Don’t Tame It [Novel]

48.

The library of the Royal Medical College was known as a storehouse of wisdom, and it housed a collection vast enough to justify the reputation. It was no exaggeration to say that the entire history of medicine on the continent resided within its walls.

That was why Irene liked the university library. She enjoyed the musty scent of ancient parchment, the rhythmic rustle of pages turning, and the profound, tranquil silence that blanketed the aisles.

In that place, everyone—Irene included—felt like a ghost.

Irene read quietly among the specters. The answers to every question that plagued her mind were right there.

However, they were not hers. They were school property, destined to be returned once the loan period expired. She didn’t find that sad or upsetting; from the start, the very concept of “owning” something felt awkward to her.

“Ah.”

Irene, who had been scanning the shelves, widened her eyes slightly. An entire section had been cordoned off for new arrivals.

Irene quite liked Baron Rick. Unlike Baron Rios, he was not a man who treated books as mere interior décor.

As she moved toward the new arrivals, her eyes widened again.

“Huh?”

She had discovered a book with an intriguing title. It was a work recently published by a famous surgeon from the Muscan Peninsula. The publication had been two years ago, but it seemed the translation had only just arrived.

She opened the cover to read the preface and table of contents. The book, a comprehensive compilation of anatomical knowledge, contained several points that immediately seized her attention.

“Hmm.”

As soon as he entered the bookstore, Diego narrowed his brows, watching the back of Irene, who seemed to have entirely forgotten his existence.

“Regrettably, that back view is all too familiar.”

Muttering to himself, he cast a casual glance at the surrounding shelves and walked toward her.

She didn’t seem to notice that there wasn’t another customer in the expansive store. He had no intention of mentioning that he had rented out the entire facility just for her; it felt too much like showing off, and he loathed such vanity.

I tell you, really.

“Have you found a book that catches your fancy?”

“……Ah.”

Irene, belatedly recalling his presence, raised her head. She blinked slowly, staring at Diego as if trying to recall who he was and where she was.

Only then did she give a small nod.

“Yes.”

She then reached into her coat and carefully pulled out a small pouch.

“…….”

Glance.

Irene stole a sidelong look at Diego and subtly turned her back to him. When she opened the pouch, the coins she had brought to buy the book shimmered.

Diego let out a short, sharp laugh. Irene was as cautious as if he might actually covet her pittance.

Me, coveting money?

There was no joke more ridiculous. Diego possessed wealth enough to last lifetimes; he had never once desired the meager coins of others.

Yet, Irene was grave. The eyes with which she peered into the pouch held a dejected light.

One coin.

It was money she had saved with great deliberation, but it wasn’t nearly enough for the volumes she wanted. At most, one or two? No, for a specialized medical text, a single volume would be the limit.

If I had known this, I should have brought gold coins.

Irene swallowed a bitter sigh and shook her head.

“No. I cannot spend my weekly wage so recklessly.”

First, she had to repay the debt of grace she owed the Rios family. She didn’t know the exact sum they had spent on her, but the obligation weighed heavily upon her.

Moreover, they knew her secret. It was only right that she pay the price for their silence.

“How much would a sweet potato field cost?”

Beyond that, she needed to buy a field. She wasn’t well-versed in the ways of the world, but she knew that purchasing land and a house required a significant sum.

To reach that goal, she had to save. It was the dream she had nurtured from the very beginning.

Finished with her thoughts, Irene placed the book back in its original spot.

“Miss Irene.”

At that moment, a voice as sweet as a tuber called her name. Irene, who had forgotten Diego again, turned toward him.

“Do you wish to have it?”

Have what?

Irene stared blankly at him. As their eyes met, Diego smiled, bright as a flower in full bloom.

“The book, I mean.”

Only then did Irene part her lips.

“I will buy one volume today. When I receive next week’s wage, I will return for another.”

“What if I were to buy all the books you desire?”

Irene went silent. Diego’s smile deepened; the corners of his eyes curved into crescents, his lips stretching in a cool, open line.

A tender voice slipped through them.

“If you wish, I could even buy this entire bookstore for you.”

“!”

For a fleeting moment, Irene’s eyes widened. Diego observed the flicker of emotion—surprise, bewilderment, and a touch of joy.

Yes, that was joy. Diego’s expression softened. If she said the word, he would buy the building without hesitation.

Diego whispered, his voice like a devil tempting the first human.

“If you were to kneel at my feet and beg me while weeping, what would I not buy for you?”

The thought was electrifying. Irene, at his feet, shedding tears drop by drop.

Diego stared intently at her. His indifferent eyes were surely set to darken, and the tears forcing their way through her lashes would be colder than the blade of an enemy soldier.

“Magnificent.”

However, contrary to his imagination, Irene merely furrowed her brows. She had never shed tears, nor had she ever asked anyone for a favor.

The chatterbox Jellyfish had handled the mother in labor on her behalf, but that was a transaction—a fair exchange for a meal.

Begging while crying was a luxury for those with a shoulder to lean on. Irene had realized early that tears were useless.

Relying on others was a privilege she did not possess. Instead of harboring hope, she had learned to resign herself. Furthermore, ever since that incident, her tear ducts had long since run dry. Even if she cried, no one would come running.

“I am fine. I can just come back next week.”

Irene turned away. Diego, surprised by her quick retreat, hurried to speak.

“I was joking.”

“…….”

Irene turned her head back. Diego watched her, offering a faint, innocent smile as if he hadn’t harbored a dark thought in his life.

Suddenly, he wished she were a bit greedier—that she were the type to covet everything and use any means to take it.

“You didn’t think I truly meant that, did you?”

“…….”

Irene said nothing. She lacked the talent for understanding jokes.

It wasn’t a new occurrence. While her peers burst into laughter, she was always the one left in silence.

Perhaps I should have laughed just now.

While Irene was being dejected late to the party, Diego added in an offhand tone.

“If there is a book you desire, do not hesitate; choose them all. Consider it a token of my sincerity for your efforts in trying to touch me.”

Irene didn’t know it, but those words were a spell meant to bind her. Because of them, she would have to continue to reach for him.

Irene, silent for a long time, moved her lips with a deadpan expression.

“Why?”

Diego raised an eyebrow, inviting her to continue.

“Why are you being so good to me?”

Let’s see. Why, indeed.

Diego narrowed his eyes. There was no need to search for a reason; he already knew.

Irene was an amusement that made his life less mundane. He waited for the moment when her deadpan expression would crumble—when, having fallen in love, she would stare at him with an ecstatic gaze.

The thought was incredibly electrifying. His fingertips tingled.

Diego smiled as sweetly as he could. It was as if he were insisting that he was not a potato, but a sweet potato.

“Are you not my physician? The one who knows my secret?”

“……I am.”

Suddenly, Irene’s expression darkened. Diego, who had hoped for gratitude, furrowed his brows.

“I am not a schemer who uses the Grand Duke’s secret to extort books. Even if you do not buy them for me, I will not divulge your secret. I have promised as much.”

Diego rubbed his lips. Having forced her into his service by holding her weakness over her, he expertly masked his internal fluster.

The embarrassment was currently sharper than any prick of conscience. He stroked his chin, choosing his words carefully.

As always, Irene met his gaze with a straight, indifferent look—devoid of sympathy, pity, or desire.

“It seems there is some misunderstanding.”

Diego hurried to add, not entirely sure himself why he felt the need to make excuses.

“I swear to the gods, I have never thought of you as a schemer. I have never once thought you would spread my secret.”

“Then…?”

“I meant that we are close enough to share secrets.”

Close enough to share secrets.

Irene repeated the words to herself. She seemed to understand, yet it felt as though she didn’t.

Noticing her hesitation, Diego elaborated.

“You know of my illness, and I am helping you with your practice, am I not? We are in a relationship where we share secrets that we cannot tell others.”