Don’t Tame It [Novel]

1.

Before she knew it, Diego had stepped out of the carriage to walk at her side. Irene’s indifferent gaze brushed over his face before returning to the path ahead.

Javier followed two paces behind, his presence so faint he seemed merely like Diego’s shadow. It was much like Irene herself.

Shadows and ghosts.

At the very least, it was a more fitting combination than the sun and a ghost. Like morning glories and sweet potatoes.

“Actually, it matters less what the weather is like than who you are walking with. Thank you for granting me the honor of your company, Irene.”

Irene stopped mid-stride. Diego halted as well, a charming smile playing on his lips.

He knew exactly what kind of power that smile held, and he had no hesitation in using it.

Would she finally accept his proposal?

Just as a faint flicker of disappointment—the result of such an unexpectedly quick surrender—began to pass, Irene moved. She had been walking on the side nearest the road; she stepped around Diego and shifted to the inner edge.

Then, she resumed her pace. Diego followed her, asking,

“This is the time when the housemaids throw out the slops. That is why I was walking on the inside, you see?”

Irene replied, her tone brisker than usual.

“I read an article stating there are at least 1,203 carriage accidents in the capital every year. Among those, 489 were cases where carriages struck pedestrians. While the population here in Therapia is smaller, if you apply the same ratio, it calculates to at least 401 carriage accidents a year. Pedestrian strikes would account for 163. That means a carriage hits someone once every three days, and I do not wish to be the protagonist of that particular tragedy.”

Diego, listening to her clinical breakdown, arched an eyebrow. A skeptical note colored his voice.

“In other words, you pushed me toward the road so that if a carriage hits someone, it hits me?”

“It is better to be covered in slops than to be struck by a carriage.”

Irene paused, then added with a fleeting look of sulkiness.

“……Though I dislike slops, too. But I can wash them off.”

Diego, who would be second to none when it came to being smooth, was uncharacteristically at a loss. He was the Third Prince, a Grand Duke, and the Supreme Commander of the kingdom.

Everyone treated him with reverence. His parents worried that even a tiny scratch might mar their youngest son, and his servants went to great lengths to preserve his mood.

Yet, Irene had shoved him toward the road to save herself. A fundamental question surfaced.

“And is it fine for me to be struck by a carriage?”

Irene stopped again. She wore a thoughtful expression for a moment before taking quick, determined steps forward.

“Statistical data indicates that the degree of injury for male pedestrians is less severe than for women and children.”

“Less severe, huh……. So, I would still get hurt.”

It was half a mutter to himself. This time, no response came.

Diego gestured lightly toward the rear. Javier immediately appeared at his side.

“Did you call, Your Highness?”

“Walk at my side.”

Diego stepped aside, yielding the road-side position to Javier. For a second, a flicker of emotion vanished from Javier’s face, but the loyal retainer silently held his place.

As a result, Diego fell one step behind. His eyes, fixed on Irene’s back, held a hint of amusement.

The more he looked, the more interesting she became. Irene Rios was, at the very least, a type he had never encountered before.

Diego hurried his pace and extended one hand.

“Give me the bag. I shall carry it for you.”

For an instant, Irene could not speak. It was a gesture of goodwill she had never expected. Was this not a bag that even the housemaids refused to carry for her?

Irene was accustomed to hostility, but she was not accustomed to goodwill. Especially not unconditional goodwill.

“Why? This is my bag, and it is only natural for me to carry it.”

“Because it is the duty of a gentleman.”

Diego answered as if it were obvious. Irene glanced at his hand, then gripped her bag more tightly.

“It is fine. I will carry my own luggage.”

“Hmm.”

Diego curled his empty fist with an awkward expression. Suddenly, words he had heard from her colleague came to mind.

—The look of hurt on Maxy’s face back then. I witnessed it myself, him sniffing his own hand to see if it smelled. Poor guy.

Why did that come to mind all of a sudden?

Diego, who had been staring intently at her bag, raised his head. He spoke in a casual tone.

“A weekly wage of ten thousand gold, with a one-percent raise every month—how is that?”

Again, Irene stopped walking. It was doubtful they would reach the medical college within the day if they continued at this rate, but she couldn’t help it.

“Those are not-bad conditions.”

Diego met her steady, unblinking gaze and allowed a small smile to touch his lips.

Yes, this was interesting. Had there ever been a young lady who looked at him with such indifference? He could guarantee it: not one.

No, what did ‘young lady’ matter? Even servants held reverence and admiration in their gazes when they looked at him. The Sun of the Royal Family, the Guardian of the Kingdom. There were countless epithets for him.

However, Irene’s pupils were like a mirror. They held no emotion; they merely reflected Diego’s image as it was.

Suddenly, he wondered what it would feel like if emotion were to dwell in those blue eyes.

“It is a condition that does not pale in comparison to Sir Miguel Flich, who served as the royal physician for a long time and is now my personal physician. There is nowhere on the continent that would offer such exceptional treatment to a student just about to graduate.”

Diego was confident. At that moment, Irene’s brow narrowed faintly.

“Have you perhaps injured your head recently?”

Diego wore a puzzled expression at the abrupt question.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“If it is not due to trauma, it is highly likely to be congenital.”

Irene nodded to herself as if convinced and began to move again. As if displeased that he kept delaying her, she quickened her pace.

Diego kept up with ease. On the road, a flamboyant carriage rolled past, the coachman looking down upon those walking with a sneer.

“What do you mean, congenital?”

“That your memory is remarkably poor compared to the average person.”

“Hmm?”

Diego tilted his head, his brow furrowing. An ominous note entered his voice.

“Are you saying my memory is poor?”

“I declined the Grand Duke’s proposal four days ago, and you seem to have forgotten that fact.”

Irene hesitated for a moment before adding:

“But it is fine. Memory has individual differences, and everyone is good at different things. In fact, I am often called a cutthroat, an ice heart, or a witch, yet everyone wants to be in the same group as me during anatomy class. So, you do not have to be disappointed that your memory is poor. You can hone other strengths.”

“…….”

For an instant, all expression vanished from Diego’s face. He went blank, as if unsure what he had just heard, then bowed his head low.

Javier glanced sideways. Only he noticed that Diego’s shoulders were trembling slightly. Javier kept his eyes fixed ahead, pretending he had seen nothing.

“Hmm.”

Diego, having swallowed a laugh, stared at Irene with eyes narrowed into slits. Cutthroat, ice heart, witch. Perhaps that was her own way of offering comfort.

“Four days ago, I remembered your words perfectly, Irene. That you could not become a doctor who heals people. That you dislike people.”

Irene looked at him with vacant eyes, as if asking why he would repeat the same proposal. It was an inefficient action, and to her common sense, it was inexplicable.

Diego offered a charming smile.

“One cannot easily give up just because they have been rejected once.”

He shrugged his shoulders, lifting an eyebrow.

“Actually, I did not know myself that I had such a persistent personality. It is not as if I have ever been rejected in my life. This is the first time.”

“That can happen.”

Irene nodded indifferently and looked around with her large eyes. She, who had been walking on Diego’s left, slyly moved to his right.

Javier, who had unintentionally been stuck between them, looked silently ahead. Diego wore a puzzled expression once again.

“I thought you preferred the inner side of the road because of the carriage accidents?”

“But there is a fierce dog in front of us…….”

Before she could finish, a sharp “Woof! Woof!” tore through the air.

The guard dog, tied in a yard without a fence, had been lying low, waiting for someone to pass before lunging like an arrow. As if it were hunting.

*Clank, clank.*

The iron chain rattled. Diego’s muscles tensed sharply, and Javier stood before him in the blink of an eye.

A dagger was already in Javier’s hand. His gaze held a murderous glint, as if he were ready to slit the dog’s throat at any moment.

Irene gave the drooling, snarling animal a look, then gazed ahead again. She finished the sentence she had left incomplete.

“Because it looks like the stake stuck in the ground is about to be pulled out at any moment.”

At those words, Diego, who had been glaring at the dog with lethal intent, turned his head slowly. He stared at Irene’s back as she walked away, and finally, he burst into laughter.

“Haha.”

Unlike Javier, who had been on edge fearing for his safety, Irene remained entirely unmoved.

It was interesting. It was so interesting it was almost too much.

“Ahahaha.”

At that moment, Diego decided that no matter what, he would take her to his territory. Perhaps then, he would be able to play this game a little longer.