28.
Irene walked toward the bookshelf without a moment’s hesitation. She bowed her waist and pulled a book from the bottom shelf. It was a thick volume bound in red.
*Ha.*
Diego let out a soundless scoff and opened his mouth again.
“Distinction Between Pleuritis and Mediastinitis.”
Irene moved a few steps to the side and pulled a thin book from the second shelf. Provoked, Diego tested her once more.
“Book of Healing.”
Irene straightened up and stretched out both arms. Even then, she couldn’t reach the shelf, so she rose onto her tiptoes. Her fully extended fingers trembled faintly.
Diego narrowed his eyes, tracking the struggle of her hand. Though concealed by a white glove, he could have sketched those well-proportioned, slender fingers with his eyes closed.
Would they still move with such brisk, dancing precision? Were they still chapped and raw? Was the back of her hand still as smooth as marble? He was genuinely curious.
Without realizing it, he reached out. It wasn’t a calculated move. Only after his large hand covered the back of Irene’s did he realize what he had done.
“Book of Healing—that’s correct.”
At the last moment, barely exerting enough self-control to change his trajectory, he gripped the spine of the book.
“!”
Irene stiffened like wood. She couldn’t bear the sensation of Diego’s palm hovering against the back of her hand.
That wasn’t all. She could feel the searing heat radiating from him. Even without physical contact, his presence behind her was stiflingly palpable.
Her fingers curled inward. She wanted to scream, to dash out of the room, but her frozen body refused to obey.
Afraid their backs might touch, she dared not breathe. Goosebumps rippled across her skin; her fingertips turned ice-cold.
Her blue eyes fluttered. Her shoulders, then her entire frame, shook like a shivering aspen.
*No.*
*No.*
Just as Irene was about to cry out, Diego stepped back. He retreated as quickly as he had approached, his voice landing cool and steady.
“My apologies. I was too close. Forgive me, Miss Irene.”
“…….”
Instead of answering, Irene took a jagged breath. Her rounded shoulders rose, then collapsed in a heavy slump.
Only then did she wrap her hand around the one that had almost touched Diego’s palm. It felt burning hot and deathly cold all at once.
Irene bit down hard on her lower lip. The sharp pain served to scatter the nerves firing at the back of her hand.
Meanwhile, Diego observed her with a keen, predator’s gaze. The moment he had closed the distance, he had seen the goosebumps erupt along the nape of her neck.
That hadn’t been a lie. Even the most skilled actor couldn’t feign such a visceral reaction. She loathed human contact, and she feared it just as deeply.
For a split second, the corners of Diego’s mouth curved into a pleasant arc.
The more he looked, the more fascinating it became.
“…….”
What would it feel like to actually hold her hand? To interlace his fingers between her long, slender ones while she stood paralyzed by the touch? To stroke the back of her hand until she broke?
That, too, would be interesting.
Erasing the smile, Diego pushed the book back into place as if nothing had happened. A casual note slipped through his teeth.
“I heard a rumor that Miss Irene memorizes everything she sees once. It seems it’s true.”
Irene, who had been holding her breath, answered in a dry voice. She tried to feign composure, but she couldn’t hide the minute tremor at the end of her tone.
“……That is a false rumor. I cannot memorize everything just because I have seen it once.”
“Ah, well. I also heard a rumor that your top ranking was the result of relentless hard work. They say that at the dormitory, your room is the one with the lights on the latest.”
“!”
Irene widened her eyes, genuinely startled. She hadn’t known such rumors were circulating.
She asked with a suspicious gaze, “Rather than the rumor that I used Black Magic to manipulate my grades?”
“Hahaha.”
Diego burst into a hearty laugh. It was genuinely amusing to hear her ask that—and with such a grave expression, no less.
“Unfortunately, I haven’t heard such a rumor.”
*That shouldn’t be possible.*
After eyeing him with lingering doubt, Irene eventually nodded. It was clear what she was thinking.
Covering his mouth to suppress his amusement, Diego changed the subject. “How is it, in Norte?”
“The temperature is lower than in Therapia. Therapia was full of spring, but here, it seems it is still early spring.”
“Ahahaha.”
Diego doubled over, shaking with laughter. He hadn’t been asking about the weather.
Yet, Irene had compared the temperatures of Therapia and Norte with an extremely serious expression. And Diego knew exactly why.
Irene, however, remained clueless. Diego, who seemed to explode with laughter at the drop of a hat, was a bizarre creature to her.
What could possibly move his emotions? Her own were moored in one place, like a ship at anchor. Why was he so volatile, tossing and turning with every passing moment like a vessel caught in a storm?
“…….”
It was none of her concern. Irene stopped paying attention to him and returned to organizing the luggage.
As his laughter subsided, she asked in a calm, waiting voice, “As your physician starting today, what would you like me to do, Your Highness?”
Diego narrowed his eyes. The mirth vanished, replaced by a sudden, skeptical glint.
“Let’s see.”
He sat on the desk, arms folded, hips perched on the edge. Irene stared straight at that spot. Diego was the Third Prince, the Grand Duke, and her employer. Even so, she possessed enough common sense not to tell him to get off her desk.
*He’s touching it with his buttocks. Your Highness is not a jellyfish, but if he leaves, I will have to clean it thoroughly.*
Diego saw her eyes lose focus and covered his mouth again, hurriedly lifting his hips off the desk.
Only then did Irene’s gaze meet his face. He looked down and cleared his throat.
“Ahem.”
His eyes shifted back to a pleasant light, as if they had never been skeptical. “You didn’t follow me here simply because you were interested in my illness, did you?”
“That is half true and half false.”
Diego swept one eyebrow upward. It was a predictable answer, yet one he couldn’t quite map out.
“Half true, half false? Which is which?”
“The deciding reason I chose to go to Norte is indeed your hereditary disease. But that is not the sole reason.”
Diego scrutinized her indifferent face. He had never seen anyone speak of his illness with such detachment. Everyone else treated the word like a taboo, dancing around it with terms like “it” or “that condition.” They avoided the topic entirely, passing the burden of mention from one person to the next.
The more they tiptoed, the more Diego smiled and pretended to be fine. He refused to be seen as pathetic, as a man waiting for the clock to run out. That was why he had fled the capital.
*Ah, right. My new physician doesn’t like ambiguity.*
As Diego nodded, ready to speak, footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Both of them turned toward the door. A young man appeared, whispered something to Javier, and vanished.
Javier’s face stiffened. He was so blunt that only Diego caught the subtle shift.
“What is the matter?”
Javier entered the room. Glancing at Irene, he decided it wasn’t a secret and spoke in a low tone.
“It seems Alvar soldiers committed a provocation last night.”
“The scale of the forces?”
“Typical, but because it was a surprise attack in the middle of the night, the damage to our side is significant.”
“A surprise attack, huh.”
Lost in thought, Diego turned back to Irene with a smile. Despite the news, his voice remained gentle.
“There won’t be any work to do for the time being, Physician Rios.”
“…….”
“I must go to the border. Please stay in the castle and do as you wish in the meantime. Adolf will assist you.”
He nodded to Javier, signaling the end of the conversation.
Javier understood immediately. “I will prepare for departure.”
“Then.”
The moment Diego took a step toward the door, Irene spoke.
“I will accompany you.”
The indifferent words caught his ankles. Diego halted and turned his head slowly, frowning.
“Did you say you would accompany me?”
“I am your physician. It is only natural that I go with you. The battlefield is a place where emergencies are guaranteed to occur.”
Irene’s nonchalant gaze seemed to imply that the role of a physician was absolute.
Diego stared at her in silence. He imagined her standing in the middle of a battlefield, arrows raining down from the sky.
Eventually, he shook his head slowly.
“There is no need for that. Didn’t you say you disliked people?”
That’s it Diego has a hand FETISH nothing can explain his obsession with her hands