Chapter 25
Irene looked around again. Through the fir trees, she spotted a building that resembled the main hall. With a heavy sigh, she trudged toward it, her expression gloomy.
“I don’t want to be remembered as someone late.”
She quickened her pace, her steps crunching on the forest floor. After what felt like ages, Irene finally emerged from the forest to find herself in front of the building she’d seen earlier.
“Finally here…”
But she stopped in her tracks, realizing something was off. The building was similar to the main hall in every way—its architectural style, color, number of floors, and even the shape of the windows. Yet something felt different. Then she noticed: that the front door was a slightly darker shade than she remembered.
In the dim light, it was hard to be sure, but the details started to add up. The steps were lower, there were fewer windows, and the shrubs were more sparse compared to the main hall.
“This isn’t the right place.”
Though it was almost identical to the main hall, this was definitely not it. Irene’s blue eyes flashed with frustration, but there was no time to waste. She was already late. She turned to leave.
“People often get lost here,” a familiar voice drifted to her ears.
Irene slowly turned her head. Even in the darkness, Divoa’s smile was vivid.
“I forgot to warn you—everything here looks the same,” he said.
Behind him, Irene noticed an unusually dark shadow moving. Startled, she realized it wasn’t a shadow at all but Javier, blending into the darkness as if he had finally become Divoa’s shadow for real.
Divoa turned to her with an easy grin.
“This is the borderland with the Kingdom of Alvar. Battles break out here several times a year. To protect the grand duke, all the buildings were designed to look identical so invaders wouldn’t know where he was. Even the paths between them are built like a maze.”
Irene nodded, understanding now. But there was one thing that still puzzled her.
“How did you know I’d end up here? There are so many similar buildings. I could’ve been lost anywhere.”
Divoa shrugged lightly. “Everyone staying in the east wing ends up here. The paths all look the same.”
She nodded again, realizing he was right. At the crossroads, she had chosen the left path without hesitation. It seemed the correct way had been to the right.
Life was full of choices, and Irene had never been great at picking the right one on the first try. Getting lost was not new to her.
To compensate, she had learned to move quickly and leave early, always accounting for her inevitable mistakes. She had no guide to show her the way, no kind advisor to help her, but she kept going, step by step. That was how Irene Rios did things.
“But,” Divoa said, snapping her out of her thoughts, “when you’re lost, it’s better to stay put and wait for someone to find you. Wandering around only makes it harder for others to catch up.”
Irene shook her head firmly.
“No. It’s better to keep moving toward what seems right. No one’s coming for me anyway.”
She remembered one autumn when she’d first arrived at Therapia. Feeling adventurous, she had wandered too far on a walk, only to realize she was lost.
Hours passed, and no one came looking for her. Cold rain began to fall, and her worn dress did little to keep her warm. She eventually found her way back after three more hours, shivering and hungry. By then, it was dark, and the household had moved on without noticing her absence.
No one had even realized she was gone.
Divoa studied her face, struck silent by the weight of her words. What kind of childhood must she have endured, he wondered.
When Divoa got lost as a child, the entire palace would erupt in chaos until he was found. Servants, knights, and even his parents would search tirelessly for him, whether he was hiding in a closet or asleep in the bushes.
But Irene had no such luxury. She was alone, invisible, and if she stayed still, no one would come. So she moved forward, even if it was in the wrong direction.
Suddenly, Divoa spoke without thinking.
“But I found you, didn’t I?”
She turned to him, her glassy blue eyes unreadable.
“From now on, if you ever get lost, I’ll come find you. I’m a generous man to my personal physician, after all,” he said with a playful tone.
Irene gave a slight nod, not reacting to the humor in his words.
“Oh.” She realized something. Divoa had started calling her “Miss Irene” again, instead of “Dr. Rios.” She debated pointing it out but decided against it. It didn’t matter what he called her—neither was her real name anyway.
“You’ll regret saying that.”
“Why would I?”
“Because I kept getting lost at school until I was in third grade.”
Divoa froze for a moment, his shoulders shaking before he finally looked at her with a warm smile.
“You’ve never heard the rumors about me, have you?”
“What rumors?”
“That I’m the most patient grand duke, someone who never loses his temper—not even with servants.”
Irene tilted her head, searching her memory before shaking it. “No. I haven’t.”
Divoa stifled a laugh and added, “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t get mad at you. You have my word.”
“Alright.”
She felt a small sense of relief. It was her first job, after all, and the last thing she wanted was to get fired and sent back to Therapia. Divoa’s patience was a fortunate thing.
“Let’s go. Professor Flich is waiting for us. We’re having dinner together, and he must be wondering where we are.”
“His neck must be tired from waiting,” Irene said dryly, trailing a step behind him.
Divoa paused, confused, before bursting into quiet laughter as he imagined the stout professor.
“Are you feeling unwell?” Irene asked, her tone suddenly professional.
“No, not at all,” Divoa said, brushing it off with a wave.
As they walked, Irene noticed something subtle. At first, Divoa had been a step ahead, but now they were side by side.
