For a moment, the air seemed to still.
Elias froze, startled, while Livia's eyes widened slightly—she hadn't expected such a simple, almost tender reason from him.
Marcellus lowered his head a little, spreading out a planning blueprint and pointing to a corner of the map where a future residential area would be built. "There's no real war at the moment, but unrest is everywhere. There are more and more vagrants and homeless people. They're being pushed to the very edges of the city walls, sleeping in tents and abandoned warehouses… with nowhere to hide when it rains."
His voice was soft but carried a weight that pressed deep into the heart, each word deliberate and steady.
"There just aren't enough places for people to live. I used to think it was just a problem of resource allocation, but later I realized—it's actually a matter of choice. Whether or not we're willing to take one more step, spend a bit more, to give them a place where they can find shelter from the wind and rain."
His tone lightened as he spoke, "Even just a few clean walls, a roof that doesn't leak… to them, that might be enough to believe in this country again."
Livia listened silently. A warmth bloomed in her chest, and her gaze landed softly on the side of Marcellus's face. He wasn't boasting. He wasn't speaking like someone laying out a grand vision. He was simply talking about something he had quietly decided long ago—something he was already determined to do.
In that moment, she understood: his dedication to the expansion plan wasn't just about preparing for war. He truly wanted to fight for a little more space for people to survive.
Elias seemed to sense something as well. He leaned back in his chair, paused, then remarked with quiet disbelief, "…That doesn't sound like something you'd say."
Marcellus turned to glance at him, the corner of his lips curving slightly. "I didn't think I'd be saying things like this either. But people change, don't they?"
It sounded like a response to Elias—but also like he was speaking to himself.
Livia looked down and smiled faintly without saying anything. But in her heart, she quietly tucked this moment away.
Marcellus's gaze drifted to the soft, golden light outside the window. His voice was steady, touched with a gentleness that couldn't be ignored. "After all, we're not only doing all this for that treasure."
He turned back around, letting his eyes sweep over Livia and Elias, his expression growing serious and calm. "We also hope that, through all this, we can truly help the town grow. I've always believed that no matter what, this is something good."
He said this slowly—not like he was laying out a strategy, but more like he was letting a long-held wish rise from deep within him. "I hope the number of beggars, thieves, and vagrants in this city will shrink. I hope they won't just be shadows in the corners anymore. I hope they can raise their heads under the open sky, even if it's only by relying on their own hands… to eat a hot meal, to sleep under a roof that won't soak them awake in the rain."
He paused for a breath, and though his voice dipped so slightly it was barely audible, the sincerity in it grew stronger. "With the new residential areas we build, there'll be new job opportunities. Even if they can't escape poverty right away, at the very least… they'll have a place to protect themselves."
Livia said nothing at first. She just looked at him, slightly dazed.
That one sentence struck something inside her heart, sending quiet ripples through a place she'd tried to keep untouched. She knew—Marcellus wasn't putting on a show. These weren't polished words for effect. He truly, deeply cared about those people living on the edges of society. The nameless, the faceless, the ones with no homes, no family, no destination.
What he didn't know—what he couldn't know—was that the "Livia" standing before him… had once been "Alia."
She used to be one of them. No home, no surname. Surviving in the slums and dark alleys with nothing but quick fingers and quicker reflexes. She remembered being driven out of a warehouse on a winter night, nearly freezing to death. She remembered being chased into an alley for stealing a piece of bread. That life—she knew it far too well.
And now, Marcellus was saying he wanted to give those people a place of shelter, even if it was just the simplest kind.
He didn't know her past. But maybe that's what made his kindness feel so pure.
Livia lowered her head slightly, hiding the shift in her expression. Her heart felt as though a warm hand had gently cupped it. A little sore, a little soft… and strangely, deeply moved.
This man under the golden sunlight—sometimes cold like a blade, and sometimes unexpectedly gentle in a way that caught people off guard. Back in the hospital, when he'd been injured but still cared more about others than himself, she had already felt a stir in her heart. But now, listening to him speak about ending homelessness… this version of him, so earnest and resolute, made her heart race even more.
He was so cool it made her pulse skip—and, somehow, endearing in a way that made her want to lean closer.
She bit her lip lightly, letting out a silent, helpless laugh in her heart. What a mess. Why is it that every time he gets serious, he's even more irresistible than usual?
She looked up again, wearing a calm expression, and simply nodded. "…You're right. What we're doing is far more important than any treasure."
And in her heart, she quietly added:
You're far more gentle than I imagined, Marcellus.