Elias lowered his head, his tone tinged with hesitation and helplessness. "I don't know. We've been ignoring—or rather, deliberately avoiding—your father all this time. But now that I think about it, there's no way he's completely unaware of what's happening. In fact, I'm certain he has his own plans. It's just that… ever since your mother died, his relationship with you has been distant and unclear, which makes it hard for me to judge where he truly stands."
As he spoke, his voice gradually trailed off, as if weighed down by some distant memory he couldn't quite grasp.
Livia listened quietly, but in her mind, a wave of vivid, almost tangible memories surged forth—
the ones she had seen in those brief flashes when she touched the fragments of the Holy Grail.
A young Edgar gazing tenderly at Celesta, his eyes filled with unhidden affection. They had truly loved each other. In that era, even as the world fell into chaos and their family became entangled in power struggles, the bond between them had been sincere and untainted.
When Celesta was alive, she doted on Livia with all her heart—those were some of the few warm memories from Livia's childhood.
But everything changed after her mother's death.
Her father's cold gaze, the silent scrutiny, and the unspoken distance… Livia had once believed his coldness was just a byproduct of political survival. But looking back now, she finally understood—
perhaps he had long since blamed her, in his heart, for awakening the Holy Grail.
And perhaps it was that event that indirectly led to Celesta's death.
"If he really has his own plan…" she thought to herself, "could it be that he wants to use the Holy Grail… to bring Mother back?"
Once that thought surfaced, it rooted itself and began to grow wildly in her mind.
She knew better than anyone how extraordinary the Holy Grail's power was—after all, it was the Grail that had brought her back to life, even rewriting the flow of time in some way.
But she had only just died when it happened, her soul still intact.
Celesta, on the other hand… had been gone for years.
Could someone like that truly be brought back?
"If Father is really planning something like this… then what would he be willing to sacrifice for it? What would he give up?"
Her thoughts spiraled, one layer wrapping around the next, leading her deeper into a maze woven of love and hate, hope and obsession.
Elias noticed her long silence, and with a slight furrow of his brow, asked:
"Did something come to mind?
Do you think… it's possible we could ally with your father?"
Livia slowly pulled herself back from her thoughts. Her tone was heavy with uncertainty.
"I'm not sure… We might need to ask Marcellus."
She paused, then turned to Elias.
"I've always felt there was some kind of tacit understanding—maybe even cooperation—between him and my father. He's never spoken openly about Father's plans, but every time he mentions him, he deflects or avoids the topic entirely. But in the hospital… he was different. Maybe the injury made him more willing to drop the mask, or maybe… it was during that time that he started seriously questioning where he stood."
Elias nodded slowly, thoughtful.
"You're right. We need allies now… or rather, we need the whole game to get more complicated—messy enough to give us space to maneuver.
Otherwise, we'll never have a real say in how this ends."
He turned his head, one brow lifting, and with a trace of his usual teasing tone, chuckled:
"Speaking of which… Marcellus has mellowed out quite a bit in that hospital bed. Guess getting hurt took the edge off his 'manly pride' for a while."
Livia blinked, then couldn't help but laugh.
It wasn't a mocking or careless laugh, but something gentler—like a fragile light flickering through the weight of all that sorrow.
"Maybe," she said softly, the smile faint but genuine, carrying a long-lost ease.
In this age of schemes and power plays, to have someone like Elias at her side—
and Marcellus, whether as an ally or a lover, even if just for now—
that fleeting moment of lightness was enough to help her keep going.
But what she knew deep down was this—
her father, the Holy Grail, Eryx, Jim…
all these tangled, unfinished threads were beginning to converge into a true storm.
And she—
was no longer just Livia. She was Alia.
She could no longer be a bystander.
She would take control of her own fate.