Dad Came Back from a Deserted Island Chapter 4

There was no need to hide who the man was.

The man who had barged into the Lambert estate, terrified Ron and Mary out of their wits, and, above all, called Vivian his daughter.

Of course, he was Jean de Lambert.

“Vi, Vivi. Who am I? I-I’m your daddy.”

“You’re not my daddy….”

Jean’s face crumpled as though the sky had fallen at his daughter’s denial. He bent down and took a step toward her, but Vivian, frightened, took a step back.

Jean’s heart shattered into pieces.

But this wasn’t Vivian’s fault.

“My daddy doesn’t look l-like this—”

Jean’s current appearance was far too different from the way Vivian remembered him.

Jean had originally been a man so handsome that he could easily have been called the most beautiful man in the village—or rather, the castle, or rather, the entire country.

At least, that was what his wife claimed.

He had soft brown hair and eyes that seemed to have melted the blue of a spring sky into them. A straight, elegant nose, slightly upturned lips, a sharp jawline without an ounce of excess flesh, and a gentle expression that remained unchanged all year round.

Men who envied him might have mocked him as delicate, but women—and some men—couldn’t help but praise him for awakening their protective instincts.

He was a flower-deer-like man whose face could easily have belonged to a prince from a fairy tale. Vivian could imagine the prince’s face as Jean’s without the slightest sense of incongruity.

But the Jean standing before Vivian now looked completely different.

A thick, bushy beard obscured most of his lower face. The blood vessels in his eyes had burst from traveling without sleep, and his hair was shaggy and unkempt.

His body, once lean and agile with not an ounce of excess flesh, had been replaced by a massive frame that looked capable of taking down a wild boar with one hand.

Rather than a prince from a fairy tale, he looked more like a bear about to attack a princess.

It was only natural that Vivian didn’t recognize her father.

“Waaaah.”

And from Vivian’s height, looking up at Jean made him seem even more intimidating. The child couldn’t help bursting into tears at the sudden appearance of a man claiming to be her father.

“Oh, Vivi. My little princess. There, there. Daddy’s changed a lot, hasn’t he? It’s because I hurried all the way to see my little princess. Daddy crossed the sea and climbed over mountains just to see our Vivi, you know?”

Jean desperately tried to soothe her.

Though his daughter was frightened, the moment Jean held out his arms, she immediately rushed into them.

The sight of how desperately she had longed for warmth made Jean’s heart ache like it was being stabbed all over again.

“Your eyes, your eyes! Yes. Look at my eyes, Vivi. They’re the same color as yours, aren’t they? What did I always say? Who in this world has eyes the same color as Vivi’s?”

“Daddy….”

Only Jean’s voice had remained unchanged, allowing Vivian to gradually calm down in his arms.

Still sniffling, Vivian blinked away her tears and looked into Jean’s eyes.

When she saw the bloodshot whites of his eyes, she shrank back in fear.

But when she saw the sky-blue irises that were exactly the same color as hers, her frightened eyes widened.

And when she discovered the overflowing affection for her in those eyes, fresh tears welled up all over again.

“Daddy…?”

“Yes! Vivi, it’s Daddy. Daddy! Do you recognize me now?”

“Daaaddyyyy—”

As though asking why he had taken so long to come back, Vivian’s tiny body collapsed into Jean’s arms.

She had thought there were no tears left to shed, but she had been wrong.

Vivian cried her heart out, soaking Jean’s rain-drenched cloak with her tears once again.

“Yes, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here—”

Jean bit his lip tightly and wrapped his large hand around Vivian’s tiny back.

Feeling the bones protruding beneath her clothes on the painfully thin child made his stomach churn once more.

Jean turned his rage toward Ron, who was still staring at him in a daze as though he had seen a ghost.

“Ron Dozier.”

“M-My lord. I-I thought you were… I thought you were dead.”

“Does that mean you can abuse my child if I’m dead?”

Ron faltered and took a step backward.

They said a good-natured person was frightening when angered, but this was far beyond that.

The man clearly looked as though he’d never killed anyone in his life, yet the murderous aura radiating from him felt like he had slaughtered dozens.

“A-Abuse? Absolutely not. We never hit Vivian, and, and—”

The words that came tumbling from Ron’s mouth were pitifully feeble.

Of course they were.

It was true that they had never hit her, but they had done everything else!

They had locked her in the attic, starved her, and worked her to the bone with every household chore imaginable.

As Ron continued backing away, he placed a hand on the dining table.

The movement caused a sheet of paper lying on the table to flutter to the floor.

“Ah, th-this!”

“……”

An engagement document bearing the names Vivian de Lambert and Peter Dozier.

There were tear stains all over it.

There was no need to ask whose tears they were.

“Gasp!”

Jean’s mud-covered shoe came down on the document.

Soaked with water and smeared with mud, the paper was no longer usable.

One arm supported Vivian’s body while his other hand gently patted her back, but the expression on the face she couldn’t see looked ready to tear Ron limb from limb.

“Waaaaah!”

Peter, who had been clinging to his mother’s arms, burst into tears when he saw that expression.

“Y-You, be quiet!”

Fearing that Jean might hurt her child, Mary covered Peter’s mouth and turned her back.

That pathetic display of maternal affection only fueled Jean’s anger.

They were parents who knew how precious a child was.

People who had watched Vivian grow up from the moment she was born.

And yet they had starved her, mistreated her, taken everything from her, and even tried to force her into marriage with their own son.

“……”

Jean ground his teeth as he imagined the future that had never come to pass.

If Vivian weren’t in his arms right now, clinging to him as though she would never let him go again—

Ron would have drawn his last breath today.

But if he became a murderer, he wouldn’t be able to stay by Vivian’s side.

He had to endure it.

His voice came out like the scrape of metal.

“You two…”

Behind Jean’s low voice, the sounds around them gradually grew louder.

The snorting of horses, the clatter of armor, and the footsteps of men entering through the open door.

As the sounds drew closer, Ron and Mary’s faces grew paler.

“You won’t be seeing the sky without iron bars in front of you ever again.”

A group of men appeared.

They were guards from a village about half a day’s ride away.

Jean and Vivian’s village was too small to afford its own guard force, so the residents had formed a local militia to protect themselves.

“W-What is all this?!”

“How did the guards even get here?”

“Ron Dozier, Mary Dozier! You are both under arrest for child abuse, embezzlement, and insulting a noble!”

“A-Arrest?!”

Their protests that there was no evidence couldn’t even make it past their throats, blocked by their own guilty consciences.

But how had the guards known?

And how had Jean known?

He had only just seen Vivian’s abused condition.

When could he possibly have reported them to the guards?

“And this one? Is he your son?”

“T-The child hasn’t done anything wrong!”

Mary panicked when one of the guards looked toward Peter, who was still in his mother’s arms and hadn’t fully grasped what was happening.

The guard clicked his tongue.

“Tsk. Don’t worry, we’re not going to throw the kid in jail. But we can’t leave him here with you, can we? He has nowhere to stay while we wait for your trial, so we’ll take care of him.”

“Waaaaah! No! Mom! Mooooom!”

The guards quickly took Ron, Mary, and Peter away.

Only Jean and Vivian remained in the now-chaotic Lambert estate.

Vivian had fallen asleep from exhaustion after crying herself out.

Even in her dreams, she tightly clutched the fabric of Jean’s clothes as though determined never to let him go again.

Jean gently stroked her cheek, as carefully as if even the slightest breath might make her fly away.