Chapter 13: “The Thief” Elias

Alia halted, her gaze icy as she fixed her eyes on Elias.

"What do you know?" Her voice was low and carried an unmistakable authority.

Elias smirked faintly, a playful glint in his expression. He didn't answer immediately; instead, he casually adjusted his cuffs, speaking in a slow, deliberate tone:

"Let's take our time, Livia. Truth is never something revealed all at once."

There was an enigmatic undercurrent in his words, as if he already knew everything yet was intentionally probing. His calm and collected demeanor only heightened Alia's wariness. She took a deep breath, swiftly reining in her emotions.

"What are you talking about?" Her tone turned steady, tinged with coldness and denial. "I was simply unwell—no one is out to harm me."

Elias chuckled softly at her response. His laughter carried no mockery, only a trace of pity. Taking a few measured steps closer, he lowered his voice and said:

"Ah, you can fool others, but not me. We were so close once." Leaning in slightly, he locked eyes with her, a hint of challenge in his tone. "Even if you've lost your memory, I know you've realized by now—you're no ordinary noble lady."

He paused briefly, then continued in a lower, more conspiratorial voice, as if peeling away layers of a hidden truth:

"You're clever, Livia. Even with your amnesia, your talents remain. During your recovery, you must've noticed your exceptional physical abilities. I'd wager you've already started doubting the circumstances of your so-called 'illness.'"

There was an undeniable confidence in Elias's tone, one that made Alia's heart tighten. Still, she maintained an outward composure, her expression calm and unreadable.

Seeing her silence, Elias chuckled again. He strolled forward, his gaze sweeping over the training ground. His voice carried a blend of certainty and provocation:

"These items of yours… they're no ordinary toys." He paused slightly, tilting his head toward her with a knowing glint in his eye. "I'm not like Marcellus, who spend his days in offices and libraries. These things… they feel oddly familiar."

Alia's brow furrowed slightly, her vigilance sharpening. Before she could respond, Elias suddenly darted forward.

Without another word, he leaped onto the nearest stone pillar in the training ground. In one fluid motion, he began navigating the course she had meticulously designed.

He moved like a leopard—agile and precise. Step by step, he traversed the obstacles with startling accuracy, following the intended path seamlessly. Although a few missteps nearly sent him tumbling from the pillars or ropes, he always managed to recover at the last moment, regaining his rhythm with remarkable ease.

It was like a private performance, graceful yet powerful, captivating in its elegance.

In no time, Elias completed the course, landing lightly in front of Alia. His expression was smug, his lips curved in a satisfied grin. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, but he showed no signs of exhaustion.

"Well? What do you think?" he asked, raising an eyebrow playfully. His tone was teasing, but his sharp gaze seemed to pierce through her, as if testing her secrets—or perhaps trying to impress her.

Alia's heart churned with unease.

She had assumed this training ground, though not overly complex, was challenging enough to test one's physical control and reflexes. Even a seasoned thief would struggle to navigate it flawlessly on their first attempt.

Yet Elias not only succeeded but did so with remarkable grace and resilience. Despite a few near-misses, he demonstrated extraordinary talent and adaptability. It made Alia question:

How could the second son of a noble family possess such skills?

Elias was an enigma, shrouded in layers of intrigue and contradiction. Though he appeared to be a carefree and frivolous aristocrat, moments like this revealed talents and depths far beyond his station.

Taking a steadying breath, Alia forced herself to remain calm.

"When did you learn to do that?" she finally asked, her voice cold. She realized there was no point in further denial or concealment—it would only seem foolish.

Elias smiled faintly, slipping his hands into his pockets with an air of nonchalance.

"There's plenty you don't know about me, my dear lady."

He took a step closer, his gaze deepening, his voice lowering:

"This design of yours is quite ingenious. It seems you have a side I wasn't aware of. But it's fine—we all have our secrets, don't we?"

His words made Alia's heart clench, though her expression remained impassive. She studied him silently, her sharp eyes scrutinizing every subtle shift in his expression, hoping to glean more from his enigmatic smile.

But Elias's demeanor shifted abruptly. The teasing air vanished, replaced by a cold, unyielding intensity. He stepped closer, locking eyes with her, his voice now grave and penetrating:

"Still, someone who could design this kind of course and use it for training… even without your memories, you must feel it, don't you? A delicate lady? No, you're far from ordinary."

His tone carried a weight of certainty and probing, as though determined to dismantle the façade Alia had carefully constructed.

Alia remained unmoved, her composure unbroken, though her mind raced, weighing her next move.

Seeing her silence, Elias pressed on, his voice dropping further, his gaze taking on a dangerous glint:

"Someone like you, falling into a month-long coma? You know it is impossible. If you checked your latest medical reports in the last few months, you'd find everything—your blood, your organs, even your mental state—perfectly healthy."

His words turned sharp and chilling, cutting through her defenses like a blade:

"You didn't fall ill or faint by accident. There's a conspiracy here, one far deeper than you think."