Dad is Back From a Deserted Island - Chapter 50

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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 50

Jean de Lamber’s house stood alone on a hill Beyond the City Gate, in a neighborhood where those who wished to enter the Capital but could not afford its exorbitant property prices had gathered—yet even this district felt distant from his isolated dwelling.
Bang, bang.
At the sudden assault of fists against the door—or rather, the pounding—Vivian flinched in alarm.
The Manager, who had brought Jean de Lamber and Vivian this far, had now abandoned all pretense. Perhaps if he demonstrated to these two just how difficult this craftsman was to negotiate with, some small measure of responsibility might shift away from himself.
Yet no answer came.
Bang, bang!!
The Manager hammered at the door as though he meant to break it down, his voice rising.
“Listen here! Emil! I know you’re inside—come out!”
“…No.”
A voice that seemed to crawl reluctantly from within.
Yet it was unmistakably a sign of life. The Manager’s face brightened, and he clung to the door. He was that desperate.
“Aha! You are there! What did you say?”
“I said I can’t make it…. Please go.”
“Emil, you fool! With the first Debutante Ball approaching, the ladies who entrusted you with their precious ornaments have come all this way—is that what you have to say?”
“They’ve come all this way…?”
The door swung open, accompanied by a voice dripping with annoyance.
What emerged was a man so pallid and gaunt he seemed never to have felt sunlight in his life.
His age appeared to be roughly the same as Jean de Lamber’s, or perhaps slightly older.
For a craftsman of such renown, his youthful appearance startled Jean de Lamber. He had imagined an eccentric old man with white hair streaming from his head.
Indeed, the Manager’s manner toward him was far too disrespectful for such an elderly figure.
“Yes…. I apologize…. I simply lack the strength to create anything…. I am truly sorry. I shall kneel before you….”
Jean de Lamber caught the man’s arm as he moved to kneel, his face betraying not the slightest remorse.
“That won’t be necessary. Shall we step inside and discuss this matter?”
“Yes…? But I cannot make it—what cannot be made simply cannot be made….”
“Emil! Do you know who this gentleman is? He is the man who owns the Diamond Mine—the very mine you love so dearly! He has come all this way, and you cannot even offer him a cup of tea?”
The Manager barked sharply and forced his way inside, pushing the listless Emil before him. Emil stumbled forward with weak protests.
Emil’s House was less a dwelling than a craftsman’s workshop.
Objects lay scattered haphazardly throughout, yet they conveyed a strangely orderly impression. The master of this space would surely not lose his way when searching for something here.
“This way, please….”
A voice so devoid of energy that merely hearing it drained one’s strength guided the three of them forward.
There was, at least, something that could be called a table. However, only two proper chairs existed, so the Manager and Emil had to sit upon wooden crates.
“That thing—bring it out. The tea leaves I sent you some time ago.”
“Ah…. Where did I put that….”
The Manager rose from his seat with an expression of exasperation. He grabbed Emil’s arm—the boy who sat there staring blankly at me—and forcibly pulled him to his feet, dragging him toward the Kitchen.
“People are quite different from what I imagined, aren’t they, Father?”
Jean de Lamber nodded. Looking at the Manager’s face, he had intended to send Vivian elsewhere and question him sternly, but the moment he witnessed that display, his anger dissipated. Not because his fury had cooled, but because he found it utterly absurd.
“To think such a temperament belongs to a father-in-law. Those who conduct business with him must have suffered greatly.”
“Father, do any of the people you work with have that kind of personality?”
“No. Don’t worry. They’re all full of vigor.”
“By the way, Father. Is this the right time?”
“Yes, princess. I’m counting on you. If it looks like he’s about to come out, I’ll give you a signal beforehand.”
Vivian began searching the surroundings for the bird.
What kind of bird could it be? A parrot? A canary? A pigeon?
But there was no birdcage, no perch in sight. The windowsill where she expected a cage to be was filled only with scattered plant scraps.
[Vivian. Over here.]
Kiki’s voice came from beyond the space concealed by a partition.
“Kiki. When did you get over there?”
It appeared to be a private space—was it appropriate to enter? But I couldn’t let people see me conversing with an animal.
Hearing the Manager’s nagging voice from the Kitchen, it seemed it would take quite some time for him to return with tea. Vivian glanced around cautiously and walked behind the partition.
Behind the partition lay a small bed. Clothing and plant scraps were scattered about here and there.
“My goodness… it’s a Goose.”
And on the bed lay a pure white Goose, limp and listless.
Its body was twice the size of an ordinary Goose, yet despite its large frame, it appeared thin, and its feathers were dull and unkempt.
“Quaaack…” [M-Master?]
Startled upon seeing Kiki, the Goose let out a feeble cry and barely lifted its neck.
[There now, you needn’t force yourself up with that ailing body. Rest as you are.]
“Hello. I heard you were unwell, and I came because I wanted to help treat you.”
Vivian spoke kindly, but the Goose gazed weakly in another direction.
“Can you tell me where it hurts? I can understand what you’re saying.”
[Indeed. I vouch for it. This one has received the power to commune with animals through a connection with me.]
[Is… is that truly so…? You can understand what I’m saying?]
Only after Kiki spoke did the Goose turn its attention back to Vivian. Its feeble tone matched its owner’s perfectly.
“Yes. Where does it hurt and how? Your master is very worried about you. Oh, what’s your name?”
[Just… Goose, sir…]
Emil seemed to have raised the Goose with great affection, yet never bothered to give it a proper name. He was certainly an unusual person.
“I see. Well then, Goose. So where does it hurt?”
[I went to the Pond not long ago, and I must have stepped on something wrong there. My foot has been throbbing ever since… After two more nights passed, I lost all strength in my body… and I feel dizzy.]
“It seems you were pierced by a sharp stone or thorn. That must have been painful. May I examine it?”
[Yes…]
Vivian obtained the Goose’s consent and examined its foot carefully.
Between three thick toes, thick webbing connected them. The foot was thick and deeply wrinkled.
Upon closer inspection, a sharp thorn was embedded in the fold where the webbing and toe met.
“Found it. Hmm, I don’t think I can pull it out with my bare hands. Is there some kind of tweezers or pincers around here?”
“…Vivian, Vivian!”
So absorbed in my task, I only belatedly noticed someone calling my name.
By the time Jean signaled and Vivian lifted her head, Emil was already emerging from the Kitchen with a tray, catching sight of Vivian standing beyond the partition.
“What are you doing right now… Goose…!”
“Goodness!”
The Manager hastily caught the tray Emil hurled. Fortunately the cups didn’t shatter, but ruby-red tea streamed from the spout of the overturned teapot.
Jean, who had jumped to his feet, quickly restrained the lanky man rushing toward us.
Jean’s gaze was razor-sharp as he held Emil back. Without his grip, it seemed Emil would have shoved Vivian forcefully.
“Let… go…!”
“Calm yourself. I meant no harm to your Goose.”
“R, right! I heard the bird was in pain, so I was examining it, and I found a thorn lodged in its foot!”
“A, a thorn…?”
Emil’s agitated shoulders gradually stilled. He narrowed his eyes, studying Vivian intently.
“But I can’t seem to pull it out with my fingers. It’s so small—do you have something like a tiny pair of tweezers?”
“H, how did you know…? No one’s allowed to touch our Goose except on the head… because of its temperament….”
To call such a gentle, docile creature ill-tempered?
[Vivian. All animals naturally obey me without question. Since you’re connected to me, they treat you differently from other humans.]
Kiki swiftly answered that puzzle.
[O, of course… that foolish Emil is my subordinate… I can’t have my subordinate touching my body all over the place….]
“But touching its head is acceptable?”
[Because it feels good….]
“….”

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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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