close and weep.

* * *

Darkness settled upon the bed.
Jang had been tenderly stroking Vivian’s pink hair for some time now, his fingers lingering in its softness.
Hair that bore an uncanny resemblance to his wife’s—the woman who had departed from this world long ago.
Commissioning a portrait painter skilled enough to capture a likeness was no trivial expense, especially not in a remote village like this.
And so Jang had never managed to preserve a portrait of his wife.
It was only after she had gone that he’d had the portraits of himself and Vivian painted, a decision born from the sting of that regret.
On days like today, he longed to see her face, even if only in paint and canvas.
Yet with each passing season, her visage grew dimmer in his memory.
“Rosalind, Vivian blessed my birthday today. Can you imagine? When did she grow so much?”
How overjoyed his wife would have been, had she been here to witness it.
Perhaps she would have sung alongside Vivian, her voice joining in harmony.
At the thought of such a scene, a smile bloomed unbidden across Jang’s lips.
“You should have heard it yourself—how beautifully our daughter plays the grass flute.”
His hand, sweeping through Vivian’s hair, gradually slowed its rhythm.
“I miss you….”
His voice, heavy with longing, echoed through the empty room before dissolving into silence.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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