Chapter 4
Under the moonlight, the man walking toward her looked like a painting.
His chiseled features shimmered under the soft light, giving him the appearance of a finely crafted blade.
She knew this wasn’t the time to be entranced, yet his beauty was overwhelming—so much so that it was impossible not to be drawn in.
“I didn’t expect you to be the type to enjoy secret rendezvous.”
It was only after hearing his voice—cold enough to make her flinch—that Arte snapped back to her senses.
Dimion made no effort to hide his displeasure at having to come here.
Arte clenched her fists tightly, trying not to be overwhelmed by the pressure emanating from him.
Just standing there, he radiated an aura that easily overpowered others.
“I wasn’t enjoying it. I know this is a method often used for secret meetings, but that wasn’t my intention. I needed to speak with you alone, and this was the only way I could think of. If I offended you, I apologize.”
Gathering all her strength, she spoke calmly and respectfully. Dimion’s demeanor softened ever so slightly.
Still sharp and imposing—but enough of a shift to give her a sliver of courage.
“And why exactly did you need to speak with me alone?”
“I have something I want to ask.”
Arte cautiously continued, worried her voice might tremble.
“Have we… met before?”
At her composed question, Dimion’s brows furrowed slightly.
He didn’t answer right away, just stared at her with an expression that seemed to say he had no idea why she would ask such a thing.
She didn’t have the luxury to wait in silence. When he met her gaze with a silent question, Arte explained immediately.
“I was in a carriage accident a few years ago and lost part of my memory. It’s just a specific period, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember anything.”
“…”
“But ever since the accident, I’ve had this dream… the same one, over and over, for years. It’s vivid—so vivid. And in it… you appear.”
At the mention of the recurring dream, Dimion’s expression hardened further.
It wasn’t a welcoming reaction, but she could understand it. Even Arte knew how bizarre this must sound.
Still, she couldn’t stop herself from adding more and more explanation, trying to offset the impact of watching that beautiful face twist in discomfort.
“I didn’t know it was you until today. I always thought it was a figment of my unconscious imagination. But now, seeing you in person… I started wondering if it might not be just a dream, but a memory I’ve forgotten.”
“And in this dream… what am I doing?”
When Dimion asked about the contents of the dream, Arte froze.
Then, as the images from the dream came flooding back, she instinctively averted her gaze.
She couldn’t possibly say it.
She would rather die than describe how, in a dimly lit room where a single shaft of moonlight crept in, Dimion had buried his face between her legs.
‘Please. Not now. Not like this.’
Recalling the dream, Arte shut her eyes tightly. Once the memory surfaced, every sensation came back with it.
It was a dream that had repeated for years—one that left her soaked each time. Just remembering it made a subtle heat rise in her body, and now that the man from the dream was standing right in front of her, it was unbearable.
She knew exactly how his cold eyes softened when he relaxed, the warmth of those lips that spoke so few words, and how silky his jet-black hair glistened in the moonlight.
Thank god it was nighttime. Had it been daylight, he would have seen how red her face had turned.
“Young Lady?”
When she didn’t answer and avoided his eyes, Dimion called her again.
Arte desperately tried to cool the heat that had spread through her entire body. She couldn’t bear to face him while flushed like this.
“We haven’t met before.”
Dimion gave the answer before she could respond.
He flatly denied any prior connection between them.
Arte’s eyes shook as her first assumption crumbled.
He says they’ve never met. She couldn’t believe it.
“But earlier, when I was lined up with the others, you recognized me…”
“It was a mistake. You resembled someone I knew. I even apologized, didn’t I? You heard me.”
“Are you sure it was a mistake?”
When she pressed him, Dimion’s brows furrowed again. But Arte continued, undeterred.
“In the dream, you called me ‘Ria.’ The name was always unclear, and I often wondered what it was. But today, when you saw me, you immediately called me ‘Peria.’”
Dimion claimed it was a misunderstanding, but Arte didn’t believe that.
The odds of someone looking just like her—with silver hair and golden eyes—were astronomically low.
She didn’t know what had gone wrong in the gap created by her lost memories, but she couldn’t shake the thought that the ‘Peria’ he had mentioned… was her.
“I’ve lost a year of my memory because of the accident. I’ve been trying to recover it, but without success. So I don’t know exactly what happened between us…”
“So you’re saying you’re Peria? That I didn’t see someone who looks like you, but that you are her?”
Dimion abruptly cut her off and stepped closer.
“…Yes.”
She had tried so hard not to let her voice tremble in front of him. But now, she could no longer hide the faint quiver.
No amount of effort could withstand the weight of his cold, piercing gaze and the voice that rumbled not just in her ears but through her entire body.
Arte gripped her trembling hands tightly and met his eyes. She had no idea which of her words had made him angry, and that made it all the more terrifying.
“You’ve never heard the name ‘Peria’ before?”
Arte silently nodded.
When she first suspected the dream might be a memory, she tried to guess what ‘Ria’ could be short for.
But there were far too many possibilities—Cordelia, Yuria, Julia, Aria, Alexandria, Faria, Emilia, Cecilia, and so on.
She had given up, thinking she’d never be able to list them all in a lifetime. But even among those names, ‘Peria’ had never come up. She could swear this was her first time hearing it.
“Peria Darten. Never heard of her?”
A once-unfamiliar name was now paired with a well-known family.
While not as famous as Dimion’s own House of Rocata, the Darten Duchy was still one of the empire’s most prominent noble families.
She was familiar with the family’s reputation—but the name ‘Peria Darten’ meant nothing to her. She had no memory of such a person.
“I’ve never heard it before. I know about House Darten, but not about anyone named Peria Darten.”
It was the plain truth. Arte’s golden eyes burned with sincerity as she spoke clearly, hoping Dimion would realize she wasn’t lying.
He met her gaze for a moment, then let out a hollow laugh. There was disbelief in that quiet scoff.
“I thought I’d seen every trick in the book—women scheming to take the empty seat beside me.”
But the trace of laughter disappeared as quickly as it had come.
In an instant, his face turned cold again, and his frosty gaze pinned her in place.
“This is a new one, though. You’re the first woman to approach me claiming not to know Peria.”
Dimion stared at her with something between fury and contempt.
“I don’t know how far you’ve spun this lie, but stop. For the sake of the bond I shared with your brother, and the fact that you were a guest today, I’ll pretend this conversation never happened.”
It was a warning—not one to be ignored.
It was cold, terrifying—enough to understand why people called him the Iron-Blooded Rocata, and why even rumors of his unit’s approach could break enemy morale.
But Arte’s desire to regain her lost memories was just as powerful. She clutched her dress tightly, drawing strength.
“If I’m not Peria, then… who is she? Why are you so certain? If she’s not me, then why does she appear in my dreams…?”
As she spoke, Dimion, who had turned away, strode back to stand right in front of her—so close there was barely room for a fist between them.
“Whatever nonsense you’re dreaming—it’s not my concern.”
His rage had reached its limit, and it poured over her like a storm.
“Peria Darten is my lover. I saw her corpse with my own eyes. I felt her body grow cold with my own hands. My dead lover.”
The moment the truth came out, Arte froze. She couldn’t say a word. Couldn’t explain. Couldn’t defend herself.
Dimion, as if she were no longer worth speaking to—as if even looking at her was disgusting—turned his back with a ruthlessness that left no room for warmth.
Only after he had completely disappeared from view did Arte finally exhale the breath she had been holding and collapse to the ground.
