The night was quiet, with a gentle breeze flowing through the window, casting soft shadows on the room. Livia stood in the study for a moment, trying to calm her thoughts. She knew that the conversation ahead was crucial and might even change her understanding of the past.
She adjusted her collar and moved gracefully down the dimly lit hallway, carefully avoiding the patrolling guards, skillfully making her way toward Emma's bedroom. This time, her mood was different from the last; it was filled with more questions and, perhaps, more expectations.
As she pushed the door open, Livia immediately sensed that Emma had been expecting her.
Unlike the previous time, where there had been caution and probing, Emma was sitting calmly by the bedside this time, hands folded neatly on her lap, her gaze serene and composed, as though waiting for Livia to arrive. When she saw Livia enter, Emma smiled softly and spoke in a relaxed tone, "So, everything seems to be going smoothly?"
Livia studied the woman before her, a surge of complex emotions rising within her. Emma was a general, and she was also the mastermind behind the kidnapping. Yet, she was also the "most trusted person" according to Allen. This contradictory identity made Livia's feelings toward Emma waver constantly.
There were many questions she had been dying to ask—how did she persuade Allen? What exactly was the relationship between Emma and Allen? What kind of person was Allen? What should she do next? But when the words almost escaped her lips, the question she asked turned out to be something she hadn't anticipated herself:
"Emma, what kind of person was my mother in the army?"
Livia's voice was neither too light nor too heavy, as if she were merely making a casual mention, but the curiosity in her eyes was unmistakable. She chose her words carefully, not directly asking, "What kind of person is my mother?" but instead, starting with "What was her role in the army?" to ensure her true identity wouldn't be exposed.
Emma seemed taken aback by the question, her gaze slowly drifting toward the window. The night was deep, the stars scattered across the sky, and her expression under the soft moonlight seemed lost in thought, as if recalling long-forgotten memories.
After a long silence, Emma finally spoke, her tone soft but tinged with nostalgia: "She…"
Emma's eyes deepened, and a complex smile appeared on her lips. Her voice was gentle but firm, as if speaking of a person she held in great regard: "She was both gentle and decisive. With the unique tenderness and attentiveness of a woman, she understood the needs and pains of every soldier, offering them the most reasonable help. But when it came to the battlefield, she was swift and resolute, never hesitating or wasting time. She never got bogged down by trivialities, but when it came to truly important decisions, she never wavered."
Emma paused for a moment, a hint of fondness in her eyes, before sighing softly: "She was a true soldier, worthy of everyone's respect."
Livia listened in silence, a ripple of emotion rising within her. Her mother had never existed in her memories because she was not Livia. From the accounts of others, her mother had always been a vague figure—brave, fearless, but no one had ever described her so vividly before.
Emma turned her head slightly and looked at Livia, a soft smile on her face, and a hint of reverence in her voice: "In short, she was a perfect person."
Livia's heart skipped a beat.
"A perfect person…" she repeated softly, her gaze dropping, her mind drifting into thought.
Emma's voice remained steady as she spoke of the woman who balanced gentleness and strength, who cared for every soldier, made swift decisions, and earned admiration from all.
Livia had originally intended to subtly probe for more information about the woman, but as she listened, a strange feeling began to grow within her. She knew that the legendary figure Emma spoke of was "Livia's mother," not her own mother, yet she couldn't shake the feeling of longing and pride. It was as if the woman Emma described wasn't just Livia's mother, but hers as well.
This misplaced emotion made her feel disoriented and yet warmed her heart. She was alone in this world, with no true blood relatives, no family she could rely on. But in this moment, it was as though she had found a sense of belonging through Emma's words.
Her mother… was someone like that…
As her thoughts swirled, her gaze returned to Emma's face, looking into the eyes filled with memories. Livia's resolve to trust Emma grew stronger in her heart.
After a moment's hesitation, Livia spoke softly, her voice tinged with both sincerity and a trace of testing: "Mother never mentioned much about the relationship between you and her, but I remember Father once said—Mother saved you."
She paused for a moment, gently biting her lip, her gaze fixed on Emma, her voice serious yet tinged with anticipation: "I know this might be intrusive, but could you tell me what exactly happened back then?"
The night breeze gently brushed by, and the starlight outside spilled into the room, casting a soft glow on their faces. Livia quietly waited, eager to hear more of the story, to piece together a fuller picture of the woman who had been such a central figure in her life.
She wasn't just searching for the truth of the past; she was trying to find the answer that belonged to her.