Please Grant Me a Glorious Regret [Novel] Chapter 21

The voice belonged to a middle-aged woman wearing an opulent burgundy dress.
Radiating an allure that bordered on seductive, she offered an elegant curtsy.

As she noticed Arte standing close to Dimion, a spark of intrigue lit up her eyes, but only for a fleeting moment.

Sensing that her curious gaze might be considered rude, she quickly averted her eyes.

Though Arte’s first impression was that this was no ordinary, slow-witted woman, it was soon replaced by a strange sense of déjà vu coming from someone she had just met for the first time in her life.

The reason for this inexplicable familiarity soon became clear.

The word "Thyra" was written on the packaging of the clothes carried in by the young women trailing behind her.

She was the proprietor of a dress salon so renowned that high-ranking nobles, and even the imperial family, coveted her creations.

Her name was famous enough to have reached even the remote Tian estate.

She was such a prominent figure that even Arte, who generally paid little attention to the outside world, recognized her from her frequent appearances in society columns.

"It is the day to deliver the new tuxedo you ordered last time, Your Grace."

When Dimion inquired with a look about the reason for her visit, the elderly butler quickly explained the situation.

Rumor had it that simply ordering a dress took three or four months of waiting, and getting a personal consultation with Madame Thyra herself took at least a year.

To think that this legendary designer had personally brought the clothes to the mansion, it was a stark reminder of just how immense House Rocata's power truly was.

Had it not been for the bombshell Dimion had just dropped, Arte would have been gaping in sheer awe.

But right now, she had no capacity for such wonder.

Just agonizing over how to deal with a man who insisted they not only share a house but a single bedroom felt like her head was going to explode.

"…"

"…"

The man, who clearly had zero interest in Arte’s chaotic thoughts, scanned her with his signature icy gaze.

The moment his eyes seemed to dissect her from head to toe, an ominous premonition washed over her.

"Perfect timing."

Her premonition, which hadn't been wrong once since the moment she met him, hit the mark again.

"I’d like you to take the young lady’s measurements. From day skirts to evening gowns, everything."

The storm raging around Arte showed no signs of dying down.

If anything, it struck her from an entirely unexpected direction.

Endlessly, and relentlessly.

There wasn't even time to protest that she didn't need them since she had plenty of dresses packed in the luggage sent from the Tian estate.

Having issued a command disguised as an order, Dimion vanished into his own quarters.

Before Arte could even part her lips to speak, she was swarmed by Madame Thyra and her staff.

When she finally came to her senses, she was standing inside the mansion's lavish dressing room.

"Your skin is so exquisite, My Lady."

"With such a fair, clear complexion, any color will suit you beautifully."

Soft, sycophantic words poured over her endlessly.

They fawned over how flawless her skin was, how every dress would look perfect on her, and how they had never seen such brilliant golden eyes.

Every imaginable compliment tickled Arte's ears.

Their efforts were commendable, but not a single word registered in her mind.

She was too busy battling lingering motion sickness and dissecting the disastrous turn of events that had occurred the moment she arrived in the capital to process anything else.

"My girls aren't usually this talkative, My Lady. They must be very excited because you are so stunningly beautiful today."

Madame Thyra, keenly reading Arte’s rigid expression, smoothly approached her.

Catching the unspoken cue, the assistants awkwardly backed away, and Thyra took their place.

"There's no way I could have missed such a dazzling young lady…"

Her trailing sentence was laden with unspoken questions.

Thyra was subtly testing the waters.

Regardless of the estate she hailed from, every noble lady came to the capital at least once in her life for her debutante ball.

With Arte's looks, she wouldn't have gone unnoticed, and she certainly would have left an impression on someone like Thyra.

Thyra was probing for answers.

Had she never debuted?

If not, why?

Could it be that she wasn't even a noble?

"I never had a debutante ball. The situation at our estate was dire at the time. It was much wiser to spend the money meant for a trip to the capital on the estate instead."

"Ah…"

"Have you ever heard of the Tian County in the Dalupe region? The ocean there is truly breathtaking."

When Arte answered with unabashed honesty, Thyra’s eyes widened.

It was an answer that strayed far from the polished rhetoric of high society.

It was so blunt that even the seasoned Madame was momentarily thrown off guard.

Seeing Thyra's reaction, Arte let out a faint sigh.

Even though she had never officially stepped foot into capital society, she wasn't ignorant of how conversations flowed within it.

If she wanted to, she could easily match their rhythm and play along.

Since the underlying intent of Thyra's probing was highly unpleasant, Arte could have easily shown her displeasure.

But right now, she simply didn't have the energy.

Just trying to decipher Dimion’s ulterior motives made her head throb.

"My deepest apologies, My Lady. I meant nothing by it."

Proving exactly why she had survived in capital society for so long, Madame Thyra immediately offered an apology and took a step back.

"I was merely surprised to see someone as lovely as you in this mansion. Besides, it has been quite a long time since His Grace personally requested dresses from me. The last time was years ago, when he asked if I could design something for Lady Darton."

It took less than a few seconds for her to reveal that her apology was entirely insincere.

Thyra casually name-dropped Phelia.

Everyone knew that connection had ended in death.

Her intention in deliberately dragging out the memory of a deceased former lover, a subject that demanded the utmost caution, was obvious.

She wanted to know if Arte had taken Phelia’s place.

Thyra curled the corners of her lips into a bright smile.

At first glance, she seemed quite friendly, but Arte wasn't fooled.

Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes were sharp.

She exuded a calculating energy, determined to figure out exactly where Arte stood.

It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had cautiously reined in her curiosity on the stairs just moments ago.

Arte had already learned years ago at the art academy that people's attitudes shifted drastically based on the countless arbitrary ranks they assigned to one another.

Furthermore, since Arte had just openly admitted from her own mouth that she was a poor, nameless noble, she was practically inviting this haughty Madame to look down on her.

The only reason she was still receiving even this basic level of respect was because the suspicion that she might be Dimion’s lover hadn't been fully dispelled.

"His Grace decided to sponsor me after seeing my paintings. That is why I accompanied him to the capital."

Arte firmly shut down Thyra’s suspicions.

Thinking only of the immediate moment, it might have been easier to let the suspicion linger.

It wouldn't be difficult to feign and exaggerate a deeper relationship without outright lying.

But considering everything that would happen outside this dressing room, she couldn't let those rumors run wild.

Everything Thyra saw, heard, and felt today would become fresh fodder for capital gossip, endlessly chewed over by the rumor mill.

If she pretended to be his lover out of petty pride, knowing full well she could never actually be one, it would only make her look even more pathetic in the end.

Wasn't that the exact reason she was fighting so hard to avoid living with him in the first place?

Sharing a house and a room with him was nothing short of a disaster for Arte.

"I believe providing these dresses is simply part of His Grace's generosity as a patron. My luggage from the estate hasn't arrived in the capital yet. He seems to want to provide me with something to wear until it does."

"…"

"Wasn't Lady Darton His Grace's lover? As I am merely a painter receiving his sponsorship, the situation is entirely different."

It was better to draw a firm, undeniable line.

Since the news that Arte would be staying in this mansion hadn't broken yet, there was no reason for Thyra to suspect her words were a lie or a smokescreen.

"I see."

Thyra’s reaction was surprisingly calm.

Contrary to Arte's expectation that she would immediately change her tune upon learning the truth, her demeanor barely shifted.

Her gaze sharpened slightly, but the smile lingered on her lips.

Arte tried to deduce her reasoning.

A woman with Madame Thyra's level of fame wouldn't normally be this magnanimous.

It would make more sense for her attitude to flip completely, for the curiosity in her eyes to turn instantly cold.

Her heart plummeted.

Now that she thought about it, the timing of Dimion’s order to the butler and Thyra’s arrival at the mansion coincided almost perfectly.

The thought that she might have already been caught in a secret she desperately wanted to hide, or at least delay for as long as possible, made her mind go blank.

"By any chance…"

Just as she was about to ask if Thyra had heard Dimion's command, the dressing room door suddenly opened.

Madame Thyra, Arte, and the assistants quietly waiting behind them all snapped their heads toward the door.

It was a door that shouldn't open unless the women inside were trying to leave.

Therefore, the meaning of it opening was clear.

Either an incredibly urgent situation had arisen demanding entry, or an intruder completely lacking basic etiquette had barged in.

Either way, they had no choice but to tense up.

Arte pulled the brooch pinned to the center of her bodice and gripped it tightly in her hand.

If it was an intruder, she intended to use the long, sharp pin of the brooch as a weapon to defend herself.

Arte’s frantic strategizing was abruptly cut short.

The moment she braced herself for an attack, the uninvited guest strode purposefully into the center of the dressing room without an ounce of hesitation.

"…!"

Dimion had opened the dressing room door.