Don’t Tame It [Novel]

50.

Diego raised an eyebrow, as if he had heard something unexpected. Irene nodded calmly.

“Yes.”

“What exactly do you mean by an implicit rule? If you explain the details, it might help me find it.”

“Well, it’s about the unspoken expectations that govern human relationships. For example, the convention of arriving an hour late for an appointment, or the necessity of offering a favored gift when asking a favor. Or perhaps, the art of softening a tense atmosphere. It feels like there’s a secret manual everyone else has mastered, but I am the only one who hasn’t been granted access.”

“…….”

“It’s probably a quite famous text. Everyone seems to have read it. I, um… actually, during my time at the Royal Medical College, I only read medical journals. I suppose I neglected other genres.”

Irene’s voice grew thin, embarrassed by her own narrow scope.

She retreated behind the stack of books Diego was holding. The precariously balanced volumes trembled.

Only then did she realize the weight he was carrying, and she glanced at Javier.

“Wouldn’t it be better to let Javier take some of those? They look heavy.”

“Ahem.”

Diego, who had lifted his head with a nonchalant expression, shook his head.

“No. They aren’t heavy at all.”

Diego took the lead. This time, Irene followed closely at his heels.

“Well. I’m not sure there is a definitive book that summarizes aristocratic etiquette. It is a matter of upbringing—something learned from parents, not written in pages.”

Having said that, Diego paused. The images of Baron and Baroness Rios flickered in his mind—and Irene, who had drifted between them like oil on water.

Hadn’t she told him she was illegitimate?

“Ah, I see.”

Irene nodded, satisfied with the logic. Family education passed from grandfather to father, from father to son.

That explained it.

It was only natural that she wouldn’t know. The Baron and Baroness Rios hadn’t even cared enough to speak to her, let alone educate her.

“Then I suppose these implicit rules are something I will never know.”

Irene replied with calm resignation and turned toward the counter. She was quick to accept things that could not be achieved through her own effort.

But just then.

“How about I teach you?”

Diego narrowed his eyes, watching her. Irene, who had been walking away, stopped and turned slowly.

She looked him straight in the eye. He pulled at the corners of his mouth, offering a smile that was dangerously sweet.

“Are we not as close as family?”

“……Do you mean, as close as those who share secrets?”

“That is correct.”

Irene tasted the words on her tongue.

*As close as family.*

She considered the definition. If family meant a community sharing a roof, the Baron, the Baroness, and Leticia would qualify.

If so, Diego’s words were wrong. For that “family” had never been close to her.

On the other hand, if one defined family by blood—

“…….”

For a moment, the color drained from Irene’s face. A heavy lid she had forced shut began to rattle, threatening to fly open.

*That person is not my family.*

“Miss Irene?”

Diego called to her, his voice laced with confusion. Snapping out of her trance, she looked at him with a forced, fragile smile.

Irene swallowed hard and bowed her head.

“Yes. Thank you.”

A flicker of curiosity crossed Diego’s mind, but he did not press her. The stray cat had finally allowed him to brush its fur.

If he tried to close the distance too hastily, the creature would vanish into the shadows. Diego was a man of immense patience; he was not foolish enough to ruin his progress with impatience.

“Are there any other books you would like to buy?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Yes.”

Irene walked in silence. Whatever the definition of family might be, she now had someone “as close as family.”

It was a peculiar sensation.

*Glance.*

Irene cast a sideways look at Diego.

“Hm? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Meeting her gaze, Diego smiled with deep, affectionate warmth.

“……It’s nothing.”

Irene flinched as if burned and turned away. Her face flushed, as if she were literally catching fire.

Her heart was hammering, beating faster than was medically reasonable. Irene frowned, frantically trying to connect the symptom to a diagnosis, but nothing fit.

Still, it was too early to be relieved. The world was full of undiscovered pathologies.

*I need to pay more attention to my health if I want to live a long life.*

Diego placed the books on the counter and offered a kind smile to the terrified store manager.

“Calculate the total.”

The manager ignored the bill, bowing low.

“Yes, Your Grace. It is a true honor to meet you. I will pass down the story of seeing you face-to-face to my grandchildren’s grandchildren.”

“So, it is like those implicit rules, then.”

Irene suddenly interjected.

“Pardon?”

The manager looked at her, bewildered. She replied with a look of quiet conviction.

“The stories passed from grandfather to father, from father to son, and from son to their children. That is what those are, aren’t they? Like family education.”

“Ah.”

The manager watched Diego’s shoulders tremble with suppressed laughter, looking thoroughly lost. He responded politely to Irene.

“We only teach one thing, my lady.”

“And what is that?”

Irene’s eyes sparkled. Her scholarly spirit was piqued by the customs of another household.

The manager smiled, deep wrinkles fanning around his eyes.

“That everything we have to live comfortably is thanks to the grace of Grand Duke Cassis. We never forget to teach that one must always live with a heart of gratitude toward the Grand Duke.”

He may not have known the intricacies of high-society etiquette, but he knew how to navigate the world. He turned to Diego.

“Baron Rick ordered us to provide all the books you desired. The amount the Grand Duke paid to rent out the entire bookstore for the day is more than our annual revenue.”

“You rented out the entire place?”

Irene turned to Diego, hearing this for the first time. Meeting her eyes, Diego leaned in, his expression softening into that habitual, affectionate smile.

Lowering his voice, as if sharing a deep secret, he murmured:

“Do you not dislike people?”

“Um…….”

The words didn’t come. She couldn’t offer the simple gratitude he likely expected. Even so, Diego smiled, satisfied.

For a fleeting second, he had seen it—the emotions passing through her eyes.

Bewilderment, being moved, and joy.

That was enough. It was incomprehensible even to Diego—why he felt so rewarded by such a small response for the time and wealth he had spent.

But he was content.

“Javier.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Give the manager a gold coin. We were able to browse without inconvenience, so we should show our appreciation.”

As he received the coin from Javier, the manager bowed so deeply it looked as though his spine might snap. Irene genuinely worried for his safety.

“Oh my, thank you, Your Grace. Please visit us again anytime. I will serve you with all my heart.”

Watching the manager continue to bow as they retreated, Irene marveled at the mysteries of the human body.

As they stepped outside, a magnificent carriage awaited them. Mario sat on the coachman’s seat, stone-faced.

Javier opened the door. Diego held out a hand toward her.

Just as Irene was about to speak, he cut her off.

“A lady does not refuse a gentleman’s escort.”

Irene hesitated, then asked cautiously.

“Is that an implicit rule?”

“Indeed.”

A rule passed from grandfather to father, from father to son.

The very rule she had assumed she would never know.

Irene took a step into that rule. She extended her gloved hand.

Diego took it without hesitation—lightly, as if barely touching, maintaining just enough distance so she would not feel trapped.

*Glance.*

Irene looked at him. Diego’s smile was softer than she had ever seen it.

She found she liked him much more than she had at first. It was an unusual occurrence; for someone like Irene, first impressions usually remained fixed until the end.

That moment.

“Your Grace! I heard you taught those Alvar scoundrels a lesson! I had faith in you!”

“God’s blessings upon the Grand Duke!”

Passersby stopped to pay tribute to Diego. Irene, already seated in the carriage, looked down at them through the window.

Diego waved a hand with a benevolent expression, as if accepting their worship.

“Wooooo!”

“Long live Grand Duke Cassis!”

A thunderous roar erupted.

Irene narrowed her eyes. Amidst the crowd, he stood like the sun—a source of radiance that defined the day.

“…….”

And she remained a ghost. A ghost that had to quietly dissipate when the rooster crowed and the sun climbed too high. To her, the night felt far more natural.

Looking blinded, Irene slowly turned away and stared at the bare carriage wall. Her blue eyes gradually sank into the dark.