Marcellus slowly straightened his body. His expression, usually tight and severe, had softened with a rare trace of honest fatigue. Looking at Livia, who stood by the bedside, his eyes held a hint of genuine apology.
"I'm sorry, Livia. I shouldn't have kept everything hidden from you," he said in a low but serious voice. "I promise you—once we find the 'Holy Grail,' I'll tell you everything. No more secrets. And then… I'll give you back the freedom to choose."
As she listened, something inside Livia stirred, like a taut string gently plucked.
She couldn't tell whether this was a true apology or a calculated attempt to smooth things over. But seeing Marcellus lower his head first, dropping his usual cold and stubborn facade, something in her own resistance quietly cracked open.
"Forget it…" she sighed, her tone still weary. "Let's just focus on which tasks I need to take over. I might be your temporary replacement in name, but I can't come running to you for every little thing. Looking at you now, you won't be able to hold up for long anyway."
Marcellus gave a faint, bitter smile at that, but there was also a trace of relief in his face. Leaning back lightly into the pillow, his tone was surprisingly candid.
"Actually… it's not as bad as you think." He paused, a flicker of confusion and self-mockery in his eyes. "Strangely enough, ever since I got to the hospital, even though the pain's been awful, my mind has felt… lighter and lighter."
He looked up at the ceiling, as if talking to himself, yet also confiding in her.
"Maybe it's just… not having to be in charge of everything for once. Not carrying the weight every single second. It's like… I've finally been allowed to breathe."
Livia was quietly shaken.
Yes, in the past, the high-and-mighty, always composed and cold Marcellus would never say anything like this. He wouldn't even admit to being tired—let alone speak of "relaxing" or "pain."
And now, though weakened by illness, he was showing his vulnerability and emotions with an openness she'd never seen. No masks. No strategies. None of that suffocating distance.
She had wanted to say something sarcastic, to mock him for this "pathetic side"—but when the words reached her lips, she swallowed them back.
Instead, she let out a quiet sigh.
"…Don't think that just because you're 'relaxing' now, you get to do nothing," she said, her tone light but teasing. "I've got a mountain of tasks waiting—and I'm still counting on you to pull your weight."
Marcellus chuckled at that. It was a genuine laugh, no longer cold and sharp, but warm and familiar.
"Of course. I'll do everything I can."
His tone felt like a promise—perhaps even the beginning of something new.
Livia looked at him, and a strange emotion welled up in her chest.
Maybe… he really had changed. Maybe it wasn't sudden at all, but the sickness and the crisis had finally forced out a part of his humanity that had been buried deep inside.
And for now, she was willing to believe him.
"Alright," she finally nodded, pulling over a chair and opening the folder in her arms. "Let's start the handover. Time doesn't wait for anyone."
Sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, casting a quiet glow between them—like a moment of calm after a storm. Like the beginning of a new understanding, quietly taking root in the hospital room.
"Before we officially begin the handover," Livia looked up, her gaze steady and clear as she addressed both Marcellus on the bed and Elias standing nearby, "I want to share my thoughts on the current situation."
Her voice was calm, yet there was an undercurrent of tension beneath it.
Elias blinked, then nodded, stepping closer with a serious look. Marcellus frowned slightly, as if sensing a heavy truth beneath her words, but he remained silent, simply listening.
Livia took a deep breath. She deliberately avoided any mention of Emma that might expose her, and instead rephrased the analysis entirely in her own voice. Every conclusion sounded like it came from her alone—but behind them were Emma's insights and guidance. She knew now wasn't the time to reveal Emma's existence—not until she was absolutely sure she could trust Marcellus.
As she spoke, she kept glancing up, watching Marcellus's reactions.
He listened closely, his expression serious. He didn't interrupt, but a trace of contemplation flashed through his eyes.
"And our enemy—the one behind all this," Livia hesitated over the name Eryx.
She had never told Marcellus that the person who abducted her belonged to Eryx's forces. She couldn't predict how he would react. Did he have a deeper connection to Eryx? Were there secrets between them that she still didn't know? And how would she explain how she even knew it was Eryx's people?
She turned her head slightly, glancing at Marcellus. He was quietly watching her—not pressing, not suspicious—but his steady gaze made her breath hitch for just a second.
In the end, she sighed softly and said only,
"I'm still confirming the target's identity."
"Who is it?" Marcellus asked calmly, his tone unreadable.
Livia lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze, and changed the subject.
"I'll tell you once I have more clues. I don't want to make assumptions too soon."
Elias frowned slightly, as if wanting to speak—but he glanced at Marcellus and held back.
Livia sighed inwardly. She knew that by dodging the question, she had already stirred Marcellus's suspicions. But without solid proof, she couldn't take the risk.
Emma was right. In this situation, no one could be fully trusted—not even him.
Still, she knew that if she wanted to face this storm head-on, she would have to tell Marcellus everything—eventually.
But not yet. Not now.
"That's everything I've gathered so far." Livia turned back to the two of them, her tone calm again. "What do you think?"