Chapter 4
A soft knock broke through the suffocating air, as if to relieve the pressure building in the room.
“You may enter,” the Duke said.
At his command, Hilter stepped inside—but the space behind him was conspicuously empty. The person who should have come with him was nowhere to be seen.
A bad feeling settled over everyone.
The Duke clenched his fists, suppressing the storm rising inside him, and glanced past the butler.
“Where is he?”
“Count Avergue… has left the estate, Your Grace. He’s expected to be away for some time. He said if you have anything to say, you may deliver it when he returns… That was the message he left behind.”
Bang!
The Duke slammed his fist down on the table and shot to his feet.
“And he dares—DARES—to send such insolence?!”
But the worst was still to come.
Hilter swallowed hard and continued his report.
“From what I’ve learned… the Count left for the south. He’s currently staying at one of the Hessiden family’s southern villas—with Lady Judith Hessiden.”
“…What?”
“They didn’t say how long they’ll be there.”
Something inside Aileen snapped.
A trip?
A vacation—with Judith?
Their wedding day was supposed to be soon. The day they should’ve been celebrating together, surrounded by friends and family.
Instead, that day would now pass while those two laughed together somewhere far away.
Was Judith so important to him that he couldn’t even spare an ounce of decency for Aileen?
Then came the final blow.
“And… the location is Camille Province.”
Aileen’s breath caught in her throat.
Camille.
The southernmost region of the empire, where fields of cassia flowers would be in full bloom this time of year, blanketing the hills in white.
It was the place Carlisle had chosen for their honeymoon—because cassia flowers were her favorite.
And now he was taking Judith there.
Her vision darkened. Her heart ached like someone had stabbed her through the chest with a needle.
“Those wretched bastards!” the Duke roared.
The Duchess and Ashite, too, could no longer contain their fury.
While Ashite raged beside him, the Duke approached his silent daughter—who hadn’t moved or spoken throughout.
He knelt before her, one knee to the ground.
His once lively daughter now sat like a broken doll. The contrast was unbearable.
“My daughter… I’ll do whatever you wish. I allowed this foolish match, and now they dare humiliate you—and this family—in such a way. I cannot forgive them.”
His hand gently swept her hair away from her eyes, but his voice was heavy, filled with sorrow and restrained rage.
Aileen gave him a faint, bitter smile and shook her head.
“If they’re happy… what can I do? It’s my fault. I just wasn’t enough.”
“Aileen…”
“I just want to rest right now. I’m so tired…”
And she meant it.
She didn’t have the strength to fully accept everything yet.
Eight years—she had spent all of them walking a straight line, eyes fixed on one man. Carlisle.
The betrayal and heartbreak had stripped her of every ounce of willpower.
Her mind told her to scream and tear everything apart, but her body refused. Her heart was too numb.
The Duke and Duchess looked at their daughter with eyes full of heartbreak, helplessness, and fury.
They wanted nothing more than to hunt those two down and make them pay.
But more than anything, Aileen’s well-being came first. So they respected her wishes… for now.
They left her room quietly.
Alone once again, Aileen reached for the annulment letter that had remained untouched for days.
She had refused to even look at it until now.
“So this is what an annulment looks like…”
She muttered the words with no emotion.
Her fingers hovered over the sealed document, hesitating to unfold it.
“…Later.”
She still couldn’t face it.
Not yet.
She still wasn’t ready to accept that Carlisle had abandoned her—so completely and without mercy.
Time moved quickly after that.
The day she had dreaded—hoped for—feared—it arrived before she knew it.
It was the day she should have become Carlisle’s bride.
Aileen spent the night wide awake, sitting alone with the engagement ring he had given her.
Dawn crept in. Light spilled across the floor. The sun rose.
Her entire family remained at the estate that day, concerned for her.
But in the end, it passed just like any other day.
Aileen, little by little, had begun to recover her strength. She was still fragile, still healing—but she was standing.
Everyone at House Revart prayed that this day, the most painful of all, would pass quietly—and bring the beginning of something new.
After dinner, once even Sera—who had lingered by the door with concern etched across her face—finally left, Aileen collapsed onto her bed as if her legs had given out beneath her.
“…Haa.”
The breath she’d been holding back all day, compressed deep within her chest, escaped in a long, smoke-like sigh.
And then, as if a dam had broken, tears poured from her eyes—raining down like a midnight storm, soaking her white pillow endlessly.
The eight years she had spent loving Carlisle, the countless days blurred like frosted glass in the heart of winter—she’d thought this day would finally bring clarity.
Instead, it disappeared, hollow and meaningless.
If she had known it would end like this… if she had known, then maybe the sorrow would’ve been hers alone to carry.
Her muffled sobs drifted into the quiet night, trailing sorrow through every corner of her room.
When dawn finally broke through the despair-stained night, Aileen slowly reached up to brush the dried tears from her eyes.
She opened the window. Cold morning air rushed in, stinging her cheeks and clearing the fog in her mind.
“…Carlisle.”
His name trembled on her lips.
She used to believe she could call his name whenever she wanted.
She thought every time his name passed through her lips, it would be laced with affection and warmth.
But the morning air—once familiar—felt foreign.
This should have been the day she woke up in his arms, wrapped in warmth and quiet bliss. But now…
“…With Judith.”
He had spent the night with another woman.
The thought pierced through her chest like a shard of ice. Her fingers grew cold, her lashes damp again with unshed tears.
But Aileen quickly shook her head, forcing away the memories.
She had cried enough. She’d promised herself, through sobs and heartbreak, that once this day passed—the day that was meant to be her wedding—she would start to become herself again.
It wouldn’t be easy. Her heart still throbbed with betrayal, but… there were people who cared. People who worried for her.
She called for Sera and asked for a light touch of makeup.
Then she made her way to the dining room to join her family for breakfast.
“My dear, look—this is your favorite.”
The Duke gently pushed a plate of finely sliced steak toward her, doing his best to ignore the redness around her eyes.
“…Thank you, Father.”
“Here. Drink this too.”
Ashite, with his usual frown, placed a glass of grape juice in front of her.
Aileen said nothing. She simply sipped the juice and continued eating quietly.
To the three watching her, she seemed… better.
Not okay, but stable. That alone brought them a wave of relief.
They all knew how deeply Aileen had longed for this wedding day. None of them had slept well the night before.
They had feared the worst. Imagined the most heartbreaking scenarios.
But now, watching her try to eat, watching her sit with them as she always had—they finally let themselves exhale.
It wasn’t perfect. She still looked tired, pale, and fragile—but at least… she was fighting.
That morning, it felt like peace—thin and delicate—had begun to return.
But peace rarely lasted.
“They’ve returned.”
The news came at dinner.
All four of them were seated at the table, just finishing their meal, when the Duke returned to the room—his face hard as stone.
“They’re back?” the Duchess asked, her tone grim.
The Duke didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes.
“…Unbelievable.”
“They have the nerve to return today of all days?”
Ashite slammed his fork down on the table.
He turned to Aileen, his eyes blazing.
“Hey. You don’t have to shrink away. Whether that bastard and that woman are in the capital or not—you do what you want. Go wherever you want. Got it? And if anything happens, call me.”
Aileen nodded quietly.
He wasn’t wrong. If anyone had been wronged, it was her.
If anyone deserved shame and scorn, it was them—Carlisle and Judith.
But her problem wasn’t logic—it was her heart.
She wasn’t ready to face them yet.
Even just hearing they were back made her heart race painfully.
Why did it have to be today?
Her chest swelled with bitter resentment she didn’t know how to contain.
Her family, however, seemed determined to help her harden her heart.
“Aileen,” her father said gently. “Ashite’s right. If you’re up to it, how about coming out with me tomorrow? We can look at swords, maybe even buy you a new one.”
His broad shoulders, always so strong, looked especially reassuring today.
Aileen blinked away the sting in her eyes and masked her emotions by sipping her juice.
She couldn’t keep worrying them like this.
After all, it had been her decision to marry Carlisle against their wishes.
Now she had to bear the consequences—no matter how painful.
“Sweetheart,” the Duchess added, her voice soft, “go out with Sera, even just for a bit. Buy yourself some jewels or commission a new sword. Whatever makes you feel like you again.”
They all knew the couple had returned—but there was no reason for Aileen to avoid them.
She was a noblewoman. And in this world, their paths would cross again, whether she liked it or not.
Maybe it was better to take the first step now. To face them on her own terms.
“Of course,” the Duchess added, “you don’t have to go today. Take your time. Tomorrow, the next day—whenever you feel ready. What matters most is what you want.”
And so, a few days later, Aileen made her decision.
She would leave the mansion.
Part of that decision was due to what Sera had told her—Carlisle and Judith had returned, but hadn’t stepped outside their estate since.
The idea of them staying under one roof stung, yes. But at least it meant she was unlikely to run into them.
She didn’t want to go out, not really. But she couldn’t hide away forever. She’d been confined too long already.
Maybe it was time.
But fate, as always, was cruel.
“Lady Aileen Revart?”
The voice hit her like a slap.
The wound she had fought so hard to heal—tore open again.
