Don’t Tame It [Novel]

7.

Baron Rios did not possess a mansion with massive gates and expansive gardens like a Count, but he was wealthy enough to employ three maids and two menservants. This was because he owned two buildings under his name and a small ranch.

The house, equipped with six rooms, three bathrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, and a parlor, was a respectable residence for a Baron.

However, that house—which was by no means small—had always felt like a prison to Irene.

Nevertheless, she never dared to think of leaving. If that place was a prison, then the outside world was hell.

Irene hauled up her sagging bag with all her might. It felt as heavy as if she were carrying a giant boulder. She couldn’t tell if it was because of her medical textbooks or the heaviness in her heart.

There were several reasons why Irene had suddenly decided to enroll in medical school.

The first was a genuine fascination with medical texts. Once she opened a book, she would become so absorbed that she lost track of time and frequently skipped meals.

The second reason was geography. The Royal Medical College was located here in Therapia, not the capital. She had no desire to return to the crowded capital.

It was because she didn’t know who she might run into there. If someone were to recognize her, Irene would be dragged back into the past in an instant.

Furthermore, Baron Rios was a nobleman of Therapia. Though she had submitted her application without his consent, she had calculated that he wouldn’t be able to oppose her to the end, if only for the sake of his reputation.

But the biggest reason was that the Royal Medical College was famous for overworking its students. Far from being allowed to stay out overnight, even going home during the two annual breaks was a privilege granted only to top-performing students.

While many students dropped out because of this, to Irene, that very fact was appealing. It gave her a justification for not having to return home.

Of course, she was a top student every year, and she made extra income by selling her own overnight passes to other students.

But this year, she had returned home at an unexpected time.

“It hasn’t even been a few months since I was here at the end of the year.”

Irene muttered in a voice too quiet to reach even her own ears, then deliberately squared her shoulders. She pulled a pocket watch from her coat pocket.

The watch, engraved with an intaglio lily, had lived longer than Irene, but it still worked perfectly.

―Come home by 3:00 PM this weekend.

Recalling the final sentence of her father’s letter, Irene stared at the watch with piercing eyes.

The impatient hour hand was already at 3, and the ticking second hand finally reached 12. At the same time, the minute hand clicked into place.

As if she had been waiting, Irene reached out and struck the lion-headed knocker.

*Thump, thump, thump.*

“Who is it?”

Before long, a familiar voice drifted out. The housekeeper, a woman who had worked in this house for as long as Irene could remember, opened the door.

“Oh?”

She wore a look of confusion, as if she couldn’t fathom why Irene was here. Since Irene felt the same, she had nothing to offer in return.

“I received Father’s letter and came.”

“The Master… is inside. Come in for now.”

The surprise faded from the housekeeper’s face, replaced by the stern, cold mask she always wore when looking at Irene.

Irene took a step into the house. At once, she felt as if invisible hands were tightening around her throat, making it hard to breathe.

It wasn’t anything special; it was always like this here. Yet, to young Irene, even a suffocating prison had been better than returning to hell.

*I am an adult now. I’m not the child I used to be. No one can hurt me.*

Muttering the words like a spell, Irene crossed the hallway.

“The Master is in the parlor.”

“The parlor?”

Irene asked back inadvertently. She wondered if they had guests. The housekeeper turned her back coldly and vanished into the kitchen without taking Irene’s bag. It was nothing new. In this house, Irene had always been a stranger.

After setting her bag down in the living room, Irene headed toward the parlor. In the few months she had been away, nothing had changed.

The floral wallpaper that was her mother’s taste, the foreign ornaments meant to display status, the scent of roses lingering in the air—not a single thing was different.

There were no traces of Irene in that space. It was as if she had never existed to begin with.

Irene stood still, her gaze drifting toward the family portrait in the hallway. Baron Rios and his wife sat in chairs, with their eldest son, Lucas, standing behind his mother, and their youngest, Leticia, standing behind her father.

On the day the portrait artist visited, Irene had stood not among them, but beside the artist, watching as the canvas was slowly filled.

Turning her gaze away, Irene resumed her steps, acting as if nothing had happened. She stood before the parlor and knocked.

*Knock, knock.*

“Come in.”

Only after receiving permission did Irene pull the door open. Her father, mother, Lucas, and Leticia turned their heads simultaneously. Seeing Irene, Leticia scowled.

Baron Rios greeted her in a dry tone.

“It’s been a while.”

Even if she searched every corner, she couldn’t find a trace of delight in his greeting. The same went for Irene, but she was preoccupied with other thoughts.

There were times like this—moments where Irene alone couldn’t understand facts that others accepted without question.

She missed her timing to reply because she was busy defining the term “a while.”

How long did it signify? A week? A month? Or perhaps a season?

Irene, who only returned once a year, had visited just three months ago. Was it standard to call three months “a while”? Or was her father’s perception of time simply vastly different from her own?

While she stood lost in thought with an expressionless face, Leticia scowled.

“Look at her, standing there blankly without even responding to a greeting. I suppose she wouldn’t be the hopeless Irene if she greeted people warmly.”

It was entirely too informal for an attitude toward an older sister, but no one corrected her.

The same went for Irene. Leticia’s hostility was as familiar as the air. Eventually, unable to find an appropriate answer, Irene simply nodded.

“Yes.”

“Sit.”

That was it. Baron Rios did not ask how Irene had been, and Irene, too, was not curious about their status.

Irene sat on a chair across from the sofa where her mother, Lucas, and Leticia sat in a row.

Baron Rios, who usually became particularly taciturn whenever Irene was around, spoke first today.

“An important guest is coming today.”

*So? Is that why you called me here?*

Baron Rios rarely invited guests to the house. She knew without being told that it was because of her. On days when he hosted, Irene was required to remain in the attic.

Even when she heard laughter from downstairs and the smell of delicious food pricked her nose, she had to stay in the cramped storage space until the guests left.

Whenever that happened, she would read the books that had been kicked out of the library and piled up haphazardly in the attic.

She didn’t know how many of those books Baron Rios had actually read. His bookshelves were closer to interior design than anything else—decorations that were replaced whenever they went out of style.

Thanks to that, there were countless books on philosophy, humanities, and religion in the attic.

What drew Irene’s interest in particular were the medical books. From the history of medicine in a broad sense to the records of individual departments, reading them allowed her to forget her hunger. Even if she fell asleep in the middle of a chapter, no one would wake her.

Not her family, not the maids.

Irene was a complete outsider, a ghost.

When she woke in the middle of the night clutching her empty stomach, she would quietly open the attic door and, like a timid mouse, tiptoe to the kitchen. The food left over after the banquets was always gone, eaten by the servants. Irene had to fill her stomach with hardened bread and lukewarm water.

She had never thought that was strange. It was a matter of course. Irene belonged to Baron Rios.

“…….”

Just as her thoughts were deepening, the doorbell rang.

Leticia looked toward the front door and scowled. Everyone living in this house knew that she detested the sound of the bell, having once terrorized anyone who dared to ring it.

So, the person who had pressed it was clearly the guest. The important guest Baron Rios had spoken of.

Irene stared into the air with indifferent eyes. For some reason, Leticia’s expression seemed different than usual.

The problem was that Irene had no talent for reading others’ emotions. The girl’s flushed face looked both excited and on the verge of a tantrum. Did she want to laugh, or did she want to scream?

While Irene’s confusion deepened, the Baroness tapped the back of Leticia’s hand and whispered softly.

“Don’t worry, Leti. Even if she is a prestigious young lady from the capital, I haven’t seen anyone prettier than you.”

At those words, Leticia smiled brightly, as if reassured.

“Yes, Mother.”

“And isn’t Irene here to make you stand out even more?”

*Glance.*

Leticia shot a look at Irene, then smiled even more confidently.

At that moment, the parlor door opened. The Baron, his wife, Lucas, and Leticia stood up as if they had practiced it. Irene was the only one left sitting.

“Master, Grand Duke Cassis has arrived.”