Please Grant Me a Glorious Regret [Novel] Chapter 14

Understandably, whenever he looked at Arte, it felt as though he were stealing a glance at the times with Phelia he had never been able to see.

Unlike Dimion's time, which marched on mercilessly after Phelia's departure, Phelia's time had stopped five years ago.

At first, he thought he would be fine.

Even if she could never grow older, her radiant image from that time remained vividly etched in his mind, and he believed he could somehow endure by clinging to those memories.

He was confident, too.

Having ingrained her face into his eyes until they ached, he thought he could easily picture Phelia as a fully grown woman, a middle-aged woman, and even beyond.

It was a delusion.

There was no way to picture a future he had never seen.

Dimion couldn't overlay a single thing onto Phelia's frozen timeline.

Yet, looking at Arte, he saw the future of Phelia that he had so desperately failed to envision.

If Phelia were still alive five years later, he felt she would wear a face exactly like Arte's.

Dimion had bought up every single painting bearing the signature Phelia Darton.

If any trace of Phelia remained in this world, it had to belong to him.

He couldn't even stand the thought of anyone else possessing so much as a single painting of hers, so the mere idea of a woman who reminded him of an older Phelia being held in another man's arms paralyzed his reason.

Amusingly enough, even Arte's voice was similar to Phelia's.

What drove Dimion the craziest after Phelia left was the fact that he couldn't exchange a single word with her.

Had she eaten?

What had she seen, and what had she experienced?

Was her day enjoyable?

Did she miss him?

He wanted to ask her everything, one by one, but there was no way to do so.

The book she left behind still sat in his room, along with an unfinished letter she had been writing.

He couldn't ask why she had been reading that book, nor what she had intended to write in the rest of the letter.

But talking with Arte felt almost like conversing with Phelia.

It was as if someone had granted the desperate wish Dimion had harbored for so long.

Therefore, had Dimion not received that telegram, he might have actually allowed Arte to stay by his side, just as the elders had hoped.

Phelia was still his eternal companion, so he would never have surrendered the positions of lover or Duchess to Arte, but she could have made for quite a convincing doll.

However, having pieced the puzzle together, Dimion had no intention of playing along to the elders' tune.

A mocking smile hung on his lips, brought on by the memory of the telegram noting the elders' unusual confidence.

Given the many similarities she shared with Phelia, they seemed to believe that this time, Dimion would finally yield and fill the vacant seat of the Duchess.

A noble daughter from a family so far removed from capital high society couldn't possibly be to their liking, but it seemed they considered it better than letting the Rocata bloodline end.

The more he thought about it, the more amusing it was.

"Haa…"

Letting out a chuckle, Dimion exhaled another long breath.

The cigar smoke billowed out thicker than before.

He had to make them pay for daring to use him as a chess piece.

Various scripts ran through his mind.

He had to carefully consider which act would make the elders feel the most horrific despair.

To smash them into the ground, he first had to raise them high into the sky.

Rather than overturning their board immediately, it would be more thrilling to play along for a while before smashing it all to pieces.

What if he dragged them between heaven and hell constantly?

He could show them favor and act as if he were opening his heart, only to turn around and torment them, driving them into a corner as if he never cared at all.

A satisfied smile spread across his face as he imagined Arte and the old fools floundering in confusion.

Having decided on his script, Dimion rose from his seat.

As he turned these thoughts over and over, the surroundings were already growing bright.

Fitting for a place known as the Land of the Sun, dawn arrived early here.

The deadline Dimion had set was approaching faster than expected.

"…"

Before long, a jet-black jeep approached rapidly from beyond the estate walls.

Exactly as his loyal adjutant had promised, the car carrying Peter arrived at the Count's estate before the sun had fully risen.

As if they had been waiting solely for Peter's arrival, several people poured out to the front gate the moment the black jeep crossed the garden.

Not only the Count, the Countess, and the two sisters, but even several servants rushed out in a heartbeat.

Dimion's gaze naturally gravitated toward Arte.

Her sunken eyes clearly revealed that she hadn't slept a wink the night before.

Perhaps unable to relax until she verified her brother's safety with her own two eyes, she was chewing nervously on her lip.

As soon as the jeep stopped, Peter stepped out.

With a white bandage wrapped around his hand, he was trying his best to smile, but his pale complexion suggested he wasn't in good shape.

Arte immediately ran to Peter and hugged him tightly.

Throwing both arms around his neck and shutting her eyes tight, she put on quite a convincing display.

Had he watched without knowing anything, he might have been fooled into thinking it was entirely sincere and free of deceit.

"…"

Dimion folded his arms and leaned slightly against the edge of the desk.

While appreciating Arte's excellent acting, more thoughts flooded his mind.

Arte was also among those whose inflated expectations would be smashed into the ground.

Though she was merely dancing to the elders' tune, he had no intention of making allowances for that.

Her sin of casually exploiting Phelia's name was too great for any mercy.

And she had done it multiple times, so it warranted aggravated punishment, not a reduced sentence.

Suddenly, he grew curious.

How would Arte react if Dimion played along with their plan and acted as though he had actually opened his heart to her?

She would probably be delighted.

She might even be satisfied, thinking she was luring him in perfectly.

Completely unaware of what kind of poison his favor would become for her.

If she were his fiancée, destined to become the mistress of the Rocata household, Dimion's affection would be a massive source of power and a weapon.

But Arte could never stand in that position.

For a noblewoman who was neither a lover nor a fiancée to stand by Dimion's side was a declaration that she would become a sacrificial lamb to high society.

It was obvious she would be reduced to a woman Dimion played with for his amusement, plagued by all sorts of filthy scandals, and have her reputation dragged through the mud.

Whether it was true or not didn't matter.

No matter how much Arte tried to explain herself, it wouldn't work, because she would inevitably be torn to shreds by hyenas lunging at her mercilessly under the guise of innocence.

The capital's high society wasn't a world a country noble lady, who grew up merely watching the sea in a quiet place like this, could survive.

It might seem easy right now to stand by Duke Rocata's side without any official title, but once she actually followed him and stayed in the capital, she would realize the harsh reality.

How would she break down once she realized it?

Would she quietly wither away?

Or would she cause a scene, sobbing and throwing a tantrum?

Or perhaps, after holding it in time and time again, she would confess everything in front of Dimion?

Whichever it was, it would be quite a sight to behold.

"…"

When Peter finished receiving his rather boisterous welcome and headed inside the mansion, Arte didn't follow but stopped dead in her tracks.

Then, she raised her head toward the guest room where Dimion was staying.

The sun had fully shown its face.

The bright light streamed straight through the window, clearly exposing Dimion's location.

"…"

"…"

Naturally, their eyes met.

Her golden eyes, catching the morning sun directly, sparkled exceptionally bright.

Without giving him much time to appreciate the view, Arte bowed respectfully toward Dimion.

Having conveyed her polite gratitude, the woman turned and went inside the mansion without a hint of lingering attachment.

In an instant, the front yard of the estate became empty.

Dimion, who had been staring at the spot where Arte stood for a moment, pushed himself off the desk without much of a reaction.

Arte was the test itself.

Wearing a face that resembled Phelia, holding a brush like Phelia, and standing by his side like Phelia, she was a malicious test concocted by those irritating old men asking if he could truly turn away from such a woman.

Dimion intended to gladly take the test.

Since it was a test to see if he would guard his heart, there was all the more reason not to avoid it.

He could easily show them.

He would prove that no matter how much she resembled Phelia, it was entirely useless if she wasn't the real thing.

He would show them that even if the woman trying to seduce him wore Phelia's face, he was more than capable of being exceedingly cruel.

He placed the cigar back in his mouth, lit it, and took a deep breath.