"Collapsed? Did you see her collapse with your own eyes?"
Marcellus suddenly cut him off, his gaze sharp as a blade, his voice low yet edged with interrogation.
Elias's shoulders jolted ever so slightly at the question. He lowered his eyes, his hands curling tightly around the armrests of the chair as though forcing himself to remain composed. "No…" he admitted with difficulty, shaking his head. "I wasn't there when it happened. Someone later came to inform me that she had suddenly fainted. My chest tightened the moment I heard it, and I sent someone to find you right away. Whatever the current state of your relationship may be, you two are still bound by law as husband and wife. I felt you deserved to be the first to know what had happened to her."
Marcellus's brows knit into a deeper frown, his tone hard and cold as iron. "So you don't know why she collapsed either?"
"Of course not." Elias's reply was soft, heavy with helplessness and remorse. His hand rose almost instinctively to rub at his temple, as if trying to untangle the threads of memory. "I've turned the possibilities over in my mind countless times. At one point, I even suspected you—that maybe you had done something to her. But now, looking back… the greater likelihood is that it was the Holy Grail's influence. Perhaps her body and soul simply could not withstand that kind of overwhelming force, and the strain finally brought her down."
The air grew thick, weighted by silence. The firelight flickered between them, casting shadows that shifted across Elias's face, deepening the weariness and regret etched into his features.
"You said you never witnessed her training, didn't you?" Marcellus's tone suddenly turned pensive, his gaze sharp with thought.
"Yes." Elias gave a slight nod, his voice low. "In the very beginning, I did assign a few people to help train her. But she couldn't endure more than a few sessions. Perhaps she found it too grueling, too relentless, and soon she stopped coming altogether. Later, even when she returned to see me, she never once brought up training again."
Marcellus's eyes narrowed slowly, as though a thread of connection had just formed in his mind. "And yet, after she awoke… her skills, her reflexes—you never questioned them?"
Elias's lips parted, hesitation flickering across his expression. At last, he spoke in a quiet voice: "I did question it. But at the time, I assumed she had simply been training in secret, behind my back. After all, I wasn't watching her every moment. I only had people follow her from afar to ensure her safety. Once she entered a secure place, my men never went inside—they stayed outside, standing guard. It would have been easy for her to conceal things from me."
His words faltered then, the flow breaking under the weight of his own pain. His gaze wavered, and a flash of raw regret passed across his face.
"Perhaps… back then, I was still intoxicated by her return, by the fragile joy of her memory loss and her sudden dependence on me. That false hope made me believe I might actually have a chance to possess her. And so I overlooked the inconsistencies, ignored the warning signs. Now, in hindsight, I see it clearly—I let myself be blinded by feelings, not once, but twice." Elias's voice turned hoarse, every syllable dripping with guilt and shame.
Marcellus studied him in silence. His eyes were cold, yet layered with something more intricate—something Elias could not decipher. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his tone quiet but mercilessly firm.
"Perhaps it wasn't only emotion clouding your judgment. Perhaps the Grail itself was clouding your mind as well." His voice carried no pity, only an unyielding finality. "But it doesn't matter anymore… Whatever the cause, we have already reached this point."
A chill spread in his words, carrying the sense of something irreversible. His eyes hardened with a decision no one could turn back.
"Now, Livia's soul…" Marcellus said at last, his voice cold as the ashes of a dead flame, "may already have fallen into a deep sleep."