Chapter 21
“Memory varies from person to person, and everyone has different strengths. But there are ways to improve it with effort. If you want, I can share some tips.”
“What… do you mean by that?”
Leticia, who had been yelling moments before, asked suspiciously. Irene replied with an emotionless expression.
“I just thought you might not remember what the Grand Duke said last time he visited. In front of everyone, he said, ‘What I need isn’t the belle of the social scene but a capable surgeon.'”
“So, are you saying… I’m like a goldfish with no memory?”
“…”
Irene said nothing. Leticia often accused Irene of things she hadn’t even said.
It wasn’t just Leticia. Even the pretentious types like the pompous man of the hour would sometimes do the same. Perhaps sea creatures, like jellyfish and Leticia, had a natural connection.
Or maybe, just as Leticia often claimed, there was something wrong with Irene herself.
“Don’t get cocky, Irene. The Grand Duke is only interested in you for now because you’re novel—just a curiosity. A female surgeon! Of course, it’s intriguing. But once he sees your true colors, he’ll be disgusted. I bet you’ll be sent packing in less than a month.”
My true colors.
That phrase felt like a sharp jab to the heart. Not metaphorically. Irene felt a sting in her chest.
Almost reflexively, her hand went to her chest. Beneath it, she could feel her heart racing, pumping hot, vivid blood.
No. Don’t open it.
Irene shook her head, trying to push away the memories becoming clearer and clearer. But they kept resurfacing, breaking through the surface like bubbles.
No. No. No.
Her breathing grew shallow. The color drained from her face, and her fingertips began to turn cold.
At that moment, Leticia’s sharp voice pulled Irene out of her daze.
“A top graduate? Ha! What good is that? You never debuted in society. You’re just someone who cuts into flesh! Do you think the Grand Duke would choose you? As if! You’re nothing more than a butcher who slaughters livestock!”
If Leticia had planned to slice through Irene with her words, she’d utterly failed. Her venomous remarks had pulled Irene out of far worse memories.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Am I wrong?”
“Thank you.”
“…What?”
Leticia frowned as if she hadn’t heard right. But Irene was being sincere. She’d rather face Leticia’s harsh words than relive that day’s memories a hundred times over.
“Thank you, Leti.”
“Ahhh! Mother!”
Leticia screamed and stomped her feet, looking toward the baroness. The Baron and his wife sighed heavily.
Leticia was so frustrated she stamped her feet.
“Look at her! She’s mocking me! Are you just going to stand there? Say something to her!”
The Baron finally spoke in a resigned tone.
“It’s the Grand Duke’s decision.”
“But, Father! Are you just going to sit back and watch her become the Grand Duke’s physician?”
“Calm down, Leti.”
The Baron looked at Irene with a complicated expression.
He had hoped that if Leticia caught the Grand Duke’s eye, their family might rise in status. They could leave their provincial life behind and enjoy the glamour of the capital.
Being associated with the Grand Duke was like riding a tiger—it would bring power and influence. People would bring the family gifts, and Lucas could mingle with nobles of higher rank.
But it was Irene who had caught the Grand Duke’s attention. The Duke didn’t want a beautiful flower at his side; he needed a surgeon who wasn’t afraid to stain her hands with blood.
Coming out of his deep thoughts, the Baron asked in a low voice.
“When will you leave?”
Irene glanced at the clock on the wall and replied indifferently.
“The carriage is waiting in front of the house.”
“What carriage?”
The baroness asked in confusion. Irene turned her gaze to her.
“The Grand Duke sent one to help carry my belongings.”
“What?!”
Leticia’s eyes burned with anger as if demanding why it was Irene, not her. The Baron nodded.
“Then pack quickly. The Duke must not be kept waiting.”
“Yes.”
Irene turned to leave for her room.
“Father!”
Leticia shrieked, but the Baron could do nothing. Just as Irene was about to exit the room—
“Irene.”
The Baron called her name. She paused, slowly turning back. There was an unusual softness in his voice as he spoke her name.
For a moment, she wondered if it might have been the first time he’d ever called her by name.
“Yes.”
The Baron stared at her intently for a moment before speaking in a meaningful tone.
“You haven’t forgotten the grace we’ve shown you, have you?”
Irene looked at him without answering. The Baroness, unable to hold back, added:
“Remember, it was us who took you out of that place and raised you all this time.”
That place.
There was no need to elaborate. She knew they weren’t talking about the orphanage, where she couldn’t sleep peacefully due to bullying. No, it was a far worse place. A place full of horrific memories.
That place.
“Yes.”
Irene nodded calmly. If she didn’t, the baroness would surely have more to say.
They weren’t wrong. She had received clothes, albeit Leticia’s hand-me-downs. They gave her food, even if it wasn’t much.
Irene hadn’t forgotten their so-called kindness. Without them, she might still be trapped in that place, unable to escape the horrors.
“Good, then,” the Baron said, visibly relieved.
Irene left the room, shutting the door behind her. Through the closing door, she could hear the baroness soothing Leticia.
“Calm down, Leti. As you know, the Grand Duke isn’t interested in her as a woman. Think about it—it might even be an opportunity. If Irene earns his trust, it could give you a chance to visit Northe and get closer to him. The better she does, the more opportunities you’ll have.”
Click.
The door closed completely. Irene didn’t look back, walking forward without hesitation. Past the flower-patterned wallpaper and the family portraits where she was absent—always forward.
Divoa glanced at Irene and then at the carriage behind her. Then back at Irene and again at the carriage.
“Hmm.”
Divoa’s hum made the coachman look away awkwardly. Only then did Irene turn to look at the carriage she had arrived in.
The ornate carriage was packed with books, leaving only a small space where she had been sitting earlier.
Though it wasn’t a cargo wagon, the books were carefully stacked, filling it almost entirely. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but the two horses looked especially tired.
Irene spoke indifferently.
“I only picked the important books, but it seems it’s still too much to bring everything.”
If there was any disappointment in her tone, it was so subtle no one would notice. Not even her.
Irene was as bad at understanding her own emotions as she was at reading others. Sometimes, she couldn’t even identify the emotions that briefly swept over her.
And she preferred it that way. Naming and being consumed by emotions seemed overwhelming. Too strong a feeling might shatter her completely.
Divoa studied her quietly, then smiled brightly and shook his head.
“There’s no reason why you can’t take them. My physician wants them, after all.”
Irene exhaled softly, almost inaudibly.
The Baron, who redecorated his library every few years, had always sent unused books to the attic, where they became hers.
Though the Baron was outwardly quiet, he was far more ambitious than his chatty wife. He didn’t care for books; to him, they were nothing more than ornaments for his library.
Leticia and Lucas were no different. Despite the baroness’s nagging, neither had ever been seen reading.
So the Baron had been generous enough to let Irene have the books. For him, it was just clearing out clutter, but for Irene, they were a treasure.
The books in the attic were the only things she could truly call her own. They were her family and her friends, the ones who had been with her the longest.
She was glad she didn’t have to leave them behind. Her eyebrows relaxed ever so slightly—a change so small, no one noticed.
Looking at the mountain of books, Divoa asked curiously,
“Is that all you’re taking? No other luggage?”
“No. I have a few dresses.”
With that, Irene pulled out a small bag from the carriage. It was barely big enough to hold two or three dresses.
Divoa nodded, then turned around.
“You won’t need that bag. Leave it behind. Once we’re in Northe, we’ll arrange dresses more suited for my physician.”
His last words sounded almost like he was talking to himself. Irene stood there blankly for a moment before the coachman took the bag from her hands without so much as touching her.
