Jim was silent for a moment, the corner of his lips curving into a faint, unreadable smile. He lifted his head and fixed his gaze on Alia, as though weighing something carefully in his mind.“Of course—” he began slowly, his tone low, carrying an undertone of something neither warmth nor threat, “I wasn’t supposed to tell you this.”He turned away from her and walked toward a rusted metal shelf at the side of the room. The dim, yellow light of the hanging lamp stretched his shadow long across the wall, distorting it into a strange, twisted shape.“But you’re my teammate,” Jim continued, his voice softening slightly—whether with trust or deliberate calculation, Alia couldn’t tell. “So I’ll tell you.”Then he turned back around, and his eyes, sharp as a blade, locked directly onto hers.“When your blood comes into contact with the Holy Grail,” he said quietly, “you form a bond with it.”His words lingered in the air, smooth yet carrying a strange pull, as if each syllable resonated in t
Silence lingered for a while. The only sound in the warehouse was the faint, mournful whistle of wind squeezing through cracks in the shattered glass. Alia lifted her gaze toward Jim, a faint glimmer flickering in her eyes. Her voice was calm, yet it carried a weight of meaning beneath the surface.“It’s still too early,” she said slowly, her tone low and cool, carrying a trace of distant indifference. “Far too early for us to start dividing the spoils of victory.”Jim arched a brow. His eyes swept over her face as if trying to pierce through whatever thoughts she concealed. The air hung still between them—then, just as the tension peaked, Alia shifted her tone, speaking lightly:“The message I bring you is simple—Marcellus once possessed two cup handles.”Her words fell like a stone into deep water, sending ripples through the stillness. For a heartbeat, the air itself seemed to freeze; even the flickering light above swayed uncertainly.“What?” Jim’s voice dropped, the edges rough w
After much debate, the group finally reached a consensus: they would let Alia be the one to act.Adrian’s expression was conflicted, his brows drawn together in protest. He seemed as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end, only a sigh escaped him. Turning away, he quietly left the ward. He knew his sister’s decision was already made, and with Elias and Marcellus showing no intention of stopping her, any words from him would be useless.The room grew still, leaving only the faint rhythm of breathing between the three who remained. Elias’s eyes settled on Alia, his tone carrying a trace of hesitation so subtle it was almost hidden. “Be careful… don’t push yourself too hard.” His gaze lingered, heavy with unsaid words that he ultimately swallowed back.Marcellus sat at the edge of the bed, fingers drumming softly on the railing. At last, he spoke, voice low, colored with something far more fragile than his usual composure. “We’ll support you from behind the scenes. But you mu
The two of them continued their discussion for a while, but gradually, the conversation drifted into silence. The room seemed to shrink around them, leaving only the soft rustle of papers brushing against the table and the faint sigh of air moving through the chamber. Their thoughts felt heavy, cocooned in the night, pressing down quietly in the depths of their hearts.Elias turned his gaze toward Alia, eyes probing yet gentle, laced with both concern and curiosity. “So… what exactly are you planning to do? If everything goes according to plan?”Alia lowered her head slightly, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the blank space of the table, as if drumming out the knots in her thoughts. Slowly, she lifted her eyes, her voice soft and almost fragile, like wind whispering through the leaves. “If everything goes smoothly… me? I don’t know yet. We’ll have to see when it comes to that.”Elias remained silent for a moment, then nodded slowly, his voice warm, calm, and steady. “No matter wha
“There’s a rough outline,” Elias murmured, his voice low and heavy in the night. His eyes never left Alia’s face, the firelight reflecting in his pupils like the embers of an unspoken thought. “But what I really want to know,” he continued, each word slow, deliberate, “is what his true wish actually is. He’s already the king of the underworld, standing at the very peak of that domain—so what more could he possibly desire? We know he seeks the Grail, yes. But if we can uncover the wish he intends to make with it, then we can tailor our trap precisely for him.”As he spoke, his fingers moved unconsciously in the air, sketching circles, as though trying to corral invisible threads of possibility into some coherent pattern.Alia lifted her gaze to him, the lamplight catching in her eyes, painting them with a complex sheen of doubt and memory. “I know Jim has always had his own plan,” she said slowly, the words dragged from the depths of half-forgotten recollections. Her tone carried a coo
“Although my feelings toward him are… complicated,” Alia’s voice dropped lower, almost fading into the dimness around them, “the truth is he once saved me. He gave me the skills, the means to survive. Yet at the same time, to him I was nothing more than a piece on a chessboard—something to be discarded at any moment, even killed if it suited his plans.”Her fingertips moved slowly across the hilt of her dagger, caressing it as though it were the only anchor keeping her steady. Her gaze drifted into the void, her eyes glazed with the weight of memories she could never escape. “I cannot deny it—he was not a perfect man. But…” she paused, voice sharpening into reluctant clarity, “…he was a perfect operative of the underworld. A perfect thief.”The words hung in the air like iron chains, heavy and undeniable.“Perfect?” Elias arched a brow, his tone quiet yet laced with skepticism—and a flicker of bitterness. His stare locked on her, unrelenting, as though he could unearth some hidden tru