Chapter 3
“Hey, Aileen!”
The voice cut through her cloud of misery like a blade.
Startled, Aileen slowly lifted her head.
The man now standing before her had already closed the distance and, without hesitation, scooped her up from where she’d been curled on the bed. He placed her on the edge of the mattress and barked in frustration.
“What the hell happened to you?! Look at yourself!”
“…Brother.”
Silver hair shimmered above his furrowed brow, falling over a face so flawless it seemed carved from glass. Pale, almost translucent skin. Violet eyes that mirrored Aileen’s own.
Archduke Ashite Revart, often hailed as the most beautiful man in the empire, was her elder brother.
“Is it true? That bastard actually called off the engagement? Huh?!”
His infamous temper was as legendary as his beauty.
Aileen stared at his flushed, furious face and gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.
“That bastard!”
He looked as if he might punch the bedpost at any second. Aileen quickly reached out, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Please… calm down.”
“You can say that right now? In this situation?”
Ashite ran a hand roughly through his hair, pacing as frustration rolled off him in waves. Aileen dropped her gaze to the floor.
Seeing his usually composed little sister so lifeless made Ashite grit his teeth. Fighting the urge to explode, he dropped heavily onto the edge of the bed beside her.
Now that the fury was subsiding, he could see it—how pale and sunken her face had become, how shadows clung under her eyes.
“…Damn it.”
He clenched his fists on his thighs until his knuckles went white.
Despite his delicate, almost fragile appearance, Ashite had inherited their father’s fiery temper. That very temper had gotten him into more than a few messes in his youth.
At twenty-seven, he had learned control. But when it came to family—especially Aileen, his sister two years younger—there were no restraints.
He could still picture her from when they were children, following after him with those wide eyes and unshakable trust.
Maybe that’s why he’d always carried a fierce sense of duty to protect her—no matter how strong she proved herself to be.
And now someone had broken her heart. Shattered it.
“I never liked that bastard. I only gave him a chance because of you. And this is how he repays it? Stabbing you in the back?”
“…”
“I swear, I’ll kill him. I mean it. I know you’re hurting, but if you try to stop me, I’m leaving. I won’t see you for a while. Why the hell are you the one who looks like the world ended?!”
“…”
“Mother and Father will be here tomorrow. Until then, at least try to eat something. Sera told me everything.”
Ashite’s voice, once brimming with rage, now wavered—his booming presence dimming as he took in her silence.
Her lack of reaction made even him feel self-conscious, like he’d overstepped.
“They’re going to be here soon. You want them to see you like this? Looking like you’ve withered away?”
This time, his voice was softer. Beneath the frustration was worry.
Aileen stared at the floor, still silent.
Unable to bear the sight of her any longer, Ashite stood abruptly.
“I’ll have something sent up. Soup or anything you can keep down. Just… eat, okay? I’m going.”
“…Okay.”
Soon after, Sera returned with a tray of simple food, quietly setting it on the nearby table.
She hesitated, lips pressing into a thin line, then quietly left the room.
Once more, silence returned.
And once more, Aileen surrendered to the long, lonely night.
By morning, the sharp pounding of hooves shook the ground.
It didn’t take long for the thunderous sound to turn into the clamor of footsteps charging up the stairs, heels clacking against the hall floor—rushing straight toward her room.
“Aileen!”
The door burst open with a loud bang, followed by a commanding voice that echoed through the entire mansion.
The dramatic arrival belonged to none other than her parents—Duke Laildro Revart and Duchess Esilly Revart.
Without a moment’s hesitation, the couple strode across the room to their daughter, their eyes scanning her face.
Behind them stood Ashite, arms crossed, his expression full of irritation and restraint.
“My poor girl. Just look at your face. You’ve lost so much weight…”
The Duke quickly sat beside her on the bed and gently cupped her face in both hands, the worry in his voice audible. Her long pink hair—so much like his own—was damp with sweat, clinging to her skin.
Behind him, the Duchess sighed deeply, brushing her disheveled silver hair back from her face. Her features were delicate, her eyes full of concern.
They had been away on a private trip, planned in celebration of their daughter’s upcoming wedding.
But upon hearing the outrageous rumor that had reached their ears—they had returned at once.
And now, seeing her like this, it was clear: the rumor was no rumor at all.
The Duke, struggling to contain his fury, narrowed his eyes and spoke, low and firm.
There was no time for greetings.
“I heard something… strange yesterday. That’s why we came back in such a hurry. To find out what the hell is going on.”
“…”
“Is it true…? That awful rumor?”
The violet in the Duke’s eyes—once clouded with concern—shifted in an instant, turning sharp and glacial. Aileen could no longer meet his gaze. Her lashes dropped halfway, her eyes lowering in shame.
Sensing the tension tightening like a noose, the Duke opened his mouth—just as a knock interrupted them.
The still-wide-open door creaked as someone gently rapped on it from the hallway.
Irritation flared in the Duke’s eyes as he turned his head.
“What is it?”
“Um… A letter has arrived, Your Grace. From House Avergue.”
At the mention of the Avergue family, the expressions of everyone in the room went rigid.
The air turned icy as the Duke’s voice sharpened to a blade.
“A letter? Bring it here.”
The butler stepped forward, visibly nervous, and handed the envelope over.
Stamped on the white paper was the seal of House Avergue: crossed lavender flowers and a sword.
Aileen didn’t need to open it. She knew what it was.
There could be only one thing Carlisle would send her at a time like this.
The annulment papers.
Delivered, of course, only after her parents had returned to the estate.
She didn’t reach out to take it. Instead, Aileen closed her eyes, bracing herself for what she knew would follow.
“You insolent brat…!”
The Duke’s hands trembled as he held the document.
He looked ready to tear it apart, his fury boiling over—until the Duchess stepped in, swiftly snatching the letter from his grip.
After reading just a few lines, she hurled the annulment papers to the floor.
Ashite, ever the strategist, didn’t even bother picking them up. He simply tossed them onto the bed beside Aileen.
“He must have a death wish, Esilly!”
“Seems like it,” the Duchess replied coldly, for once not bothering to temper his rage.
Aileen was their only daughter—their pride and joy. She had begged them to let her marry Carlisle, saying she couldn’t imagine a future without him.
It had taken days of tears and pleading before they’d finally given their reluctant blessing.
And now this.
An annulment. And for a reason so outrageous, it barely qualified as real.
Yes, Carlisle was talented. But in the end, he was just a commoner by birth.
Aileen, on the other hand, was the sole daughter of the Revart family—an ancient and noble house, one of only three ducal families in the empire. If she wished, she could have become the queen of a foreign kingdom.
Not only was her lineage exalted, but she herself was gifted in swordsmanship and possessed a face so radiant people whispered that an angel must have descended to earth.
There was no shortage of noble families eager to have her as their daughter-in-law.
And yet, she had declared she would marry a man born of common blood—a knight, no less.
Despite Carlisle’s formidable strength and blunt, upright character—which had earned him admiration from knights and nobles alike—it had never been enough to win over the Duke, who loved Aileen more fiercely than anything.
Even so, for his daughter’s sake, he had relented.
Now this.
The Duke took a deep breath, as though swallowing a lump of molten iron. His voice, when it came, was heavy with barely suppressed wrath.
“Daughter… I’d like you to explain this. All of it.”
There was no more hiding. Aileen finally opened her mouth—her voice frail, like someone who had already let go of everything.
“Carlisle came to me… and he brought Judith Hessiden with him.”
There wasn’t much to say beyond that. Her summary was short but sharp. Clear, undeniable.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
It felt ready to explode—then freeze the world solid.
The Duchess, who had remained composed throughout, reached over to gently press down on her husband’s clenched fist. Her hand was graceful, her tone elegant and calm—but her face was pale with fury.
“Aileen,” she said, “I’ve always wanted to support your choices. But not this time. This man is not worth a second thought. Forget him.”
“……”
“We’ll summon him immediately.”
With a look as cold as a midwinter frost, she turned toward the butler waiting at the door.
“Hilter!”
“Yes, Madam!”
“Send someone to House Avergue. Tell Carlisle to show his face here. Now.”
Her voice was quiet, but it sliced through the room like a northern wind. Hilter bowed and left at once.
“Hey, Aileen.”
Ashite, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, leaned in and lowered his voice.
“Just wait. I’ll find someone ten times better than that jerk—so good you won’t even remember his name.”
A beat of silence passed.
Before Aileen could respond, the Duke’s roar filled the room.
“That is your idea of something helpful to say right now?!”
“What?! What’s wrong with that?!”
“I don’t want to see the face of any useless brat for a while. If you’ve got time to spout nonsense, go outside and train with a blade!”
The Duchess, watching her husband and son bicker, chimed in with a cool remark.
“Ashite, you should be worrying about your own future first.”
He was long past the typical marrying age.
Normally, the Duke and Duchess weren’t ones to pressure him—but just this once, it seemed even they weren’t holding back.
Maybe for Aileen’s sake.
Ashite, probably unaware, had meant well—but his parents clearly didn’t see it that way.
Perhaps they seized the opportunity to shift the conversation, to lighten the mood—even just a little—for their daughter’s sake.
No matter how angry they were, they all knew one thing:
the one hurting the most right now was Aileen.
The atmosphere remained heavy—but just as the tension threatened to pull taut again—
Knock, knock.
A knock came at the door. Soft, but with a faint tremble. The butler had returned.
