1.
Irene let out a light sigh and took his hand. It was remarkably delicate, feeling as if a thin sheet of paper were pressed between their palms.
Diego applied a faint pressure to her hand. Irene flinched, but she immediately descended the stairs with a steady, practiced stride, as if nothing were amiss. Wearing gloves, she could not feel even a hint of Diego’s body temperature.
*Thump.*
Finally, her feet touched the ground. Irene turned to look at Diego, who still held her hand, her expression indifferent.
As their eyes met, Diego released her and smiled brightly.
“Welcome to my land, Norte.”
Irene involuntarily furrowed her brow. The intense sunlight stung her eyes. She raised her palm to shade her vision, which brought a modicum of relief.
She stared blankly at Diego, who remained brilliantly illuminated with the sun at his back.
“…….”
A welcome.
She had never been welcomed by anyone. Not when she followed Baron Rios to Therapia, nor when she entered the Royal Medical College with top-tier grades.
Irene had always been a nuisance, a lonely island, an uninvited guest. She didn’t feel resentment or dissatisfaction; she simply assumed the flaw lay with her.
That was why Diego’s words felt so alien.
“You… welcome me?”
The question escaped her before she could stop it.
Diego’s smile deepened with affection. It felt as though even the sun bowed its head before him.
Irene realized how unrealistic her thoughts were and swallowed a sigh, unseen by anyone.
“Of course. Both I and my land truly welcome you.”
“……Thank you.”
Irene barely managed to mutter the words. Her throat felt strangely constricted, though she did not have a cold.
She gently touched her forehead with the hand she had been using as a visor. No fever. No chills, no congestion. After meticulously checking her condition, Irene breathed a sigh of relief and surveyed the landscape. In the distance, high mountain ranges pierced the sky, their peaks still cloaked in unmelted snow.
On the other side of the parallel railway tracks lay an endless, vast plain where brown grass grew in jagged, unruly tufts.
The wind brushing past her neck was colder than in Therapia, and the sunlight warming her cheeks was sharper, more piercing.
“Ah.”
She suddenly wondered if she might finally become a normal person if the cold wind and harsh sunlight could feel warmer here than they did back home.
It would be nice if that were possible.
If only she could be ordinary.
“That wouldn’t work.”
But Irene knew all too well that she couldn’t. She was too shattered to ever be ordinary.
Once something is broken, it can never return to its original form. No matter how carefully you piece the fragments together, there is always a missing part.
Irene stared at the snow piled on the mountaintops with an indifferent gaze. To her, Norte still felt cold and biting. She instinctively hunched her shoulders.
* * *
Located on high ground, Diego’s castle felt like a fortress. Its towering spires and pointed roofs stood like brave knights holding spears.
An impregnable castle.
However, the moment she stepped inside, Irene had to reconsider. It was more magnificent and grandiose than any building she had ever seen.
She should have guessed as much when she saw the carriage the Duke traveled in.
Irene, who considered frugality a virtue, looked around anxiously, finding nowhere to rest her eyes. The ceiling was impossibly high, adorned with golden ornaments at every turn.
Because it was the northern region, the windows were relatively small, but she never felt a lack of light. She realized only later that this was thanks to the chandeliers that remained lit even in the middle of the day.
Recalling the sprawling entrance and the numerous outbuildings she had seen on her approach, Irene swallowed a troubled sigh.
In terms of scale, it rivaled the Royal Medical College she had attended for four years. Perhaps it was even more vast.
It would take quite some time for Irene—who still occasionally got lost at school even in her third year—to adapt to this place.
While she was lost in thought, Diego gestured toward the servants lined up in a row.
“This is the castle where you will be staying. And these are the people who will assist you.”
Only then did Irene look toward the staff. As their eyes met, they offered her kind, gentle smiles.
Irene looked back with an indifferent gaze, though she was at a loss for what to do.
The elderly man standing at the far left spoke first. His graying hair, mustache, and tidy attire hinted at years of service.
“Welcome. We have been expecting you.”
“…….”
Irene couldn’t say anything, pressing her lips together. Perhaps she had truly caught a cold during the days aboard the steam locomotive; otherwise, there was no reason for her throat to keep constricting.
“I am Adolf Moreya, the butler of this castle. Please, feel free to call me Adolf.”
“Oh, goodness.”
Before Adolf could finish his greeting, the middle-aged woman standing next to him squinted her eyes. Beside the lean butler, her portly frame looked warm and inviting.
She sighed as if the sky had fallen and placed both hands on her waist. Her voice, stern as if scolding a misbehaving child, flew toward Irene.
“And here I thought Mr. Moreya was the only one who was nothing but skin and bones.”
The woman let out a grand, dramatic sigh, then laughed sheepishly. “Oh, my. I forgot to introduce myself. Look at my head.”
“Welcome, miss. I am Juana, the castle’s cook. Dinner preparations are almost done, but this won’t do. I’ll have to add a few more dishes for our new guest. It’s my firm belief that skinny people should just disappear from this world. Isn’t that right, Physician Flich?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
The pot-bellied man standing next to her muttered in dissatisfaction.
Juana looked over those present before turning her gaze back to Sir Miguel Flich. She crinkled her eyes and smiled as if to say, *You know why.*
“Ahem.”
Miguel let out a dry cough. Among them, only Juana and Miguel were stout. Though, strictly speaking, “stout” barely described Miguel’s belly.
He twitched his triple-layered chin and replied, “Nonsense. Belly fat is the true symbol of wealth and power.”
Irene scrambled internally to keep up with the conversation, which flowed as rapidly as a mountain stream. Just then, the woman standing at the far right bowed, looking somewhat nervous.
“Hello, it is an honor to serve you, miss. My name is Mia. If you need anything, please look for me. Um… what should I call you, miss?”
She was a young woman, appearing three or four years younger than Irene. She looked at Irene with wide, sparkling eyes, waiting for an answer.
Irene opened her mouth, her tone indifferent.
“You can call me whatever you like. A broom, a witch… anything.”
“…….”
For a moment, a short silence fell. The stillness that descended into the high-ceilinged castle was thicker and heavier than before. Mia widened her eyes, and Adolf furrowed his brow.
In the face of the suddenly chilled atmosphere, Irene hid her dejection behind an expressionless face. It wasn’t a rare occurrence; whenever she spoke, even the warmest air tended to freeze over.
It wasn’t new, yet she had never resented her own inability more than she did today. She didn’t want to disappoint the very people who were welcoming her for the first time in her life.
*—If they knew what kind of person you really are, they’d surely be disappointed. So don’t even dream of becoming the Duke’s personal physician.*
Perhaps Leticia was right.
The moment Irene looked down at her feet with somber eyes—
“Physician will do. She has come in the capacity of my personal physician, so she should be treated the same as Physician Flich.”
A voice as gentle as a warm breeze intervened. The owner was, naturally, Diego. He smiled softly as he gazed at Mia.
Surprised by the response, Mia nodded with a determined expression.
“Yes? Oh, yes, Your Grace!”
Irene raised her head slightly to gaze at Diego. He possessed an ability she did not: the power to instantly thaw a frozen atmosphere.
If not for him, this situation would have been even more uncomfortable.
The more she knew, the more she realized that she and Diego were opposites. If she were a ghost, he was the sun; if she were the north wind that froze everything, he was the south wind that melted the earth.
Yet, despite that, they shared one thing in common: both were rotting from within.
As Irene stared at a perfectly peeled potato, Mia’s bright voice settled in her ears.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Physician Rios. I will do my best to ensure you are comfortable while you stay here.”
Irene turned her head slowly. Once again, she met Mia’s eyes. As if she had been waiting, Mia smiled brightly.
“Oh…”
What lingered at the corners of her mouth was neither sarcasm nor cynicism.
Irene didn’t know what kind of expression to make. Her wavering gaze couldn’t settle anywhere, wandering aimlessly before dropping to the floor again.
“……You could call me a nuisance or a lost cause, you know.”
Her murmur was so quiet that it barely reached the ears of Diego, who stood beside her. Diego’s gaze, unreadable as always, rested briefly on the top of Irene’s head before looking away.
Miguel Flich expressed his discomfort in a displeased tone.
“Your Grace, a surgeon—and a female surgeon at that?”