Night had fallen. Jim's room was steeped in darkness; no lamps were lit. Only a faint sliver of moonlight slipped through the thick curtains, falling quietly across the heavy paper-covered wooden desk.
He sat before it, hands clasped, fingertips tapping lightly on the surface. In his palm lay a small fragment of the Holy Grail, faintly glowing with an otherworldly light. His gaze occasionally rested on the fragment, but more often it drifted far beyond the walls of the room—toward some distant place, unseen.
He murmured under his breath,
"Marcellus… he must have one. He's the son of that couple—how could he not?
And Edgar, of course he has one too. The only question is: how many does he have now?"
Jim's expression darkened slightly as his eyes shifted:
"And Livia… her position has always been ambiguous. Did she lie to me? Her words were too smooth that day—even I couldn't see through them. If she has a fragment… then I will have to cooperate with her."
He glanced down at the fragment in his hand. Slowly, a meaningful smile tugged at the corner of his lips:
"And Eryx… his hands should be empty. All his intel came from me. If he suddenly gets a fragment, that can only mean… he's gone around me."
That thought brought a flash of cold light to Jim's eyes—but just as quickly, his expression settled back into calm. He leaned back into his chair and cast a chilling gaze over the scattered sheets of paper on the desk—his recent compilation of intelligence leads and character interaction maps.
At the very center, circled and underlined, were five bold characters: "Holy Grail Fragments",
and surrounding them, the names of the key players: Marcellus, Edgar, Livia, Eryx… and Jim himself.
"The current situation is—fragmented intel, scattered pieces, and mutual suspicion.
As long as they all stay locked in this pattern of selfish maneuvering and distrust, the Grail will never reunite.
But the problem is… this stalemate does nothing for me."
He lifted the fragment, studying it under the moonlight for a long moment. Then, softly, as if speaking to the darkness:
"To make them move… I need to stir up these still waters."
He stood, pacing slowly to the window. Outside, the stars were faint, barely gleaming in the vast sky. In his mind, plans were already forming—the next step, the next provocation. A misleading event. Something that would stir every player's nerves. Something big enough to reveal everyone's hand—or flip the table entirely.
"Like… leaking a rumor about a new fragment?" he mused.
"Or maybe… slipping a piece into someone's hideout, then letting the secret 'accidentally' leak out?
Let them doubt, fight, scramble to form alliances or tear each other down.
As long as they move… I can profit from the chaos."
His eyes sharpened, glinting like steel. The fragment spun slowly between his fingers—like a coin of fate in the hand of a seasoned gambler.
"It's time I made the first move."
A few days later, word spread that Eryx had returned from the capital. People began gathering discreetly near the hospital.
Officially, they had come to visit Marcellus. But everyone knew better. The unspoken question loomed heavy in the air:
What did Eryx bring back from his trip—and what does he now know?
The tension outside the hospital room thickened like a fog. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for some unknown signal to break the silence.
And then—like a stone dropped into still water—a rumor began to ripple outward.
A private auction house in the neighboring city had quietly leaked a preview:
Next week, they would be auctioning off a fragment of a "mysterious metal."
The message was vague.
But the moment a photo surfaced—everyone's heart tightened.
It was no ordinary shard of metal.
The jagged, time-worn edge… the gold-silver sheen that shimmered with a faint iridescence…
There was no mistaking it.
It was exactly the same material as the other two pieces already in circulation—
a fragment of the Holy Grail, long since shattered in that infamous journal entry, now once again reappearing in the world.