In This Life I Will Be The Lord Novel - Episode 5

“Dr. Omally, are you there?”
As expected, the place Father carried me to was the mansion’s infirmary.
Doctors in this world were similar to traditional oriental doctors in that they brewed and ground herbs for medicine, and sometimes they resembled priests from novels, having mysterious powers called healing abilities.
As soon as we entered the small building, the strong scent of herbs made it clear to anyone that this was a medical office.
“Dr. Omally!”
As the herbal scent suggested, Dr. Omally, Lombardi’s family doctor, was of the former type.
“Lord Gallahan, what brings you here?”
From deeper inside, a man with a gentle face emerged from a laboratory door.
He was a tall man, appearing to be in his late forties.
“Florentia is hurt; could you take a look at her?”
At Father’s words, Dr. Omally looked at me.
It seemed puzzling to him that a child, who should ordinarily be crying if hurt enough to be brought to the infirmary, was just staring blankly at him.
“Oh dear, how did this happen?”
But after seating me and examining the injury, Dr. Omally frowned.
The injury was worse than he had expected.
“I fell.”
I used the all-purpose excuse for suspicious injuries.
“That scraped knee might leave a scar.”
Coincidentally, it was the exact spot where I had fallen and gotten hurt on my birthday in my past life.
I had hoped to grow up without a scar, but I ended up with a similar one after all.
However, unlike me, who simply nodded, Father’s complexion worsened, even though nothing was broken.
“Hmph…”
He was probably upset at the thought of his daughter having a scar.
Father’s large hand gently stroked my head.
Dr. Omally watched our father-daughter moment with a slight smile, then took out a strange potion and rubbed it on my wound.
“And are there any other painful spots, young lady?”
Honestly, hearing such a formal honorific after so long felt a bit awkward.
Right. This was how it felt before Father passed away.
I extended my left arm, which concerned me more than my knee, to Dr. Omally.
“Here.”
“Oh my.”
Seeing my swollen wrist, the doctor unconsciously clucked his tongue.
“Who was it, Tia?”
Father asked in a low, angry voice.
He probably meant, which of Bellesac or Astaliu had done this to my wrist.
It seemed he intended to confront the parents of the responsible child.
But I answered in the same tone as before,
“I fell.”
“Tia…”
Father called my name, sounding distressed, but I pretended not to hear or know.
“Hmm-hmm. Judging by the swelling, it doesn’t seem broken, but you should probably be careful for a while.”
In the end, my wrist was heavily bandaged.
I could remove it for bathing but had to re-bandage it, and Dr. Omally was to visit me every few days.
I was also told to drink bitter medicine daily for a whole month.
It was the worst prescription for me, who even as an adult disliked bitter food and tea.
Seeing me glumly accepting the medicine packet, already feeling the bitter taste in my mouth, Father spoke to Dr. Omally.
“Doctor. I’d like to speak with my daughter privately for a moment; could you excuse us?”
“Yes. I’ll be in the laboratory. Call me if you need anything.”
The doctor returned to his laboratory, leaving just Father and me.
This was Dr. Omally’s space, so if we had something to discuss, it would be appropriate for us to leave.
However, the natural way Father asked the doctor to leave subtly reminded me that he was the patriarch’s son.
“Tia.”
Father knelt on one knee to meet my eye level as I sat on the chair, and called me.
Seeing Father’s eyes, the same green as mine that I only saw when looking in a mirror, made my heart ache and yet feel joyful.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
He was likely referring to Bellesac and Astaliu.
Father knew they had bullied me, but he had only just learned today that I had been subjected to such humiliating words, so the shock must have been immense.
The old me, intimidated by Bellesac’s threats of showing me ‘what’s what,’ hadn’t even thought of asking adults for help.
Ultimately, Father never knew this truth until the day he passed away.
At the time, I had thought it was fortunate.
Looking back now, it was a truly foolish act.
“They said they’d hit me more if I told.”
“…Those rascals!”
An angry Father sprang to his feet, as if he would go scold Bellesac and Astaliu immediately.
But my hand caught Father’s sleeve.
“It’s okay. They got hit a lot by me today, so they won’t say things like that again.”
If they do it again, I’ll just hit them again.
Father, momentarily flustered by my cool reaction, then let out a hollow laugh and sat back down.
“Tia, can I ask you one thing?”
“What is it?”
“Why did you act differently today?”
He seemed to want to know what change had occurred in my heart.
From a parent’s perspective, they’re naturally curious about what their child is thinking.
“Because I knew that no matter how much more I endured, they wouldn’t stop.”
The young me had endured, thinking that if I just held on, it would eventually end.
As I got older, Bellesac and Astaliu’s bullying did stop as I expected, but it wasn’t truly over.
It had merely transformed into a different kind of violence and discrimination.
“So, I won’t endure it anymore. I’ll fight back, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll tell the adults and cry.
So don’t worry too much.”
I said, hugging Father, who was looking at me with sad eyes.
Father, who had been momentarily stiff in surprise, then patted my back.
“But Tia. Why did you suddenly start calling me ‘Father’? I wish you’d call me ‘Dad’ like before…”
Oh, right.
I used to call my father “Dad.”
His eyes were drooping, as if saddened by the sudden distance.
I’ve met my father again, who died over ten years ago; couldn’t I even do that much for him?
“Dad!”
I snuggled closer into his embrace and said,
“Let’s live together happily for a long, long time!”
“Haha! Let’s do that, Tia.”
Dad probably doesn’t understand the meaning of what I just said.
And he never will.
Because this time, I won’t let him leave so meaninglessly.
I will protect them.
Both Dad and this Lombardi!

The Patriarch’s Office.
Rulac rubbed his white eyebrows, looking at a book placed before him.
People of the South. He had sent someone to the library to fetch another copy of the book Florentia had.
He wondered if he had perhaps misremembered the book’s contents.
This book was a research volume about a mysterious tribe newly discovered at the southern tip of the empire about a decade ago.
The author introduced them as people who lived in the forest with a very closed culture and possessed a mystical power called ‘magic.’
It was described as an ability passed down only through bloodline, a secret power that could not be taught to outsiders.
Rulac opened the book and skimmed through its contents, then closed it.
Such details weren’t important.
What concerned Rulac now was why his granddaughter, who was only seven, was reading such a difficult academic book, one written for adults and not even a liberal arts text like literature.
Knock, knock.
With a knock, a man with neatly tied long blonde hair and glasses entered.
It was Clerivan Pellet, a scholar whom Rulac had sponsored ever since he established the scholarship system.
Currently, he was in charge of the mansion’s finances and the education of the Lombardi children.
“You called for me, Patriarch.”
“Have a seat for a moment.”
As soon as Clerivan sat across from him, Rulac pushed the People of the South he was holding towards him.
“What is this?”
“This is the book my granddaughter was reading today.”
“Granddaughter… do you mean Lady Lorraine?”
Lorraine was Viese’s eldest daughter and Bellesac’s sister, two years his senior.
“Truly surprising. To read such a book at eleven…”
“Not Lorraine.”
“Then who is it?”
“Florentia.”
At Rulac’s words, Clerivan frowned.
He wondered if the Patriarch was joking with him.
“I’m not joking.”
“But Lady Florentia is still…”
“Seven years old.”
Clerivan, who had leafed through the book as if checking its contents, just as Rulac had, spoke with a puzzled expression.
“Perhaps she just liked the book’s cover and was holding it?”
The deep green cover, like the forest where the southern people lived, might have looked quite pretty to a child’s eyes.
“At seven, children can barely read a few fairy tales.”
“Ordinarily, yes.”
“Are you saying then that Lady Florentia is not ordinary?”
“That’s why I called you, to find that out.”
“In that case…”
“From now on, have Florentia attend classes with the other children.”
Clerivan held classes for the Lombardi children once a week.
The attendees were children judged capable of following the lessons, regardless of age. Currently, only Viese’s two children and Shananet’s eleven-year-old twin brothers (Rulac’s only daughter) were attending.
“Lady Florentia is still too young. A seven-year-old child will struggle not only to understand the lessons but even to sit still for such a long time.”
“That too, is ordinarily the case.”
Clerivan, reading something significant in Rulac’s words, narrowed his eyes.
“What exactly are you trying to confirm, Patriarch?”
“Well…”
Rulac’s thick fingers tapped on the desk.
“Florentia’s mother was a wanderer who drifted into this city. She was beautiful in appearance, but otherwise, there was nothing particularly remarkable about her.”
Recalling the woman whose face was now faint in his memory, but whose intense green eyes remained deeply imprinted, Rulac continued,
“It’s true that I didn’t pay much attention to Florentia because of that.
But seeing her today…”
He remembered his granddaughter’s face, bruised and with messy hair, but not shedding a single tear as she articulated her thoughts clearly.
“I wondered if there might be someone who inherited my Rulac’s blood strongly.”
As the image of her, perched atop the much larger Bellesac, swinging the book with determination, came to mind, a rare, joyful smile spread across Rulac’s wrinkled face.