One Day, My Fiancé Brought His First Love Along - Chapter 115

“Ah!”

Aileen let out a low cry. Siran had reopened the wound she had sustained while breaking through enemy lines alone. The forgotten pain surged violently to the top of her head.

“I know it’s cowardly… but I had no choice. I’m sorry.”

His tone was as gentle as ever. Aileen clenched her teeth.

The moment she heard from his own lips that he had to kill her, her body froze for a split second. Foolish. She knew she shouldn’t let this happen.

A wave of pain clouded her vision, but it quickly cleared.

“Farewell, Aileen.”

He raised his sword as if it were truly the end. Aileen steadied her stance and lifted her blade.

Her arm trembled from the agony radiating through the torn wound, but she bit down hard. One mistake here, and it would truly be over.

There was no room to spare even a glance at Gibita. Siran, who had watched Aileen train every day, knew exactly where she was weakest.

“Goodbye. I’m sorry.”

With a low whisper, his sword curved toward her left leg.

“Ah!”

Her weakened arm moved off mark.

Shhhk! Blood sprayed from her thigh where she couldn’t avoid the strike in time.

“I’ll make it painless.”

Siran raised his sword toward the half-collapsed Aileen. Sending her off without pain—this was the only mercy he could grant her.

He gritted his teeth.

She was like a younger sister he had known since childhood. Though Siran often wore a smiling face, the only person he had ever truly cared about was Ashite.

And Aileen was Ashite’s one and only sister.

Perhaps that was why, at some point, Aileen had started to become more vivid in his heart. Not romantic love, but something akin to familial affection.

But that feeling of kinship—was just that. A feeling. She could never be real family.

Because now, with a real family member’s life on the line, he was so easily about to take hers.

A chill brushed past his chest, but Siran tightened his grip on the sword. His real family and this almost-family—the choice between them was too obvious.

Just as Siran was about to drive his sword down—

Clang—!

“Santinu!”

“What sort of mess is this, Dame Aileen Revart?”

Aileen, eyes wide in shock, could only stare blankly at the broad back that had suddenly blocked her view.

Santinu, with barely a glance, quickly turned his head to check on her. The moment he confirmed she was still alive, he turned back to face Siran with tense vigilance.

“What the… When did you—?”

Siran, forced back by the unexpected force of Santinu’s sword, muttered in confusion.

“You two were so busy fighting, you didn’t even notice me walk in. That old crone was the only one who saw me.”

With a relaxed smile, Santinu chuckled. From a corner where she had been curled up, Gibita flinched.

“How about a proper duel? You and me.”

With a wink, Santinu pointed his sword at Siran in a taunting challenge.

The ease vanished from Siran’s face. He bit his lip and readjusted his grip.

There was no backing down now. He had to eliminate Aileen, no matter what. And to do that, he had to get rid of Santinu.

“Stay out of this.”

At the same time, Siran lunged. Santinu, shielding Aileen behind him, moved his sword with ease.

Clang! Clang—!

The clash of blades echoed relentlessly through the cold air. Unlike the light-footed Aileen, Santinu’s massive frame added a heavy, thunderous rhythm to the fight.

With an overwhelming sound, Santinu’s greatsword came flying toward Siran’s shoulder. Clang! Siran deflected it just in time, his blade slipping slightly as he was forced backward.

Huff, huff. Siran’s breath was growing heavy. He had already gone through an intense bout with Aileen. His stamina was depleted, and now he was being overpowered.

If only he could catch his breath—but Santinu wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Still got energy to breathe?”

With a sly grin, Santinu’s blade let out a chilling hum as it slashed toward Siran’s thigh. Siran swung his sword upward just in time to parry the attack.

Meanwhile, Aileen had retreated and regained control over Gibita’s bindings. This time, in case of another unexpected situation, she deliberately pressed down hard on Gibita’s wounded spot.

“Not bad.”

Santinu said with a smirk still playing on his lips. In contrast, Siran, lips drawn tight, remained silent as his hands continued to move.

Aileen, her eyes narrowed, watched the two men. Though Santinu had the upper hand for now, there was no telling how long the situation would last.

She reached into her cloak.

The cold, sharp edge she touched sent a shiver down her spine.

There was no room left for hesitation. Without delay, Aileen hurled her dagger.

“Argh!”

It struck true—piercing directly through Siran’s right thigh. He collapsed to one knee, gritting his teeth in pain.

“Aileen!”

His bloodshot eyes snapped toward her.

“You tried to kill me. Why are you the one getting angry?”

Aileen rasped the words, her voice rough as she gripped Gibita’s arm tightly.

Siran couldn’t answer. He just trembled, his body shaking violently as he clenched his jaw.

“I appreciate the help… but it’s a little disappointing. I was so close. Just a moment longer, and I could’ve finished him.”

With a cold smile, Santinu stepped forward and crushed Siran’s right hand underfoot. Then, without hesitation, he picked up the sword that had flown from Siran’s grasp and tied him up.

“Thanks for the save. But how did you know to come?”

“Someone told me.”

“What?”

Startled, Aileen turned to him. Santinu mouthed the letters silently.

1. 1. L.

Only then did Aileen exhale in relief.

“Well, it looks like things are under control now… Shall we talk?”

He must have had a reason to come all the way here. Aileen gave a small nod and glanced around.

Siran had given up entirely, his body slumped in defeat. Gibita, meanwhile, had nearly lost consciousness from the pain—a kind of pain she had likely never experienced before. As a shaman, her body was rarely pushed to physical extremes, so it must have been overwhelming.

“I’ll take responsibility for healing Carlisle Avergue.”

Aileen stared at him without saying a word.

“In exchange, hand Gibita over to me. And the other shamans captured at the stronghold—turn them over as well.”

“…I’ll be the one to kill them.”

Aileen barely managed to say the words through clenched teeth. To think he would ask her to hand over those monsters who deserved to die by her own hands. And he was one of the northern tribes himself.

“We need them to break the curse. I don’t know the exact conditions, but what I do know is that killing them immediately isn’t an option.”

“…”

“Gibita might not be willing to share how to undo it. If that happens, we’ll need some leverage. I know it’s unpleasant, but if you want the curse lifted, this is the price.”

It was a cold and merciless demand. Asking her to let them live.

From Aileen’s standpoint, it might have been possible. But Santinu’s intentions were different.

He had always seen the Tanil tribe—proud of their sorcery and arrogance—as a thorn in his side. Even though they were northern tribesmen like him, he had long wanted them gone.

But their magic… that power wasn’t something that could be discarded easily.

For now, they were fortunate. Their interests happened to align with the Diert Empire. But it wouldn’t always be that way—hostility could return at any time.

That was why he needed the shamans. Yes, he also needed them to persuade Gibita, but there was something more.

If there was even the slightest chance the shamans could pass their knowledge to other tribes…

That small possibility was enough for Santinu to spare them. Even if they were shamans, even if they should be able to use both hands—he would overlook it, even if they no longer could.

“…Break the curse first. Then I’ll release them.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you?”

“I swear on the honor of House Revart. Break the curse—as soon as possible.”

The deal was made. Santinu left, taking Gibita with him, and Aileen stood alone in the now quiet space, trying to calm the storm of emotions within her.

Only Siran remained, still kneeling beside her on the cold stone floor.

How long had they stayed that way?

“Aileen.”

A voice, sharp and ice-cold, rang through the underground prison.

It was familiar… yet unfamiliar. That strange gap made Aileen slowly turn her head.

“Brother…”

She had never seen his eyes like this before. There was no anger flaring within them—no heat, no flame.

Only cold.

So cold it sent chills through her. Had she ever seen Ashite like this?

Step… step…

Ashite, who had seemed frozen at the doorway, slowly approached. Behind him, Piel quietly moved to guard the entrance.

“Explain.”

His tone held no inflection as he stood before her and Siran. His eyes never left Siran, who knelt with his head bowed low.

Aileen hesitated for a long moment before forcing herself to speak.

“He tried to kill me.”

“…”

“Literally. Your friend, Siran, came for my life. That’s why he’s like this.”

Ashite said nothing. The silence spread, cold and stifling, swallowing the prison whole.

Just as Aileen opened her lips again—thinking she should go see Carlisle—Ashite finally spoke.

“…Aileen. Leave. I’ll handle this.”

His voice carried fierce, burning rage.

Aileen nodded and walked out quickly, brushing past Piel.

Ashite didn’t take his eyes off Siran. He waited until Aileen’s footsteps completely faded.

And when it was only the three of them—Ashite, Siran, and Piel—he finally moved.

Siran. Of all people—Siran had tried to harm the sister Ashite loved more than anything. Siran, who more than anyone else knew how much she meant to him.

It was unthinkable. But it had happened.

Aileen had said it. Piel had nodded grimly. And Siran, bound and gagged, couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“Siran… you will die. By my hand.”

Ashite’s beautiful, rage-filled face moved closer toward the man who had betrayed everything.

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