40.
“The Grand Duke’s symptoms are presumed to be bruising. External injuries are generally visible, and they don’t require the same level of delicacy as stitching up skin.”
“Who is Physician Rios the attending physician for?”
Irene furrowed her brows. It was strange that Diego was asking such an obvious question.
Was he truly asking because he didn’t know? Or had he injured his head, not his shoulder?
“Ah, don’t worry about my head. I haven’t injured my head. And it’s certainly not a congenital issue, either.”
As he spoke, Diego stared at her persistently, his gaze demanding an answer. Only then did Irene part her lips.
“I am the attending physician to the Grand Duke.”
Diego’s eyes narrowed into slits.
“And yet, you treat soldiers with your bare hands, but you wear gloves for my examination?”
“If you are worried that I might treat you carelessly—”
“Rather than that.”
Diego smiled gently—the smile of a generous employer.
“What would people think of me?”
“They would think you are the Grand Duke.”
“…….”
Caught off guard by the blunt answer, Diego looked taken aback. Yes, he was the Grand Duke. Whether Irene wore gloves or not, his status remained unchanged.
However, Diego added with a smile. He didn’t know why he was being so difficult, but his mouth moved on its own.
“No.”
Irene’s eyes rounded, as if wondering what he could be if not the Grand Duke.
Ah.
She answered belatedly.
“You are the third prince of the Kingdom of Divoa.”
“No.”
“The Commander-in-Chief of the Kingdom of Divoa?”
“No.”
Recalling the flashy titles that followed him, Irene shook her head, truly at a loss. Diego smiled, as dazzling as the sun.
“They would think I am a pathetic Grand Duke who is treated worse than a soldier.”
“But that’s for internal injuries….”
Irene tried to interject, but Diego was quicker.
“Whatever Miss Irene’s intentions may be, that is what others will think.”
Miss Irene.
Again. Diego’s way of addressing her was inconsistent. At times it was Physician Rios, at others Attending Physician, and at others Miss Irene.
It didn’t matter what he called her. Irene didn’t care about the honorific, and it wasn’t her real name anyway.
But if she had to choose, she liked Miss Irene. Perhaps because it was a name no one else used.
“They will spread rumors that Miss Irene looks down on me, and my honor will be dragged through the mud.”
Irene nodded, looking half-convinced and half-doubtful. Diego watched her with a faint, amused expression.
“So, regarding that.”
The smile he thought was perfect grew even deeper.
“How about we use this opportunity to test how far you can reach with your bare hands?”
“…….”
Irene’s expression stiffened. Diego whispered sweetly, like a primordial devil tempting a human.
“Of course, I am not forcing you. If Miss Irene refuses, I will not press the matter. It is merely a suggestion—a way to see if it might be more comfortable for us both if we confirm your limits. For the sake of the future. After all, you are my attending physician.”
Irene did not answer hastily. She was not a frivolous person who made promises she couldn’t keep.
The silence that fell between them was endless.
Diego did not rush her. He had been like that from the start. Unlike others, he did not hound her.
If she shook her head, he would graciously back down. Just as he always had.
So, Irene nodded. She didn’t think she could endure touching Diego’s skin, but she knew that if she pulled back midway, he would allow it.
“Very well.”
Diego smiled brightly, as if she had made an excellent decision. He looked at her gloved hand.
Irene hesitated as she removed her glove. She looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes, as if waiting for the next order.
Staring intently at her fingers, Diego said in a languid voice.
“I’ve confirmed the buttons are fine, so would you mind placing your hand over my shirt?”
Irene glanced at his attire. It was a single, thin silk shirt—sheer enough to see through.
“If it’s too much, it’s fine to stop.”
“No, it is not.”
Irene replied solemnly and slowly reached out. Her fingertips touched the fabric. So faintly that she barely felt the contact.
*Shudder.*
She jolted, her shoulders trembling. But it was more endurable than she thought. She could feel the firm muscles and the faint body heat beneath the silk, but it wasn’t enough to trigger a scream.
Perhaps it was because it wasn’t an unexpected touch. This was a contact made by her own will.
Gaining a sliver of confidence, Irene applied a little pressure. The heat beneath her fingertips felt much clearer.
“Well done.”
Diego praised her as if she were a child. Unaccustomed to praise, Irene lowered her gaze in embarrassment.
She didn’t know what to say in times like these. She was prepared to face hostility, but she was defenseless against kindness.
“Then, shall you pull back the collar and touch my bare skin?”
Irene could not move hastily this time. There was a world of difference between fabric and skin.
As she hesitated, Diego asked in a tender voice.
“Shall we stop here?”
“……No.”
Irene shook her head firmly. She didn’t want to keep running away. As he said, she was his attending physician.
No matter how generous an employer he was, he likely didn’t want to be treated with gloved hands. He deserved the best care she could offer.
Let’s try.
Irene pressed her lips together and reached for Diego’s shoulder. Her fingertips trembled. She clenched her fist without realizing it.
“…….”
For something so small, the movement took a painstaking amount of time. But as always, Diego did not rush her.
Irene exhaled a low breath and extended her fingers again. They moved forward steadily, despite her hesitation.
Finally, they touched his skin.
“!”
In an instant, her fingers curled inward. Irene pulled her hand away in a hurry, like someone burned. It had only been a fleeting moment, but the point of contact felt scalding hot.
She clutched her fingertips. It felt as if her heart were beating at the very tips of her fingers.
Her vision didn’t blur like usual, nor did she feel like screaming. Instead, her insides churned. As if she were about to vomit.
Irene’s pupils trembled, like leaves caught in a gale. Taking a deep breath, she calmed her heart and reached out again.
This time, the sensation was even clearer.
“!”
Irene braced herself. Her mind was in chaos, her fingertips shaking visibly. She realized her vision was beginning to sway.
“May I try touching you? Just a little bit will do. I won’t startle you.”
“…….”
Irene said nothing. Diego, who had been peering obsessively into her eyes, seemed to find his answer there and moved his hand slowly.
He reached out with extreme caution, like someone touching a guarded stray cat for the first time. Irene’s pupils followed his movement.
Diego did not avert his gaze. To put her at ease, he acted within the bounds of what she expected.
Irene couldn’t take her eyes off his hand, as if watching a ticking time bomb. The hand, which had been a span away, finally brushed the back of hers.
*Shudder.*
“!”
Irene’s back tensed. The feeling was quite different from when she touched him.
It was also different from the strong, forced grip she remembered. Diego brushed the back of her hand cautiously, as if touching something fragile.
*That’s not him.*
Nevertheless, her body began to tremble. Goosebumps rose on her forearms, and she felt nauseous.
“Miss Irene?”
Diego called to her. His tone was laced with genuine concern.
“Miss Irene?”
Pale as a sheet, Irene looked as if she might collapse. Her balance wavered, and just as Diego instinctively reached out to steady her—
“Please, excuse me.”
Irene turned and dashed out of the tent. Diego watched the flapping fabric with a faint frown.
His hand, having lost its destination, wandered aimlessly through the air.
“…….”
Then, suddenly, he pressed his own finger against the spot on his shoulder where her fingertips had just touched.
No, could one even call that a touch? It was merely a graze. Yet, the sensation was incredibly vivid.
The feeling of brushing the back of her hand came back to him as well. Just as he had imagined, it had been cool and rough. That was why it had felt so sharp.
“Ha.”
All the blood in his body gathered at his shoulder, carrying a vivid heat and a dark, black desire.
Desire?
Diego frowned slightly. He had thought that if Irene, who disliked people, ever fell in love, there would be nothing more amusing to witness. He had thought that if emotions were to settle in those indifferent eyes, there would be nothing more delightful.
But for him to be the one harboring desire?
“I’m insane.”
Even while he wore an annoyed expression, Diego’s hand could not pull away from his shoulder. He closed his eyes.
He could easily picture the scene: those long, white fingers stroking his shoulder. Her fingers tracing his hard lines before wrapping around his thick neck.
How sensual it would be to see her fingers, slightly parted, clinging to his nape.
“Crazy.”
Diego opened his eyes and ran a hand roughly through his hair. His movements as he buttoned his shirt were crude, as if he were angry at himself.