Don’t Tame It [Novel]

21.

“Memory varies from person to person, and everyone has different strengths. But with some effort, memory can be improved. I could teach you the method if you’d like.”

“What… are you talking about?”

Leticia, who had been furious until a moment ago, asked in a suspicious tone. Irene replied with a blank expression.

“I’m saying that when the Grand Duke visited last time, you seemed to have forgotten he said, in front of everyone, ‘What I need is not a flower of society, but a skilled surgeon.’”

“So what are you saying! You’re calling me a goldfish!”

“…….”

Irene said nothing. Sometimes, Leticia would berate her for words Irene hadn’t even spoken.

Come to think of it, it wasn’t just Leticia. The pompous sea anemone often did that, too. There seemed to be some kind of connection between cnidarians.

Or, as Leticia suggested, perhaps there was something wrong with her.

“Don’t act so high and mighty, Irene. You’re just being toyed with by the Grand Duke’s whim. Right now, yes, he might find you interesting. A female surgeon—he must have found it novel. But once he finds out your true nature, he’ll be disgusted. I guarantee it. You’ll be kicked out before a month is up.”

*Your true nature.*

That one phrase pricked her heart sharply. It wasn’t a metaphor. Her chest actually stung.

Irene instinctively brought her hand to her heart. Instead of a wound, she felt the frantic thumping against her ribs. And hot blood. Blood that was stained entirely red.

*No. Don’t open it.*

Irene shook her head to dispel the sharpening memory. But against her will, it bubbled up to the surface.

*No. No. No.*

Her breathing grew labored. The color drained from her face; her fingertips turned cold.

At that moment, Leticia’s sharp voice pulled Irene back to the present.

“A top graduate? Ha, what good is that? You haven’t even debuted in society. You think you, a girl who just tears through human skin, can catch the Grand Duke’s eye? Don’t be ridiculous. You’re no different from a butcher slaughtering livestock!”

If Leticia had intended to shred Irene with her words, her plan failed completely. Ironically, the vitriol snapped Irene out of a memory far more terrifying.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Am I wrong?”

“Thank you.”

“……What?”

Leticia frowned, as if she had misheard. But Irene was sincere. Leticia’s vicious face was a hundred, a thousand times better than the memory of that day.

“Thank you, Leti.”

“Aaaah! Mother!”

Leticia looked back at Baroness Rios, her face twisted with malice. The Baron and Baroness let out a long sigh.

Leticia stomped her feet, her irritation peaking. “Look at that! She’s mocking me. How much longer are you just going to watch? Say something!”

Baron Rios opened his mouth with a look of resignation.

“It is the Grand Duke’s decision.”

“But Father! Are you just going to sit there and watch her become the Grand Duke’s personal physician?”

“Calm yourself, Leti.”

Baron Rios looked at Irene with complex feelings.

He had hoped that if Leticia caught the eye of Duke Diego Cassis, she could raise the family’s status—that they wouldn’t end as mere provincial barons but could advance to the capital and lead a glamorous life.

Leveraging the Grand Duke’s power was like riding a tiger. People would offer money and gifts; Lucas would associate with the children of high-ranking nobles.

And yet, it was Irene.

The Baron wore a look of regret. The Grand Duke didn’t want a beautiful flower to stand beside him, but a surgeon to stain her hands with blood.

Awakening from his thoughts, the Baron asked in a low voice.

“When are you departing?”

Irene, who had been watching the wall clock, replied indifferently.

“The carriage is waiting in front of the house.”

“A carriage? What carriage?”

Baroness Rios asked with a puzzled look. Irene turned to her.

“The Grand Duke provided a carriage so that I could transport my luggage.”

“What?”

Leticia glared, as if demanding to know why it was Irene and not her. Baron Rios nodded.

“Then pack your things quickly. We cannot keep the Duke waiting.”

“Yes.”

Irene turned toward her room.

“Father!”

Leticia shouted, but there was nothing the Baron could do. Just as Irene reached the threshold of the living room, the Baron called out.

“Irene.”

She paused and slowly turned around. The sound of him calling her name felt incredibly strange. It occurred to her that this might be the first time he had ever actually used it.

“Yes.”

After staring at her for a long moment, Baron Rios spoke in a meaningful tone.

“You haven’t forgotten the grace we’ve bestowed upon you, have you?”

Irene stared at him quietly. Unable to hold back, the Baroness added, “The fact that we took you out of *that place*, and that we raised you all this time.”

*That place.*

She didn’t need to specify it. It wasn’t the orphanage where she couldn’t sleep because of the bullying. It was the place where a memory far more terrible resided.

“Yes.”

Irene nodded calmly. They were right. Even though she wore Leticia’s hand-me-down dresses, they had provided her clothes. Even though they starved her when she coveted something that wasn’t hers, they gave her food to eat for the day.

If it weren’t for them, Irene would still be trapped in that place where terrible memories crawled.

“That is enough.”

Baron Rios nodded with a look of relief. Irene stepped into the hallway and closed the door.

From beyond the wood, the Baroness’s voice seeped through as she comforted Leticia.

“Calm down, Leti. As you know, the Duke does not fancy Irene as a woman. Think about it—this could be an opportunity. If Irene gains his trust, can’t you use that as an excuse to visit Norte? The better Irene does her job, the more opportunities you will have to catch the Duke’s eye.”

*Click.*

The door closed completely. Irene walked straight ahead without looking back. Past the floral wallpaper and the family portrait that didn’t include her—only forward.

* * *

Diego looked at Irene, then at the carriage, then back at Irene again.

“Hmm.”

At Diego’s murmur, the coachman glanced toward the distant mountains. Irene turned to look at the carriage she had just arrived in.

It was packed with books. Aside from the seat she had occupied, it was entirely filled.

It wasn’t a baggage cart, yet when stacked neatly, the volume was impressive. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but the two horses looked particularly exhausted.

Irene spoke indifferently.

“I only chose the important books. Is it too much to take them all?”

No one would have noticed the despondency hidden in those words. Even she herself didn’t.

Irene was as unskilled at reading her own emotions as she was at reading others’. She didn’t know the nature of the feelings that occasionally swept over her.

That was comfortable. Rather than naming and being overwhelmed by those currents, she preferred the peace of feeling nothing. An emotion that was too large would surely destroy her.

Diego, who had been intently observing her, shook his head with a radiant smile.

“Is there any reason you can’t take them? Especially when my personal physician desires it.”

Irene let out a soundless sigh of relief.

Baron Rios refurbished his study every few years; books he never opened were moved to the attic, becoming Irene’s property.

Unlike his appearance, the quiet Baron was greedy. It was easy to mistake him for a good-natured man because he was overshadowed by the Baroness, but he was the one truly ambitious for promotion.

There was only one thing he lacked greed for: books. To him, they were nothing more than ornaments. The same went for Leticia and Lucas—despite the Baroness’s nagging, Irene had never seen them open a page.

Because of this, the Baron granted Irene the “generosity” of the books. To him, it was no different than disposing of trash; to Irene, they were gifts.

In that house, the books in the attic were the only things she owned. They were her family and friends.

She was glad she didn’t have to leave them behind. Irene’s eyebrows relaxed so minutely that no one could have noticed.

Diego, looking at the mountain of books, asked out of curiosity.

“Are those all you’re taking? Don’t you have other luggage?”

“No. I have a few changes of clothes.”

She pulled a bag from inside the carriage—small enough to hold only two or three dresses.

Diego nodded and turned around.

“You won’t need that bag; leave it behind. As soon as we arrive at Norte, I will have to arrange dresses suitable for my personal physician.”

The last part sounded like a monologue. As Irene stood there blankly, the coachman took the bag from her hand, without touching a single hair, with practiced skill.