Yet Alia continued, her tone calm but edged with thought.
"Given what I know of Jim, in this situation, he'd at least tell the truth. And—" She paused slightly, her gaze dropping to the edge of the wooden table glimmering under the dim light. Her fingertip traced absently along the rim of her cup. "He probably won't harm Marcellus right now. What he wants… is only the Holy Grail."
The air froze for a moment. Elias lifted his head, a glint of coldness flickering in his eyes as he asked, his tone probing, "Then he'd still have a good reason to get rid of Marcellus, wouldn't he? After all—eliminating him might help him seize the other fragments of the Grail."
"No." Alia shook her head slowly, a faint, complex chill flashing across her gaze. "If Jim truly wanted Marcellus dead, he'd never let me know."
Her voice dropped lower, half recollection, half analysis. "When he decides to kill someone, he never makes a show of it. Silent, unseen—that's his way. He's not afraid of anything, but when he truly wants someone gone, he makes sure they never see it coming. He strikes at the precise moment when all suspicion is gone… then walks away as if nothing happened. No one ever knows it was him—that's the way he's always done things."
She exhaled softly, eyes falling upon the dying candle in the distance. The wax dripped silently down the bronze holder.
"Right now, his trust in me is at best… tentative. He still doesn't know exactly what lies between you and me. So if he really intends to harm you, he wouldn't let me find out."
Her voice tightened slightly as she looked up, a faint tremor in her tone. "Unless this whole thing is another test—for me. To see whether I'm truly worthy of his trust."
For a long while, the room was so still that only the soft crackle of burning wood could be heard from the fireplace.
Then Marcellus suddenly laughed. The sound was bold, carefree, tinged with a hint of defiance. He struck his chest with a firm hand, his deep voice steady and unshaken.
"Doesn't matter. You don't need to comfort me. Whether Jim plans to deal with me or not, I'm not afraid. I, Marcellus, am no easy prey. I believe it'll take more than that to bring me down."
His words cut through the heavy air like a flash of fire, breaking the tension with raw, fierce energy.
Alia lifted her head, her gaze softening as she looked at the face illuminated by the flickering firelight—so resolute, so untamed. Something akin to admiration flickered in her eyes.
Even Elias was momentarily struck, a quiet thud echoing in his chest, his expression touched with something like reverence—or perhaps, reluctant awe.
"The most important thing now," Marcellus said at last, his voice steady and clear in the low, hushed air, "is for Alia to gain Jim's trust. Only then can we know what his next move is—and only then can we truly move toward our goal."
As he spoke, the flames danced across his face, casting firm, shadowed lines over his features. The logs crackled softly, filling the air with the faint scent of scorched wood. For a brief moment, everyone fell silent, as if tasting the weight of that single word—trust.
Then Marcellus turned toward Alia, a grin spreading across his lips—reckless yet confident. His tone shifted from steady to almost teasing.
"So, Alia—get in touch with Jim. Give him the blood."
He rolled his shoulder with an easy shrug, a deep, hearty laugh rumbling from his chest, as if to shatter the lingering tension. "Let's see what kind of game he's trying to play."
The firelight caught the glint in his eyes, sharp and bright with fighting spirit. His laughter echoed through the room—half challenge, half declaration.
Alia's fingers curled slightly, her lips pressing together, eyes wavering with conflicted light. That laughter—so fearless, so unrestrained—stirred something deep within her, an ember of heat that she could neither name nor extinguish.