One Day, My Fiancé Brought His First Love Along - Chapter 58

“Haller’s movements?”

“The same as usual.”

“No suspicious activity?”

“No, sir. He doesn’t seem the type to resort to underhanded tactics.”

Tap, tap.
Carlisle said nothing more, letting his index finger lightly strike the desk.

When it came to Aileen, Carlisle was always on edge—always alert. Ever since hearing that Haller had clashed with Aileen, he’d kept a close watch on him.

He should’ve intervened earlier, kept someone like Haller far away from her. It was his oversight.

And yet, despite everything, just the tiniest, most fleeting flicker of satisfaction had reached his heart—then vanished.

It was when he received the report that Aileen had pinned Haller down with a dagger.

He wanted to shove a bundle of cloth into that fool’s arrogant mouth the moment he’d heard what Haller had done. But still… a small, cruel joy warmed the dry cracks in his chest.

Carlisle slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again.
The fact that Aileen had humiliated Haller with the very dagger technique she’d learned from him—that memory vanished the moment his eyes opened.

Now, only one image filled his mind. A memory from not long ago.

“That Aileen witch—I’ll tear her apart this time.”

“Haller, you’re being too loud.”

“She strutted into the Order just because she’s the Duke of Revart’s daughter, acting like she’s better than the rest of us. I’m going to crush her so thoroughly she won’t be able to lift her head in front of anyone again.”

“Haller!”

“What, are you scared? Don’t worry. I’m not facing her in the preliminaries anyway. Stop trembling like a coward.”

The expression Haller wore, laughing as he slapped his fellow knight on the back, had looked downright demonic.

Carlisle’s instincts had screamed at him to step in right then—grab Haller by the neck and drag him to the ground.

But he’d restrained himself. He had barely, barely held back the rage bubbling up in his blood.

Because if he dealt with Haller personally—

“It would only make me feel better.”

Haller wasn’t like the clueless fools in the Khan Order. He was tied to Carlisle by something deeper—nastier. And his delusions of grandeur couldn’t be compared to those simpletons.

Still, Carlisle was certain of one thing: Aileen could bring Haller to his knees—effortlessly. She could twist him around her finger if she wanted.

And if it was Aileen… she would want to take him down herself.

Carlisle could not—would not—allow the slightest scratch to mar someone as precious as her. But paradoxically, precisely because she was so precious to him, he trusted her completely.

So he fought the urge to interfere.

If he couldn’t help directly, he would help another way.
Because more than anything else, he respected Aileen’s will.

“Any progress on the hallucinations and erratic behavior cases?”

Calming the thunderous pounding of his heart—set off simply by thinking of Aileen—Carlisle changed the subject.

“We’re close to catching the tail. By the time the tournament ends, we’ll have a clear picture.”

“Most likely culprits?”

“There are three main candidates:
—An herbalist shop selling remedies for bruises,
—A socialite perfume house,
—And a rising incense brand.
All of them work with aromatic botanicals.”

So it was either herbs or poison. All three involved scent-producing plants. One of them had to be it.

Annoyingly, none of them were officially linked to the Marquess of Hessiden’s trading companies. Not on paper.

But Carlisle knew.

“Keep watching for any ties to the Marquess of Hessiden.”

“You’ve done well. Be careful not to be followed.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man delivering the report vanished as quickly as he had come. Carlisle leaned deep into his chair and rested one arm across his eyes.

And then—darkness.

“No, no, this child will be fine. Don’t worry about it. My father can fix anything related to bloodlines.”

“What…?”

“You’re afraid, right? That this baby in my belly might not have your eyes or your hair—that’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it? But it’s okay. It really is. That can be fixed. Just changed.”

“…Changed?”

“Mm-hmm. My father said he could do it. So please—marry me. Even if it’s just a contract. Be this child’s father.”

“…”

“This is all your fault. If you hadn’t rejected me so coldly back then, none of this would’ve happened. I wouldn’t be pregnant. So you have to take responsibility.”

“You’re clearly too drunk.”

“But you’re a responsible man, aren’t you? If you haven’t forgotten what I did for you in the past… If you feel even slightly guilty about the rumors—that a noblewoman had your child out of wedlock—then marry me.”

“…”

“I know you don’t love me. I don’t need love. I’m fine with a contract. Just marry me—and use the Hessiden name as much as you want.”

“…….”

“So it works out for both of us, doesn’t it?”

Those were Judith’s words, spoken on a day she came to Carlisle drunk out of her mind.

It was her second time visiting him in such a state. That day, Carlisle began to suspect a connection between the Marquess of Hessiden and the northern tribes. It was also the day he made up his mind to accept the engagement with Judith. His cursed body didn’t have long to live anyway.

He had been looking for a way—any way—to separate himself from Aileen. But he hadn’t found a legitimate reason.

Judith’s sudden arrival gave him the perfect excuse. Her words were enough to drive Aileen to give up on him. And the unintended information she revealed only solidified Carlisle’s resolve.

If the Marquess of Hessiden was truly in league with the northern tribes…

Then Judith, drunk and rambling to persuade him, had unknowingly handed him a clue.

And that clue—no matter how faint—cast a sliver of light over his previously hopeless future.

He had finally found something to give Aileen before he died. He had feared all he’d leave behind was pain, a scar carved into her heart.

But from that moment, a new purpose began to fill Carlisle’s weary, cursed life. To protect Aileen. To make sure she lived peacefully on this land, long after he was gone.

Perhaps the very man who cursed him was none other than the Marquess of Hessiden himself. If he had allied with the northern tribes, if he had even the slightest ambition toward House Revart—or worse, toward Emperor Edys…

Carlisle’s deep blue eyes, dark as the sea under a moonless sky, stirred with fury. If everything aligned—if he could drag the Marquess into ruin—then all would be perfect.

All except for the wound he had carved into Aileen’s heart.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt her like this. Hadn’t wanted to leave her with cruel words like, “I love another woman.”

From beginning to end, he had only wished for happiness to fill her life.

But without this method, she would never have let him go.

A memory—a scene from their time together—flashed before his eyes like a painting. He took a deep breath and steeled himself once more.

Aileen must let him go. There could be no future in which she clung to him until the end.

So, Carlisle bit down the urge to rip out his own heart—and clung tightly to the one and only path he could choose.

The preliminaries ended quickly. The results held few surprises, with no major upsets.

The Sel Order sent nearly all their knights to the main tournament, save for a few outliers. Meanwhile, both the Khan and Lil Orders saw about half their participants fail to advance.

Compared to Sel, the Khan Order’s performance had been lacking. But the fact that they had done no worse than the Lil Order brought the Khan knights a strange sense of relief—and a great deal of celebration.

“Hey, make way! Our main tournament warriors have returned!”

“Clear the path! Give them space!”

When Aileen and Tanil returned to the Khan Order’s training grounds after the joint exercises, the knights erupted into a comical display of welcome—again. They’d already done this a few times.

Though the two wore expressions of clear exasperation, they didn’t tell them to stop.

Aileen and Tanil had been the most outstanding of the Khan knights who advanced to the main tournament. As representatives of the Order, they had become symbols of pride—and the noisy greetings felt somewhat justified.

“You must be exhausted from the tournament, and now you’ve got to train? That’s just cruel.”

Setz, pretending to cry, gave them a dramatic look full of mock concern. He was on water duty today, evidently.

Aileen gave him a playful side-eye in return.

“Thankfully, I’m not too tired today. Here, take this.”

Setz approached with exaggerated gallantry, handing each of them a water bottle.

Aileen and Tanil chugged them gratefully—it was just what they needed after the dryness of battle.

“I really wanted to see the preliminaries, but I missed them. Such a shame.”

Now finished playing the role of a loyal junior knight, Setz returned to his usual casual tone, furrowing his brows.

“They should’ve let us watch. Why keep everything under wraps like that? It’s not like swordsmanship wears out from being seen.”

Click. Instead of complaining to the higher-ups who made such policies, he muttered under his breath in frustration.

“Just imagine you all circling around the field, staring at us. Do you really think we’d be able to swing our swords properly?”

This time, Tanil answered instead of Aileen, who merely smiled.

“Why not? We’d be quiet and just cheer silently from a distance.”

“That’s exactly what’s distracting. And look how fast the prelims went without any audience!”

“Wow, look at him! One step into the main tournament and he’s already full of himself. Knights! Everyone! Take a look over here! Sir Tanil says his nose is high enough to scrape the heavens!”

“What?! I never said that!”

As the playful teasing continued behind her, Aileen moved ahead to prepare for the next round of training.

Just three days of rest remained before the main tournament.
There was no time to waste.

Because he would be waiting in the main tournament.

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