"As for who to send…" Marcellus spoke in a low, weary voice, tinged with deliberation. "Looks like… we'll have to let Elias lead the team."
He turned his head slightly, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the gaze of someone threading through a tangled chessboard, searching for a weakness. "We can't send many people, but they must be elite—trusted, composed, fast… and calm under pressure."
Livia nodded in silence.
In that moment, a name suddenly flashed through her mind.
Emma.
A former legion commander, seasoned in combat. Once a streetwise wanderer, later trained by her own master—disguise and stealth came naturally to her. Most importantly, she was trustworthy.
There was no one more suitable for this mission.
And yet, Livia only lowered her eyes slightly, never speaking that name aloud.
She glanced at the man on the hospital bed, watching him lean back against the headboard, his face fatigued but eyes still sharp with instinctual vigilance—reflexes honed through years of war. Even now, though they shared more trust and more moments of fighting side by side, she remained keenly aware: there was no such thing as absolute safety in this world.
Especially not for those she wished to protect. Even the slightest risk—she would not expose them.
She wouldn't betray Emma's trust.
So she said nothing, simply listened carefully, as she always did.
They continued to discuss for a while longer—refining the operation's details, debating surveillance tactics, and outlining contingency plans. They even briefly ran through a few scenarios that might go awry. Only their alternating voices echoed through the room as night deepened and the wind outside softened.
At some point, the taut tension began to ease.
Livia stretched her arms and leaned back in her chair, blinking slowly. "…It's already this late."
She intended to get up and leave, but her body, weary from days of exhaustion, seemed unwilling to move. Perhaps it was fatigue. Or perhaps, it was the peace of this moment.
Marcellus turned his head, looking at her gently—not with flirtation or teasing, but with unguarded tenderness.
He shifted slightly, motioning to the empty space beside him. "Don't go back. Stay here tonight."
There was no forcefulness in his voice, only a quiet certainty, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Livia blinked, then smiled softly—and didn't refuse.
She took off her coat, lifted the edge of the blanket, and sat down beside him. Then slowly, she lay down. The hospital bed wasn't wide, but the space between them didn't feel cramped. Instead, a strange, intimate warmth lingered in the air.
She turned her face toward the ceiling, gazing at the soft yellow light above, feeling the faint warmth of his presence beside her. And unexpectedly, a strange sense of belonging stirred quietly in her chest.
This wasn't home—yet it felt like home.
Not because of the room. But because of the man beside her.
Marcellus turned to look at her, as if wanting to speak—but in the end, he simply reached out and gently held her fingers, nothing more.
Livia didn't look back, but she quietly interlaced her fingers with his, her grip light and warm.
The wind still stirred outside, brushing lightly against the curtains.
The night was quiet. Neither of them spoke—as though they had long grown used to speaking with nothing but the rhythm of each other's breaths.
And in that small hospital room, a soft corner of the chaotic world quietly unfolded.
—
Night had deepened, yet in a room on the eastern edge of the city, the light was still on.
Heavy curtains blocked out the darkness outside. Only a single amber wall lamp remained, casting its glow over Eryx's still profile. He lounged on the sofa, holding a half-finished glass of wine, his fingers slowly tracing the rim while his eyes lingered on an unfolded city expansion blueprint on the table.
He had been sitting there for quite some time.
The scene of Livia's "announcement" at tonight's meeting kept replaying in his mind—without warning, she'd declared a restructuring of legion deployment, assigning the eastern and northern regions to the Second Legion under his command, while the southern and western areas would be temporarily managed by General Allen.
He hadn't shown a trace of reaction at the time, but inwardly, he'd been more surprised than he cared to admit.
This "noble lady" had wasted no time in striking first—her move was nothing short of a deliberate power partitioning, a clear challenge.
"Heh…" He let out a quiet chuckle and set down his glass, eyes turning cold. "You really dared to go for the head with your first strike."
He had seen clever people before—seen ambitious ones too. But someone like Livia, who had barely stepped into the political sphere and already dared to launch a direct offensive in her first official meeting… That was a first.
Still… she was a bit too green.
Eryx stood and walked over to the map, his gaze falling on the two areas allocated to him—North and East.
Livia had offered no justification, hadn't consulted the others, not even feigned a courtesy. This kind of raw, unilateral designation was nearly equivalent to declaring her intentions openly in the world of politics.
Which could only mean—those remaining two regions were where she, or rather, she and Marcellus, believed the Holy Grail was most likely to be hidden.
He had to admit—his opponents were bolder than expected.
But that didn't mean Livia had already won.
Eryx narrowed his eyes, fingers lightly brushing over the marked zones. He'd already made up his mind—to flood these two regions with informants and hidden agents. Not just to track movements, but to reverse-engineer Livia's plans. As long as she moved—as long as she searched—he could use her trail to deduce the Grail's real location.
The more urgent you are, the slower I'll go.
The more you hide, the closer I'll get.
He wouldn't make reckless moves in this round.
But neither would he retreat.
He glanced back at the wine he hadn't finished, then shook his head faintly.