She propped herself up slowly from the ground, her movements deliberate and measured—whether due to lingering injuries or simply to avoid provoking the killing intent thick in the air, it was impossible to tell. The hem of her robe brushed the dust as it swayed lightly, and though a faint smile graced her lips, a glint of cold light flickered through her eyes.
"This gentleman… I don't believe we've met before, have we?" Her voice was soft and light, yet laced with sarcasm and subtle probing. "May I ask who you are? And why you're roaming this area with such a large group—this land under the jurisdiction of General Eryx? Aren't you afraid he might come for you himself?"
She deliberately emphasized the name General Eryx, as if invoking its weight might intimidate him—or perhaps she was watching for some reaction in return.
The man chuckled upon hearing that, the amusement in his voice tinged with mockery. "Trying to stall won't help you. But—" He paused. "I suppose I can humor you. You can call me Jim."
Livia maintained a composed expression, though inwardly, she let out a cold laugh.
Jim? What a half-hearted name. Obviously made up on the spot. He'd always been like this—never revealing his real name to anyone. Now it was clear even Eryx, the name he'd once given her, was just another borrowed identity—taken from the Second Legion Commander.
A trace of complicated emotion flickered in her eyes. If even his name is fake—what, then, about him is real?
"As for Eryx…" 'Jim' continued, with a snort of derision in his voice, "I'm not afraid of him."
He stepped forward, gazing at Livia with a calculating look—like an unexpected but non-threatening anomaly. "But you—what's a noble lady like yourself doing exploring such wastelands? Doesn't quite fit your kind of lifestyle, does it?"
His tone was light and dismissive, as if still seeing her as the naive girl she once was, laced with the condescension of a master playing with a pawn.
But Livia's smile only deepened, as if having her identity pierced made no difference to her—on the contrary, she began to strike first.
"Mr. Jim, let's not lie to each other anymore." Her tone was candid, even intimate, as though closing the distance between them. "I know Eryx is searching for something. Marcellus is too. And you—you're working for him, aren't you?"
It was a test, but she phrased it with such certainty, such conviction, that it sounded like a truth she already held proof for.
As expected, the man paused for a brief moment, then scoffed—something in her words clearly struck a nerve, or at least annoyed him. "Hmph. Him? I wouldn't lift a finger for that man."
Livia's eyes sharpened.
That sentence alone confirmed her suspicion.
But before she could press further, he continued, his voice brimming with open disdain and deliberate provocation: "And you—your dear husband's still lying in bed, can't move anymore, huh? Useless now? So you had to come yourself?"
The words hit her like a spike, driven straight into her heart.
It really is him.
That explosion—so sudden, so precise—had nearly turned Marcellus into a cripple. And now it was clear: it had been this man before her—the one she had once trusted above all, her former master.
Her gaze dimmed for a fleeting moment. A tide of killing intent surged up from within, but she suppressed it in the next breath.
"Yes, he saved me. Yes, he taught me many things. But none of it was ever out of kindness—it was all for his own purposes. He never trusted anyone. Not even me."
"But Marcellus… is different. No matter what—he is my husband."
In that instant, her stance became unmistakably clear.
Yet on her face, a smile bloomed—serene, delighted, even teasing. As though she were the one holding the upper hand. As though she had seen through the game.
"Well then, thank you so much." Her voice was light and cheerful, even laced with genuine gratitude. "If you hadn't blown him up like that, I probably wouldn't have risen to this position so quickly. Isn't it strange? How could a pampered noble lady just waltz in here so easily?"
Her tone was almost joking—she wasn't accusing, merely observing. But that casual reference to "rising to this position" was a sharp reminder: I know far more than you think I do.
Eryx—or rather, Jim—paused ever so slightly. The smile on his face faltered for a heartbeat. His eyes darkened, growing cautious and deep.
He hadn't expected Livia to know the explosion was his doing.
And he certainly hadn't expected her to use that fact, turning it against him—forcing him to question whether there was a mole in his ranks, and whether this seemingly delicate woman was a far more formidable opponent than she appeared.
His gaze locked on hers, no longer filled with idle amusement, but with genuine assessment and caution.
But Livia was unafraid—if anything, she seemed to relish the duel.
Jim finally spoke, his voice low and frosted with menace. "So who are you working for? Your father? Or… Allen?"
He was beginning to strike back, trying to reclaim control through his own probing.
But Livia only raised a brow slightly, the corners of her lips curling into a meaningful smile.
"You tell me."
Her tone was soft, but it was like the thinnest needle—piercing precisely into the thing he cared most about:
Uncertainty.