Chapter 11
Dimion said nothing.
With an unreadable expression, he stared fixedly at Arte.
His blank face carried a certain pressure that made people shrink back. He didn’t need to say a word—just his gaze alone was enough to make the other person wither.
When Arte remembered the moment he had casually severed Benjamin’s wrist, it was as if his silence whispered, “How dare you?”
Her once-bold resolve began to falter. Then she recalled the blood that had soaked the floor and the two severed fingers. The wailing parents. Peter’s furious face.
She didn’t even have the luxury of fear. There was no room for it.
The desperation born of her willpower pushed her past the threshold of fear.
Arte stepped closer to him, unbothered by the chill of his gaze.
They were now close enough that a slight movement would cause their bodies to brush. Even the servant holding the door opened his eyes wide at how little space was left between them.
Now that she was this close, Dimion’s scent tickled her nose. It was cool and weighty—a scent that reminded her of a winter forest.
As if the warmth of this land, often called the Land of the Sun, could not reach him. His winter was complete—and cold.
Even the chill in his scent sent a shiver down her spine again.
But it lasted only a moment. Clenching her fists tightly, Arte calmly parted her lips.
“I’d like to propose a contract.”
It was a whisper only Dimion could hear. Having said her piece, Arte quietly waited for his response.
Even in the face of such a secretive suggestion, Dimion remained silent. He looked at her with the same expression as before.
If not for the wind blowing in from beyond the door, she might’ve thought time itself had stopped.
To hide the trembling in her hands, Arte clasped them tightly together. They were so close that even their breathing and heartbeats could be heard. She didn’t want Dimion to sense the fear and tension she was feeling.
“……”
As her clenched hands turned pale and she began to fear that the pounding of her heart might give her away, Dimion finally tilted his head slightly, as if to suggest they step outside.
Even that graceful tilt of his head was so elegant it was irritating. Arte snapped out of her daze and swallowed hard before stepping beyond the mansion doors.
She had to stay focused. If she wanted to turn the picture in her mind into reality—then absolutely, she must.
Arte brought Dimion to the most secluded part of the mansion’s rear garden, in front of a grand old tree.
Facing the massive zelkova tree, she took a deep breath and slowly turned around.
Dimion stood with the blood-red sky behind him, and somehow, he looked unfamiliar in that moment. The wind blew through his hair, and the setting sun’s crimson glow clung to him. And even that looked magnificent.
Even in moments that could have seemed disheveled, he was perfect. It felt like nothing in this world could ever blemish him.
He was that formidable an opponent.
Arte once again steeled her heart and looked at Dimion with fierce determination.
“What is it that you want?”
To her surprise, Dimion spoke first. His voice, carried by the wind, sounded even lower today.
“If you’re proposing a contract, I need to hear what it is you want from me.”
His tone was anything but friendly. She had expected as much, but actually facing it made her swallow nervously.
Arte worked to remain calm as she carefully opened her mouth. No matter how he reacted, she had to persuade Dimion according to her plan.
“What I want… is Peter’s acquittal, and enough money to pay off the baron’s debts.”
It wasn’t something that could be immediately understood. As expected, Dimion’s brows furrowed slightly as soon as the sentence ended.
“Just a few hours ago, Baron Peet stormed the count’s mansion with the police. Along with his son, whose wrist you severed.”
Her words carried a sting. She wanted to make it clear that her earlier plea hadn’t been meaningless—that Dimion bore at least some responsibility for the mess that had unfolded.
“The young baron shot at Peter. He must’ve wanted to return the favor and take off his wrist too. But Peter dodged, and instead, two of his fingers…”
Arte couldn’t finish the sentence. It was a scene she didn’t want to relive.
She had conveyed enough. There was no need to elaborate further on what had happened to Peter’s fingers.
“In the struggle, Peter shot one of the officers. In the shoulder, apparently. But since he’s a soldier and he shot a policeman, he’s been dragged off to the military police.”
“……”
“It was clearly self-defense. If the officer had been decent, they would’ve arrested the young baron instead of Peter. But all the officers there had been bought off by Baron Peet. They didn’t listen to a word we said. It’ll be the same at the military police. They won’t release him—they’ll drag it out until trial for sure.”
The more she spoke, the heavier her heart felt. She even remembered Benjamin’s mocking face—it made everything a hundred times worse.
“To win against Baron Peet’s money, I need honor. And to break free from this wretched cycle, I need to pay off the debt—so I need a large sum of money, too.”
After finishing her explanation, Arte looked at Dimion. She had spoken as calmly as she could, but she couldn’t hide the anger in her expression.
“You said you wanted a contract.”
Dimion, who had been quietly focused on her, took a step forward. Just one step—but it radiated a strange pressure that made Arte flinch.
“A contract only works if both sides give and take. What you’re asking of me is quite a lot. But I don’t think you’re in a position to offer something of equal value.”
His low voice struck her to the core.
“So what is it? If I lend you my honor to save your brother and pay off your debt to some vermin, what do I get in return?”
His words were tinged with a faint sneer. It felt as though, no matter what Arte offered, it wouldn’t satisfy him.
It was a blow to her pride, but Arte didn’t waver. Sadly, the situation she was in was that dire.
Fear was a luxury. Pride wasn’t even something she could afford to think about.
She lowered her gaze briefly, then lifted it again to meet Dimion’s eyes—her look was resolute, almost solemn.
“I’ll be Lady Dutton’s substitute.”
At the mention of Feria’s name, cracks appeared in Dimion’s previously composed face for the first time.
He looked surprised that she would dare bring up that name again, then slowly, like the moment he had saved her from Benjamin, his expression froze over with a cold edge.
“Have you learned nothing? How many times have I told you not to speak that name so carelessly?”
“That’s how desperate I am.”
Arte met his words without backing down.
Truthfully, she was afraid. Despite what he said, she had learned too well—and that scared her more. Every time she brought up Feria’s name to Dimion, things went terribly wrong.
She might get through the immediate moment, but the aftermath always came crashing down.
‘Maybe it’ll be like that again this time. No—I’m sure it will be.’
Even pretending uncertainty was pointless. The answer was already set. If Dimion accepted her proposal, the contract would undoubtedly consume her, in one way or another.
But she couldn’t stop. She mustn’t stop.
“I heard you’re in a difficult situation because of your family elders. That they keep sending women who resemble Lady Dutton into your bedroom. Use me. Keep me by your side. If I look like her, it’ll help stop them from bothering you.”
The chill radiating from Dimion only grew stronger. It was a stark contrast to the burning crimson of the sunset painting the world.
“A woman by my side?”
Dimion let out a hollow laugh and stepped even closer to Arte.
“I know my place, Duke. I’m not suggesting a fake engagement or pretending to be your lover. Just keep me nearby. Use me like a doll whenever you need. I’ll gladly become that doll for you.”
“Do I look that naïve to you? Naïve enough to take you at your word and keep you by my side?”
“I…”
“You think you’re the only woman like you?”
Revulsion and contempt. Emotions beyond anger filled his eyes.
“Out of all those women, was there even one—just one—who truly reminded me of Lady Dutton?”
