One Day, My Fiancé Brought His First Love Along - Chapter 60

“Aileen Revart.”

Just as she was savoring the roar of the crowd, Haller Petter growled her name like a wild beast.

It felt like someone had dumped cold water over her head.

Aileen steadied her racing heart and gazed calmly at her opponent. It felt like just yesterday she had humiliated him with a dagger, and yet here he was, still full of himself, still unaware of his place.

Did he think swordsmanship would be different from dagger throwing? That she’d fall short in actual combat?

The ridiculous assumption nearly made her scoff aloud—but she managed to suppress it.

Haller Petter. A man of no worth, foolish enough to think the shadow of House Hessiden somehow protected him.

Honestly, she didn’t need Carlisle’s advice for this match. Haller was little more than a weed—easily trampled. But… if his advice did come in handy, perhaps she could humiliate Haller even more thoroughly.

“You got lucky making it this far, huh?”

He started with a sneer, clearly laced with malice. Aileen, feigning boredom, glanced elsewhere and muttered,

“Hope you’re not the type to close your eyes every time a sword comes flying.”

“What?! You little—!”

“Aren’t we starting yet?”

Aileen turned from Haller’s quickly reddening, rage-filled face and addressed the referee instead, reminding him of his duty.

Humans are forgetful creatures. One dagger incident clearly wasn’t enough of a lesson. She could still picture the way his face had frozen in dumbfounded shock when the blade zipped past him.

And now here he was, acting like he’d never been embarrassed in his life.

If he ever had any manners, they were long gone—so far gone she’d need a telescope to find them.

She clicked her tongue, not even bothering to hide her disdain.

“I’ll make you pay for that!”

“Try me.”

“Sir Aileen Revart and Sir Haller Petter, ready… begin!”

The referee’s thunderous voice echoed across the arena, and in the same moment, Haller lunged like a flash of light.

“Take this!”

He shouted like some cliché villain straight out of a bad novel.

Aileen dodged with nothing more than a slight pivot of her body. For someone claiming to be fast, he was excruciatingly slow.

“Aren’t you a bit too slow for that?”

“You—!”

Haller shouted, his neck burning red with fury.

Then, Aileen’s expression shifted—icy enough to send a shiver down anyone’s spine. She moved.

Haller, caught off guard by the sudden change in air, reflexively swung around and reached toward the charging Aileen.

Clang!

Her sword, faster than light, collided with his—meeting resistance as he raised his weapon to block.

Their blades locked. At close range, their eyes met—hers glinting with chilling amusement, those violet eyes gleaming as she whispered:

“You think that’s all I’ve got?”

“What?”

Before he could finish, Aileen sprang back, leapt again—this time even faster—and soared upward.

Her body lifted into the air.

And then, with swift precision, she dropped.

This is it.

A smile curved at the corner of her lips.

“It’s over.”

“Ugh!”

Still recovering from the previous block, Haller tried again to raise his sword—twisting his wrist mid-motion.

But Aileen’s blade changed direction midair, slipping in sharply, unpredictably. He couldn’t defend.

Thwack! Clatter.

His weakened grip couldn’t hold. Her momentum-laden strike knocked his sword clean from his hands.

Thud.

“Ah…”

And not just his sword—his entire body crumpled.

Haller collapsed to the ground in a heap, the sound of a grown man’s body hitting the arena floor ringing in his own ears.

A hush fell over the arena.

Amid the eerie silence, Aileen’s smile deepened. Haller’s face contorted in pure shame.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Then, one by one, the applause began. Like a rising tide, it swelled and surged.

Haller bit down hard on his lower lip.

It was humiliating. Beyond humiliating.

How—how could she beat him in just a few exchanges?!

Under the blazing sunlight, her rose-colored hair—tied high—fluttered in the wind. Her face, partially shaded by the backlight, smiled coldly down at him.

As if… as if she were someone above him.

Whatever Haller might have felt in that moment, the result was indisputable.

“The victory goes to Sir Aileen Revart!”

“Wooooah!”

Aileen took in shallow breaths as she stared down at Haller, slumped on the ground in a pitiful heap. Her gaze calmly settled on his face—now twisted in shame and defeat.

“That was a little too easy. At this rate, you wouldn’t even make it past the front gates of the Khan Order.”

A dry, mocking laugh spilled from her lips, still red from exertion and heat.

The tip of Haller’s ears flushed crimson. Her blatant humiliation shattered the last traces of composure he’d been clinging to.

“You damn wench—!”

“And where exactly do you think you are, calling someone that?”

Her eyelids lowered lazily in disdain, her voice colder than the surface of a frozen lake.

A chill settled over Haller as her calm violet gaze bore down on him—steady, merciless. The subtle shift in her eyes made his fingers twitch involuntarily.

“If our blades had been sharpened today, I wonder what would’ve happened to you. Think hard, Haller—use whatever’s left of that brain.”

Her tone was quiet but sharp, as if honed on steel. Aileen didn’t need House Revart’s name to deal with the likes of him.

In fact, the very thought that someone like Haller dared to feel inferior to Ashite left a sour taste in her mouth.

“Maybe try putting in some effort next time. You’re not even worth the warm-up.”

Click. She tutted and turned on her heel without hesitation. Swallowed up by the cheers of the crowd, Haller remained frozen, too humiliated to even lift a hand.

Alone now, he staggered out of the arena, his legs shaking with barely restrained rage.

To be disgraced in front of nobles, commoners—in front of everyone—was unforgivable.

He would never forget this humiliation. Aileen Revart, Ashite Revart—every single one of them, overconfident and arrogant. They’d ruined his pride and shredded his future.

At home, Count Petter would already be waiting, having heard the shameful outcome in detail.

But what his father would say didn’t matter now.

Aileen Revart. I’ll make her regret this. Them—all of them.

Haller’s eyes glinted with cruelty.

* * *

It had been a clean, decisive victory.

Aileen briefly considered whether she should have humiliated him more—but dismissed the thought with a shake of her head.

No matter how disgraceful Haller was, anything more would’ve sullied the name of Revart. Their house handled things with grace, not filth.

Composed, she stepped out of the waiting room.

“Aileen.”

Ashite’s voice called out as he peeked inside.

“You scared me.”

“You did great.”

Unbothered by her reaction, Ashite raised two fingers in triumph, a rare, satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

A compliment from him didn’t come often.

“How long were you watching?”

“Could’ve been a little more brutal, but I’m satisfied. I’ll handle the rest later if needed.”

Spoken like a true future head of the house…

Suppressing a sigh, Aileen stepped out with him.

“What about Mother and Father?”

“I barely kept them from storming the waiting room. Look—see how sweaty I am? Father was ready to rush in grinning like a madman. I had to physically hold him back.”

That tracked. Her father was probably glowing with pride right now. Her mother… that was harder to guess.

Still, if they’d actually shown up, grinning from ear to ear in front of the Petter family—it would’ve been a diplomatic disaster. They were already enemies, but a blatant show of rivalry wouldn’t help.

Oddly enough, Aileen was surprised. Ashite—calmly reading the room, actively preventing any political fallout—wasn’t something she expected.

Had she underestimated him all this time?

She exaggerated her reaction, eyes wide as she clapped once.

“Wow… Who knew our Ashite Revart had such the aura of a future Duke!”

“Hey!”

Flustered, Ashite tugged on her hair.

“Ow! What are you, twelve?!”

“You brat—”

But even as he huffed, he let go the moment she winced. He always did. Classic Ashite.

Aileen laughed, looping her arm through his. He made a face about the sweat but didn’t pull away.

That made her laugh harder.

“Congratulations to our next Duke as well. Beating Sir Siran—that was impressive.”

She dipped her head with dramatic flair. Ashite groaned.

“Cut it out already!”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

“If I win tomorrow, I face that guy next. And whoever wins there… that’s your final match.”

If you win, that is.

Ashite smirked as he narrowed his eyes at her.

Aileen only smiled.

She already knew who was waiting at the end of her bracket. She was fine with it.

Her adorable brother, however, was acting like he was the one about to face him. All tense, all worried.

It didn’t suit him. Not one bit.

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