The night was deep and quiet. Livia stood in front of the mirror, gazing at her own reflection—her eyes, though slightly weary, still held a sharp glint.
She scooped up a handful of icy water from the basin beside her, splashing it onto her face with force, the chill jolting her fully awake.
She couldn't rely on willpower alone to persuade Edgar—she needed more leverage.
Her mind swiftly ran through all possibilities before settling on one person.
Emma.
She had to find Emma.
The castle was silent, draped in the weight of the late hour. Livia moved soundlessly through the corridors, her steps light as she made her way toward Emma's quarters.
She didn't knock. Instead, she pushed the door open and slipped inside.
But the moment she stepped in, a flash of cold steel came hurtling toward her!
Livia instinctively tilted her head, the blade of a dagger grazing past her cheek, stirring a faint gust of air.
She retreated swiftly, her steps steady and silent. On the other side of the room, Emma had already leaped up from her bed, gripping a second dagger in her hand, her body tense, eyes locked onto Livia with a chilling intensity.
"Who?" Emma's voice was low, laced with alertness and a lethal edge.
Moonlight spilled through the lattice window, casting a pale glow over Livia. Emma's gaze flickered as she recognized her visitor, her brows furrowing.
"Livia? What are you doing here?"
Livia exhaled softly and reached out to switch on the table lamp, its dim glow illuminating her cool, composed features.
"If I were truly an assassin, you'd be dead by now," she quipped lightly.
Emma sheathed her dagger slowly, leaning against the desk, her expression unreadable. "If you were an assassin, you'd be dead by now," she shot back, returning the words without missing a beat. Then, her tone turned sharper. "I'm here to protect you, but breaking into my room in the middle of the night—I hope you have a very good reason. Otherwise, I won't let this slide."
Livia didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I need your help."
Emma raised a brow. "Oh?"
Livia met her gaze, her expression solemn. "You must have heard—Marcellus was injured in the explosion and can no longer oversee the expansion project. As his wife, I want to take over as the lead."
Emma's eyes darkened slightly, her gaze narrowing. "Interesting… And why are you here?"
"I'm afraid Edgar won't easily agree," Livia admitted after a pause.
Emma's expression sharpened. "He's your father. Why wouldn't he agree?"
Livia hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, "Because I've been married into the Marcellus family and have been away from work for a long time. I fear he might have other plans."
She didn't reveal more, offering only a plausible excuse.
"I also want to help Marcellus and Edgar," she added, deliberately omitting any mention of Eryx or the Holy Grail. She simply conveyed her desire to take responsibility.
Emma fell silent.
She tapped her fingertips against the desk, studying Livia with a thoughtful expression, as if weighing something.
She didn't entirely believe Livia's words—her instincts told her there were things being left unsaid. At the same time, she had a nagging suspicion that the explosion wasn't a simple accident. From the information she'd gathered, Eryx was now the second-in-command of the expansion project. If Marcellus couldn't lead, Eryx would become the first.
If that happened, the consequences would be unpredictable.
Emma could no longer read Eryx's intentions.
But if Livia took charge…
As Edgar's daughter, Livia would receive more formal protection—she would be more transparent than Eryx. And for Emma, that meant easier access to information and a greater ability to control the situation.
Her mind worked quickly, weighing the pros and cons.
Finally, she spoke, her tone carrying a trace of hidden intent. "Leave it to me."
Livia blinked. "What do you mean?"
Emma smiled slightly, her gaze sharp. "I'll call in some reinforcements. By tomorrow, you'll get exactly what you want."
Livia's heart clenched at the decisiveness in her voice—it was more direct than she had expected.
"You… are really willing to help me?" she asked cautiously.
Emma let out a soft chuckle and leaned back in her chair, her tone tinged with amusement. "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not helping you. I'm helping myself."
She paused, her lips curving slightly. "Just show up tomorrow. Leave the rest to me."
Livia held her gaze, an uneasy feeling settling in her chest.
Emma's words were casual, but Livia knew—this was no simple favor. A deal had been made. And Emma's plans ran deeper than she had imagined.
More than ever, she felt that Emma's presence here was not merely to protect her. Or perhaps, not just that.