One Day, My Fiancé Brought His First Love Along - Chapter 68

“That was an excellent match. Congratulations on taking second place, Aileen. My palms were sweating the entire time just watching.”

Once some distance had formed between them, Jeron flexed his hands nervously and broke the silence. Aileen responded with a painted smile and a short reply.

“Thank you, Jeron.”

“Do you know how many spectators were cheering for you, Aileen? My heart swelled with pride just listening.”

“Did it? I couldn’t really hear it—I was too focused.”

“I understand now why people are so passionate about duels. Are you hurt at all, Aileen?”

“Not at all. Not a single scratch.”

“I’m relieved. It looked like a fierce battle.”

Aileen replied with a gentle smile.

There was one thing she had come to understand with certainty through this swordsmanship tournament—she was only drawn to men who wielded a blade.

She found masculine charm and a sense of rivalry in knights who were as strong as or even stronger than herself. A relationship where they could challenge and grow through each other—learn together and resonate with one another.

In the past, she hadn’t been confident about her own feelings or preferences, but after the tournament, everything became clear.

She could say it with certainty now—Jeron was not the man she could share her future with.

To Aileen, a partner meant someone who would love her endlessly, share mutual respect, and find joy in the things they had in common. Someone who could grow with her, both emotionally and practically.

That was what she had shared with Carlisle—the man she loved. He was someone who exchanged thoughts with her on things she was passionate about, who celebrated her triumphs and shared in her defeats.

She had already experienced that happiness. And Jeron, not being a knight, would never truly understand what brought her joy.

Now that she had come to that realization, Aileen knew she had to speak clearly to Jeron. She had to say she was sorry—that she could no longer give him false hope. That she was sure now.

She had resolved to express this—today. Even if it wasn’t the ideal moment, not during a banquet where beautiful melodies danced in the air.

“Jeron.”

Her voice was calm, but it carried a heavy tone. Jeron instinctively sensed it—it would not be something pleasant.

“Aileen, perhaps this isn’t the right time—”

“No. I’m sorry, Jeron. But this is something I have to say now.”

Her resolute tone left Jeron no room to object. He stood frozen, as though bound in place.

“I’m sorry, Jeron. I should have ended things much earlier.”

“You mean… our relationship?”

“Yes. As you saw during the tournament, I am a knight. I pursue strength and honor the art of combat. I’m not someone who enjoys sitting quietly in a mansion, reading books or poring over documents. I prefer using my body, facing the battlefield, being drenched in blood and sweat.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you continued being a knight after we married.”

“No… it’s not about that. I want someone who understands the joy that comes with it.”

“……”

“Only someone walking the same path can truly understand my emotions. All the things I felt during this tournament… I doubt you could relate to them, Jeron.”

Because you are not a knight.

That quiet addendum struck Jeron deep in the chest.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, Jeron. I’ve heard how capable you are in the Ministry of Finance—your talent is widely recognized.”

“……”

“You’re a remarkable man, but as a knight, I don’t think I can fully understand or appreciate that. Because I’m simply not someone who’s good with paperwork or desk work.”

“Aileen…”

“I know you’re wise and intelligent. I believe you’ve already understood what I’m trying to say. I’m truly sorry, Jeron—for taking up so much of your precious time.”

“……”

“You’re a good man. You’ll meet someone far better suited for you than I ever could be. Thank you—for everything.”

Aileen bowed her head politely.

Jeron said nothing. In truth, he couldn’t.

Words surged to his throat, desperate to escape, but none would form.

“…Was I not enough?”

The only thing he could barely manage to say.

“No. No one was lacking. We just wanted different things.”

Aileen gave him a sorrowful smile.

Ah… this really is the end. There’s no turning back now.

At last, Jeron accepted it.

“…I understand. Aileen, thank you—for everything.”

His voice caught in his throat. Jeron struggled to string the words together.

“Thank you… for putting up with me. Even when you knew your heart would never reach mine, I kept pushing. I’m grateful… and sorry.”

Jeron lowered his head halfway. His lips trembled, and a faint sob nearly escaped.

“Next time we meet, I’ll be more composed. Until then.”

Without waiting for a response, Jeron turned and walked away, almost as if fleeing.

For some reason, ever since the finals had ended, his heart had been racing. Not from excitement or joy—but from a suffocating, inexplicable sense of dread.

It must have been because of that.

Jeron had been uneasy ever since the last banquet—ever since Aileen first showed him that cold, distant expression.

Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken to her today. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed himself to be brave.

A flood of thoughts rushed through his mind, only to scatter again and again.

“…It was just never going to be me.”

The answer had been there all along. It was only after everything ended that Jeron could finally say it out loud.

He kept tilting his head back, then lowering it again, trying to stop the tears from spilling.

And just as he finally managed to collect himself—

“Lord Jeron Diar.”

A charming voice, smooth and laced with a strange smile, reached out to him.

The banquet continued late into the night.
Even after parting ways with Jeron, Aileen didn’t return to the knights right away.

Several nobles, spotting her alone, quickly took the chance to approach her, each trying to strike up a conversation.

She had hoped to inspire others—people in similar positions who shared her dreams—by proving herself. But she hadn’t expected such an overwhelming response, and it left her a little flustered.

Once the mood of the banquet had fully warmed up, the Emperor entered. With a smile, Edys announced that both Carlisle and Aileen would receive a grand reward and ordered them to leave with her.

While some guests were disappointed to see the stars of the night go, most were too caught up in the festivities to notice.

Thanks to that, the three of them were able to slip away for a quiet, private meeting. Though a few sharp eyes—like the Marquess of Hessiden’s—still followed them closely.

“You two were incredibly popular tonight,” Edys said as soon as Aileen and Carlisle sat down.

“It’s all thanks to Your Majesty.”

“Let’s not pretend I had anything to do with it, Sir Aileen.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Aileen’s quick reply made Edys chuckle softly. Then she suddenly looked up.

“Ah, wait a moment.”

As if remembering something, Edys got up from her seat and walked over to her desk.

While she was away, Aileen took the opportunity to glance at Carlisle.

Was anything wrong with him? Did he seem tired? Was he hurt in any way?

She couldn’t help but worry. Her heart kept pounding with a strange sense of unease. With Judith not around and Carlisle sitting right across from her, she had the perfect excuse to study him.

His hair, only half-tied for the banquet, was still black as ink, not allowing a single ray of light through. His dark brows, long lashes, and sharp, defined features were all the same.

His deep blue eyes, set in clear whites, still held that cool, calm look. His nose looked sharp enough to cut, and his skin remained flawless and pale. If anything, he looked a bit thinner—but otherwise, there was nothing unusual.

In fact, the slight weight loss added a colder, more mature charm. It only made his masculine aura more striking.

Maybe… she had just imagined it.

Deciding that must be the case, Aileen raised her hand and brushed back hair that hadn’t even fallen out of place.

“Here. As I said before, I have a mission for you both.”

By the time she returned, Edys was already pushing a stack of papers toward Aileen.

“Sir Carlisle has already reviewed this. You just need to read it, Sir Aileen.”

They had walked in together—when had he read it?

Though puzzled, Aileen flipped through the documents quickly—and paused, surprised.

“Isn’t this that really popular perfume? I got one too.”

“Oh? And who gave our dear Sir Aileen perfume?”

Edys sounded overly shocked, half-joking, and casually glanced at Carlisle as if to see how he’d react.

Aileen, still reading, didn’t notice.

“My mother gave it to me. She said it was very hard to get and made sure I had one. I only used it once, though—the scent didn’t suit me. I guess that was lucky.”

“Oh, the Duchess gave it to you.”

“Yes. She was thoughtful enough to get it for me, but I never wore it again. I suppose it’s fortunate, considering what it’s been linked to.”

“That really is lucky. But still, if the Duchess went out of her way to get it for you… maybe she had a reason.”

At that, Aileen finally looked up.

She had been distracted by the unfamiliar documents and answered without thinking—but now something felt off.

There was something strange about the way the conversation was going. What could possibly connect her mother’s gift with a serious crime?

“Does her reason for giving me the perfume have anything to do with the case?”

“No, nothing like that. I just thought it would be polite to ask, since she went to the trouble.”

Aileen let out a deep sigh and gave Edys a look of disbelief.

“Then please, get to the point.”

Looking amused by Aileen’s exasperated tone, Edys chuckled and continued without missing a beat.

“We’re fairly certain now that the perfume is the cause. In fact, we’re almost completely sure. We traced the symptoms and found the common thread.”

“So it really is the perfume.”

Edys nodded.

“The problem is, as I mentioned before, people who show symptoms end up causing more incidents. They hallucinate, sometimes attack others, or even break perfectly fine objects.”

Because their minds aren’t clear, they can’t think straight.

“And recently, we confirmed that Marchioness Clament was one of the victims. Apparently, she started screaming about being swarmed by butterflies.”

If that status-obsessed, wealthy noblewoman had the perfume, it made sense—it was already popular among the upper class.

Aileen kept her gaze on the Emperor, urging her to continue.

“Which brings me to the main point. I need you both to begin investigating—starting the day after tomorrow.”

The day after tomorrow?

Aileen couldn’t help but blurt out her surprise.

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