Dad is Back From a Deserted Island - Chapter 85

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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 85

“Cough.”
Someone choked, their coughing fit audible. No one could fault him for losing his composure.
Even Anne, who had grown accustomed to Jean de Lamber and Vivian’s appearance over eight years, found his beauty shocking. Those less immune than she was need not be mentioned.
Throughout my entrance into the Main Hall, all eyes followed me.
Beneath the soaring ceiling, archways branched toward exhibition galleries. While displays filled the spaces beyond each entrance, the patrons were far too preoccupied admiring Dietrich’s face to spare a glance for the artwork.
‘This is far more intense than I anticipated.’
Observing how every gaze converged upon us, Jean de Lamber managed only a wry smile as he greeted the Nobleman Host who had extended the invitation. He had expected to draw a modest degree of attention, but not this fervent fascination.
At least Dietrich’s distinctive aura prevented people from approaching too readily—a small mercy.
“Father, I’ll see you later then.”
We had arranged to separate once we arrived at the Art Gallery. Vivian and Dietrich would move together, while Jean de Lamber would mingle with the guests and gauge their reactions.
‘Don’t think about it. Act naturally. Just be normal.’
I tried my best not to dwell on the attention. Though I had grown accustomed to drawing eyes since childhood, even I found this level of scrutiny overwhelming.
“Hmm, shall we start from that direction?”
“Yes.”
As we passed beneath the archway, artworks arranged at regular intervals came into view. Soft lighting complemented the natural light, carefully calibrated to enhance rather than overwhelm the pieces.
“Wow, how on earth does one even paint something like this?”
Absorbed in examining the paintings, I forgot all about the watching eyes. I was too captivated by the meticulous brushstrokes visible only upon close inspection.
Dietrich found himself admiring Vivian as she admired the artwork. Her expressions shifted with each piece, so varied and expressive that he never once felt bored.
It would have been rude to interrupt someone lost in contemplation. Thanks to this, Vivian and Dietrich were able to tour the entire gallery without disturbance.
Exchanging pleasantries with the guests could wait until we returned to the Main Hall after viewing all the exhibitions.
Just before entering the Main Hall, Vivian asked me a question.
“This is my first time seeing an exhibition like this, and I love it. I think I’ll be coming to see more often. What about you, Diti? Which painting did you like best?”
“The painting of the girl on the swing.”
[I thought he was staring at Vivian the entire time, but apparently he did look at the paintings.]
Dietrich lightly ignored Kiki’s murmuring.
“Oh, that one? What appealed to you about it?”
“It resembles you.”
“Me, me?”
“Yes. The smile on her face resembles yours, and that’s what I liked about it.”
“Oh my….”
It was not Vivian who responded. The Noble Woman walking a measured distance behind us inadvertently let slip an exclamation upon hearing Dietrich’s words. Vivian’s ears flushed crimson.
I quickened my pace as if fleeing, hurrying back into the Main Hall where I fanned my face with my hand to cool the heat rising to my cheeks. Dietrich caught up with me a moment later.
“Why did you suddenly walk so fast?”
“….”
Vivian still couldn’t bring herself to meet Dietrich’s gaze again. Where was Father? She hadn’t seen Jean yet in the Main Hall, and she wasn’t sure if he was moving about with the other guests.
Then a commotion erupted near the entrance. The disturbance—so out of place in the quiet Art Gallery—drew Vivian’s attention toward the sound. She was grateful for the disruption that allowed her to naturally avert her eyes from Dietrich.
“Your Grace! What brings you here?”
‘Your Grace?’
The Nobleman Host who had organized the event stood to greet an elderly man entering the Art Gallery, his expression one of utter shock.
The old man, whose cantankerous disposition was written plainly across his features, barely glanced at the nobleman before offering a greeting.
“You sent me an invitation, so I came. Why? Is this a place where I shouldn’t be?”
“No, of course not! I’m simply overwhelmed with gratitude that someone of your stature would visit such a humble venue!”
The Nobleman Host’s voice wavered with panic. He, who typically associated with rising nobility and the bourgeoisie, had never once imagined that a duke would actually accept his invitation.
He had sent the invitation merely as a formality, fully expecting to be ignored. Yet here the duke stood, having personally attended.
But the duke showed no interest whatsoever in the Art Gallery or the Nobleman Host, scanning the Main Hall as though searching for something. His gaze suddenly locked with Vivian’s.
“Oh. What’s this? He’s coming this way?”
The duke strode directly toward Vivian with purposeful steps.
In the Main Hall, where time seemed to have stopped, only the duke moved. With each step he took, his cane struck the high ceiling with a resounding echo.
Moving with surprising speed for a man of his age, the duke reached Vivian and looked her up and down appraisingly.
“Are you the young lady de Lamber?”
“Yes, yes? Ah, it’s an honor to meet you, Your Grace. I am Vivian de Lamber.”
Why was he addressing her? Even as confusion washed over her, Vivian offered a respectful greeting.
“Hmm.”
“….”
The duke stared intently at Vivian’s face as she bowed. She could not conceal her bewilderment.
She wondered if she had committed some breach of etiquette, but how could she have offended someone she was meeting for the first time?
Moreover, Vivian knew only that this man was a duke—she had no idea which duke he was.
[Is this man mad? Vivian, shall I drive him away?]
“Stay quiet, Kiki.”
How much longer would this continue? Under the duke’s relentless gaze, she felt her composure beginning to crack. Even though Dietrich stood directly behind Vivian, the duke didn’t spare him a single glance.
“Vivian?”
Jean appeared like a savior, leading a procession of guests into the Main Hall. He stopped short at the sight of the ill-tempered-looking old man standing before his daughter.
“What’s happening?”
“Well, this person is….”
How could she introduce him when she didn’t even know his name? She couldn’t simply say “Your Grace.”
As Vivian hesitated, her lips moving uncertainly, the duke struck the floor forcefully with his cane. The marble beneath seemed in danger of cracking.
“Is this your father?”
“Yes? That is to say—”
The duke’s gaze upon Jean blazed with an intensity that seemed ready to ignite.
She found herself curious about who this old man could be, displaying such fierce hostility as though facing a mortal enemy. His bearing suggested he was no ordinary person, and she was about to introduce herself when—
“All that polished charm means nothing. Tsk.”
With those words, the duke turned and departed.
“What, what was that old man?”
Vivian’s mouth fell open—the man’s rudeness went far beyond mere discourtesy.
Jean de Lamber stared at him in equal bewilderment. The old man had glared at him directly, muttered something about his face being nothing but shine, and departed—all without Jean de Lamber realizing the man was a duke.
“Did something happen between you and the Duke, sir?”
The nobleman who had hosted the exhibition approached the bewildered father and daughter, asking the question. Only then did Jean de Lamber learn the old man’s true identity, and he could not help but start in shock.
“The D-Duke, you say?”
Jean de Lamber, who kept himself thoroughly informed of the prominent nobility’s personal details, quickly deduced which duke this was.
The Duke of Alençon. One of the two ducal houses in the Empire—a figure of considerable influence. The other had only recently seen its previous holder pass away, with his son inheriting the title not long ago, so there was no ambiguity.
“There was no opportunity for anything to happen. This is the first time I have ever met him. …Vivian, what did he say to you?”
“He simply appeared out of nowhere and asked if I was Lamber, then just stared at me in silence without another word.”
“His temperament has never been ordinary, but still—”
The situation made no sense whatsoever. What was the meaning of that sudden hostility he had shown Jean de Lamber?
And so Dietrich’s first outing ended in confusion, undone by the Duke’s erratic behavior.
In the carriage on the way home, only Vivian fumed to herself.
‘What was that? That old man is completely strange!’

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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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