Elsewhere, at the far end of the hospital corridor, rain still tapped relentlessly against the window, weaving dense threads of sound across the glass. Elias finally arrived, pushing open the door with a rare urgency written on his face. Inside, Marcellus was half-reclined against the bed's headboard, and Livia stood beside him. From their stiff posture and the faint residue of tension in the air, it was clear they'd just ended an emotionally charged conversation. The atmosphere was calm—but stiff.
Elias's brows furrowed slightly as he picked up on the subtle dissonance in the room. His gaze flicked between the two of them, sharp and observant, but he didn't press. Instead, he said softly, "You two seem… different. But this isn't the time to get into that."
Marcellus let out a quiet breath, seemingly relieved, and adjusted the corner of his blanket with a casual smile. "Exactly. Since you're here, we should get to the real topic."
Livia took a small step back, creating more space for Elias. Her face was composed, but her eyes were noticeably dimmer than usual. She was clearly still weighed down by something.
Elias gave them both a brief glance, then went straight to the point. "So—what exactly is Jim after? He got his hands on a Grail shard, but now he's vanished, and the fragment is nowhere to be found."
Livia paused, thinking carefully. Her voice was rational, but there was a hint of fatigue she didn't bother to conceal. "From what we can tell, he likely wasn't after the fragment itself. More likely, he used it as bait—to draw out others who also hold fragments. That way, he can map out who has what and where. Which means we need to be extra cautious now—to avoid exposing ourselves."
She paused again, her tone slowing slightly. "Right now, what we can confirm is that Jim has at least one shard. The others, based on the evidence, are probably in the hands of Eryx and Edgar. There were others pursuing him, but their identities were so well concealed that it's difficult to determine which side they belong to."
Elias nodded slowly, absorbing her words, just about to respond when Marcellus cut in with a wry smile. "Classic Livia—still as sharp as ever."
He deliberately emphasized her name, letting it linger slightly, his gaze flashing with something layered and unreadable—like he was using the compliment to mask a deeper, unspoken tension. Elias glanced at him but said nothing. Still, the air in the room subtly tightened.
Livia didn't respond to the flattery. She merely turned her gaze away, speaking in her usual calm voice, "Either way, the initiative lies with Jim now. He probably understands this entire situation better than any of us. And the fragment… I doubt he'll give it up easily. Threats, ambushes—they're not fatal to him. He always has contingencies."
Elias leaned against the window, staring out at the deepening dusk. "Then if we want to understand what happens next, we need to find Jim. Figure out what he's planning."
Marcellus narrowed his eyes. "And let's not forget Eryx and Edgar. We still don't know where they stand."
"But unlike them," Livia added quietly, her eyes clear and cold, "we don't have time to waste."
"I know Jim," she continued suddenly, her voice lowering but each word as crisp as glass, "He's not the type to give up easily. In fact… this entire auction may have been orchestrated by him from the beginning."
Her declaration landed with weight. Elias instinctively nodded, but then froze mid-motion. His expression shifted slightly as he turned to look at her profile.
"I know Jim."
That line. She shouldn't have said it—not out loud, and certainly not in front of Marcellus.
That was their secret—something they'd never shared with a third party. The truth about Jim, or at least fragments of it, was something even Elias didn't fully understand. But he knew that it belonged to Livia's past. Something she had chosen to keep hidden. How could she speak of it so openly here?
His gaze slipped toward Marcellus—only to find the same startled confusion flickering across his face.
She's lying… right? Marcellus thought. This must be part of that half-truth she's been weaving all along… some extension of the fictional story she created to maintain her cover.
But then again, what if it wasn't?
What if… it's true?
His thoughts churned in a mess of contradiction—past conversations, her partial confessions, the sharp clarity she'd shown after awakening—all of it tangled together into a storm of uncertainty. He turned slightly, and in the motion, his shoulder accidentally knocked the edge of the water glass beside the bed.
It teetered.
And before anyone could react—
Clink—