Please Grant Me a Glorious Regret [Novel] Chapter 2

Arte froze like a statue, staring at the man before her.

Could this be a dream within a dream?

Unless it is, how does this make any sense?

Denial spun endless circles in her head.

She was tempted to rub her eyes furiously, completely forgetting her manners.

It was that shocking, that impossible to believe.

The man standing right before her matched the figure from her dreams with exacting precision.

The breathtaking features that drew awe the longer she looked, the distinctive atmosphere that felt capable of beguiling all creation… everything was identical.

She tried desperately to find even a single difference, but it was useless.

The most she could manage was noticing that his frame was somewhat firmer than in her dreams, and that he carried a far more potent scent of a predatory beast.

It was as if every trace of his faint lingering youth had vanished, leaving behind a man in full, raw maturity.

He was even more striking than he appeared in her dreams.

Arte had always scoffed at the idea of falling in love at first sight, yet looking at the man before her, she had no choice but to concede she was wrong.

With a man like this, it seemed entirely possible.

The moment her subconscious comparison moved from his face down to his shoulders, heat flushed through Arte's cheeks.

She had suddenly recalled what was resting on those broad shoulders in her dreams.

As the image of slender, pale legs draped over him resurfaced, the sensations from her dream naturally flooded back.

The vivid, excruciating detail of how that picture-perfect man had stimulated her most intimate place, teasing her mercilessly until she reached a explosive release.

Those dreams had repeated for four years.

Over that long stretch of time, the recurring fantasy had etched those heady sensations deep into her body.

Arte immediately lowered her gaze.

She lacked the courage to look him in the eye while dealing with this embarrassing surge of heat and ticklish warmth.

Facing those eyes right now would leave her face burning crimson down to the tips of her ears.

As she dwelt on the passage of time, a theory that had long dominated her thoughts reared its head once more.

Arte had often doubted the nature of those unexplainable dreams.

They were too vivid, too repetitive to be mere dreams.

The suspicion washed over her that perhaps they were a fragment of the year of memory she had lost.

She had suspected this before.

The trouble was that the only thing she had lost was her memory of that single year.

Yet nowhere in her remaining memories did this man exist.

So she had dismissed it, brushing it off as a meaningless hypothesis.

It seemed far more plausible that it was just a strange dream born of her subconscious mind.

The situation had changed.

He wasn't an illusion in a dream, but he was a living, breathing person.

That made it far more likely to be a piece of her lost memories, just as she had suspected.

"…!"

Furthermore, the man's expression was unusual.

He froze as if he had just seen a monster.

The only movement on his face was the frantic trembling of his eyes.

Her heart thudded violently at the unexpected turn.

The heat and shame left behind by the familiar sensations vanished in an instant.

The anticipation that she might regain memories she had failed to retrieve, despite trying every means possible, evaporated all other emotions.

As if spellbound, Arte parted her lips.

The urge to ask if they had met before, or if he knew anything about her, nearly slipped out unfiltered.

But the man was a second faster.

"Phelia?"

The moment he cut ahead of her question, Arte’s heart dropped.

The man had just completed the name that had lingered in her dreams, the one she could never hear in full.

Her heart beat so loudly she worried everyone lined up might hear it.

The man straight out of her dreams was looking at her, calling out the very name she had heard in her sleep, and with eyes brimming with a surge of grief.

"Dimion."

While she stood frozen like a fool, unsure of what to say, the Marquis who had accompanied him grabbed Dimion firmly by the shoulder and called his name.

Perhaps that low, grounded voice served as a signal between them.

At the single name spoken softly by the Marquis, the man’s eyes flickered once more.

After gazing at the Marquis somewhat blankly, he turned his head back to carefully inspect Arte's face.

His gaze brushed over her large, clear eyes, traced the soft curves of her eyebrows, lingered on her flushed cheeks, rested for a long moment on her dry lips, and finally returned to her golden eyes.

It was an explicit, unreserved gaze, one that made Arte’s fingertips curl tight again just as she had managed to cool down her heat.

Yet, Arte didn't flush again.

"…Ah."

With a brief sigh, the man snapped out of his confusion.

The moment he returned to reality, the turmoil in his eyes subsided.

The visible trembling, the piteous look, and the brief flash of passion were all gone.

"Pardon me. My apologies."

His voice, cold enough to chill the listener, delivered a succinct apology.

Then, he walked right past Arte as if nothing had happened.

He was a figure of such immense stature that it was hard to believe she had forgotten her guest's identity.

Everyone in the Empire knew of the Ducal House of Rocata.

Their power, wealth, and prestige were formidable enough to rival even the Emperor.

Among them, Dimion was a decorated captain and war hero whose name was constantly on people's lips.

Even Arte, who had zero interest in world affairs, had heard his name mentioned countless times in casual conversations.

"Thank you for your warm hospitality despite our sudden arrival, Count."

"The honor is entirely mine to host such a distinguished guest."

The Count's voice, rich with delight, pulled Arte out of her vortex of thoughts.

He responded to Dimion with genuine joy, because among all nine welcome banquets hosted so far, his face was at its brightest.

The hope and expectation that the Duke's visit would somehow prove immensely helpful in resolving the family's financial troubles had energized the Count.

Thanks to that, the banquet atmosphere was warmer and more pleasant than ever.

Splatters of laughter, light and heavy, echoed across the table without a single awkward moment.

"…"

Only Arte was burning with anxiety inside.

Even Dimion, the one who had dropped the bombshell, remained entirely serene.

That made it all the more infuriating.

Dimion was dodging Arte's gaze with absolute composure.

He made eye contact with the Countess and Lisa as he conversed, yet he refrained from looking at Arte altogether.

Even when Arte stared him down, he refused to glance her way.

No matter how she thought about it, they had definitely met before.

So she needed to ask: when, how, and why had they met?

Heat surged into Arte’s face at the memory of her dreams.

If it was part of a memory rather than a dream, Arte and Dimion had engaged in some deeply embarrassing acts together.

There were far too many questions to ask, like how things had ended up that way, why there had been no contact after the accident despite doing such things, and whether they hadn't been that close after all.

It wasn't a question she could ask around other ears.

She had to find a way to get him alone, no matter what.

However, since he wouldn't meet her eyes, there was no opening to exploit.

It was suffocating not knowing why or for what reason he was treating her like an invisible person.

Time was short.

Dimion was a guest who would leave in a few days, and in all likelihood, he would never visit this estate again.

She had to capture Dimion's attention as quickly as possible.

Whether it was a dream or a memory, a clue to fill the blank space in her lost past had finally appeared before her eyes.

* And she couldn't afford to let it slip away so vainly.*

The gears in her head turned furiously.

She needed to find any clue that could serve as a solution, no matter how trivial.

Given her state of mind, the conversation flowing across the table hardly registered.

Though she feigned focus on the meal and conversation by picking at her food with her fork and knife, it was purely an act.

"Does Lady Tian have a suitor?"

"No. I have no intention of marrying just yet. My interests lie elsewhere. I hear that many ladies in the capital are choosing patronages or business endeavors over marriage these days."

"That's correct. Thanks to that, the salons are thriving more than ever. Do you share the same sentiment, Miss Tian?"

Thus, she failed to notice when the Marquis subtly probed whether Lisa was engaged, nor how that question naturally floated over to Arte.

"Arte?"

"…"

"Arte!"

When no answer came, the Countess snapped Arte out of her daze.

"Ah, my apologies. My mind wandered for a moment… Could you repeat that, Marquis?"

Startled, Arte offered an apologetic nod and asked him to repeat the question.

"I was asking if you are also unengaged, Miss Tian."

It was a light question with a clear answer.

"I am…"

Yet, just as she was about to utter her prepared answer, Dimion looked at Arte for the very first time.

At this completely trivial question about whether she had a fiancé.