DTI Chapter 15

Chapter 15

“Sweet potatoes usually grow well in warm regions. Potatoes, on the other hand, thrive in colder areas. Unfortunately, I don’t like potatoes.”
“Hmm.”

Divoa stifled a chuckle with another fake cough, pretending to stay serious. Conversations with Irene were fresh and amusing. Where else could one have a debate about root vegetables with a noblewoman?

He was sure the young ladies in the capital wouldn’t even know what potatoes or sweet potatoes looked like.

“Well, you’re not seeing the full picture.”
“You’re saying I don’t know everything?”

For the first time, Irene looked flustered. Divoa found this strangely entertaining, more than he could explain.

“The North is the northernmost part of the Kingdom of Divoa,” he said.
“That much I know.”
“But it’s not the northernmost part of the continent.”

Irene was caught off guard and fell silent. Divoa, with a playful glint in his eyes, watched her intently.

“And that region is constantly at war. Not exactly ideal for wheat farming. So, what do you think they grow there?”
“Staple crops…”
“Exactly. The North is famous not only for its potatoes but also for its sweet potatoes. Though smaller than the ones grown in the South, they’re richer and sweeter.”
“Ah.”
“And there’s a variety of dishes made from sweet potatoes.”
“Like what?”

Irene’s curiosity was piqued; her eyes sparkled.

“Well, how about this? Imagine every dish you can make with wheat, but made with sweet potatoes instead.”
“Wow.”

Irene looked amazed, her mouth slightly open. Sweet potatoes in every dish? It sounded like paradise.

Divoa narrowed his eyes slightly and asked in a smooth voice, “So, does this make you want to visit the North?”

Irene glanced thoughtfully at a brown envelope in her hands before speaking.
“Professor Figueras just offered me a position as his assistant for anatomy.”

Divoa frowned slightly as the image of the balding Figueras came to mind. That meddlesome old man. Irene was almost convinced, and now this?

He clicked his tongue quietly, just as he was about to speak.

“Hey, broomstick!”

A sharp voice interrupted them. Irene turned her head first, Divoa a beat later. He quickly realized “broomstick” was one of her many nicknames.

Maxi approached them with a fierce expression, glancing between Irene and Divoa. Once again, he found them together. Was Irene really going to become the Grand Duke Cassis’ personal physician?

Maxi bowed to Divoa.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Grand Duke Cassis.”

Irene’s gaze flickered slightly. She finally realized she hadn’t greeted him properly. While she wasn’t one for etiquette, even she knew how rude it was not to acknowledge royalty.

After hesitating briefly, Irene grabbed her skirt and curtseyed.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Grand Duke Cassis.”

“Hmm.”

Her belated greeting made Divoa purse his lips, but he couldn’t hide the amusement in his eyes.

Divoa remembered the mixed stories he’d heard about Irene. Students often ended their gossip with “but…”:

– “But if you keep your distance, she’s not so bad.”
– “But she’s not a natural genius. She studies late into the night.”
– “But she’s surprisingly easy to deal with. Just give her some sweet potato dishes, and she’ll dissect cadavers for you.”
– “But maybe she’s not as heartless as they say. During childbirth training, she saved her patient first. She might not be the grim reaper after all.”

Fascinating, Divoa thought. How could one person be judged so differently by others?

“Did you meet Professor Figueras?” Maxi asked, his tone impatient.
Irene nodded silently.
“Are you going to accept his offer?”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
“What’s there to think about? You love dissecting corpses.”
“I don’t love it.”

Maxi looked skeptical. Irene averted her gaze and muttered,
“Not as much as you think.”
“If that’s the case, I must not love anything at all,” Maxi grumbled. Then he urged her, “Just accept his offer already.”

Divoa let out a knowing smile, leaning slightly on one leg.
“Our ambitious vice-president wants to secure the top spot, I see.”

His slow, deliberate words carried both amusement and a cold undertone. Maxi stiffened and turned to face Divoa, whose expression was calm but imposing.

Divoa’s aura had changed entirely. Despite his smile, a chilling air surrounded him. Maxi instantly realized the man before him wasn’t just another noble.

Divoa was born to lead, accustomed to giving orders, and hardened by battle. Unlike sheltered students like Maxi, Divoa carried the air of a predator.

“I think you’re misunderstanding me, Your Grace,” Maxi stammered. “I have no ulterior motives.”

“No motives? You’re clearly worried she might refuse the offer,” Divoa said, voice calm but cutting.

Maxi glanced nervously at Irene, who stood silently, indifferent to the tension. Maxi tried to defend himself.
“It’s not that. I just think Irene is better suited for anatomy than being a personal physician.”

Divoa chuckled softly, gazing into the distance. Maxi was more familiar—a type driven by ambition and greed. Irene, on the other hand, was unreadable, which made her harder to deal with.

Divoa’s slow words cut the tension again.
“Irene rejecting the offer doesn’t mean it will go to you, Maxi. I’m only interested in the top.”

Maxi’s face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He didn’t want Irene to see him like this.

“Then,” Maxi muttered, bowing hastily before turning to leave.

“Oh, and Maxi,” Divoa called out lazily, stopping him. Maxi froze.

Divoa smiled warmly but spoke sharply.
“Broomstick? I’ve never seen such a beautiful broomstick. You should watch your words. Loose lips bring trouble, and trouble shouldn’t befall the vice-president of the royal medical school.”

Maxi clenched his teeth, forcing out a reply.
“Understood.”

Without another word, he walked away briskly.