Chapter 26
It seemed like she walked slowly.
That was unexpected. Whenever Irene moved with her peers, she always rushed to keep up, afraid of falling behind. Her mind was constantly busy, and her habit of getting distracted by her endless thoughts often slowed her down.
Because of that, Irene walked slower than others. One time, a frustrated friend even grabbed her by the back of her collar to drag her along.
But Divoa walked just as slowly as she did.
“At least you won’t get fired for walking slow,” Irene thought with a sigh of relief. Then, worried Divoa might misunderstand, she quickly added, “I was late today because I got lost, but I’m usually very punctual.”
“Is that so?” Divoa replied indifferently as if it didn’t matter whether she was punctual or not.
But Irene nodded emphatically. They walked through the tall pine forest, eventually circling back to where they started. This time, at the fork in the path, they chose the right side.
They came across a building that looked identical to the one they’d seen earlier—except the front door was a slightly lighter color, the steps were a bit taller, the windows were a little more numerous, and the bushes around it were thicker.
Javier, who was walking ahead, opened the door. Inside, Mia was pacing near the entrance.
When she saw Irene, Mia’s face lit up, and she ran over with a worried expression.
“I should’ve come to fetch you. I’m so sorry, Miss Rios,” Mia said.
Irene didn’t understand why Mia was apologizing.
“Why? I’m the one who insisted on going alone, and I’m the one who got lost,” Irene replied.
At that, Mia’s eyes widened. She murmured, “But…” and glanced between Irene, who looked unconcerned, and Divoa, who finally broke the tension with a calm “Alright, alright.”
“This isn’t anyone’s fault,” Divoa said reassuringly. “And no one’s blaming you, so don’t worry.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mia replied, bowing her head. Just like that, the awkwardness between them disappeared.
Irene stared at Divoa again.
That was his gift—his ability to effortlessly dissolve tension.
It was as though he’d gone from standing beside her to standing on the opposite end of the spectrum—a sunny, music-filled world far away.
“Miss Rios, why are you just sitting there like that?”
Mia’s voice pulled Irene out of her thoughts. Startled, Irene looked up, her brow faintly furrowed. She’d been organizing the books the servants had brought, but somewhere along the way, she’d ended up reading instead.
It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Irene sighed, looking sheepish.
No matter how interesting the title was, she really shouldn’t have opened the book. She’d read them all before, anyway. But somehow, she always ended up flipping through the pages like it was her first time.
“I guess I’m just weak to temptation,” Irene muttered to herself.
Dusting off her skirt, she finally looked at Mia, who tilted her head curiously before flashing her usual warm smile.
“Have some snacks while you work! Aunt Juana baked sweet potato pie for you,” Mia said cheerfully.
“Sweet potato pie?” Irene’s eyes sparkled with interest. Sure enough, a sweet aroma wafted from the trolley Mia had pushed in.
Irene quickly put down the book and swapped her gloves before eagerly moving to the sofa.
In the meantime, Mia had already set the tea table and poured a cup of fragrant tea, sliding it in front of Irene.
But Irene ignored the tea and immediately took a big bite of the sweet potato pie.
Wow.
The silent exclamation escaped her lips. She’d noticed during her first dinner with Divoa that Aunt Juana’s cooking was exceptional, but this pie was on another level.
The sweet potato dish was simply divine.
Irene closed her eyes and savored the mild sweetness that filled her mouth. Opening her eyes, she found Mia standing across from her, watching her with a curious intensity, like a scientist observing an experiment.
Uh…
For the first time, Irene felt awkward. She didn’t know what to say in situations like this.
After a moment of hesitation, Irene took another pie, placed it on a plate, and handed it to Mia. It was a significant gesture for Irene—sharing her pie, after all, was no small thing.
“Here… eat,” Irene said hesitantly.
“No, thank you!” Mia quickly waved her hands in refusal, even stepping back. Irene, who had summoned all her courage to offer the pie, looked a little deflated as she pulled the plate back.
Mia hurriedly explained, “I couldn’t possibly take your pie! Aunt Juana would scold me if I did.”
“…”
Irene blinked at Mia, confused. Seeing the question in Irene’s eyes, Mia added with a smile,
“Aunt Juana is very determined to make sure you eat well, Miss Rios. She hasn’t been this motivated since she looked after Butler Adolph. If I take your pie, she’d be furious!”
Mia shivered dramatically, as if just thinking about Juana’s wrath was terrifying. Then she added in a teasing tone,
“And His Grace would scold me too.”
Irene chewed on her pie, glancing at Mia with a puzzled look again. As if reading her mind, Mia continued,
“His Grace instructed Aunt Juana to serve you at least one sweet potato dish every day.”
Oh.
Irene nodded as she took another bite. Thankfully, her employer seemed like someone who kept his promises.
Mia murmured to herself, “I can’t believe you like sweet potatoes. I’ve had enough of them to last a lifetime…”
Fair enough. Not everyone had to like the same things. That was what kept the world peaceful.
If everyone loved sweet potatoes, Irene would’ve had to fight tooth and nail to secure her share. And as someone who wasn’t particularly skilled at fighting, that would’ve been a disaster.
In that sense, she was content. As long as she had her sweet potatoes, Irene didn’t need gold or jewels or anything flashy.
“Ahhh,” Irene sighed contentedly. Even her breath seemed to carry the sweet scent of sweet potatoes. It was a small but undeniable happiness.
“Ahem!”
A loud clearing of the throat snapped Irene out of her thoughts. She turned to see Miguel Flich standing at the door, looking around the office with a critical eye.
When their gazes met, Miguel spoke loudly, as if making sure she heard,
“Well, it’s not bigger than my office.”
Irene blinked and silently studied him. He had a round belly, a belt that seemed on the verge of snapping, and a disproportionately small face.
He reminded her of a sunfish.
Sunfish—or rather, Miguel—puffed out his chest even more, drawing Irene’s uneasy gaze to his belt.
“Graduated from the Royal Medical College, huh? What year?” he asked.
“Class of 195,” Irene replied.
“A rookie, then. I’m Class of 177,” Miguel said smugly.
But Irene couldn’t take her eyes off his precariously stretched belt. She wasn’t about to get hit by flying debris if it suddenly snapped.
Miguel, expecting some respectful acknowledgment of his seniority, frowned when Irene said nothing.
“Kids these days have no manners,” he grumbled, barging into the office uninvited. He glanced at the bookshelf and asked absentmindedly,
“How’s Flich doing?”
Irene hesitated. If “doing well” referred to his health, he was fine. But if it meant his finances, he wasn’t doing well at all.
He’d recently lost a fortune investing in a mine that turned out to have nothing but rocks.
She found such vague questions tricky. Did other people have some secret manual for answering these things?
Maybe she needed to visit the bookstore soon.
While Irene’s thoughts wandered, Miguel suddenly asked with a mischievous grin,
“Is he still balding?”
That question, at least, Irene could answer with confidence.
“He’s been wearing a wig since last year,” she said matter-of-factly.
Miguel burst out laughing, catching Irene off guard.
“He always loved freebies, and now he’s bald! That guy used to let me pay for everything but would act like he was the big shot. Honestly, the world runs on money, not pretentious professors, don’t you think?”
Irene just blinked, unsure how to respond. Miguel seemed as self-centered as the meddling jellyfish she knew, if not more so.
