Chapter 29
“I’m not here to treat the soldiers. I’m here to make sure nothing happens to Your Highness. If you get injured, you’ll need a doctor to treat you immediately. Isn’t that why you hired me?”
Yes, that’s why he hired her. That was the reason.
Divoa tapped his fingers on his thigh.
But why did he feel uneasy about it?
The answer was obvious—justice, or maybe chivalry.
Whatever it was called, he was feeling guilty.
“This journey will be too dangerous for a fragile woman. Even though the camp is in the rear, it’s not entirely safe. As you just heard, the enemy could attack at any time. Don’t assume that swords and arrows will avoid you just because you’re a woman.”
“I thought I was a skilled surgeon, not a delicate flower of high society.”
“……”
For a moment, Divoa was speechless.
Her words had turned against him like a boomerang.
Yes, Irene was not a fragile noblewoman who needed his protection. She was not a lady who held hands and danced gracefully at parties.
Irene was his doctor—the one who would rush to treat him if he were injured.
She was someone who recoiled even at the slightest touch, a doctor obsessed with cleanliness.
So why did he feel uneasy about bringing her?
Why?
“The battlefield is a place where life and death are separated by a thin line. Don’t you fear death?”
Divoa tried to persuade her again. This time, for a brief moment, Irene’s expression wavered.
He caught that tiny flicker of hesitation.
Irene was afraid of carriage accidents. She avoided fierce dogs.
To her, the battlefield must have been terrifying beyond imagination.
Yet, in the next second, she returned to her usual emotionless state and met his gaze.
Divoa stared at her clenched fist. Then, at her unwavering eyes.
“I won’t die.”
“…….”
“I won’t die. I will survive no matter what. My goal is to live long enough to die of old age. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
“To die of old age.”
“Yes. So until then, I won’t die. No matter what.”
Her calm statement carried more determination than any passionate declaration.
Divoa studied her carefully.
Then, suddenly, he asked,
“Why do you want to live so badly?”
He hadn’t planned to ask that, but once he did, he realized he was truly curious.
Why was she so obsessed with survival?
Was her life full of joy?
That was impossible.
Divoa already knew the answer.
Her life couldn’t be any better than his.
When she was with her family, she seemed like an outsider.
Her medical school classmates treated her as someone different.
They called her a witch, a grim reaper, an ice pick, a knife-wielder.
Whatever the nickname, they never truly included her.
So she, too, should have been tired of life.
She should have been waiting for it to end.
But why?
Would knowing her reason make his own life easier to bear?
“…….”
But Irene had no intention of answering him.
A heavy silence filled the space between them.
She refused to answer, and Divoa realized that if he didn’t drop the subject, this silence might last forever.
Thinking logically, there was no reason not to take Irene with him.
In fact, out of everyone, she was the one who should go.
That was the reason he hired her.
Irene Rios was nothing more than a passing amusement in his life.
Nothing more, nothing less.
“……Fine.”
Finally, Divoa agreed.
“We leave in an hour. Be ready. If we leave now, we’ll reach the camp by sunset.”
With that, he left the room—almost as if he were running away.
“Yes.”
Her response came a beat too late, lost in the air.
As Divoa’s footsteps faded down the hall, Irene began gathering her supplies.
She decided to take everything she might need—especially herbs for stopping bleeding and plenty of bandages.
Even if they didn’t work well on Divoa, having them was better than not.
Once she finished thinking, Irene quickly got to work.
As Divoa looked over the people ready to leave, he raised an eyebrow.
His voice came out puzzled.
“Doctor Flich?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Miguel, dressed in an extravagant coat, straightened his shoulders proudly.
The purple silk coat with silver embroidery stood out among the soldiers’ uniforms.
“Why are you here?”
“Of course, to assist Your Highness.”
“You?”
Divoa narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
Miguel Flich was a man who prayed for injured soldiers and whispered blessings to the dying.
“The last time you went to the battlefield was at least a year ago.”
“Hmm.”
Miguel cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced at Irene.
Then, with a confident voice, he replied,
“As the chief royal physician, I must protect Your Highness. How can I leave your safety in the hands of an inexperienced doctor when you’re heading into battle?”
Ah.
Now Divoa understood.
Miguel was afraid that Irene might outshine him.
That was why he had suddenly decided to leave the comfort of the palace.
After all, Miguel had been enjoying his title without doing much work.
It was like a lazy pond full of fat carp.
Sometimes, adding a catfish could shake things up.
A catfish…
Divoa turned his gaze to Irene.
Could she be the catfish that stirred up the pond?
But Irene, unaware of his scrutiny, simply stared at the carriage with her usual blank expression.
Divoa often wondered what she was thinking.
Her mind always seemed busy, but he never knew what occupied it.
Shifting his focus, Divoa smiled warmly at Miguel.
“As expected of you, Doctor Flich.”
“Of course, Your Highness. It’s my duty.”
Miguel bowed dramatically, casting a smug glance at Irene.
But she was still staring at the carriage.
“Let’s go.”
Divoa mounted his horse, and Javier signaled the procession to start.
The soldiers and servants used to this routine, swiftly moved into position.
Miguel climbed into the carriage, and Irene followed with Mia.
Adolph, watching Divoa, looked worried.
“Please be careful, Your Highness. Stay away from danger. Think of the King.”
“I know.”
Divoa sighed and spurred his horse forward.
Adolph let out a heavy sigh and turned to Javier.
“Take care of him.”
Javier nodded before riding after Divoa.
With that, the carriages and horses started moving.
“I hope nothing bad happens,” Adolph murmured.
Juana, standing beside him, placed a reassuring hand on his arm.
“Don’t worry, Adolph. His Highness has always returned safely. This time will be no different. Besides, Doctor Rios is with him.”
“That’s true.”
Adolph nodded, though his face was still full of concern.
Meanwhile, Irene glanced at Adolph and Juana before looking out the window.
Despite knowing where she was going, she remained remarkably calm.
Mia, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.
She kept fidgeting in her seat until she couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Doctor Rios, aren’t you scared?”
Saying it out loud made the fear even more real.
Mia hugged her arms and shivered.
“Norte is close to the Alvar Kingdom, but I’ve never seen war myself. The fighting always stayed at the border, far from the castle. Thanks to His Highness and the army, the enemy never breached the walls. So war always felt like something distant, something that happened to other people. But now that we’re heading into battle…”
Mia’s voice trembled as she looked like she was about to cry.
The carriage had not even left the castle walls yet.
People gathered outside, cheering for Divoa.
“Show the Alvar savages the might of Divoa!”
“Glory to the Grand Duke!”
“May the goddess of victory bless you!”
Mia bit her lip, realizing she had once been among those cheering.
“How can they smile when people are going to die?”
She muttered bitterly.
Irene turned her head and said plainly,
“You can still go back.”
Mia widened her eyes.
Just as Irene called for the driver—
“Doctor Rios!”
Mia grabbed her hand desperately.
For a moment, Irene froze.
