Chapter17.
They were all just assumptions. She was confident in her painting skills, but she couldn’t be certain how things would turn out.
Even if, as Dimion said, Arte gained recognition in the art world and fully leveraged the premium value of Rocata’s patronage, fifty thousand lirang was not an easy sum to repay.
“Wasn’t it revenge you wanted?”
When Dimion mentioned revenge, Arte’s eyes wavered once again.
“To put an end to all the dangers I mentioned earlier, it’d be best to wipe out the Baron’s family completely.”
He was right. The best way to stop trembling in fear, to clench her teeth in shame, and to become financially free was for Baron Peat’s household to be utterly ruined.
It was something Arte had long, desperately wished for. Only then could she sever the chain of that long, bitter connection.
“People don’t realize it, but revenge is about money, too.”
“……”
“Thirty thousand lirang is enough to pull it off. Lieutenant Tien knows very well how to use it.”
When Peter’s name came up, the memory of the gunshots and the blood-splattered floor from yesterday rose vividly in her mind. So did the image of his hand wrapped in bloodstained bandages.
“Shouldn’t you give him the chance? The Lieutenant I know always pays back exactly what was done to him. I think he’ll do an excellent job.”
He wasn’t just filling in the gaps Arte had missed—he was also teaching her how to take revenge.
The thought that she could finally put into action a plan she’d long dreamed of made her heart race involuntarily.
But at the same time, an unresolved question resurfaced.
Why had Dimion suddenly become so kind to her?
Thinking back to the past few days, it made far more sense for him to show hostility rather than goodwill toward Arte.
It had only been a few days since he’d warned her not to recklessly drag Peria’s name into things, ignored her request, and caused a scene.
And yet now, he was suddenly offering help she hadn’t even asked for. It was hard to accept it as pure kindness.
“You’ve got the look of someone who doesn’t understand why I’m helping.”
Arte’s eyes widened in surprise.
Dimion had read her thoughts without a hint of error.
“Because I accepted your contract. I protect everything that becomes mine. Even if it’s just a doll.”
The word doll rang particularly loud in her ears.
Hearing it while holding the fifty thousand lirang he’d given her drove home just what kind of contract she’d entered into.
But was he really being sincere?
She could still vividly remember the pure, unfiltered disgust that had been in his eyes when he looked at her.
It didn’t seem likely that someone who had felt that much hatred would change overnight.
It felt like a trap. Her instincts told her so.
She didn’t know exactly why, or what Dimion wanted, but she was certain his goodwill was not for her sake.
“Well, if you don’t want it, there’s nothing I can do.”
On the surface, it sounded like he was taking a step back. But his tone, and the slight upward curve of his lips, carried the quiet confidence that she wouldn’t refuse his offer.
“……”
The urge to shatter that confidence flickered in her mind, but it was just that—an urge.
His words about giving Peter a chance at revenge kept echoing in her ears.
She remembered vividly the time when the Count’s family was shackled by debt and stained with suffering.
Now, with the chance to wipe it all away right in front of her, she couldn’t turn her back on it. Especially since she was the root cause of all those bitter ties.
Even if the situation reeked of danger and would leave her with an even greater debt, Arte had to follow the method Dimion had shown her.
“…Thank you, Your Grace.”
In the end, Arte accepted the envelope he had handed her.
Dimion gave a satisfied little smile and continued speaking.
“In any case, it’s a contract, so we’ll draw up the formal papers once we get to the capital. We leave in two days. Be ready.”
“Two days? That’s too—”
“And I’d like to settle your form of address.”
Her protest about the short notice was cut off all too easily.
“I’m not in the habit of using honorifics for a sponsored person or a doll.”
“……”
“You don’t mind, do you, Arte?”
The moment her name rolled off his low voice, Arte knew for certain.
Dimion’s strangely altered attitude and his sweet-sounding proposal were both traps—ones that clung tightly and wouldn’t easily let her go.
As expected, when Arte returned to the mansion, word had already spread throughout the Count’s family that she had gone into town with Dimion.
She sat her bewildered family down and explained about the fifty thousand lirang Dimion had given her.
Of course, she kept the contract part hidden.
She told them that while talking with Dimion, she had happened to show him one of her paintings, which he had liked so much that he offered to sponsor her.
She tried to make it sound as plausible and calm as possible, but she was still worried.
Even if it was Rocata, it was no small thing to hand over such a sum for the potential of a young lady with no name value.
It was natural to suspect there might be a hidden, secret deal behind it.
But given the Count’s current circumstances, they were in no position to stay cool-headed in the face of sudden fortune.
The years crushed under ever-mounting debt, and the long suffering from Benjamin and Baron Peat’s tyranny, had been far too long.
Everyone was worn out—especially since Peter had lost his fingers.
Besides, Dimion’s connection to Peter helped cover up a lot of doubts.
The two had served in the same deployment, fighting several battles together.
The word comrade carried weight. If people heard that Dimion had used Rocata’s name to secure Peter’s release and was sponsoring Arte to help an unjustly injured comrade, they would only nod in heartfelt understanding.
Even when she said she would leave for the capital in two days to match Dimion’s schedule, no one said much.
The Count and Countess were surprised at the short notice, but that was all. They didn’t try to stop Dimion or Arte—in fact, they urged the servants to hurry with the packing.
Only one person, Lisa, kept an unhappy expression the whole time.
“Your luggage? Have you packed everything?”
“Yeah. Masa’s so thorough—everything’s ready except for the dress I’ll wear tomorrow morning.”
Two full days of preparation later, it was already the night before her departure for the capital.
Lisa, still looking grim, came into Arte’s room.
“Why the long face?”
“How could I be cheerful? My only little sister is suddenly flying off to the capital.”
“You’re the only one acting like you’ll miss me.”
Arte answered with a small, slightly bitter smile.
Since news of Dimion’s sponsorship had spread, the Count’s estate had been in near-celebratory mood.
Count Tien had gone to Baron Peat’s the very next morning to settle the debt. And Arte, just as Dimion had advised, gave Peter the money—along with a small note telling him to take his revenge.
Now all that remained was the Tien family’s long-awaited victory, and naturally the mansion was filled with joy.
But in all that joy, it seemed no one was thinking about parting with her—and that stung a little.
Of course, she didn’t want to blame her family. They’d been through enough pain to deserve this relief. Still, she couldn’t keep the bitterness from touching her lips.
“Arte.”
Perhaps she’d seen the shadow behind her faint smile—Lisa called her in a subdued voice.
“Do you really have to go to the capital?”
