Chapter 07
Baron Rios didn’t own a grand gate or a sprawling garden like the Count’s estate, but he was wealthy enough to employ three maids and two servants. This was thanks to the two buildings and a small ranch registered under his name.
His house, with six rooms, three bathrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, and a parlor, was decent enough for a baron. But to Irene, the house always felt like a prison.
Even so, she never dared to leave. If the house was a prison, the outside world was a living hell.
Irene adjusted her sagging bag with a firm grip. It felt as heavy as a boulder. She couldn’t tell if it was because of the textbooks inside or the weight on her heart.
Irene’s sudden decision to enter medical school had a few reasons. First, medical books always fascinated her. Once she opened one, she’d get so absorbed she’d often lose track of time and skip meals.
Second, the Royal Medical College was in Therapia, not the capital. She didn’t want to go to the bustling capital city where she might encounter someone who knew her past.
Also, Baron Rios was a noble of Therapia. Even though she applied for admission without his consent, she calculated he wouldn’t openly oppose it for the sake of his reputation.
But the biggest reason was that the college was infamous for its grueling workload. Students were rarely allowed to leave campus, and only top performers could return home during the twice-a-year vacations.
While many students found this challenging, Irene found it appealing. It gave her a solid excuse not to return home.
She did not need it. She excelled academically every year and even earned extra income by selling her rare leave privileges to other students.
Yet this year, she found herself back home unexpectedly.
“I just visited at the end of last year,” Irene mumbled under her breath, barely audible even to herself. She straightened her shoulders and pulled out a pocket watch from her coat.
The watch, engraved with lilies, was older than Irene’s but still worked perfectly.
— Return home by 3 p.m. this weekend.
She recalled the last line of her father’s letter and stared intently at the watch. The impatient hour hand was already at 3, and the second hand had just reached 12.
At that exact moment, she knocked on the lion-shaped door knocker.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Who is it?”
Soon, a familiar voice came from inside. The housekeeper, who had worked there for many years, opened the door.
“Oh?”
The housekeeper’s face showed confusion, as though she couldn’t understand why Irene was there. Irene didn’t have an explanation either.
“I came because of Father’s letter.”
“The master is… inside. Please come in,” the housekeeper replied, her usual stern expression replacing her surprise.
Irene stepped into the house, and a familiar suffocating sensation overwhelmed her. It wasn’t unusual. She always felt like this here.
But when she was a child, even this stifling prison felt necessary. The alternative was returning to hell.
I’m an adult now. I’m not the child I used to be. No one can hurt me anymore.
She repeated the mantra in her mind as she walked through the hallway.
“The master is in the parlor.”
“The parlor?” Irene asked reflexively, wondering if a guest had arrived.
The housekeeper turned briskly and disappeared into the kitchen, showing no intention of helping with Irene’s luggage. It wasn’t surprising. Irene had always been a stranger in this house.
After leaving her bag in the living room, Irene headed to the parlor. Nothing had changed since her last visit months ago.
The floral wallpaper chosen by her mother, the foreign ornaments meant to impress guests, and the faint rose fragrance lingering in the air—it was all the same.
What wasn’t there was any trace of Irene, as if she had never existed.
She paused briefly in front of a family portrait in the hallway. In it, Baron and Baroness Rios sat on chairs, their eldest son, Lucas, standing behind their mother, and their youngest daughter, Leticia, standing behind their father.
When the portrait was painted, Irene hadn’t been in it. She’d stood beside the painter, watching the canvas slowly come to life.
She turned away and resumed her steps as if nothing had happened. Stopping at the parlor door, she knocked.
Knock, knock.
“Come in,” her father’s voice called.
Only after being permitted did Irene open the door. Inside were her parents, Lucas, and Leticia, all turning to look at her. Leticia frowned openly.
Baron Rios greeted her in a dry tone.
“It’s been a while.”
His words carried no warmth or joy, and Irene lost in thought, missed her chance to respond.
She often found herself puzzled by things others accepted without question. Like now, she was trying to figure out what “a while” actually meant.
A week? A month? A season?
She had only been gone for three months. Was that long enough to call it “a while”? Or was it just how ordinary people spoke?
While Irene was silently pondering, Leticia sneered.
“Look at her, standing there blankly instead of responding to a greeting. Typical Irene.”
Her tone was too familiar and disrespectful for an older sister, but no one pointed it out.
Irene didn’t, either. She was used to Leticia’s hostility, as ordinary as the air around her. Instead of replying, she nodded slightly.
“Yes.”
“Sit down.”
And that was it. After three months apart, Baron Rios didn’t ask how she’d been, and Irene didn’t ask how they were.
Irene sat on a chair across from her family, who were all seated on the same couch.
Breaking the usual silence, Baron Rios spoke first.
“We’re expecting an important guest today.”
So that’s why she had been called back? Irene wondered.
Baron Rios rarely invited guests to their homes. When he did, it was always clear the reason was Irene.
On such occasions, she’d be confined to the attic, forbidden from stepping foot downstairs.
In that dusty attic, she’d often pass the time reading books. Among them, medical books had captivated her.
The attic housed a disorganized collection of philosophy, religion, and history books discarded from the main library.
Reading about medicine, Irene could forget her hunger and loneliness, even falling asleep among the books without anyone noticing.
Late at night, when her stomach’s growling woke her, she’d sneak into the kitchen like a cautious mouse.
Leftovers from the feast downstairs were usually gone, devoured by the servants. Irene would settle for stale bread and lukewarm water.
She’d never thought it strange. It was just how things were.
Irene was nothing more than a…
“…”
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
Leticia turned toward the sound, frowning. Everyone in the house knew she hated the bell’s shrill tone.
If someone dared to ring it, it had to be a guest—likely the important one her father had mentioned.
Irene stared blankly at the air, noticing something different about Leticia’s expression. Her flushed face suggested excitement, while her stiff features hinted at annoyance.
Before Irene could decipher it, their mother gently patted Leticia’s hand.
“Don’t worry, Leticia. No matter how elegant the young lady from the capital is, no one can outshine you.”
Reassured, Leticia smiled radiantly.
“Yes, Mother.”
“And don’t forget, Irene will make you look even better just by being here.”
Leticia glanced sideways at Irene, her confidence growing.
At that moment, a knock came at the parlor door, followed by a servant announcing,
“Sir, His Grace, Grand Duke Cassis, has arrived.”
