“Ha.”
Diego let out a weary sigh, shaking his head.
“I am fine.”
“Yes.”
Irene felt a wave of relief. His decline meant she wouldn’t lose her opportunity to visit paradise once more.
Closing her eyes, she savored the lingering sweetness of the pie for a moment before snapping them open. She stared intently at Diego’s face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Diego, sitting across from her, asked in a calm tone. Irene blinked, tilting her head, before meticulously scanning his features.
“Is there something on my face?”
Diego wiped his cheek with a dry hand. Irene shook her head, muttering with a look of suspicion.
“That’s strange. Why do you look like a sweet potato today?”
Diego, having caught her mumble, furrowed his brows deep.
What was that supposed to mean? Did she think he looked like a sweet potato? Him?
The rising sun of Divoa, the brilliant sword of the North, Diego Cassis, compared to a mere sweet potato.
“Ha.”
Diego glared at her, incredulous. Just as he was about to retort, she was already chewing on the pie with her eyes closed. Her face, usually a mask of indifference, seemed to soften for a brief moment.
Seeing that, Diego couldn’t bring himself to speak. He didn’t want to disturb her peace.
It was only after Irene had polished off both pies that Diego finally opened his mouth.
“Physician Rios.”
Irene looked at him, curious at the sudden shift in address. Diego leaned back in his chair, smiling softly.
“You haven’t done today’s practice yet.”
“Oh…”
For the first time, a flicker of awkwardness crossed Irene’s face. Diego watched her with a pulse of genuine delight.
The moment emotions graced her expressionless features was fascinating. If this was the effect of mere awkwardness, how thrilling would it be to see those eyes filled with love?
Diego nudged her subtly.
“My attending physician is known for having a strong sense of responsibility. You wouldn’t back out now, would you?”
“Of course not.”
Irene stood up. She walked toward him with long, confident strides, as if it were a matter of no consequence.
But that was where her bravery ended. Standing before Diego, she hesitated like a cowardly hero.
Diego didn’t press her. Watching her struggle was an amusing diversion in its own right.
Finally reaching a decision, Irene pulled off her gloves. Her fingers, which had been fidgeting, moved forward slowly.
Diego extended the back of his hand with a generous, open expression.
*Gulp.*
Irene swallowed hard. Glaring at his hand as if it were the enemy who had wronged her, she tentatively raised her index finger.
A moment later, her long, slender finger settled onto his skin. It looked pitifully fragile, like a butterfly folding its wings.
Suddenly, Diego’s eyes narrowed. With a gaze that sank into depths unknown, he traced the spaces between her fingers.
He savored every detail—her neatly trimmed nails, the wrinkled knuckles, the faint trace of veins—as if he were tasting her with his eyes.
“…….”
Irene could neither advance nor retreat, trapped in her own hesitation. Every time he looked at her hands with that expression, a strange sensation prickled her skin.
It felt as though a snake were crawling over her, or an insect had slipped inside her clothes.
He was only looking at her fingers, yet her heart stung for no reason. It left her feeling as though she were wearing a coarse wool garment that made her entire body itch.
She would have preferred it if he had called her a nuisance or yelled at her for being hopeless. At least then, she wouldn’t have to navigate such uncomfortable, tangled emotions.
“Your fingertips are chapped.”
Diego creased his brow at the rough sensation against his skin.
“I shall tell the maid to prepare rose oil.”
It was a mutter to himself, leaving Irene frozen, unsure of how to respond.
At that moment, Diego looked up at her with a gentle smile.
“Well done. Better than the day before yesterday, and better today than yesterday. Perhaps it’s because you were a top graduate; your learning speed is truly remarkable.”
Irene faltered, overwhelmed by the sudden stream of praise. She no longer had the capacity to focus on the warmth of his hand against hers.
“Shall we press a little harder this time?”
Without realizing it, she nodded. Perhaps she was intoxicated by the praise, or perhaps she simply couldn’t bear to disappoint him.
She pressed down as instructed, feeling the skin yield. Through that contact, the sensation of firm bone and thick blood vessels left a vivid impression. She pulled her hand away, startled, as if burned.
“!”
It was clear that was enough for today. Diego gazed at her fingers with lingering regret until all ten were hidden inside her white gloves, as if she were fleeing.
“Haa.”
Irene took a sharp breath and returned to her seat with a triumphant gait. Settling on the sofa, she cast a challenging look at him, as if asking how she’d done.
It had been but a fleeting moment for him, leaving him hungry for more, but for her, it had been a victory to puff her chest out in pride.
*Pfft.*
Diego let out a laugh and whispered in a benevolent voice.
“Excellent.”
As if she had expected nothing less, Irene nodded. Then, she stared at the empty plate with eyes full of lingering attachment.
If she could have just one more bite of that sweet potato pie, it would be perfect.
Just then, Diego spoke as if he had only just remembered.
“Since we were both on the battlefield last week, I haven’t had the chance to deliver this to you.”
Irene looked up at him.
“Isn’t it time for your weekly wages?”
“!”
For an instant, Irene’s eyes sparkled. Diego let out a deflating laugh, pretending not to notice.
“Adolf will come by within the day. Would you prefer to receive it in cash, or should I have it deposited into a bank account?”
After thinking for a moment, Irene answered firmly.
“I will take it in cash.”
“I will let Adolf know.”
Weekly wages.
How could she have forgotten?
Irene stared into empty space, anticipation rising, before meeting Diego’s eyes.
“Would it be alright if I went out for a moment tomorrow?”
She was an employee, and she needed permission. Surely, a generous employer would nod without a word.
“Going out?”
“Yes.”
“Where to?”
“Um, to the plaza.”
Irene answered with an uncertain tone. The central plaza was the busiest part of town; there was a high probability her destination would be nearby.
*I should ask Mia later. Just so I don’t get lost.*
“The plaza. For what business?”
Diego asked, his smile gentle. Irene tilted her head. She had assumed he would simply nod, but he was digging for details.
*Was he not as generous an employer as I thought?*
Irene looked at him, suspicious, and missed the timing for a quick answer.
“Are you meeting someone?”
Come to think of it, the plaza was a place for appointments. It had a clock tower and shops, making it an optimal meeting spot. Of course, she had never met anyone there in her life.
Diego’s gaze lingered on her persistently. Realizing her thoughts had wandered, Irene finally offered an answer.
“There is something I want to buy.”
“Something you want to buy? Do you need more dresses? If so, I will…”
“No.”
Irene hurriedly shook her head. The wardrobe was already filled with the dresses he had bought her the moment she arrived in Norte. Most were still unworn.
“I’m going to buy a needle and thread.”
“A needle and thread?”
Diego asked, surprised. Irene nodded.
“I brought some from Therapia, but I’ve used most of them treating the soldiers. It’s better to be prepared.”
She looked at him confidently, hoping he would see her as a well-prepared physician. It might even secure her contract.
But for some reason, Diego faintly furrowed his brow. A look of bewilderment appeared in Irene’s eyes.
“You intend to pay for those with your own wages?”
“I am your physician, and these are items necessary for me to perform my work.”
Diego let out a low breath and shook his head.
“I will tell Adolf. Give him a list of the supplies you need.”
“But you have already bought me dresses. I cannot impose on you any further.”
*Impose.*
Diego narrowed his eyes. For some reason, that single word felt harsh, as if it were drawing an invisible line between them.
“Irene’s needle and thread were used to save my soldiers. And the medical tools you use from now on will be used for my sake. It is only right that I purchase items related to your work.”
Irene blinked, perplexed. Baron and Baroness Rios had bestowed grace upon her, but it was never truly free.
Whether it was the clothes Leticia had outgrown or the food the family had left over, it was all a debt she had to repay.
That was why she couldn’t adapt to the kindness of Diego, who bought her tools without any conditions.
*Why?*
*Why on earth is he being so good to me? Because he is a generous employer to his physician?*
While Irene remained silent, Diego persuaded her with an even softer voice.
“And there is no place here that sells the surgical tools you use—unless you count the cautery tools used by barbers. As you know, there are no surgeons like Physician Rios in Norte.”
Diego is the definition of POSSESSIVE I wonder how more possessive he’ll be once his feelings became genuine hope he doesn’t go overboard and it becomes suffocating