One Day, My Fiancé Brought His First Love Along - Chapter 112

“Form a barrier now!”

One of the Tanil shamans screamed in desperation.

While the tribes panicked and shouted at each other in confusion over the unexpected situation, Carlisle and the Imperial army had already closed the distance.

“Defend—now!”

The ferocity of the Imperial knights, who had pushed this far into enemy lines, threw the northern tribes into deeper chaos.

Their frontline force had been formed based on the influence of powerful chieftains and elders. And yet, the very Empire they had assumed would crumble under their surprise attack had turned the tables on them with overwhelming force.

A dark shadow of defeat loomed over the tribes.

“Out of the way.”

Carlisle pushed through the disorganized northern warriors without hesitation and reached the shaman who had been screaming moments earlier. In one swift motion, he beheaded him. Death paved a clear path behind him.

“This is easier than I expected.”

Aireen muttered casually, her sword slicing through summoned beasts and layered defenses conjured by the shamans. The enemy’s numbers had noticeably thinned, making them easier to handle.

“Looks like they’ve succeeded on the other side too.”

She mouthed the words and smirked faintly.

The goal she had longed for—the complete annihilation of the shamans she despised—was finally within reach. The closer she got, the higher her spirits soared. Her lips curled into a deepening smile.

Then it happened.

“Die, Carlisle Avergue!”

A shaman hiding at the rear suddenly screamed with venom.

Cough—! At the same time, a large spurt of blood burst from Carlisle’s mouth.

“Sir Carlisle!”

A nearby knight cried out in alarm.

Aireen’s head turned instantly. He wasn’t far—she could reach him quickly. And yet, her body wouldn’t move, as if frozen in place.

Then came a second, harsher cough.

“Commander!”

More blood poured out. The knights standing closest to him shouted in shock.

“What’s going on?!”

“It’s a curse! I cast a spell that halves his remaining lifespan!”

Cackling echoed through the battlefield as one of the shamans answered with gleeful laughter.

Carlisle wasn’t supposed to die—yet. But the situation had already gone completely off-script. There was no reason to follow the Marquess of Hessiden’s orders now. Besides, hadn’t they said it was fine to give Carlisle a ‘warning’?

Driving him to the edge of death was the only thing that might ease this fury.

“Oh, and it’s a curse that intensifies pain too! Watching him die slowly, surrounded by enemies, is going to be a treat—just wait!”

“Undo it—now!”

Niar shouted, furious.

But the shaman only snickered and mocked him.

“Medicine and healers are useless. Curses like this can’t be undone by that nonsense! Oh, but you already knew that, didn’t you? So you also know he’ll be screaming in pain until he dies, right?”

“You bastard!”

“Go ahead, let’s see how long he lasts—he’s already a dead man!”

Aireen’s frozen body finally began to move.

Thanks to the knights who had been protecting her, she had remained unharmed. Now, she cut through the swarm of attacks closing in from all directions and made her way to Carlisle.

Cough. More blood again.

The intervals between his coughing fits grew shorter and shorter.

She knew he had taken his medicine today. After what happened the last time they were stranded alone together, he had made sure to prepare plenty.

So why—why was he coughing up blood like he was dying?

Her mind went numb. She tried to think, but it was like running into an invisible wall.

Then Carlisle’s body staggered violently.

Thud.

He collapsed—falling from his horse to the ground.

“Carlisle!”

Her scream tore through the battlefield like a blade.

Something inside her burst. Her voice—long trapped in her throat—finally escaped, carrying his name.

She had known he was terminally ill.

But she never truly felt it.

She never really believed it. That he would die? That Carlisle would die?

She convinced herself it was just a mild illness—something curable if he truly put his mind to it.

But now—

“You can’t die.”

For the first time, the thought crossed her mind: Carlisle might really die.

Thud.

Her heart plummeted. A chilling arrow-like sensation pierced straight through her chest. In the hollow space it left behind, a cold numbness began to grow.

“Don’t die, Carlisle.”

Before she realized it, Aireen had dismounted and dropped to her knees beside his fallen body, her tears flowing freely.

Her voice, soaked in emotion, came out hoarse and barely audible.

Aireen trembled, unaware of what she was even doing.

She wanted to get him out of here right now.
No—what she wanted first was to grab the shaman who had cursed him and rip him apart right in front of his eyes.

But still, she couldn’t even touch Carlisle—not even the tip of his fingers.
Even in his pain, his trembling eyes resisted her reaching hand.

“No, no! You can’t die like this!”

Her tearful voice cracked the air, but Carlisle only gave the faintest shake of his head.

His body shuddered with agony. His face had gone ghostly pale, utterly drained of color.
Sweat soaked his skin, and bright red blood stained his lips and chin.

This was Carlisle—yet she wasn’t allowed to touch him.

It was the first time she had ever seen him show his pain so raw and unfiltered.

No matter how much he hurt, Carlisle always tried to hold himself together in front of her.
He never let it show—he was good at pretending he was fine.

But now, she finally felt it.

Watching his lips tremble uncontrollably, she understood.

He was dying.

Aireen felt like she was stumbling through an endless, lightless void.
She couldn’t just stand here and do nothing.

She bit down hard on her lip and looked down at her own hands.

What he had tried so hard to protect, shouldering everything alone. His life. His soul.

She didn’t want all of that to be for nothing.
But there was only one path left.

Just as her trembling hand reached toward Carlisle—

“D… don’t.”

His voice, barely more than a whisper, escaped from his blood-stained lips.

Aireen froze.
In that moment, Niar stepped between them, having understood Carlisle’s silent plea.

“Stop right there, Lady Aireen. I can’t allow you to get any closer.”

He didn’t even know the reason—yet Niar raised his sword.
It wasn’t a threat—it was a warning. A barrier. A gesture of protection.

Aireen stood still, her hand suspended in midair, her teeth clenched.

So that’s how much he hated it.
Receiving her life. Even now, while drowning in such terrible pain, he would rather suffer than accept it.

Her heart felt like it might burst.
She wanted to scream this pain out of her.

“He’s not going to die. The curse only said he’d be in pain for a day.”

As she briefly considered whether to knock Niar’s sword aside, his calm voice reached her ears.

“It only halves his remaining lifespan—it didn’t say it would kill him immediately. So stay focused, Lady Aireen.”

That finally snapped her out of it. Aireen’s eyes widened.

Right. He wasn’t dying. He was in pain—but he wasn’t dying.

And yet… his pale face, the trembling lips, those barely open eyes—looking only at her—
they chilled her to the bone.

If they could just break the curse, everything would return to normal. Carlisle would stop hurting. He’d get his life back.

Yes. All she had to do was cut down the ones who cursed him.

“Protect him well.”

With those words, Aireen turned around.

“I’ll kill them all.”

Her eyes locked onto the robed shamans. She swung her sword without hesitation.

As if everything until now had been restraint, enemies who blocked her path were struck down in a single blow.

“Die, Revart!”

A spear flew straight into her left shoulder.

“Ah.”

A soft voice slipped from her lips—not a scream, but a low murmur.
Blood spurted violently from her arm.

“Lady Aireen!”

She immediately shifted her sword from her right hand to her left, slashing the spear away.
The weapon missed her shoulder but tore a long gash through her arm.

“Just die.”

Her face was utterly expressionless—as if announcing death itself.
The one who struck her was dead before he could take another breath.

“M-monster…”

“She’s a witch—a witch!”

Even after being stabbed, her momentum hadn’t faltered for a moment.
The Tanil tribesmen murmured in fear.

Covered in blood, Aireen charged forward, her blank face terrifying the northern tribes.
Some of them instinctively began to retreat.

Aireen didn’t even notice that the other knights were fighting behind her.
She didn’t care.
All she could do was swing her sword and carve her way forward, straight to the shamans.

“Die. All of you.”

Her voice was flat—cold as ice.

The shamans chanted frantically as she approached.
A magic barrier appeared. Flames flared into being.

“As if that matters.”

But it was useless.

“Spare me—please!”

The last layer of defense crumbled. The shamans begged for their lives.

Aireen… laughed.

Not long ago, they had laughed over Carlisle’s suffering.
Now they whimpered like dogs at her feet. How could she not laugh?

She cut them down without hesitation.

But she didn’t kill them—no, that would be too kind.

She sliced just enough to keep them from ever using magic again.
Letting them live, so they could suffer.

And then—

“Aireen Revart.”

A voice called her name.

It came from the very depths of the encampment.

A shaman, one who had been hiding, finally stepped forward.

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