Chapter 71 …
It was a complete mess.
Every flowerpot in the room had been shattered, and even the whiskey that had once churned Arte’s insides was now nothing but fragments of glass scattered across the floor.
Aside from the bed, not a single piece of furniture remained in its proper place. It was no wonder such a thunderous noise had been heard through the thick door.
There was no way the man who had turned such a large room into this state could be unharmed.
With trembling eyes, Arte looked at Dimion standing in the middle of the room.
He stood there in a shirt with three or four buttons undone, his eyes utterly empty.
They looked like eyes that had forgotten how to hold anything inside them. He had turned his head toward the light streaming in, clearly facing the people beyond it, yet he seemed like someone who saw absolutely nothing.
“…!”
What startled Arte as much as those hollow eyes was the wound on his forearm. From the bare skin revealed by his rolled-up sleeve, blood was dripping steadily, soaking into the carpet.
Arte hurriedly turned her head and looked around. When she had just arrived at the bedroom, she distinctly remembered seeing the physician standing beside Ed.
She hadn’t imagined it. The physician was still standing next to Ed.
But Arte couldn’t say a word to him. She couldn’t cry out that Dimion was bleeding, nor could she ask him to treat him quickly. The words only circled at the tip of her tongue.
The reason was the physician’s expression. The elderly man with white hair had gone even paler than his hair as he stared at Dimion.
And it wasn’t just the physician. The maid who had hurriedly followed Arte, the servants guarding the door—even Ed himself—were clearly afraid.
“So after the accident, how could the Duke possibly have been in his right mind? It was chaos. They say he kept attempting suicide. The entire ducal household was in emergency mode.”
Arte recalled what Martha had told her several months ago. Even though everyone had tried to hush it up, the rumors that had spread throughout the empire apparently weren’t false. And it seemed it hadn’t been a simple attempt to destroy only himself.
The reactions of the servants now were clearly born from experience.
They were the sort of people who became excessively sensitive whenever it came to anything involving Dimion.
For people like them to stand frozen even while seeing the blood on his arm meant that whatever had happened in the past had been anything but minor.
Arte turned her gaze back to Dimion.
He still looked unstable, and he was still bleeding.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t afraid—but she couldn’t just leave him like this.
“I’ll take care of the treatment.”
There was no way the terrified physician would be able to treat him properly even if she pushed him forward. It would be better if Arte took his bag and went inside herself.
“But…”
“My older brother is a soldier. I learned how to treat injuries in emergencies.”
The hesitant physician glanced between Arte and Ed. After a moment of thought, Ed nodded with a serious face. With a sigh, the physician handed over the bag.
Holding the bag, Arte walked straight into the room.
She had intended to leave the door open in case something happened, but the servants firmly shut it behind her.
It was a situation that almost made her laugh in disbelief, but she had no time to spare them a glance.
As soon as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Arte walked directly toward the window. With every step forward, shards of glass caught at her feet.
Before long, a large window appeared beyond the thick curtains. As bright light poured in, Dimion reflexively frowned.
Seizing that moment, Arte quickly approached him.
Under the bright light, the wound became clearer.
Up close, thankfully, it wasn’t a deep cut. In fact, something else was more concerning than the wound itself.
The smell of whiskey…
The sharp scent of whiskey wafted strongly from Dimion. Combined with his empty eyes, it created an endless sense of strangeness.
Even though she was facing Dimion, it didn’t feel like he was truly there.
Arte took a steady breath and cautiously reached for his arm.
“I’ll treat it. If you leave it like this, the wound could get worse.”
Contrary to her worries, Dimion obediently let her take his arm.
It was hard to believe this was the same man who had frightened all the servants and reduced the bedroom to this state.
His compliant attitude gave her courage.
Suppressing her instinctive fear, Arte slowly met his gaze.
The eyes that had been frighteningly empty were now filled with confusion.
“…Peria?”
It didn’t take long to realize the reason for that confusion.
Dimion had mistaken Arte for Peria again.
He had been half-mad with longing for his dead lover, yet now that she appeared before him, he looked bewildered.
For a moment, Arte hesitated.
Should she become Peria to soothe a man who was clearly not in his right mind?
Or should she firmly make him recognize Arte’s existence again?
“…Ah. Arte.”
Her dilemma became meaningless in an instant.
Even without her response, Dimion recognized her.
A terrible disappointment filled his eyes.
How much he regretted that the woman before him was Arte and not Peria—how deeply he longed for the woman he could never see again—it was painfully obvious.
Arte couldn’t bear to meet that gaze for long.
Lowering her head, she focused only on treating the wound on his arm.
In truth, the reason she had rushed here and forced her way into the bedroom was because there was something she wanted to ask him.
She wanted to hear it directly from him.
During the time they had recently grown closer, had Dimion truly enjoyed it too?
Had there ever been even a single moment when he approached her as Arte herself—not as Peria’s substitute?
But the moment she saw his eyes, she realized she didn’t need to ask.
His despair was the answer.
It wasn’t because she loved him. Just as Dimion would never love Arte, Arte herself could never love him.
If anything, it felt like a human kind of betrayal.
At least, that’s what Arte believed.
The philosophical discussions they had shared, the worries they had confided in each other, the comfort she had sincerely offered—everything now felt like an illusion.
For the first time, she had thought she truly connected with someone.
That was why her heart had felt so light.
Now every moment she had eagerly waited for Dimion to return to the estate felt foolish.
The more she thought about it, the more pathetic she felt.
She had sworn again and again not to be swayed by him—to act like a real doll and treat him coldly.
Yet she couldn’t even keep that simple resolve. She had soared alone, only to crash down.
Her hands began moving faster as she wrapped the bandage.
She wanted to leave the bedroom as soon as the treatment was done.
Now that both her pity and her determination to get an answer had disappeared, she didn’t want to stay here and face Dimion any longer.
“It’s done—”
But Dimion didn’t let her go.
She couldn’t even finish the sentence.
The moment her hand moved away from his arm, Dimion grabbed her.
“No. You’re Peria. You are Peria, right?”
Arte couldn’t tell whether he had mistaken her again, or whether he knew she was Arte but was lying to himself out of longing.
His hands gripping her shoulders trembled. The way he clung to her felt unfamiliar.
“…!”
Even more unfamiliar than his shaking figure were his eyes, gradually filling with tears.
The moment tears welled in eyes that seemed as though they would remain dry forever, he lowered his head.
“I missed you so much. I missed you so much that… I wanted to die.”
His voice was so choked with emotion that anyone listening would feel tears well up as well.
Even the words I wanted to die didn’t sound exaggerated.
Even Arte, whose feelings toward Dimion had become a tangled mess, felt her nose sting.
“Holding you this tightly… just like now…”
His strong arms wrapped around Arte.
He clung to her as if letting go would make the warmth in his arms disappear forever.
So tightly that it was hard to breathe—without leaving even the smallest space.
“Say something, Peria. Really… I really wanted to talk to you. Anything is fine. Just once, I wanted to speak with you.”
What would happen if she said that her name wasn’t Peria but Arte?
If the result of the words he so desperately wanted to hear was something like this, what kind of reaction would he show?
But in the end, she couldn’t say it.
The man before her looked far too fragile.
He seemed on the verge of completely collapsing.
Like a sandcastle barely holding its shape—if Arte caused even a small wave, it felt as though it would crumble and vanish without a trace.
She had thought that even if the entire world collapsed, this man never would.
Yet the man who had once been so noble and composed was now standing there, crying pitifully.
Suddenly, she wondered.
What did it feel like to be the woman who had brought down a man who stood at the top of the world?
What kind of love could make someone unable to endure such loss?
If Arte pretended to be Peria right now… could she satisfy that curiosity?
A cruel curiosity rose within her.
“Say it. Please?”
Dimion urged her desperately.
If he could hear just one word from Peria right now, he looked as though he would give anything.
After hesitating, Arte slowly parted her lips.
“I missed you too, Dimion.”
At that sweet sentence, his face went blank.
Then he suddenly looked around before lifting Arte into his arms.
The woman he believed to be Peria had appeared before him again—he couldn’t possibly leave her standing in the middle of broken glass.
He carefully laid Arte down on the bed.
Then he stared at her as though he were witnessing an unbelievable miracle.
“Just once. Please say it once more.”
“…I missed you, Dimion.”
The moment her whispered reply ended, he kissed her.
As the familiar warmth touched her lips, Arte realized something instantly.
This time, it would never end with just a kiss.
