Night had fallen deep and heavy. The stars outside were obscured by thick clouds, and a soft wind passed through the tall firs surrounding the conference hall, making the branches tremble with a faint rustle. Deep within the hall, the amber glow of a dignified chandelier spilled softly across the round table, illuminating the solemn faces gathered before it.
This was the nighttime session of the regular expansion project briefing. The venue was set in a side hall on the rear mountain—remote, heavily guarded, and ideal for dealing with matters not meant for public eyes. Representatives from various departments arrived one after another, quietly exchanging words, nodding greetings, or sitting in complete silence.
Livia had been present for some time. She sat at the head of the table, beneath a banner of white and platinum—simple in design, but symbolizing the highest authority presiding over the project.
She waited quietly, her long fingers resting on her knees, eyes sweeping over the faces gradually taking their seats. Just as Adrian had said earlier, not everyone was in attendance. And for most here tonight, this routine session did not seem to merit any special decorum for the appearance of a "new lead." Some were mildly curious; others simply donned the expression of someone watching a show unfold.
She was just about to stand and introduce herself, officially starting the meeting—when suddenly, the heavy metal doors gave a low, muted sound.
The doors slowly swung open.
A tall, imposing figure stepped inside. His tailored dark military uniform traced crisp, austere lines beneath the light, exuding an unmistakable pressure. It was the aura of a soldier—but not only a soldier. Each step he took was steady, restrained, carrying with it an almost subconscious assertion of control.
It was—Eryx.
The air snapped taut, like an invisible string pulled tight.
The room paused for a half-beat in silence.
Some sat up straighter without realizing it, others leaned toward their neighbors to whisper, and some furrowed their brows—surprise, unease, speculation… emotions quietly churned beneath the surface.
Especially Adrian, seated to one side—he instinctively gripped the pen in his hand. Though he didn't know Eryx was behind Livia's kidnapping or the explosion that injured Marcellus, he understood one thing clearly: in the wake of Marcellus's incapacitation, leadership of the expansion project had been expected to fall to Eryx. But now, it was his sister who had taken the lead. That alone was enough to stir both curiosity and tension within him.
He quickly stood and took two steps forward to greet him. "General Eryx. It's an honor to have you here. The meeting is about to begin—please, take a seat."
Eryx nodded slightly, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips, walking unhurriedly toward the seat beside the head of the table. His gaze, however, never once left Livia at the top.
—Like an invisible probe, trying to pierce her expression for the faintest trace of uncertainty.
But Livia sat calmly, her posture as unshakable as a mountain, eyes serene. There was no surprise, no hesitation. As Eryx reached his seat, she simply gave a poised nod of greeting—an effortlessly composed gesture, as if this were nothing more than another casual encounter at a gala.
Her heart remained utterly still.
Because she had expected Eryx to come—just as she believed Eryx had expected her. No advance word had passed between them, yet their appearance tonight seemed as though it had already been marked out on each other's chessboard, a move quietly made in mutual understanding.
Eryx was slightly taken aback. He hadn't expected this noblewoman—the same one who used to smile so softly beneath the lights of ballroom chandeliers—to now exude such a transformed presence. That calm steadiness unsettled him more than he cared to admit. She didn't resemble a puppet propped up by connections, but rather a stone—still rough at the edges, yet already facing the storm head-on.
Even so, he didn't take her seriously. Not yet.
To him, tonight was merely an observation. He came to see how she intended to wield this newfound authority—so he could plan his next move accordingly. There was no rush. He preferred to let others take the first step.
And then—at the right moment—close the net.
At that moment, they had merely taken their seats. But an unspoken standoff had already quietly begun.