Chapter 9
After Dimion left, the garden turned into a complete mess.
With the tension finally released, Arte lost consciousness, and Baron Peet, who had followed the crowd, checked on his son and completely lost his mind.
If he hadn’t been crying and begging them to take Benjamin to the hospital, saying his son was going to die, he might have burned the entire count’s estate to the ground.
What had been expected to be a more successful charity event than ever before this year ended in a massive commotion and had to be shut down.
Arte, who had collapsed, opened her eyes a full day later.
The shock she had experienced clearly left its mark.
Seeing her asleep with her eyes closed as if dead reminded the Count’s family of the accident five years ago.
Fortunately, Arte opened her eyes unharmed, which gave everyone a huge sense of relief, but the somber mood that settled over the estate was unavoidable.
“To leave such scars on such a pretty face… I’m going to curse him every single day.”
Especially since the bruises and wounds still remained on Arte’s face and body, no one in the Count’s household could hide their distress, much like Martha.
“How are you feeling? And don’t just say you’re fine! Do you know how shocked I was when you screamed as you woke up yesterday? Are you nauseous, dizzy, or having muscle pain or anything like that…?”
“I really am fine, Martha. Just a bit of soreness from the injuries.”
That was a lie. Her scalp was still swollen from Benjamin yanking her hair, and every muscle in her body screamed in pain.
But she couldn’t afford to lie around groaning.
The first thing Arte did upon waking was check whether Baron Peet had come by. She had been plagued by nightmares the entire time she was unconscious.
In those dreams, Baron Peet killed everyone in the Count’s household, and Benjamin grabbed her hair again and demanded marriage, while Dimion, holding a wine glass, silently watched it all unfold.
No matter how many times she thought about it, there was no way Baron Peet would let this go quietly.
Dimion had pulled the trigger, but since the Baron didn’t have the guts or courage to go after the powerful Ducal House of Rocata, it was obvious he would seek revenge on the Count’s household instead.
‘How should I handle this? I’m injured too, so I can demand some compensation… but he’ll just throw a tantrum and scream that it’s nothing compared to his son’s wrist being ruined.’
The Count had told her not to worry and to focus on recovering, saying he had a plan.
But Arte didn’t believe that. There was no way the Count had a real solution.
Unless money fell from the sky or Dimion himself stepped forward and offered to take care of Benjamin’s mess, this wouldn’t be easily resolved.
“You said the Duke of Rocata hasn’t said anything else, right?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Dimion, however, had not taken any further action. He behaved as if he hadn’t witnessed the commotion at all.
Even when told that Arte had regained consciousness, all he said was a brief “That’s a relief.”
‘It was my mistake. I shouldn’t have brought up Peria then.’
Arte let out a sigh, regretting it too late.
That misstep had been born out of fear.
Instead of offering a proper apology for just now learning about Peria’s story and expressing regret, she had dragged Peria into the conversation again. She didn’t even have to see him to know what Dimion must think of her now.
The contempt that had flashed in his pale green eyes still burned vividly in her mind.
There was no way he would take the initiative to help her or the Count’s family.
Still, the best card to play against the Baron’s family was, no matter how one looked at it, Dimion. She needed the power and influence of the Rocata Duchy.
‘Isn’t there a way to ask for help by offering something in return, something legitimate?’
If it were a deal and not a favor, the situation might change.
But the Count’s household was already in trouble, unable to repay the money they’d borrowed. They had nothing to offer Dimion.
“Still, my lady, the fact that the Duke personally stepped in to save you—that’s a good sign, isn’t it? Please don’t be too discouraged.”
Martha, still floundering in a sea of misunderstandings, interpreted Arte’s sighs in a completely different way.
She clasped Arte’s hands tightly, emphasizing that Dimion still had feelings for her.
“My lady, the reason you asked me before if you resembled Lady Darton… it was because you heard the rumor, right?”
“Huh? Rumor?”
“There’s a rumor that the Duke of Rocata missed Lady Darton so much, he started inviting women who looked like her to his bedroom.”
Martha lowered her voice to a whisper. Arte was dumbfounded by a rumor she had never even heard of before.
“Terry’s friend works at the Rocata household, you see. According to her, it’s all nonsense. Well, not all nonsense. The women are being brought in, but not by the Duke himself. Apparently, the retainers—those old elders—are panicking, saying the ducal line will end, so they’ve been shoving women who resemble Lady Darton into the Duke’s bedroom. Women with brown hair and brown eyes.”
“What?”
“Surprised, right? Me too. What kind of elders do that? Anyway, the Duke got furious and cleaned house, but the former Duke is still backing those elders, so he hasn’t been able to deal with them too strongly. That’s why the Duke hasn’t returned to the ducal residence in quite a while. He’s been staying only at the military quarters.”
It was quite a shocking story. On a human level, it was also heartbreaking.
There was even a brief suspicion that perhaps, as a reaction to being constantly shown women who resembled Peria, Dimion had been reminded of her when he saw Arte, who looked nothing like her.
But that was all.
Arte didn’t have the energy to explain and left Martha’s misunderstanding alone. But seeing Martha now, eyes blazing with devotion as she defended Dimion, made her feel the need to clear things up quickly.
“Martha. You’re seriously misunderstanding things. I don’t have any special feelings for the Duke of Rocata. I’m not as interested in him as you think, and I don’t stare at him because I like him.”
“What? Really? But…”
“It’s just… there’s a complicated story. I only wanted to ask him something. Even when he helped me… anyway, it’s not what you think, Martha.”
Martha looked terribly disappointed.
She even tried to persuade Arte, saying they looked so good together, and that this could be a golden opportunity—especially since Arte had always opposed political marriages.
Her enthusiasm was so intense that Arte couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“You really don’t like him?”
“No. Right now, all I care about is how to deal with Baron Peet.”
The laughter, which had even filled the room for a moment, vanished instantly. Just thinking about Baron Peet and Benjamin brought back her worries.
“They were humiliated in front of everyone. They’ll definitely want revenge.”
“But it was the Duke who shot Young Master Benjamin, wasn’t it? Would they dare challenge the Duke of Rocata?”
“Never. That’s why they’ll come after us. Because I was involved, and because it happened at our charity event.”
“But Young Master Benjamin hit you, my lady! The Count and you should be the ones demanding compensation!”
Martha huffed and puffed, enraged.
“These aren’t people who listen to reason. No matter how I think about it, they’ll make a move once the guests leave. I just don’t know how to stop them. When are the Duke and the Marquis leaving? Was it two days from now?”
“No, my lady. The Count asked them to stay longer, so they’ll be leaving in five days.”
“Five days? Then there’s still time…”
She felt a moment’s relief at the thought of having more time to prepare—only to recall the Baron family’s reckless tendency to act without thinking.
They were not people who could restrain their anger for five whole days.
And since they also didn’t have the courage to storm the estate while both the Duke and the Marquis were present, they might aim for the time when both were out.
“Martha. Where are the Duke and the Marquis? Are they here at the estate?”
“No. They both went out. The Duke got a message from the military. I don’t know the details, but he said he had to handle something in person in the city and would be late. The Marquis also wanted to look around the city, so they went together…”
Martha, who had been reporting casually, and Arte, who had assumed they were still at the estate, both froze instantly.
The moment Arte realized that both Dimion and the Marquis had left the estate at the same time, a wave of massive anxiety crashed down over her.
“S-surely not… my lady. Nothing’s going to—”
Martha’s attempt to reassure the now-pale Arte was immediately rendered pointless.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out. A deafening sound that had no place in this peaceful estate.
