One Day, My Fiancé Brought His First Love Along - Chapter 116

A chilling tension, sharp as ice on a frozen lake, filled the room.

No one dared to speak easily. Finally, the source of the bitter atmosphere opened his mouth—slowly, heavily.

“Say it again. What did you just say?”

“Um… The northern tribes have suffered a major defeat, sir.”

Bang!
Marquess Hessiden slammed his fist onto the table. The messenger on the opposite side flinched in fear.

“You said it was a surprise attack! They were so confident!”

“Y-Yes, that’s true, but…”

“Leave.”

The icy dismissal was terrifying. The man hurriedly left the room without looking back.

The Marquess swept everything off the table in one violent motion.

Crash!
A vase shattered into pieces on the floor.

Even the unpleasant noise didn’t stir the furious expression on Marquess Hessiden’s face.

“Revart. Revart. Revart!”

Revart—someone he now despised so fiercely that he wanted to kill her, simply for standing in his way.

He had been so sure of victory. So had the northern tribes. It hadn’t been long since the last battle; if the enemy launched a large-scale ambush now, the Imperial Army was expected to fall easily.

Just in case, he’d even prepared a backup plan—Siran. He feared they might fail to kill Aileen Revart again, so he had relied on someone close to her. Someone who might find it easier to exploit her weaknesses.

And yet, even Siran had failed.

Now, Aileen still remained in Fort Renzi, hailed as a hero after a resounding victory—welcomed with cheers from the people of the Empire.

“Father!”

At the height of his boiling fury, the door burst open, and Judith entered, her face twisted with distress.

“Judi.”

His voice came out stiff and strained as he tried to rein in his anger—but Judith didn’t notice.

“She survived again, didn’t she? Aileen Revart…”

Her eyes welled with tears, her face pitiful. But this was the worst possible timing.

“How is it that she keeps surviving? I really thought she would die this time. I was really hoping…”

The more sorrowful Judith’s voice became, the more rigid the Marquess’s expression grew. But Judith, lowering her gaze for dramatic effect, didn’t see it.

“I’m just… so upset.”

“Judi.”

“I’m so angry, I can’t sleep.”

“We’ll talk about this later.”

“Aileen Revart is truly—”

“Enough!”

The Marquess suddenly raised his voice. Startled, Judith lifted her gaze and looked at him.

“Oh…”

His face was filled with unrestrained fury. He seemed like an entirely different person.

He had even shouted at her.

Sensing the unfamiliar and frightening mood, Judith quickly bowed and hurried out of the room like she was running away. The Marquess stood still, staring at the spot where she had vanished.

His daughter—the one he loved more than anything—had made this request so many times. Today again, she came to him with tears, and once again, he had failed. His pride was in ruins.

And without realizing it, he had taken it out on Judith. On the daughter he adored.

Marquess Hessiden clenched his fists tightly. This time, he swore, he would not let the northern tribes go unpunished.

The dark room was silent. Only the soft, irregular sound of breathing filled the wide space.

Aileen sat quietly, staring at Carlisle, who lay as still as if he were dead.

His complexion was even paler than before they returned to the fortress. His lips had turned an eerie shade of blue. Cold sweat continued to pour from his skin, and now and then, tears slipped from the corners of his closed eyes.

Though it seemed the pain tormenting him had lessened with time, his ghostly pale face and occasional groans gnawed at Aileen’s heart with dread.

“Carlisle…”

Why had she treated him so coldly?

The longer he remained unconscious, the deeper her guilt grew, sinking her into a well of regret. Every cruel word she’d spoken came back to her like blades.

—I curse you. I regret every second I ever loved you. I feel like I’m going mad, thinking about how I wasted the last eight years.

—I should’ve listened when people told me not to get involved with a penniless orphan. If I had known you’d repay kindness with betrayal, I never would have ignored them.

What expression had Carlisle worn when she said those things?

It was all a blur—like a fog had settled over that moment, or like her memory had been cut out entirely.

At the dress shop, when Carlisle took Judith’s side, she had been so furious. She had chosen only the most hurtful words; the ones she knew would wound him.

While Aileen remained completely focused on staying by Carlisle’s side, outside the room, people were busy dealing with the aftermath of the battle.

“I’ll go report to His Majesty right away!”

“Alright. Let me know if Sir Carlisle’s condition improves.”

“Yes, sir!”

Piel, full of energy and urgency, gave Ashite a deep bow before rushing off.

Piel, who understood the situation well, was heading to inform Edys about Carlisle’s condition, the captured northern tribesmen, and the message from Santinu, who had taken Gibita.

With Carlisle still unconscious, Ashite—being the highest-ranking person remaining—naturally stepped up to oversee everything on-site.

Only after Piel was completely gone did Ashite turn around.

“…Haa.”

A sigh slipped out—long, heavy, and tangled with emotion.

He had thought Carlisle was nothing more than someone to be condemned. But it turned out Carlisle had chosen to become the villain on purpose, all to protect Aileen. And the one person Ashite had trusted above all others—his closest friend, Siran—had pointed a sword at her.

“What the hell is going on…”

Ashite shook his head hard, as if trying to clear the thoughts, and made his way toward the cell where Siran was being held.

“Siran.”

Disheveled, his hands and feet tied, Siran slowly lifted his head to meet Ashite’s gaze.

“Are you going to keep your mouth shut? Is that it?”

“…”

“I want to kill you right now. I want to tear apart those arms that dared to strike at Aileen.”

“…”

“I’m holding back with everything I have. Speak—before I really break your arms.”

Ashite’s eyes, now cold and sharp, bore down on Siran. But Siran didn’t open his mouth. His lips stayed sealed.

“Fine. Once you’re locked in the imperial dungeon, you won’t have a choice but to talk.”

Leaving behind those icy words, Ashite turned and walked out of the prison.

Left alone in the cell, Siran slowly ran his tongue over the blood in his mouth. Then, the image of Marquess Hessiden’s cruel face surfaced in his mind—the man who had ordered him to kill Aileen.

He had spent years working as the Marquess’s informant, feeding him stolen intelligence. Even so, he had hoped—deep down—that it would never come to the point where he would have to personally take Aileen’s life.

He could still see her wide, shocked eyes when he raised his sword. He couldn’t forget how Ashite’s gaze, once always full of warmth, had turned cold like stone.

And in the end, the one who destroyed something so precious… was no one else but Siran himself.

A bitter, self-mocking laugh filled the prison’s silence.

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