Time slipped by quietly, unnoticed. As the conversation between the two deepened, they grew more engrossed, the warm golden light in the hospital room spreading between them like a soft, tranquil embrace.
Livia was leaning over the final map, her voice low and focused: "If we reroute through the East Corridor, would that—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
It suddenly dawned on her that Marcellus, propped against the headboard beside her, looked pale and exhausted. A sheen of sweat clung to his forehead. Though he was clearly forcing himself to stay alert for their discussion, his body had long reached its limit.
She frowned slightly, frustrated with herself. Closing the file folder, she murmured, "…Sorry, I got too carried away. I forgot you're still recovering. I should've let you rest earlier."
With that, she stood up and quietly walked over to the simple spare cot on the side of the room, ready to let the night pass in silence and pick up their unfinished plans tomorrow.
But just as she lowered her head to unfasten her outer robe, a hand suddenly reached out from behind her—gently, but firmly—grasping her wrist.
Livia froze. Turning her head, she saw Marcellus half-risen from the bed, his deep eyes catching the light in a way that made her heart skip. There was something unsettlingly serious in his gaze—an emotion she couldn't quite name.
"Don't go," he said, his voice low and hoarse, yet filled with quiet determination. "Tonight… can you stay here with me? On this bed?"
Livia's breath caught.
Marcellus didn't look like his usual composed, aloof self. In his eyes burned a raw, unfamiliar emotion—a feeling that had grown silently over time, suppressed and hidden, now surfacing with both hesitation and longing.
His grip on her hand was strong, but cautious—as if he feared she'd pull away… yet feared her rejection even more.
For a moment, Livia couldn't find her voice. Her heart was racing, overwhelmed by a quiet but unmistakable emotion rising from somewhere deep within her—a warmth, a fluster, a kind of confusion she hadn't felt in a long time.
She knew they'd been intimate before, more than once. Their bodies were no strangers to each other's warmth. But after each time, they drifted apart again, tangled in suspicion and schemes, each holding back. Even when they came together again later, it had felt more like instinct than something that came from the heart.
But tonight… the way Marcellus was quietly insistent beneath his gentleness—once again, it cracked through the walls she had carefully built around herself.
He looked at her and murmured, "The way you were today… made me feel like I was getting to know you all over again."
"I've always known you were intelligent. Beautiful. Incredibly gentle. And after you woke up, I saw how strong and independent you are too, how you walk your own path."
"But today—" He paused, then gave a soft smile, moved in a way he couldn't quite hide. "Today I saw how relentless you can be for a goal, how even late into the night you stayed, preparing, thinking of others. This version of you… you shine."
Livia stared at him, her breathing uneven.
She understood what he meant. She felt the pull in his gaze, the subtle force behind his words. And the truth was—her heart had long since been thrown into chaos.
Tonight, it wasn't just Marcellus who saw a new side of Livia. She saw a different side of him, too. He wasn't the lofty commander anymore, nor the cold tactician chasing the Holy Grail with ruthless ambition. He was just… a man. A man who was wounded but still cared for others. Who talked to her seriously. Who was honest, a little awkward, even a little endearing.
And that version of him… made her want to lean closer. Made her want to see him more clearly.
So, she didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she sat gently back down beside him, face slightly flushed, and whispered, "You're a little different tonight too."
Marcellus smiled faintly. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then shifted slightly to the side, making space for her without another word.
Nothing more needed to be said. And yet, everything was understood.
Moonlight crept softly through the window, casting a silver glow over the two of them—as if wrapping their quiet closeness in a veil of hazy tenderness.