Please Grant Me a Glorious Regret [Novel] Chapter 9

After Dimion left, the garden descended into chaos.

Arte, with her tension finally broken, fainted on the spot.

Baron Pitt, who had followed the crowd, completely lost his mind upon seeing his son’s condition.

If he hadn’t been screaming for someone to rush Benjamin to the hospital, wailing that his son was going to die, he looked ready to burn the Count’s estate to the ground.

The charity event, which had been expected to be even more successful than previous years, was ultimately halted amid the massive uproar.

It took an entire day for Arte to open her eyes again.

The severe shock of the incident clearly took its toll.

Seeing her sleep so motionlessly, as if she were dead, brought back painful memories of the accident five years ago for everyone in the family.

Fortunately, Arte woke up seemingly fine, allowing everyone to breathe a sigh of relief.

Still, it couldn’t stop a heavy, somber atmosphere from settling over the estate.

“To leave such scars on such a pretty face… I’m going to curse him every single day.”

Because bruises and cuts still marred Arte’s face and body, everyone in the family, like Martha, couldn’t hide their distress.

“How are you feeling, My Lady? And please, don’t just say you’re fine! You woke up screaming yesterday, and it terrified us all. Do you feel sick to your stomach, or dizzy, or are your muscles sore…”

“I’m truly fine, Martha. The cuts just sting a little.”

It was a lie.

Her scalp was still swollen where Benjamin had violently yanked her hair, and every muscle in her body screamed in protest.

However, she didn’t have the luxury of lying in bed complaining about the pain.

As soon as she woke up, Arte’s first priority was checking if Baron Pitt had shown up.

Throughout her slumber, she had been plagued by nightmares.

She dreamt that Baron Pitt murdered everyone in the family, and Benjamin, grabbing her hair again, violently shook her while demanding she marry him.

All the while, Dimion simply stood by holding a wine glass, quietly watching the scene unfold.

No matter how she thought about it, there was no way Baron Pitt would let this slide quietly.

It was Dimion who fired the gun, but since the Baron lacked the courage or audacity to confront the Ducal House of Rocata, it was obvious he would seek revenge against her family instead.

The Count had reassured Arte not to worry, claiming he had a plan, and urged her to focus solely on recovering.

Arte didn’t believe him.

There was no way the Count had an alternative solution.

Unless money magically rained down from the sky, or Dimion stepped forward on his own to handle the mess with Benjamin, it was a problem with no easy fix.

“You said the Duke of Rocata hasn’t mentioned anything further?”

“Yes, My Lady.”

Yet, Dimion made no further move.

He acted as if he hadn’t witnessed the commotion at all.

Even when told that Arte had regained consciousness, he merely offered a brief remark that it was a relief.

Arte sighed, regretting it far too late.

It was a fatal blunder born of fear.

It would have been bad enough simply to apologize, explaining that she had only just learned the truth about Phelia, yet she had dragged Phelia’s name into it again.

She didn’t even have to guess how Dimion was looking at her now.

The disgust in his pale green eyes was still vivid in her mind.

There was no way he would make the first move to help Arte and her family.

But the best card they had to deal with the Baron’s family, without a doubt, was Dimion.

They needed the authority of him and the Ducal House of Rocata.

If it was a transaction rather than a favor, the situation could change.

But as it stood, the Count’s family was already in dire straits, unable to even repay the money they owed.

They had nothing to offer Dimion.

“Still, My Lady. Isn’t it a good sign that the Duke stepped forward to save you like that? Please, don’t be too disappointed.”

Martha, still floundering in a swamp of misunderstanding, misinterpreted Arte’s sigh.

Continuing to insist that Dimion’s interest was fixed on Arte, she gripped both of Arte’s hands tightly.

“My Lady. You know when you asked me before if you and Lady Darton looked alike? You asked because you heard the rumor, didn’t you?”

“Huh? A rumor?”

“The rumor that the Duke of Rocata misses Lady Darton so much that he’s bringing women who look like her into the ducal estate’s bedroom.”

Martha lowered her voice to a whisper.

Hearing a rumor she had never encountered in her life, Arte was left dumbfounded.

“Terry’s friend works at the Ducal House of Rocata. According to her, it’s all just a baseless rumor. Ah, well, it’s not entirely a lie, but it’s not the Duke who’s bringing them in. It seems the family elders, terrified that the ducal bloodline might end, are finding women who resemble Lady Darton and pushing them into his bedroom. Women with brown hair and brown eyes.”

“What?”

“Shocking, isn’t it? I thought so too. What kind of elders would do such a thing? Anyway, the rumor says the Duke was furious and turned the elders upside down, demanding what they thought they were doing. But apparently, the previous Duke of Rocata is backing the elders, so he can’t act too forcefully against them. That’s why the Duke hasn’t returned to the ducal estate in quite some time. He only stays at the military barracks.”

It was a rather shocking story.

And on a human level, it was also a deeply pitiful one.

For a moment, she wondered if he had thought of Phelia precisely as a reaction to having look-alikes constantly forced upon him, struck by the sight of Arte, who looked nothing like her.

But that was a fleeting thought.

Lacking the energy to explain everything, Arte had let Martha’s misunderstandings slide.

But watching her fiercely defend Dimion with eyes full of fire, she felt an urgent need to set the record straight.

“Martha. You have a massive misunderstanding right now. I harbor no such feelings for the Duke of Rocata. He’s not as interested in me as you think, and he wasn’t staring at me because he likes me.”

“Huh? Really? But…”

“There’s just… a complicated backstory. I only did that because I had something I needed to ask him. As for him helping me… anyway, it’s nothing like what you’re thinking, Martha.”

Martha looked incredibly disappointed.

She even tried to persuade Arte, saying things like…

“You look so good together, why not change your mind now?” and “Didn’t you always support arranged marriages anyway? This could be an incredible opportunity.”

She was so passionate about it that Arte couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Are you truly not interested?”

“Yes. Right now, my only interest is figuring out how to deal with Baron Pitt.”

Her laughter, and its accompanying sound, vanished in an instant.

The mere thought of Baron Pitt and Benjamin brought a fresh wave of anxiety.

“He was publicly humiliated in front of people, so he’s definitely going to try and retaliate.”

“But the one who shot the young Baron was the Duke, wasn’t it? Would he dare raise a hand against the Duke of Rocata?”

“Absolutely not. That’s exactly why he’ll target us. Because I was involved, and it happened during our charity event.”

“But the young Baron hit you too, My Lady! You and the Count are the ones who should be demanding compensation!”

Martha fumed, her temper rising.

“They aren’t people who listen to common sense. No matter how I look at it, they’ll likely make their move once the guests have left, but I have no idea how to stop it. How long did you say the Duke and the Marquis were staying? Was it two more days?”

“No, My Lady. The Count asked them to stay longer, so they said they would leave in five days.”

“Five days? Then we still have time…”

Her relief at having more time to prepare was brief.

The memory of the Baron’s family, unable to control their hasty tempers and prone to rash actions, surfaced in her mind.

They weren’t the kind of people who could suppress their anger for five whole days.

Yet, they were also cowardly enough to avoid confronting the estate while both the Duke and Marquis were present.

They might strike precisely when the two men were out.

“Martha. Where are the Duke and Marquis? Are they at the estate right now?”

“No. They both went out. The Duke received a message from his unit. I don’t know the exact details, but he said he’d be late because he had to go into the city to handle something in person. The Marquis wanted to look around the city anyway, so he said the timing was perfect and went with him…”

The face of Martha, who was casually reporting this, and the face of Arte, who had asked assuming both were safely inside the estate, instantly turned rigid.

The moment she realized that Dimion and the Marquis had left the estate simultaneously, a massive wave of anxiety swallowed Arte whole.

“S-Surely not. My Lady. Nothing bad is going to…”

Martha’s attempt to reassure a deathly pale Arte was quickly proven futile.

A gunshot rang out.

A massive gunshot that felt entirely out of place in this peaceful estate.