Chapter 23
Irene let out a small sigh and lightly held Divoa’s hand. So lightly, it was as if a thin sheet of paper was between them.
Divoa gently tightened his grip, causing Irene to flinch, but she quickly composed herself and confidently walked down the stairs. She wore gloves, so she couldn’t feel Divoa’s warmth at all.
Thud.
Finally, both her feet touched the ground. Irene, still holding Divoa’s hand, turned to look at him with her usual indifferent gaze.
When their eyes met, Divoa let go of her hand and flashed a bright smile.
“Welcome to my land, Norte.”
At that moment, Irene frowned slightly without realizing it. The sunlight was so bright it stung her eyes. She raised her hand to shield her eyes, making a shade. That helped a little.
She looked at Divoa, who stood in front of the sun with a radiant smile.
“…”
Welcome.
No one had ever welcomed her before. Not when she followed Baron Rios to Therapia. Not even when she enrolled in medical school with excellent grades.
She had always been an outcast, an island unto herself, and an unwelcome guest. It didn’t bother her; the problem was probably her, after all.
That’s why Divoa’s words felt so strange.
“You’re welcoming me?”
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Divoa’s smile grew warmer, almost as if the sun itself bowed before him.
Irene swallowed a silent sigh, realizing how unrealistic her thoughts were.
“Of course. Both I and my land welcome you wholeheartedly.”
“T-thank you.”
She barely managed to stammer those words. For some reason, her throat felt tight. It wasn’t like she had caught a cold.
She lightly touched her forehead with her hand to check. No fever.
No chills, no runny nose.
After carefully assessing her condition, Irene relaxed and began looking around. In the distance, she saw towering mountains, their peaks still covered in unmelted snow.
Beyond the twin train tracks stretched an endless plain. Patches of brown grass grew haphazardly.
The wind that brushed the back of her neck was cooler than in Therapia, and the sunlight warming her cheeks felt a bit colder.
“Oh.”
For a moment, she thought, What if, when this cold wind and sunlight no longer feel cold, I could finally become normal?
It would be nice.
If only she could be normal.
“But I can’t.”
Irene knew better than anyone that it wasn’t possible. She was too shattered to ever be whole again.
Once something breaks, it can never return to its original state. No matter how carefully the pieces are put together, there will always be missing parts.
She stared at the snow-covered mountain peaks with her indifferent gaze. To her, Norte was still cold and chilly. Unconsciously, she shrank her shoulders.
Divoa’s castle, perched on high ground, resembled a fortress. Its towering spires and sharp rooftops looked like valiant knights wielding spears.
An impenetrable stronghold.
But as soon as she stepped inside, Irene had to change her mind. The castle was more magnificent and opulent than any building she had ever seen.
I should’ve guessed after seeing the carriage His Grace rode.
Used to valuing frugality, Irene felt awkward as she darted her eyes around. The ceilings stretched impossibly high, and gold ornaments adorned every step.
Though the windows were relatively small due to the northern climate, the castle felt bright, thanks to the chandeliers that remained lit even during the day.
Recalling the castle entrance, the grand gate, and the countless buildings within, Irene let out a quiet, exasperated sigh.
The castle’s scale rivaled that of her medical school, where she spent four years. Maybe it was even larger.
Even as a third-year student, she often got lost on campus. It seemed she would need quite some time to adjust to this place.
Lost in thought, she didn’t notice Divoa gesturing to the line of servants.
“This is the castle where you’ll be staying. And these are the people who will assist you.”
Irene finally tore her gaze away from the high ceiling and looked at the servants. They smiled kindly when their eyes met hers.
She returned their looks with her usual indifferent expression, unsure of what to do.
An elderly man at the far left was the first to speak. His graying hair, mustache, and neat attire hinted at his experience.
“Welcome. We’ve been expecting you.”
“…”
Irene couldn’t respond and simply pressed her lips together. Maybe she had caught a cold during the train journey, explaining her constant tight throat.
“I am Adolph Moreya, the castle’s butler. Please feel free to call me Adolph.”
“Oh, goodness.”
Before Adolph could finish, a middle-aged woman beside him frowned. Standing next to the thin butler, her plump figure seemed even softer and more comforting.
The woman sighed dramatically and placed her hands on her hips, speaking in a firm tone as if scolding a child.
“I thought Mr. Moreya was the only scrawny one here.”
She let out an exaggerated sigh, then laughed awkwardly.
“Welcome, miss. I’m Juana, the castle’s chef. Dinner is nearly ready, but I’ll have to add a few dishes. My motto is that scrawny folks should be eradicated from this world. Don’t you agree, Mr. Flitch?”
“Why ask me?”
The rotund man next to her grumbled.
Juana glanced at everyone present, then smiled knowingly at Miguel Flitch.
“Ahem.”
Miguel cleared his throat. Juana and Miguel were the only two with large builds, though Miguel’s stomach was especially generous.
He replied his triple chin twitching.
“Nonsense. A round belly is the true symbol of wealth and power.”
Irene struggled to keep up with the fast-paced conversation. Just then, a young woman standing farthest to the right lowered her head nervously.
“Hello, miss. It’s an honor to serve you. My name is Mia. If you need anything, you can count on me. Uh, by the way… what should I call you?”
The young woman looked a few years younger than Irene, her eyes sparkling as she waited for an answer.
Irene replied indifferently.
“Call me whatever you want. Broomstick, witch, it’s all fine.”
“…”
A brief silence fell. The castle’s high ceilings made the quiet even heavier. Mia blinked in surprise, and Adolph furrowed his brow.
The sudden chill in the atmosphere made Irene hide her dismay beneath her blank expression. It wasn’t new. Her words often froze warm conversations.
Though it had happened countless times, today, she resented her ability more than ever. She didn’t want to disappoint the people who had welcomed her so warmly.
If they knew what I’m like, they’d be disappointed.
As Irene stared gloomily at her feet, a warm voice cut through the tension.
“Let’s call her ‘Doctor.’ She’s here as my physician, so she should be treated the same as Dr. Flitch.”
Of course, it was Divoa. Smiling softly, he glanced at Mia.
Mia caught off guard, straightened up, and nodded vigorously.
“Yes, Your Grace!”
Irene hesitantly looked up at Divoa. He had a talent she didn’t—an ability to melt tense situations with ease.
If it weren’t for him, this moment would’ve been much more uncomfortable.
The more she got to know him, the clearer it became: Irene and Divoa were complete opposites. She was a ghost, and he was the sun. She was the freezing northern wind, and he was the southern breeze that thawed the earth.
Yet, they shared one thing in common. Inside, both were deeply wounded.
As Irene stared blankly at a neatly peeled potato, Mia’s cheerful voice brought her back.
“Pleased to meet you, Dr. Rios. I’ll do my best to make sure you’re comfortable here.”
Irene slowly turned her head to meet Mia’s gaze again. Mia smiled brightly as if she had been waiting for this moment.
“Uh…”
What formed on Irene’s lips wasn’t sarcasm or a cold sneer.
So, she didn’t know how to respond. Her uncertain gaze flitted around, unable to settle, and finally dropped back to the floor.
“You could just call me a troublemaker… or a lost cause.”
Her muttered words were so faint they barely reached Divoa’s ears. For a moment, his unreadable gaze rested on the top of her head before moving away.
Miguel Flitch grumbled disapprovingly.
“Your Grace, a female surgeon? Really?”
