“They kicked him down, and then started hitting him with a book over and over…….”
This was driving me insane. To twist the truth so cleverly into a lie—honestly, it was more surprising that Astaliu even had the brains for something like that.
I wanted to shout out right then that it was all lies, but I held it in. Instead, I simply fixed my grandfather with a wide-eyed stare that clearly said, I have something to say!
“……”
Grandfather glanced at me once, then turned back to Astaliu.
“You’re saying Florentia suddenly began hitting you and Beleśak without any reason?”
“Th-that’s……”
Unfortunately, Astaliu wasn’t quick-witted enough to fabricate lies on the spot. Even among the Lombardi bloodline, he was particularly dull. Physical things he might manage, but anything requiring thought was beyond him.
“Florentia always hated us…!”
Sensing the danger, Beleśak raised his voice and spoke in Astaliu’s place. I curled my lips upward silently.
“Do not interrupt when others are speaking, Beleśak.”
Because that was exactly the kind of behavior Grandfather hated most. That was why I had endured without shouting about the injustice.
“Where did you learn such ill manners?”
At the sharp rebuke, tears welled up in Beleśak’s eyes again. Yet he was so afraid of Grandfather that he didn’t even dare sniffle.
“Continue, Astaliu.”
Now even more nervous, Astaliu could no longer come up with any excuse. The boy, who hadn’t been able to fabricate a proper lie earlier, now buried his face in his father Lorels’ clothes and began to cry.
Well.
That was the normal reaction of children standing before Grandfather. Rulac Lombardi’s overwhelming charisma made even grown adults tremble at times. The children of the Lombardi family could at least manage to speak because they had seen him since they were young. Most people couldn’t even meet his eyes.
“Florentia.”
When Grandfather called my name, I felt my father’s hand tighten on my shoulder.
“You speak.”
Even as he asked, he didn’t seem to expect much. Naturally so. The original me, Florentia, had been especially timid and cowardly. I had inherited that from my father, and constant bullying from those cousins only made it worse.
But I looked straight into Grandfather’s eyes and said,
“I did nothing wrong.”
“And yet you’ve left my son in this state—!”
“Bieze!”
At last, Grandfather’s thunderous voice erupted. Bieze, who had looked ready to devour me, immediately shrank back, his shoulders hunching.
Even after watching his son get scolded for the same thing just moments ago, he couldn’t control his temper and interfered anyway. Like father, like son.
“Continue.”
Grandfather said sternly. But within those seemingly cold eyes, I could sense something else.
“I was waiting here for my father. Then Beleśak and Astaliu came, called me a half-blood, and mocked me. When I told them to stop, they hit me.”
“They hit you? Who did?”
“Beleśak.”
I made sure to raise my finger and point directly at him.
“And he called me lowly and told me to get lost back to the slums.”
I didn’t need to look at my father’s face to know his expression. The hand on my shoulder was trembling with anger. I could have glossed over it, but this was the moment to clearly state how I had been treated.
Father, I’m sorry. Please bear with it for a moment.
“So you hit Beleśak because of that?”
“No.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“That’s because Beleśak……”
I took a small breath and spoke clearly.
“That’s because Beleśak said to me, ‘You are not a Lombardi.’”
My brown eyes met Grandfather’s directly. They looked ordinary, but I knew those eyes could see far more than anyone could imagine.
“I am a half-blood.”
My mother had never been granted the Lombardi name, so I truly was a half-blood. I had no intention of denying it.
“But even if I’m a half-blood, I am still a Lombardi. A Lombardi acknowledged by you, Grandfather.”
In the past, I had believed that because my mother was a commoner, I was incomplete. So I accepted being treated as less, thinking my cousins were complete beings who possessed what I lacked. That was why I endured being treated not as a family member, but like a servant.
But after actually running the family, I came to realize something deeply.
Compared to those fools who strutted around calling themselves Lombardi, I was a hundred times more worthy of the name.
I, too, was a Lombardi, no less than anyone else.
“Beleśak denied that. And that is something I cannot tolerate.”
“So it was not because he called you lowly, but because he said you were not a Lombardi?”
“Yes.”
I nodded, then deliberately added one more word.
“Grandfather.”
It meant, I am your granddaughter too. I wanted him to know I had just as much right to call him that as Beleśak did.
And in that moment, I saw it.
A faint smile passed across Grandfather’s rigid face.
“Doesn’t your knee hurt?”
Only then did I look down. Blood was flowing from the scraped skin where I had fallen.
“Of course it hurts.”
“And yet you’re not crying. You used to be such a crybaby.”
I froze for a moment. Until yesterday, I had been timid and tearful. Would he find it strange that I had suddenly changed?
Slightly flustered, I quickly replied,
“I will cry. After I say everything I want to say, I’ll go to my room and cry.”
“Pfft.”
I heard my father chuckle softly above me, and the tense atmosphere eased.
That’s a relief.
I swallowed a quiet sigh. The first step to becoming the head of the family was to earn Grandfather’s trust.
Grandfather was the king of Lombardi. Everything—from minor matters to the successor—followed his will. In short, earning his favor meant everything.
Others like Bieze might dislike me, but as long as I had Grandfather’s favor, there was little they could do. In Lombardi, falling out of his favor was practically social death.
Fighting Beleśak had been unexpected, but it turned into an opportunity. I had been wondering how to catch Grandfather’s attention, and now I had firmly made my impression.
“F-father, I think Tia’s injuries should be treated.”
My father cautiously spoke up.
“Hmm. Yes, that would be best. Take her.”
Permission granted. Time to leave.
I reached for my father’s hand—
“Wait.”
Grandfather called me.
What now?
“Florentia, is this book yours?”
He picked up the book from the floor and handed it to me. The thick volume titled People of the South was clearly not a children’s storybook. Which meant it was valuable.
I stiffened. I had completely forgotten about the book—and I knew exactly what Grandfather thought about people who mistreated books.
There was no way out. He had seen me beating Beleśak with it.
“Yes, it’s mine……”
I took it with both hands.
“I’m sorry.”
“Hmm?”
Grandfather looked at me, puzzled.
Wasn’t he angry?
“What are you apologizing for?”
“Well… for handling the book roughly. Books are meant to convey knowledge, not to hit—or harm—people.”
“You said earlier you did nothing wrong.”
Sharp memory.
I feigned innocence.
“I think admitting mistakes quickly, once you realize them, is also a good thing.”
“Hmm……”
Grandfather let out a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh, then said to my father,
“Take Florentia to the physician.”
There was a resident doctor within Lombardi—a man who taught students, conducted research, and treated patients in a small clinic supported by the family.
“Yes, Father.”
Seeing the blood on my knee, my father lifted me into his arms. It was natural for a father to carry his seven-year-old daughter, but for me—mentally an adult—it felt strangely unfamiliar. Especially being held by a father I thought I would never see again.
“But Father! Are you going to let this go? Florentia has left Beleśak in this state!”
Bieze, who had been cowering, suddenly shouted in frustration.
“She must take responsibility!”
Oh dear.
I resisted the urge to bury my face in my father’s shoulder. Some things never change.
“Are you questioning my decision?”
Grandfather’s voice turned cold again.
“N-no, that’s not what I meant……”
“Bieze.”
“…Yes, Father.”
“You should be ashamed.”
With that, Grandfather turned and went back into his office. Bieze ground his teeth but could do nothing.
“We’ll be going now.”
My father greeted them and began to leave, carrying me. But as he passed Bieze, he paused briefly and added,
“Brother, aren’t you making too much of a fuss over a children’s quarrel?”
“Pfft!”
I had to quickly cover my mouth with one hand. It was exactly what Bieze had always said whenever Beleśak bullied me.
“Y-you…!”
Bieze fumed, but my father simply walked on calmly.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and glanced back, searching for Beleśak. When our eyes met, he flinched. I wiped the smile from my face and mouthed silently:
“See. You. Later.”
He suddenly burst into loud tears, but I ignored him, nuzzling into my father’s arms and savoring the moment I had longed for.
Ah… Dad smells nice.
