Chapter 5

“Doctor O’Malley, are you in?”

As expected, my father had taken me to the in-house hospital. Upon entering the small building, the pervasive scent of herbs flooded the senses.

In this universe, doctors were similar to traditional Asian herbalists in that they concocted medicines by grinding and steeping herbs. Dr. O’Malley, the Lombardis’ primary physician, practiced traditional herbal medicine. Some doctors also possessed a mystical “healing power” akin to clerics from a novel.

“Doctor O’Malley!”

“Sir Gallahan, what brings you here?”

The door of the research lab opened, and a tall, wholesome man who looked to be in his forties appeared.

“Firentia is hurt. Can you take a look?”

Doctor O’Malley looked at me. Patients typically cried as they entered the ward, so he seemed to find it strange to see a child so calm.

“Oh no, what happened?” he asked.

“I fell.”

After getting me settled in a chair and examining my wound, Dr. O’Malley furrowed his brow. The wound was a lot worse than expected.

“This could end up with a scar.”

Unfortunately, it was in the same place that I had gotten hurt on my past-life birthday. I’d hoped to get out of having a scar there, but no luck.

At least nothing was broken. I stayed calm and nodded, but my father’s face didn’t look well. It was probably disappointing to know that his daughter would have to live with a lifelong scar.

Father patted my head. Dr. O’Malley looked pleased with our interaction, then pulled out a strange potion and applied it to my wound.

“And is there anything else hurting you, ma’am?”

It had been so long since I’d heard someone refer to me with honorifics. It felt awkward.

Right. This is what it felt like before my dad died.

I extended my left arm which hurt more than my knee.

“Here...”

“Oh my,” Doctor O’Malley said when he saw my swollen wrist.

“Who was it, Tia?” Father asked in a low, angry voice.

He seemed to be trying to figure out whether Bellezac or Astaliu had hurt my wrist. He was probably planning to argue with the associated parent.

However, I repeated my vague answer.

“I fell.”

“Tia...” he said, clearly upset, but I pretended not to hear him.

“Hmm. Looking at the swelling, I don’t believe she’s broken anything, but she’ll need to be careful for a while.”

Eventually, they wrapped my arm in a thick bandage. I would be allowed to take it off for baths, but I would have to wrap it again. Doctor O’Malley would visit me once every few days, and I would have to take some bitter medicine for a whole month.

I hated bitter foods and teas, even as an adult. It was the worst possible prescription. I grimaced at the thought of the bitterness on my tongue.

My father, who was holding the medicine packet, noticed my grimace.

“Doctor. I’d like to speak with my daughter alone. Would you mind giving us some privacy?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ll be in the laboratory. Please send for me if you need anything.”

After the doctor left, it was just me and Father.

If my father wanted to talk to me about something, we really should have been the ones to leave the doctor’s area. However, seeing how comfortably he asked the doctor to leave, I could really see my father’s Lombardi confidence.

“Tia,” Father began as he kneeled in front of me at eye level.

Seeing my father’s green eyes, which I had grown used to seeing only in a mirror, filled me with both pain and joy.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He must be talking about Bellezac and Astaliu.

Father knew they had been pestering me, but he apparently hadn’t realized what disgusting things they had been saying. He was still in shock.

Previously, whenever Bellezac had threatened to “teach me a lesson” I had been paralyzed, and I’d never even considered going to the adults. My father had passed away before ever finding out.

“They said they would hit me even more if I told anyone.”

“Those scoundrels!”

Father was clearly angry. He suddenly stood up as if planning to immediately punish Bellezac and Astaliu. But my hand reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

“It’s okay. I hit them quite a lot. They won’t be able to say it again.”

And if they do, it’ll be time for another beating.

Taken aback by my calm response, my father let out a resigned laugh and sat down.

“Tia, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Why are you behaving so differently today?”

He wanted to understand what had changed in my mind. It was normal for a parent to be curious about what was going on in their child’s head.

“I figured that if I just kept being patient, they’d never stop.”

Patience had been my past-life approach. And, as I expected, Bellezac and Astaliu eventually stopped bothering me, but it didn’t end there. Instead, the violence and discrimination changed forms.

“Which is why I’m not going to be patient anymore. If they hit me, I’ll hit them back. If that doesn’t work, I’ll talk to an adult. So don’t worry any more.”

With that, I hugged my father, who was looking at me with sad eyes. After a moment of surprise, he began to gently pat my back.

“But Tia. Why are you suddenly calling me ‘Father’? I’d like for you to call me ‘Daddy’ like you used to...”

Oh, right.

I used to refer to my father as “Daddy” at this age. He must have felt a sudden sense of distance. The corner of his eyes seemed to droop downward.

I’m back with my father after ten whole years, of course I can do it!

“Daddy!” I mumbled, nestling deeper into his embrace. “Let’s live happily together for a long, long time!”

“Ha! Yes, let’s do that, Tia.”

I’m sure he didn’t understand the true meaning of my statement.

And he never would. I wouldn’t let him lose his life so easily this time. I would protect him.

Protect Daddy and the Lombardis!

***

Back in the family office, Lulac rubbed his thick white eyebrows while gazing at the book in front of him.

The People of the South.

He had ordered someone to bring the book Firentia had been holding. He wanted to see if he had misremembered anything about it.

The People of the South was a research volume about a mysterious tribe discovered at the empire’s southernmost edge about ten years ago. The tribe, living deep in the forest and possessing quite a closed-off culture, was said to possess a mysterious power known as “magic,” according to the author.

The text described it as a power passed down only through lineage, a secretive force that could not be taught to outsiders.

After flipping through the pages and scanning the contents, Lulac closed the book. Such details were not what mattered.

What did matter to Lulac was not the content itself, but why his seven-year-old granddaughter would be reading books intended for adults. Not literature or cultural text but complex academic text.

With a knock at the door, a man with neatly tied, long blond hair and glasses entered.

It was Scholar Clerivan, who had been part of Lulac’s scholarship program since its inception. He was in charge of the mansion’s finances and the Lombardi children’s education.

“Did you send for me, sir?”

“Take a seat.”

As soon as Clerivan sat down, Lulac pushed The People of the South in front of him.

“What is this?” Clerivan asked.

“This is the book my granddaughter was reading today.”

“Your granddaughter? You mean Lady Lorraine?” he asked.

Lorraine was Viese’s eldest daughter and was two years older than Bellezac.

“Amazing. Reading such a book at the age of eleven...”

“It was not Lorraine,” Lulac interrupted.

“Then who?”

“Firentia.”

Clerivan frowned at Lulac’s words.

“It’s not a joke,” Lulac continued.

“But Lady Firentia is only...”

“Seven.”

Clerivan flipped through the book, looking puzzled. “Is it possible she simply chose it for its elaborate cover?”

It was a deep green to represent the forests where the Southern people lived, which could be interesting to a child’s eye.

“At that age, she should be reading fairy tales,” Clerivan continued.

“Typically, yes.”

“Are you saying that Firentia is not your typical child?”

“I called you in so you could confirm it,” Lulac replied.

“Then...”

“Have Firentia take lessons along with the others.”

Clerivan held lessons for the Lombardi children once a week. The lessons were for any children deemed capable of keeping up, regardless of their age.

At present, only Viese’s two children and the eleven-year-old twins of Lulac’s only daughter, Shananet, were attending.

“Firentia is much too young,” Clerivan pushed back. “At seven, she’ll barely be able to comprehend what’s said, let alone be able to sit for an extended period of time.”

“Typically, that would also be true.”

Clerivan narrowed his eyes, sensing something significant in Lulac’s words.

“Exactly what do you wish to confirm, sir?”

“Well...” Lulac’s thick fingers tapped the desk. “Firentia’s mother was a wanderer who drifted into this city. She was beautiful but otherwise unremarkable.”

Lulac recalled a woman whose face had now faded from memory, but whose vivid green eyes remained strikingly memorable.

“That’s why I haven’t paid much attention to Firentia, but... after seeing her today...”

He remembered his granddaughter’s face when, despite being covered in wounds with her hair a mess, she didn’t shed a single tear and spoke her mind clearly.

“I get the feeling that perhaps someone may have inherited old Lulac’s genes after all.”

A rare, joyful smile spread across Lulac’s wrinkled face as he recalled how his granddaughter had climbed on top of her much larger cousin and vigorously wielded a book.