One Day, My Fiancé Brought His First Love Along - Chapter 122

The prison where Judith was being held wasn’t far from where Aileen and Carlisle were. She was confined in the same underground facility as the Marquess of Hessiden, though on a different level.

This arrangement had been made deliberately so the father and daughter couldn’t exchange a single word.

Aileen, recalling that her father was likely interrogating the Marquess on the floor below, looked down at Judith with cold, emotionless eyes.

“Judith Hessiden.”

Aileen’s voice rang out through the icy prison air—low enough to send a chill down one’s spine.

Judith, who had been sitting on the damp, bare floor beyond the iron bars, her back against the wall, slowly lifted her head.

She hadn’t been granted a private cell, ensuring she couldn’t enjoy the relative luxury of isolation. Her condition was deplorable. Her hair, unwashed for days, was greasy and tangled. Her clothes were stained and blackened in places.

Her lifeless eyes landed on both Carlisle and Aileen—and then burned red with seething hatred.

“You!”

Her voice, half-rasped, echoed sharply. Aileen didn’t flinch, calmly replying in a composed tone.

“You still have the energy to shout, I see.”

“You wretch—because of you, our entire house has been ruined!”

“Let’s speak the truth. It was your father who tried to kill me.”

“It’s your fault. All of it! If you hadn’t gone around stirring up trouble!”

Judith’s twisted face briefly turned toward Carlisle. The sight made her want to die from shame.

She had tried everything, used every means to win him—but in the end, Carlisle stood beside Aileen. She hadn’t been able to make him hers. And because of her foolish schemes, her family lay in ruins.

She felt sorry for her father. She wanted to beg forgiveness for having once sobbed like a child, saying she couldn’t live without Carlisle.

And yet, the two people standing before her made her fury rise without end. More than anything, she wanted Aileen dead. Everything was already lost, completely destroyed—and now Aileen had even brought Carlisle along, as if to mock her. Judith couldn’t bear it.

She tried to leap to her feet. If she didn’t spit in Aileen’s face, her anger would consume her.

Just then, Aileen lowered her head slightly, leaning in close to the bars, and whispered quietly to the still-seated Judith.

“I know everything. You plotted alongside the Marquess.”

Judith froze, eyes wide, her angry scream cut off.

“You said it yourself—you told me to brace myself. As if you knew something terrible was about to happen to me.”

Even at the banquet just days ago, she had provoked Aileen. She had to say something—otherwise, she would have exploded from rage and jealousy.

“The Marquess seems desperate to save you. But you’re not exactly innocent, are you?”

Aileen’s eyes, cold and sharp, curved into a smile that didn’t reach them.

“And Carlisle—whom you wanted so badly—is mine again. You couldn’t have him, couldn’t kill me, and now the Marquess is about to disappear too.”

Judith’s jaw trembled uncontrollably with rage.

“You should have known your place. You should’ve lived decently. You shouldn’t have gone around hurting others.”

“……”

“There’s a price to pay for tormenting the innocent. And it’s going to be heavy. Goodbye, Judith.”

Aileen smiled sweetly.

“Let’s go, Carlisle.”

Deliberately, she linked her arm through Carlisle’s and walked out of the underground prison.

From behind them came screams—shattering, wild, enough to rupture the eardrums. Aileen, her face emotionless, listened to the distant howls as she stepped into the warm sunlight.

After Aileen’s visit, Judith lost her child. The already fragile state of her mind—crumbling from the fall of House Hessiden—finally shattered completely.

If not for the trap she had set to bind Carlisle, she would have erased the child from the start. Judith didn’t even feel sorrow. All that remained within her was rage—rage at Carlisle and Aileen.

In truth, both the Duke of Revart and Carlisle had agreed to erase House Hessiden entirely. But because of the child, Empress Edys had hesitated, wondering if Judith should be spared.

Now, with everything laid bare, she could finally decide with clarity and relief.

“You’ve arrived, Your Majesty.”

Deep within the imperial palace, in the lowest level of the underground prison, Duke Revart shot to his feet to greet Empress Edys.

“I did say, Your Majesty, that there was no need for you to come down to a place like this…”

His voice trailed off as he quickly glanced over his own appearance.

There were spots of dried blood scattered on his slightly disheveled clothing. The Duke subtly shifted his posture, trying to hide the dark stains from the emperor’s line of sight.

But Edys paid him no mind. His gaze was fixed entirely on the wretched figure before him—Marquess Hessiden.

From the moment he entered the prison, Edys had looked at no one else.

The man before him was battered beyond recognition—his face swollen and torn, crusted blood clinging to old wounds. His arms were stretched out and bound in iron chains, and his legs trembled, barely holding him upright. The once-luxurious robes he had worn were now in tatters, reduced to rags.

Not long ago, this same man had been the leader of the aristocratic faction—constantly obstructing Edys, challenging him at every turn. And now, his downfall was so utterly pathetic, so insignificant, that it was almost laughable.

Back then, even when Hessiden had been a thorn in his side, Edys couldn’t strike him down recklessly. He had to suppress his anger with great difficulty.

But now, with everything reversed, Edys found himself tasting something strange—almost unfamiliar. A quiet smile curled on his lips.

“Well, since this will be the last time, I figured I should stop by. Don’t you think so, Marquess Hessiden? No, that title no longer suits you, does it? What should I call you now?”

His tone, light and almost casual, ended with a note of cruel mockery.

Yet despite the blatant ridicule, Hessiden didn’t react. His silence only provoked Duke Revart, who had remained composed until now. The Duke picked up a wooden rod lying on the floor and jabbed it toward the prisoner, trying to stir a reaction.

“His Majesty is standing before you, and you dare remain slumped like that?!”

The Duke’s roar shook the walls of the prison.

Even in his half-conscious state, Hessiden barely managed to lift his swollen eyelids. Through his blurry vision, he could just make out Edys’s face—wearing a smile brimming with contempt.

His mind reeled with fury, humiliation, and an avalanche of unnamed emotions. He wanted to scream, to spit in that arrogant face, but a gag was shoved between his lips. Duke Revart had placed it there to keep him from biting off his tongue and taking his own life. Saliva now dribbled down his chin.

The shame of his appearance made him feel as if he would go mad. Of all people, to look like this before Edys!

“You seemed to enjoy yourself, Hessiden. Playing the part of Foreign Minister by day, colluding with the Empire’s enemies by night. Tell me, how did it feel to mock the Empire from both sides?”

Hessiden forced his bloodshot eyes wide open and glared at Edys.

But Edys was unfazed. He smirked, stepping forward with slow, deliberate steps.

Clack… Clack…
The sound of imperial boots echoed through the quiet chamber.

At last, Edys stood right before Hessiden.

Smack—!

The slap rang out sharply. Blood splattered across the empress’s noble hand, but Edys remained cold as ever and struck him again.

Smack. Smack.
The slaps continued, echoing again and again. Duke Revart stood silently at the side, watching.

Edys only stopped once Hessiden could no longer keep his eyes open.

This was the same Marquess Hessiden who had once wielded enormous power in the Diert Empire. And now he had been slapped—by the very emperor he had once looked down upon.

For a man who prided himself on his nobility above all else, the humiliation of being struck—more than any torture—shattered his pride completely.

It was the deepest disgrace. He could not endure it. The last shred of his dignity broke, and his rage collapsed into helpless resignation.

“I should have left the rest to Duke Revart,” Edys murmured, his voice dry and matter-of-fact. “But if I did that, you might not survive until the execution. So I’ll restrain myself here.”

His words fell gently, almost conversational.

“At first, I was torn about what to do with Judith Hessiden. After all, she’s with child.”

A faint tremor ran through the marquess’s body. His head, which had been hanging limply, jerked up.

“Mm—! Mm!”

The hoarse sounds that escaped him were more like screams than words. But Edys understood him well enough.

“Are you begging for her life?”

Hessiden furiously nodded up and down.

Edys let out a cold chuckle.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. Judith Hessiden is no longer pregnant.”

The marquess’s eyes widened in horror.

“The last thread of sympathy has been cut. There’s nothing holding me back now. Farewell, Hessiden. I’ll see you and your precious daughter off together.”

Smiling faintly, Edys turned his back.

Behind him, the broken marquess let out guttural howls, mustering the last of his strength to thrash against his chains. But to Edys, it was nothing more than a sweet, melodic tune.

“Your execution is the day after tomorrow.”

With that, Edys left the prison behind.

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