Dad is Back From a Deserted Island - Chapter 4

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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 4

What was there to hide?
The man who had brazenly stormed into Lamber House, startled Ron and Mary, and called Vivian his daughter—his identity was unmistakable.
It was none other than Jean de Lamber.
“V-Vivian. Who is this? Oh, it’s Father.”
“But that’s not Father…”
At his daughter’s denial, Jean’s expression crumbled as though the heavens themselves had fallen. He leaned forward and took a step closer, but Vivian recoiled in terror.
And just like that, Jean’s heart shattered.
Yet this was not Vivian’s fault.
“Our father doesn’t look like this—”
The man before Vivian now bore scant resemblance to the Jean she remembered.
Jean had once been a man whose beauty was renowned throughout this village, this castle, this very kingdom—though this claim came purely from his wife’s insistence—and he would have deserved such praise.
Soft chestnut hair, eyes that captured the very essence of a spring sky. A sharp nose, lips curled slightly upward at the corners, a jawline lean and defined without a trace of excess, and an expression perpetually gentle.
Men who envied him might have called him delicate, but women and some men could only sing his praises, saying he awakened their protective instincts.
Vivian could have imagined a fairy tale prince’s face as Jean’s own without the slightest discord—he was like a graceful fawn of a man.
Yet the Jean standing before Vivian’s eyes now was utterly transformed.
A beard so thick and unkempt that his lower jaw was barely visible, eyes bloodshot from sleeplessness and the desperate rush to reach home, and hair matted and disheveled.
The lean, muscular frame that had once moved with such grace was gone, replaced by a physique so massive he could have crushed a wild boar with a single hand.
He resembled less a fairy tale prince and more a bear attacking a princess—so it was hardly surprising that Vivian failed to recognize her father.
“Waaah—”
From Vivian’s vantage point, looking up at this towering figure only made him seem more imposing, and the child could not help but burst into tears at the sudden appearance of this man claiming to be her father.
“Oh, Vivian. My precious princess. Yes, yes. Father has changed quite a bit, hasn’t he? I rushed so hard to see our princess. Father crossed the sea and climbed mountains just to see you, didn’t he?”
Jean stammered as he tried to soothe his frightened daughter.
Though afraid, Vivian quickly reached out and let herself be held when he extended his arms.
Seeing her so clearly yearning for warmth, Jean’s heart was pierced anew, as if by countless needles.
“Look, look at my eyes! Yes, look at them, Vivian. They’re the same color as yours, aren’t they? Didn’t I tell you there’s no one in this world with eyes the same shade as yours?”
“Father…”
Since Jean’s voice alone remained unchanged, Vivian could gradually find solace in his embrace.
Vivian sniffled, blinked away her tears, and gazed into his eyes.
When she saw the bloodshot whites of his eyes, she shrank back in fear.
When she beheld those sky-blue irises so like her own, her frightened eyes widened.
And when she discovered the overwhelming affection for her overflowing from those eyes, fresh tears welled up once more.
“Father…?”
“Yes! Vivian, it’s Father. Father! Do you recognize me now?”
“Nooo—”
Vivian’s small frame crumbled into Jean’s embrace, demanding why he had taken so long to return.
I thought there were no more tears left to shed, but I was wrong. Vivian wept with abandon, drenching Jean’s rain-soaked cloak anew with her tears.
“Yes, Father, Father’s here—”
Jean pressed his lips firmly together, cradling Vivian’s small back with his large hands. The sight of the emaciated child—so thin that bones protruded visibly through her clothes—made his stomach turn once more.
Jean channeled that anguish into a glare directed at Ron, who stood before him with vacant eyes as though he had seen a ghost.
“Ron Dozier.”
“M-master. I thought you were… I thought you had passed away.”
“If I were dead, would that justify abusing my child?”
Ron stumbled backward, his feet shuffling in retreat. They say a kind man is terrifying when angered, but this transcended that entirely.
Though he had surely never killed a soul, a sinister killing intent emanated from him as though he had slain many.
“A-abuse? Absolutely not, sir. We never laid a hand on Vivian, and, and—”
The words tumbling from Ron’s mouth were utterly unconvincing. And for good reason.
They had never struck her, true—but they had done everything else! Locked her in the Attic Room, starved her, worked her to exhaustion with endless household labor.
As Ron continued backing away, his hand brushed against the dining table. Papers scattered from its surface, fluttering to the floor.
“Ah, th-this—!”
“….”
A betrothal document bearing the names of Vivian and Peter.
Tear stains marring its surface.
There was no need to ask whose tears they were.
“Eek!”
Jean’s mud-caked boot came down upon the document. Now soaked and filthy, it was rendered utterly illegible.
With one arm supporting Vivian’s body and his other hand gently patting her back, only his face—hidden from Vivian’s view—bore an expression of barely restrained fury, as though he might tear Ron apart at any moment.
“Waahhh!”
Peter, cradled in his mother’s arms, caught sight of that expression and burst into tears.
“Hush, be quiet!”
Mary turned away, covering Peter’s mouth with her hand, terrified he might become a target for Jean’s wrath.
That pitiful maternal devotion only inflamed Jean’s rage further.
A parent who understood the value of a child.
Someone who had watched Vivian since her birth.
Someone who had starved her, tormented her, stripped her of everything—and then forced her into marriage with his own son.
“….”
Jean’s teeth ground together as he envisioned a future yet to come.
Had Vivian not been in his arms at this moment, had she not been clinging to him as though vowing never to part again—
Ron would have drawn his final breath today.
But if he became a murderer, he could not remain at Vivian’s side. He had to endure.
A metallic sound escaped his lips.
“You all—”
Behind Jean’s final, measured words, a commotion grew steadily louder.
The sound of horses neighing, armor clattering, and armed men pouring through the open doorway.
As the sound drew closer, Ron and Mary’s faces grew increasingly pale.
“From now on, you won’t see the sky without iron bars.”
What appeared was a group of men.
They were Guard Militia members from the Village—the one where Jean and Vivian lived, which was too small to maintain a dedicated guard force, so the residents had formed a citizen patrol instead—that required half a day’s ride on horseback to reach.
“W-what is all this!”
“How did the Guard Militia even get here?”
“Ron Dozier, Mary Dozier! You are both under arrest for child abuse, embezzlement, and lèse-majesté!”
“A-arrest?!”
The words protesting the lack of evidence caught in my throat, strangled by conscience before they could escape.
But how did the Guard Militia find out?
And what about Jean?
I had just confirmed Vivian’s mistreatment—when had he reported this to the Guard Militia?
“Is this your son?”
“N-no, the child is innocent!”
When the Guard Militia member spotted Peter, still cradled in his mother’s arms and oblivious to the situation, Mary gasped in horror.
The Guard Militia member clicked his tongue.
“Tsk. Don’t worry—we won’t throw the child in prison. But we can’t leave him here either, can we? Since there’s nowhere for him to go until your trial concludes, we’ll take him into our custody.”
“Waaaaah, no! Mother, Mother!”
In an instant, the Guard Militia members vanished with Ron, Mary, and Peter.
Only Jean and Vivian remained in the now-devastated Lamber House.
Vivian had cried herself to sleep, and even in slumber, she clutched Jean’s sleeve tightly, as if refusing to let go ever again.
Jean gently stroked Vivian’s cheek, careful as if she might blow away.

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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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