Chapter 7

Why is he here?!

Clerivan Pellet looked much younger than the man I remembered, but it was definitely him. He was tall with perfectly stiff posture, and his eyes tilted upwards at the corners.

Few in the Lombardi house could maintain such a dignified demeanor.

My father scratched his head looking quite puzzled. Clerivan Pellet was an extremely competent and busy man who oversaw trade for the Lombardis.

For example, I could count on one hand the number of times I had seen Clerivan’s face while working with my grandfather. Most of his supervisory reports were done in writing.

At least that was what I remembered.

“What brings you all the way here, Clerivan?” my father asked.

“May I come in?” he replied.

“Of course. Come in.”

My father, still looking bewildered, led Clerivan to the center of the drawing room.

I quickly picked up my book and pretended to read. I wasn’t sure why—it just felt like the right thing to do.

I fixed my eyes at a particular point on the densely filled page and perked my ears up. Clerivan, aware of my presence, glanced in my direction before sitting down opposite my father.

“How can I help you? Perhaps there is an urgent message from my father...?”

“It’s not that,” Clervian replied.

“Well...”

Though they were both in the Lombardi’s employ, my father’s demeanor was quite different from how he interacted with Doctor O’Malley. That alone showed Clerivan’s standing within the household.

He was clearly no ordinary individual and was treated with respect, even by the son of the Lombardi family patriarch.

Now, why would someone like him be visiting my father...?

“The purpose of my visit today is regarding Miss Firentia.”

Huh? Me?

I summoned all of my willpower to avoid looking in their direction.

“You came... to see Firentia?”

“Yes, that is the case.”

I could sense both men’s gazes turn towards me. Though I could feel my forehead twitch, I continued to flip the pages in my book as if I were reading.

“Then it must be about lessons.”

Lessons? What lessons?

While I was still confused, my father nodded.

“Nothing has been confirmed yet. I only dropped by to have a brief conversation with Miss Firentia.”

“Oh, I see.”

Though he now understood why Clerivan had come, my father still seemed quite surprised.

He dry-coughed twice then called out my name, “Tia, come here.”

“Yes, sir.”

I approached them with a blank expression, acting as if I had been reading the entire time.

I contemplated where I should sit for a moment before choosing Father’s lap.

I’m only seven, after all.

Based on my age, I wanted to sit as close as possible to my father in the presence of a stranger.

He helped me onto his lap as if he had been expecting it.

Then a silence befell the room.

To be more precise, Clerivan and I stared wordlessly at each other. Despite his stated intention to talk to me, Clerivan didn’t speak. I continued to stare back at him.

I couldn’t remember if I had met him before this age, so I hesitated to greet him first.

After a short time, he gave me an enigmatic gaze and murmured something unintelligible.

“...indeed.”

Remaining seated, he bowed his head slightly.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Firentia. My name is Clerivan Pellet.”

Whew. I guess I haven’t met him before.

I sighed with relief, climbed off my father’s lap, and curtsied to him.

“How do you do? My name is Firentia Lombardi.”

In my attempt to make a good impression, I curtsied too deeply and almost lost my balance.

Having a large head on a child’s body is indeed uncomfortable.

“Sir Gallahan. May I have a moment alone with Firentia?”

Though framed as a question, Clerivan was not asking for permission. It was a polite way of telling my father to leave.

“Tia, it looks like Mister Clerivan here has some questions for you. I’ll be in my room for a little while. Make sure to be polite. Understood?” Father said, patting my head kindly.

“Okay.”

Despite anticipating it, the idea of a private conversation with Clerivan made me anxious. His scrutinizing gaze felt as though it were piercing my face, my chest, and my stomach. It was like being on an examination table.

As soon as the door to my father’s room closed, Clerivan stood up and carried something across the room. When he got closer, I saw that it was the book I had been reading earlier, People of the South.

“Do you know what kind of work I do for the Lombardi family?”

If I knew, I wouldn’t be this nervous. What kind of work was “The” young Clerivan Pellet responsible for?

I shook my head vigorously.

“I teach the young heirs of the Lombardi family, who will eventually lead this family into the future.”

Oh! Tutelage!

Now I understood what Father and Clerivan had been talking about. When I was nine in my past life, I had taken lessons from an education officer for a brief moment. However, that teacher had not been Clerivan Pellet. Maybe he had held a different position at the time.

In any case, the “lessons” that Clerivan mentioned were a type of successor training, the first official evaluation that Lombardi children underwent. The education officer gathered the children and led a series of lessons.

At first glance, it resembled simple tutoring, but it was far from it. In fact, it was often quite brutal.

Firstly, there was no set age for the lessons to start. Only children who were deemed ready, regardless of their age, were granted the privilege to attend. Naturally, this system gave a first impression of each child’s level of competence.

Secondly, there was no set age for these to cease. There was simply a statement one day where children were told, “You no longer need to attend the lessons.”

That had been my case in my past life. Of course, it wasn’t a graduation. It was actually a revocation of the privilege to participate.

Finally, the evaluations from each lesson were reported to my grandfather. In other words, Clerivan Pellet was my direct link to impressing my grandfather. The fact that he had come to see me personally could only mean one thing.

Grandfather requested this.

I recalled my grandfather’s face lighting up with excitement when I last saw him, and I could barely suppress the laughter that threatened to burst out.

Clerivan—noticing that I was staring up at him with bright, curious eyes but no particular reaction—frowned slightly.

He placed People of the South in front of me and said, “I heard you were reading this book.”

“Yes. I began reading it yesterday.”

“Is that so? Can you tell me what it’s about?”

He seemed to be testing whether I had actually read the book. Luckily, I had scanned the contents the night before.

I pretended to think for a moment then answered, “I only read a little bit, but it’s about fascinating people who live together in the empire’s southern forests. This book tells their stories.”

Clerivan was taken aback by my explanation. He had likely assumed that I was using the book as a toy (or a weapon).

I get it.

A seven-year-old should have been reading fairy tales, but here I was, reading a book that even adults found boring. Naturally he’d be suspicious.

I looked at Clerivan as if to say “ask me anything.”

“Who is the author of this book?”

“It’s written right here on the cover that the author’s name is ‘Lofille.’”

“What was the first chapter about?”

“The first chapter discusses how Lofille came to hear a rumor about the people of the South.”

“Hmm...”

Clerivan seemed taken aback by how easily I answered his questions. I giggled on the inside and, with my most innocent expression, asked, “Are you here because you want to read the book? Would you like to borrow it?”

I extended the thick green tome towards Clerivan.

“I’m curious about the rest, but I can just read it later,” I said.

“Ahem… No, it’s okay. It’s a book that I’ve already read, so you can continue reading it, Miss Firentia.”

“Okay, whew!” I replied, embracing the book and smiling in response.

It was quite entertaining to see typically cold-and-composed Clerivan become visibly unsettled.

He continued, his face back to its stern expression. “There are a total of three rumors that Lofille heard. He…”

“Wait a moment, Sir Clerivan.”

“Yes?”

“You’re wrong,” I said with a subtle smirk. “Lofille is a ‘she’ not a ‘he.’”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s mentioned right at the beginning, in the preface. Her full name is Avane Lofille. She’s a female scholar.”

“Wait... what?”

Flustered, Clerivan opened the book and read through the preface.

Oh, wonderful.

I added a quick comment for the visibly panicking Clerivan.

“I guess... you only skimmed through it.”

His shoulder twitched, and his ears blushed. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from bursting into laughter.

Clerivan closed the book with a sharp thump. He looked at me, sitting there confidently, with a hint of intimidation.

“It will be difficult for you to keep up with the lecture at first.”

“I’ll be learning so many new things!” I said, signaling that I welcomed the challenge.

“I will not take it easy on you because you’re young. You will be in a class with much older cousins.”

“It’ll be fun!”

Just as the moon appears brighter against a dark night sky...

I’ll look even smarter next to them!

As he watched me swing my short legs in excitement, Clerivan gave a soft sigh of defeat and added, “And from now on, you should call me ‘Teacher.’”

Finally, approval!

I had to answer before he changed his mind.

“Yes, Teacher!”

I can start lessons at the mere age of seven! Am I not the youngest Lombardi to achieve this?

I wondered how Clerivan would report the discussion to my grandfather...

This made me even happier, and my smile grew wider by the moment.