The air inside the hospital room felt thick—like it had been swaddled in layers of heavy cotton, muffling every sound, every breath. No one moved for a long moment. It was as if Marcellus's last words had dropped into the center of their thoughts and were still sinking, pulling each of them down into silent contemplation.
Adrian was the first to speak, his voice breaking the stillness but carrying the weight of worry.
"What about Elise? She's fine… isn't she?" His brows were knitted tight, his tone betraying the nervousness he tried to suppress.
Marcellus slowly lifted his gaze to him. The look in his eyes was steady, almost solemn, and his voice, though calm, brooked no argument.
"Perhaps because her exposure was brief. Or—because she never truly touched the Grail shard. That last time you went searching together, she didn't handle it, did she? She might not have even come close enough to make physical contact. Still… her condition needs to be observed closely. We can't be careless. If there's even the slightest sign of trouble, then distance—complete isolation from this city, if necessary—would be the safest course."
He paused deliberately, letting the words hang in the air before repeating in an even firmer tone:
"I'll say it one more time. Apart from you and Livia, no one is to go near the Grail. No one."
His gaze traveled slowly around the room, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. It was less a glance than a silent decree, like he was carving the rule into stone right there before them.
Adrian felt a heavy knot tighten in his chest. The thought of Elise being in danger—of the Grail's strange power reaching for her—gnawed at him. And the idea that keeping her safe might mean tearing her away from him… that was a fear he didn't even want to voice.
Without another word, Marcellus reached for the bedside table, sliding open the drawer with a quiet rasp. From inside, he pulled a stack of photographs, spreading them out across the stark white bed sheets like pieces of a puzzle.
One photograph in particular drew the eye. It showed the shard of the Holy Grail that had appeared at the auction—its surface duller now, yet still carrying a whisper of ancient, almost otherworldly mystery.
"I've studied the images from the auction," Marcellus said, his voice even, "and I've heard Elias's account in detail." He extended a finger, tapping lightly on the photo. "This shard matches almost perfectly with the one I once possessed. Fit them together, and they would lock seamlessly into the Grail fragment we currently hold."
His movements were measured and precise. He took another photo—an older image of the Grail remnants in their possession—and slid it beneath the first. Aligning the edges with practiced care, his fingertip traced the contours where the pieces would meet. Slowly, the others began to see it too: the Grail's base and lower body forming clearly, only a wide, jagged gap remaining at the top.
"Judging by the current pieces' size," he continued, "the complete Grail is still missing about five or six shards." His voice was razor-sharp in its control, each syllable delivered without hesitation or emotion. "The one I lost… its whereabouts remain unknown. But if Edgar, Jim, and Eryx each possess a piece, then at most there are three or four others still unaccounted for—along with a gemstone core that would complete the structure."
The matter-of-fact precision of his analysis pressed down on the room like an invisible weight. No one rushed to speak. Even Elias, who had rarely let an opportunity to argue pass, found himself silent. It was impossible to deny it—this version of Marcellus, cold and exacting, was formidable.
Livia's gaze lingered on him longer than the rest. Inside her, feelings tangled—admiration, distance, unease. This level of composure was something she had always recognized in him, yet it also created a space between them, as if he were moving further away with every word. And still… there was a pull in the way he commanded the situation, a quiet force that refused to be ignored.
At last, Elias spoke, his voice cutting through the quiet.
"So… what's our next move?"
Marcellus didn't pause, didn't blink. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, fixed on the group like a hawk that had already chosen its prey.
"Go find Edgar."
The four words landed with the weight of a thrown stone, shattering the still surface of the moment. Ripples of tension spread through the room instantly.
Several people blinked in disbelief.
Elias's frown deepened. Adrian's expression tightened into open suspicion. Even Livia—calm and composed as she usually was—felt her heart jolt at the suggestion. Go find Edgar? It was walking straight into danger's open jaws.
But Marcellus's face remained utterly steady, his eyes holding the certainty of someone who had already calculated every risk and every possible outcome. It was clear that, in his mind, the decision had already been made—now it was only a matter of whether the rest of them would follow.