Chapter 10:
Arte burst out of the room like a madwoman. Neither her sharp heels nor the long hem of her dress could stop her.
She ran down the stairs as if she didn’t care if she fell and rolled, sprinting through the long corridor.
Right before reaching the first floor, she inevitably tripped and fell, but she didn’t pay it any mind. Like someone who couldn’t feel pain, she jumped up and kept running.
Following the noise, Arte found where the gunshot had come from.
It was not just anywhere—it was the hall right in front of the entrance.
“……”
Arte was left speechless at the scene before her.
All the noise that had guided her just moments ago vanished, and a ringing filled her ears.
Everyone’s mouths were open, shouting something, but she couldn’t hear a thing.
The first thing that caught her eye was a police officer aiming a gun at someone.
As if hypnotized, Arte followed the line of the gun’s barrel.
To her surprise, it was pointed at the Count.
Surrounded by the butler and servants trying to calm him down, the Count was crying out in anguish, and next to him lay the Countess, collapsed in the arms of Lisa and the maids.
‘Peter. Where is Peter?’
Arte frantically looked around to find her unseen brother.
Beside the officer stood Baron Pete and Benjamin, smirking sinisterly, and at their feet, the floor was splattered with blood.
Her eyes moved back to the place she had just looked at moments before.
Arte desperately scanned her family. Thankfully, there were no signs of blood on the Count, Countess, or Lisa.
Even the despicable Baron Pete and Benjamin were clean.
Clearly, someone had bled, but the blood wasn’t on anyone.
‘…No way.’
Arte’s breath quickened as she followed the trail of blood.
But at the end of the bloody path, there was no body.
“……!”
Instead, two fingers lay scattered on the ground—fingers that had, just moments ago, been attached to someone’s hand.
Above the severed fingers, Benjamin’s wrist—seen two days earlier—overlapped in her mind.
The grotesque horror of it all felt so surreal that she couldn’t even fully grasp it.
‘No. It can’t be.’
Muttering under her breath, Arte turned her eyes to find the owner of the fingers.
A dread far greater than what she’d felt before the gunshot crept into her heart.
“Ah…”
Why are bad premonitions never wrong?
The moment she spotted her brother, Arte felt her whole body turn cold.
Kneeling at the feet of the police, Peter’s hand was dripping blood.
It was his fingers. Those thick, straight fingers Arte had always admired—her brother’s beloved hand was destroyed.
The ringing in her ears ceased the moment she saw Peter’s bloodshot eyes, filled with pain and rage.
All the lost sounds came rushing back.
“Let go of him! Let my son go!”
The Count’s fury echoed through the hall. But none of the police who stormed the mansion listened.
“Ha! Finally showed up!”
As the hellish scene made her body tremble, Benjamin noticed Arte.
Every eye in the chaotic room turned to the pale-faced Arte.
“See? This happened because of you. Your disgusting brother might be a decent soldier, huh? I aimed to blow his wrist off, but he dodged, so I only got a couple of his fingers.”
Benjamin walked toward Arte with a vile grin.
The Count, Peter, and even the servants tried to shield Arte, but one of the officers fired a sound grenade, stopping everyone in their tracks.
“Here. The contract you love so much. See this? It says anyone who causes injury will pay an equal price. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. You get that, right? You’re smart. So shooting that bastard’s wrist? Totally justified.”
“That clause isn’t in the contract.”
“Yeah. I added it. Because I can. Your father signed it himself. Look closely. What can I say? You’re the one who caused that accident and made him spend money.”
Arte’s eyes turned bloodshot as she stared at Benjamin.
For the first time in her life, she felt overwhelming murderous rage.
She wanted to grab someone’s gun and shove it into his mouth, then pull the trigger.
“You should’ve just stayed quiet and taken your beating. But no, your brother had to dodge and then shoot one of our officers? Do you know how serious that is? A soldier shooting an officer? He’s going to rot in prison.”
“What are you—!”
“But you know what? I’m merciful. I’ll tell you how to get him released. Hand over the title of Count.”
“You idiot. A noble title isn’t something you can just hand over.”
“Don’t play dumb. I mean through marriage. You made me a cripple, so now you have to take care of me for life. Right?”
Benjamin raised his bandaged right arm and grabbed Arte’s hair with his left hand.
A sharp pain shot through her scalp, but Arte didn’t flinch. She only glared at him.
“I’ll give you two days. Decide. Don’t even think about running. If you do, I’ll show you what hell really is. I’ll make you and your whole family beggars. I’ll teach you what a fate worse than death looks like!”
Like a madman, Benjamin suddenly screamed and threw Arte to the floor.
“What are you waiting for? Drag him away!”
“Yes, sir!”
There was no time to feel pain. The officers—clearly bought by Benjamin—moved to take Peter.
“Peter! No! Peter!”
Arte, the Count, Lisa—they all cried out and tried to stop them, but it was no use.
Against the officers’ guns, the House of Count had no power.
“Aaaaaaagh!”
Arte collapsed and wailed as she heard the engine taking Peter away.
The plea she had once uttered—to be saved like Peria—had become a massive disaster that pushed her into tragedy.
* * *
After the chaos, the Count immediately left to meet the family’s lawyer.
He also reached out to all his acquaintances with connections in the military police.
The servants scattered, trying every possible way to find a solution. Lisa focused on caring for the collapsed Countess.
But Arte didn’t move at all.
In the same position as before, she sat clutching her dress so tightly her hands turned white.
Martha and the other maids tried to escort her to her room, but it was pointless. Arte sat like a statue, her eyes burning with a cold blue flame.
Though her body remained frozen, her mind was working faster and sharper than ever.
She had caused this. Though all the blame belonged to Benjamin, Arte’s carriage accident was what brought him into their lives.
Because of her, Peter had lost his fingers and was dragged away. Her family and all the mansion’s staff were suffering.
So, the one who had to fix it—and sacrifice for it—was none other than Arte herself.
But marrying Benjamin was absolutely out of the question. Arte wanted to crush everything Benjamin desired. She hoped he’d lose everything he thought he’d gained.
Peter lost fingers. The equivalent price, in Arte’s eyes, was Benjamin losing his head. That was justice.
In her heart, she wanted to exact revenge on her own—using her own power, her own strength—to return the humiliation she felt today tenfold.
But as always, reality didn’t match ideals. Arte needed a lot, but had nothing. She had to ask for help.
She needed power that could crush the wealth of the Pete family, break the chains of debt binding the House of Count, and do so with honor enough to escape blame.
Only one person had it all.
Just one.
Dimion Rocata. Duke Rocata. Captain Rocata.
With any of his names and titles, he could meet all of Arte’s needs.
“……”
When the bell rang from the basement to signal his return, and a servant opened the grand door to the hall, Arte—who had sat rigid all this time—rose to her feet.
Her determined steps quickly closed the distance. One wouldn’t believe she had been frozen for hours.
That’s how fast desperation moved her.
“I have something to tell you, Duke.”
Her voice, colder than usual, and her eyes, clearer than ever, met Dimion’s gaze.
“I want to speak in private. Just the two of us.”
