Chapter 02
Divoa glanced around calmly, his boots making a loud sound on the marble floor. His dark military uniform stood out starkly, not fitting the atmosphere of the place. Yet, it wasn’t the uniform itself but Divoa’s imposing presence that caught attention.
Walking through the corridors of the medical school, he resembled a wolf in a chicken coop. His slow steps were deliberate, and his seemingly relaxed gaze carried a sharp intensity. These contrasting traits that only Divoa Cassis could embody—sharp like a soldier, yet indifferent like a nobleman.
With a relaxed smile, Divoa praised the dean walking beside him.
“The reputation of being the oldest medical school on the continent is well-deserved. The building’s atmosphere speaks of deep scholarly history.”
In simpler terms, he meant it was old and dull. However, the dean, who hurried along behind him, didn’t catch the underlying meaning and instead beamed with pride. Divoa’s aide, Javier, raised an eyebrow briefly but said nothing.
The dean added a flattering comment, attributing the school’s excellence to the support of the king and royal family’s support.
“Our medical school is uniquely located in Therapia, the birthplace of Garcia Etura, the father of medicine. As you know, it’s a beacon of knowledge, attracting students from across nations.”
As the dean went on, Divoa ignored most of his words, instead watching the students who stole glances at him. He smiled faintly, making them lower their heads respectfully—even though they didn’t know who he was, his presence was enough to signal importance.
Divoa’s striking appearance helped too. Unlike the golden-haired, blue-eyed nobles typical of the royal family, he had ash-gray hair and dark eyes inherited from his mother, who hailed from the Musco Peninsula. His hair was like the sky before snow, and his black eyes, though cold at first glance, sparkled when he smiled.
One student gasped, noticing something on Divoa’s shoulder.
“Stars on his epaulet… Four stars? That’s the rank of a General Commander! What’s someone like him doing here?”
Hearing this, Divoa casually remarked to the dean,
“I can smell a bit of blood here. It’s a smell I’m very familiar with.”
The dean, flustered, tried to assure him that the place had been cleaned recently. Divoa chuckled softly.
“Or perhaps it’s the blood and sweat of students striving to become great doctors.”
They soon arrived at the professor’s office, where a distinguished professor and three top students stood waiting. The dean proudly introduced them, but Divoa was calm and polite, even offering a handshake—an unusual gesture for someone of his status.
Divoa then explained his reason for visiting:
“I’m looking for a new personal physician.”
This stunned the room. As a grand duke, third prince, and Commander-in-Chief, Divoa could have his pick of the kingdom’s finest doctors. Why would he personally come to meet young, soon-to-graduate students?
Sensing a rare opportunity, the students listened intently, their ambitions visible. Divoa noticed their eagerness but remained composed.
Divoa mentioned the ongoing skirmishes in his territory due to the aggressive king of the neighboring Albar Kingdom. He recounted how his current physician, despite being competent, prayed over injured soldiers instead of treating them.
“They should’ve seen the looks on my soldiers’ faces,” Divoa added with a faint, ironic smile.
