Alia's fingers trembled as she looked at the cup of blood.
The crimson liquid still slid slowly down the inner wall, leaving behind a dark, glistening trace—
a mark of sacrifice that could never be taken back.
She drew in a deep breath, forcing the tremor in her chest to still, then reached for the glass tube beside her.
Her movements were cautious, reverent almost, as if she were handling something sacred rather than a man's blood.
The thick red stream flowed into the test tube with a muted sound, faint yet heavy with meaning.
"I hope Livia can see what you've done," Alia murmured. Her voice wavered, tight with emotion, though her tone remained calm.
"No matter what happens… I hope this all ends well."
She sealed the tube, pressing the cap into place.
The soft click echoed faintly in the quiet room—
and in that sound, it felt as though she had sealed away not only Marcellus's blood,
but their fate,
their gamble against destiny itself.
Elias stood beside them, his expression dark, shadowed by worry, yet his eyes burned with unshakable resolve.
He stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Marcellus's shoulder, the gesture heavy, like a vow forged in silence.
"You have my word," he said quietly, voice rough with conviction.
"If anything goes wrong—if Jim tries anything—I'll see this through, even if it costs me my life. Even if it means we both go down together."
Marcellus's lips curved faintly.
It wasn't a proud smile, nor one of defiance—it was a small, tired smile that carried both peace and sorrow.
"It doesn't matter," he said softly. "If this is the path meant for me, I'll walk it. If my end is part of the price, then so be it."
He paused.
For the first time that night, a flicker of warmth returned to his gaze—soft, distant, as if he were looking through time itself, toward someone unseen.
"And if Livia can't be saved…"
His voice dropped, fragile as a sigh.
"Then I just hope—in another world—we'll meet again. And this time… I'll treat her the way she deserves."
His tone carried no despair, only a quiet melancholy that pressed down like the still air before dawn.
It wasn't a farewell—
it was an acceptance.
A calm surrender to whatever fate had written for him.
Neither Alia nor Elias spoke.
They couldn't bring themselves to meet his eyes—
because in them, there was no fear, no hesitation, only that heartbreaking certainty.
The silence stretched.
Somewhere outside, the hum of the city had long faded; all that remained was the rhythmic beep of the monitor and the whisper of the wind against the windowpane.
Alia slowly leaned back against the wall beside the window.
Moonlight poured through the narrow gap in the curtains, painting her face in pale silver.
Her lips trembled slightly before she steadied them, hardening her voice with effort.
"Don't say that," she whispered.
"You're going to live. Livia will live. You all have to live."
"That's the only ending I'll accept."
For a long while, Marcellus said nothing.
Then he gave a small nod, almost imperceptible.
The room seemed to still completely—
the air dense, heavy with the metallic scent of blood and disinfectant,
with words unsaid,
with the quiet pulse of fear and faith tangled together.
The test tube in Alia's hand caught the faintest glint of light,
and down its clear wall slid one last bead of blood,
thick, slow, silent—
like a single red tear,
whispering of the price they were all about to pay.