One Day, My Fiancé Brought His First Love Along - Chapter 66

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The blade left trails in the air—erratic, unpredictable, and impossibly fast, appearing and vanishing in an instant.

As she narrowly dodged Carlisle’s relentless strikes, Aileen gripped her sword tighter, refusing to let it slip from her grasp.

Clang!

Their swords clashed again. Between the vibrating blades, his deep blue eyes met hers—unnervingly calm in the midst of the storm.

Even while launching such fierce attacks, his expression didn’t waver in the slightest.

And that… made Aileen’s blood boil.

She had grown. She had joined the Khan Order, sparred countless times, trained endlessly.

And yet Carlisle—he still stood somewhere out of reach.

She had certainly improved since their last duel months ago, but still, she couldn’t even leave the faintest crack in that perfectly composed expression of his.

Biting back the surge of emotion, Aileen tried to steady her breathing.

Huff… Huff… The fast-paced exchanges were beginning to wear her down.

Clang!

Their blades met again with force.
The next strike would decide it.

The result was already clear. Even as despair sank in, Aileen admitted it—her skills still hadn’t caught up to Carlisle’s.

To think that a few months of rigorous training could surpass someone who had faced life and death with a blade in hand…
It was nothing short of arrogance.

No regrets, she told herself. Leave no room for hesitation. Give it everything.

With that, she prepared to parry the incoming strike—

“…Huh?”

Her hand faltered. Her blade nearly strayed from its path.

For a moment, it felt as if time had stopped.

“Carlisle…”

For the first time in a long while, his name passed her lips.

“Why…?”

The whispered question barely left her mouth—
—and that was when Carlisle, regaining his focus, tightened his grip on the sword he had nearly lost control of.

And time began to move again.

“WAAAHHH—!”

When she came to her senses, Carlisle’s blade was already at her chin.

“The winner—Sir Carlisle Avergue!”

The announcer’s voice echoed over the deafening cheers, which filled the entire coliseum like thunder.

In that storm of noise, Carlisle and Aileen stared quietly at one another.

His sword was still pointed at her.

Aileen was the first to speak.

“Why…”

But the question never reached its end.

“That was a good match.”

A knight’s respectful acknowledgment of their opponent.
And with those words, Carlisle cut her off.

As if dismissing her, he turned his head away and bowed formally to the crowd. Flawless. Impeccable. Unshakably composed.

Aileen, stunned, eventually followed suit and bowed to the audience as well.
Among the endless cheers for the victor, another name began to rise—quiet but dignified—the name of the one who had lost with honor.

It had been a good match. A fight worth remembering.

And yet.

Aileen cast a glance at Carlisle, who now stood in the direction of the Emperor’s seat.
She gave a slight nod toward Edys, offering her formal salute.

“Sir Carlisle Avergue. Dame Aileen Revart. That was a truly splendid match. With knights as strong as you, I can rest assured for the future of this Empire,” the Emperor declared from his seat.

The nobles around him rose in unison, erupting into thunderous applause.

Though she was too far away to see clearly, Aileen thought she could make out the faint smile of her father, Duke Revart.

There were no regrets. She had given it her all.
She had fought a fierce, clean battle—and emerged without a single injury.

Yes, she had lost—but it had been a match to be proud of.

Except for one thing.

Her eyes found Carlisle again.

That same impassive face. No sign of discomfort, no trace of hesitation.

Did I imagine it? she wondered. No… It couldn’t have been.

Carlisle had made a mistake—one he never would have made under normal circumstances.

Unless… something was wrong.

Unless… his body… is injured.

The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning.

“Injured…?”

The words slipped from her lips before she even realized it.

That’s it. That had to be the answer.

Aileen had sparred with Carlisle more times than she could count. She knew his habits—his rhythm, his technique, his preferences.

She knew how he moved when he was at his best.

And what she saw today… wasn’t quite right.

She could say it with certainty:

Carlisle’s sword, which had rained down upon her like crashing waves, had faltered. Just for an instant, it had lost its center.
For a split second—it had frozen entirely.

It was a minute disturbance, something an ordinary knight would never have noticed.
But Aileen had fought him too many times not to see it.

Carlisle’s sword didn’t waver. Like a ship steady in a storm, like the calm and consistent man he was—his blade was always unwavering.

A slip caused by fatigue or distraction? That wasn’t possible.

Carlisle had attacked relentlessly, without a shred of hesitation, ever since she shouted at him mid-duel.
He wasn’t the type to back down, let alone leave an opening, especially with victory in sight.

So then why had he faltered?

There was no reason for him to give her a chance.
As a knight, Carlisle was never anything less than exacting—before the betrayal, and even after.

And she had seen it—clearly.
Just for a moment, his face had twisted in pain.

A fleeting contortion, like he’d been struck hard in the gut.
And since she hadn’t landed a blow, it couldn’t have come from her sword.

Then why?

Suddenly, an eerie discomfort crawled down her spine.

I’ve seen this before…

Ah.

That day—when he tilted his head after handing her the annulment papers.

The memory struck her like lightning, leaving her breathless.
Endless what-ifs began to unravel in her mind, one after another.

By the time Emperor Edys declared the tournament over and announced the ceremonial gifting of the champion’s sword, Aileen was still lost in a storm of confusion.

“You were amazing, sweetheart. I’m so proud. I could die happy right now.”

Aileen had returned home briefly before the evening’s banquet, and her family greeted her with open arms.

“I’m so glad you didn’t get hurt. You have no idea how nervous I was, Aileen.”

“My uniform just got a bit torn. Thank you for cheering me on, Mother.”

“Do you know how close it was near the end? When that guy suddenly changed direction, I seriously thought you were going to get stabbed!”

“Oh please, Oppa. Dodging is one of the things I’m best at. You really think I’d get hit?”

“I’m just saying it was scary, dummy!”

“Okay, okay. Thanks for worrying.”

“Go take a bath already! You’ve got dirt all over your face—it’s disgusting!”

Ashite’s complaint earned him a scolding from their father, the Duke, who dragged him off for daring to insult his hardworking sister.

Following Ashite’s advice anyway, Aileen took a long bath and had a quick meal.

Even while praising her relentlessly, Sera made it very clear that she needed to get ready for the banquet soon.
Aileen barely managed to squeeze in a short break before Sera dragged her off to get dressed.

She collapsed onto the bed, limbs outstretched. The soft blanket soothed her instantly, and as she closed her eyes, the tangled thoughts she’d tried to forget came rushing back.

Carlisle.

The man who used to kiss her endlessly, again and again, without fail.
When had that changed?

One day, he stopped—he began to avoid her touch, refused their regular sparring sessions, cut their time together short…

And then, without warning, he ended everything.

“…Could it have been because he was sick?”

If his body had started failing him… if he’d known something was wrong and had tried to push her away before it got worse…

She could understand that.

Because Carlisle was just that kind of person.

To him, she had always been the brightest color in his world.
All things meaningful to him had always included her.

Aileen knew this better than anyone.

If—by some incredible twist of fate—this outlandish theory was true…
If he had broken things off to spare her pain and solitude down the road…

Then maybe—just maybe—she could forgive him for all the heartbreak.

Even if it made her want to scream from how selfish and cruel it had been. Even if he had done it all without a single word of warning.

“…Then what about Judith?”

Judith’s red eyes rose up in the darkness—those scornful, mocking stares burned into her memory.

The affectionate way she had looked at Carlisle.
The way he had softly spoken her name.

Was it all a lie?

Aileen’s eyes flew open.

“I must really be losing it.”

She had to be going mad.
Why else would she be clinging to a love that had ended, stacking excuse after excuse on his behalf?

Why was she scrambling to attach reasons and justifications he never gave?

That moment in the finals—his inexplicable slip—must’ve shaken her more than she thought.

“Just rest, Aileen.”

She tried to ignore the nagging thoughts—the unease that clung to her like a hangnail.

“My lady, you look stunning! Of course, you look incredible in uniform too, but nothing beats a dress.”

Sera gasped as she admired her own handiwork.

“You picked it, after all.”

“No, no, it’s all because of you. You make everything look good. You have to take everyone’s breath away at the banquet tonight, okay?”

“Alright, alright.”

Originally, Aileen had planned to attend the banquet in her knight uniform.

But among the few uniforms she owned, only one was formal enough for such an event—and it had been torn during the duel with Carlisle.

Luckily, she had left every decision in Sera’s capable hands.
And thanks to that, she’d been able to get ready without much stress.

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