Chapter 14
It was no wonder—whenever he looked at Arte, Dimion felt as though he were stealing glimpses of a time in Peria’s life that he had never been able to witness.
After Peria’s departure, time for Dimion had flowed on helplessly, but for Peria, it had stopped five years ago.
At first, he thought he could live with that. Even if she could never grow older, the radiant figure of that time would remain vivid in his memory, and as long as he clung to those memories, he believed he could endure.
He had confidence, too. Having etched her face into his eyes until it was worn thin, he believed he could imagine Peria as a full-grown woman, as a woman in middle age, and even beyond that.
But it was an illusion. A future he had never seen could not be painted. Dimion could add nothing to the frozen time of Peria.
Yet when he looked at Arte, he could see the future of Peria that he had never been able to draw.
If Peria had lived until now, five years later, she would have looked exactly like Arte.
That was why her engagement had caught his attention.
Dimion had bought every single painting bearing the signature Peria Dutton.
If there was any trace of Peria left in the world, it had to belong to him.
He couldn’t stand the idea of even a single one of her paintings being owned by someone else. So the thought of a woman who reminded him of Peria in her later years being embraced by another man drove him to madness.
Absurdly enough, even Arte’s voice was similar to Peria’s.
What had driven Dimion most insane after Peria’s departure was the fact that he could no longer exchange a single word with her.
Had she eaten? What had she seen, what had she experienced? Was her day a happy one? Had she missed him? He wanted to ask her every little thing, but there was no way to.
Even now, in his room, there was still a book Peria had left behind, and an unfinished letter of hers. But he could never ask her why she had been reading that book, or what she had intended to write in the rest of that letter.
When talking with Arte, however, he sometimes felt the strange illusion that he was conversing with Peria herself—
As if someone had answered the wish he had so desperately longed for.
If he had never received the telegram, perhaps, just as the elders had hoped, he might have allowed Arte to come closer.
Of course, Peria would have always been his one and only eternal partner, so he would never have given Arte the place of lover or duchess. But she might have become a rather convincing doll.
However, now that he had pieced the puzzle together, Dimion had no intention of playing along with the elders’ wishes.
“So that’s why they were so confident—because she’s a young lady who can paint, just like Peria.”
A mocking smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He was recalling the contents of the telegram the elders had been so proud of.
Since Arte had so much in common with Peria, they seemed to believe that this time, Dimion would give in and fill the vacant seat of duchess.
A young lady from a family long distanced from the capital’s social circles could never truly please him. But it seemed they thought it better than letting the line of Locata die out.
The more he thought about it, the more laughable it became.
“Pfft…”
Dimion chuckled and let out a long breath. The smoke from his cigar spread thicker than before. The elders would have to pay the price for daring to treat him like a chess piece.
Several scenarios flashed through his mind. He would have to carefully choose the one that would make the elders feel the most wretched.
“Perhaps the most dramatic is when they think they have it all, only to be plunged into the abyss.”
To bury them underground, he would first have to raise them high into the sky. Smashing their game board immediately would be far less satisfying than playing along for a while before shattering it.
“No, that might be too obvious. It would be better to leave them floundering, unable to picture any future at all.”
Or perhaps he could make them swing between heaven and hell—showing kindness and making it seem as if he might open his heart, only to torment them again and drive them into crisis.
Thinking of Arte and the old men, lost and wavering, brought a satisfied smile to his face.
Having chosen his script, Dimion rose from his seat.
His thoughts had gone in so many directions that the surroundings were already brightening. As befitted a land nicknamed The Land of the Sun, dawn came early here. The time limit he had set for himself was arriving faster than expected.
“…”
Before long, a jet-black jeep came speeding toward the count’s estate.
Just as his loyal aide had foretold, before the sun had fully risen, the vehicle carrying Peter arrived at the gates.
As if they had been waiting only for Peter’s appearance, the moment the jeep crossed the garden, a crowd poured out to the front gates.
Count Tien and his wife, the two sisters, and even several servants all rushed out together.
Dimion’s eyes naturally found Arte.
The hollowness in her eyes made it clear she hadn’t slept a wink all night. She chewed her lips as if she wouldn’t be at ease until she had seen her brother with her own eyes.
As soon as the jeep stopped, Peter stepped out. His hand was wrapped in white bandages, and though he forced a smile, his pale complexion betrayed his poor condition.
Arte immediately ran to Peter and threw her arms around him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes tightly—
It was a convincing sight.
Had he not known better, one might have thought there wasn’t a trace of falsehood in her emotions.
“…”
Dimion folded his arms and leaned lightly against the edge of the desk. As he admired Arte’s impressive acting, more thoughts began to stir.
She, too, was a target whose inflated hopes would be crushed into the dirt.
She might just be playing into the elders’ scheme, but he had no intention of sparing her for that reason.
The crime of dragging Peria’s name into this so carelessly was too great. And she had done so repeatedly—not a cause for leniency, but for harsher punishment.
He wondered suddenly—
If he acted as though he were truly opening his heart according to their plan, what kind of reaction would Arte show?
She would likely be pleased, perhaps even satisfied with her success in winning him over—
Completely unaware of the poison his affection could be.
For someone destined to be the mistress of Locata, Dimion’s affection would be a great power and weapon. But Arte could never stand in that place.
For a noblewoman to stand by his side without being his lover or fiancée was tantamount to declaring herself a sacrifice to high society.
She would become nothing more than a plaything for Dimion’s amusement, her name entangled in filthy scandals, her reputation dragged into the mud.
It wouldn’t matter whether any of it was true. No matter how she tried to explain, no one would believe her. The hyenas who thrived on scandal would tear her to shreds.
The capital’s social scene was not a world a countryside young lady, raised in a quiet place by the sea, could survive.
For now, it might seem easy to stand by the Duke of Locata without a title, but once she stayed in the capital with him, she would come to understand the harsh reality.
And once she did, how would she break? Would she wither quietly? Would she throw fits of weeping and rage? Or would she finally confess everything to Dimion after holding it in for so long?
Any outcome would be quite a sight to behold.
“…”
When Peter finished his boisterous homecoming and stepped into the mansion, Arte stopped short instead of following.
Then she tilted her head upward toward the guest room where Dimion was staying.
By now, the sun had fully risen. Its bright light streamed through the window, revealing Dimion’s figure perfectly.
“…”
“…”
Their gazes met naturally. Her golden eyes, bathed in the morning light, shone all the brighter.
Before he could look for long, Arte bowed deeply toward him.
After offering her polite thanks, she turned and entered the mansion without hesitation. In an instant, the front yard of the count’s estate was empty.
Dimion watched the spot where she had stood for a moment, then stepped away from the desk without any particular expression.
Arte was a test—
A nasty test from the old men, asking whether he could turn away from a woman who looked like Peria, who held a brush like Peria, and who stood at his side like Peria.
Dimion was more than willing to take that test. Since the test was to see if he would open his heart, he had all the more reason not to avoid it.
He could show them easily.
No matter how much she resembled Peria, if she wasn’t truly her, it meant nothing.
Even if the woman trying to seduce him wore Peria’s face, he could still be as cruel as he wished.
He placed the cigar back in his mouth, lit it, and took a deep draw.
This unplanned game of playing with dolls was going to be rather entertaining. Truly, quite.
