"We can only hope her soul is merely asleep, temporarily," Marcellus said, his voice low and deliberate, like it had been dredged from the depths of his grief. His eyes flickered faintly as he gazed toward the distant firelight, as if searching for a trace of comfort in the dancing flames.
"Do you really believe all of this?" Elias asked, his voice trembling with unease. His brows were tightly furrowed, and his fists clenched instinctively, as if trying to grasp onto this shattered reality.
Marcellus did not answer immediately. He stared ahead in silence, as though his gaze could penetrate the tangle of memories and truths before him. "Even though every sign suggests that the Livia who awoke is different, that she lost her memory… even the Holy Grail, even the power to revive someone, or to reverse time—it's still far too incredible to fully accept." He spoke slowly, each word weighed down with internal debate, and yet, somehow, meant to soothe Elias's doubt.
Elias slumped heavily into his chair, his back pressed against the cold, rigid support, his shoulders weighed down as though by a thousand pounds. He muttered softly to himself, "To believe… or not to believe… it's all too hard…"
"Whether you believe it or not no longer matters," Marcellus said, turning to face Elias directly. A faint glimmer of something almost imperceptible passed through his eyes—calm yet resolute. "The events have happened. All we can do now is respond. No matter what, I want Livia back."
Elias's gaze darted around the room, trying to capture the subtle light in Marcellus's eyes. His breath quickened, his heart pounding like a war drum. "Then tell me… what do you want me to do?" His voice rose slightly, tinged with urgency and anxiety.
Marcellus shook his head gently, his expression complex, as if wrestling with the turmoil in his own mind. "Want you to do… what?" he asked, more to himself than to Elias, as though questioning and denying his own control over the future at the same time.
He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and let his fingers brush unconsciously over his knees, searching for some imagined support. "I don't know what I want you to do. I don't even know what I'm doing myself right now." His voice carried pain and struggle, a sense of helplessness that felt almost suffocating.
Watching Marcellus like that, understanding welled up in Elias, yet it was immediately mingled with anger. He sprang to his feet, fists clenched, his gaze sharp as blades. "You wouldn't betray Livia, would you? You don't want her back at all—you just want this so-called Alia now?"
Marcellus faltered slightly, a flash of resolve and sorrow in his eyes. He shook his head slowly, his voice firm and low: "Of course not. You don't understand… No, it doesn't matter. But whatever happens, we must save Livia." Each word seemed to carve a line through the night, drawing a clear direction. "First, we must gather the Grail. Everything begins with the Grail, and everything must end with the Grail."
Elias remained standing, breathing heavily, emotions surging—anger, confusion, doubt, yet mixed with a faint thread of trust. His lips parted, yet no words came. The room held only the flickering firelight and the sound of their breaths. In the silence, it felt as though everything hung suspended, unseen, between them.