Chapter 17: Me???

After her initial shock subsided, Alia took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She slowly sat back in her chair, pretending to be nonchalant, though her vigilance was at its peak. Suddenly, a thought flashed through her mind—did this mean she was already close to the legendary "Holy Grail"?

Her eyes instinctively scanned the room—the arrangement of the bookshelves, the patterns on the walls. With her years of experience as a thief, she was certain this room held secrets. Perhaps a hidden chamber, and perhaps the Holy Grail was concealed within.

As she became absorbed in her observations, Marcellus suddenly appeared before her. He bent down, his deep eyes locking onto hers, and with his long, elegant fingers, he gently lifted her chin. His voice was soft and low, carrying a hint of tenderness.

"Darling, what's wrong? What are you looking at? Or… searching for?"

Alia stared at Marcellus. His gaze was tender and affectionate, his tone filled with concern, but this only made her more uneasy. She couldn't be sure if he was simply curious or if he had noticed her strange behavior—or worse, if he had guessed that she was searching for the Holy Grail.

She quickly waved her hand, forcing a relaxed smile to her lips as she replied casually,

"Oh, it's nothing special. I just realized I haven't visited your study since I woke up. Everything feels so unfamiliar. This room is so meticulously arranged; I thought I'd take a look and see if it might jog some memories."

With that, she let out a soft sigh, feigning a wistful expression as if she truly felt both nostalgic and distant about the study's decor. Yet, in reality, her peripheral vision continued to scan the room, searching for any hidden clues—a thin gap, a protruding mechanism, or a deliberately concealed mark.

Watching her as she inspected the room with such endearing curiosity, a faint, indulgent smile appeared on Marcellus's face. Unable to resist, he leaned closer and placed a light kiss on her cheek. His voice was low and playful as he said,

"Darling, this is your study too. You're welcome here anytime. As long as you want to come, I'll always be happy to have you."

The unexpected gesture left Alia momentarily stunned. Her cheeks quickly flushed crimson, the mix of embarrassment and complex emotions within her leaving her at a loss for how to respond. She tried to steady herself by tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, but her trembling fingers betrayed her attempt at composure.

Yet beneath her outward shyness, alarms were ringing in her mind. Marcellus's recent behavior seemed increasingly bold, increasingly intimate. Though she tried to maintain an air of calm with her facade, the steadily rising warmth between them was impossible to ignore.

Strangely, despite her renewed vigilance, her body offered no resistance to his touch. On the contrary, in that fleeting moment, she had felt a faint sense of warmth and security—a feeling utterly at odds with her logic. After all, everything pointed to the fact that Livia and Marcellus had irreconcilable conflicts.

"Could it be…" Alia blushed deeper as an absurd, mortifying thought crossed her mind. "My body only reacts with rejection in more… intimate situations?"

The idea made her cheeks burn hotter, and she quickly pushed the ridiculous notion aside. But the suffocatingly complex emotions swirling within her were harder to suppress. She feared her body and emotions were beginning to betray her. She had only just regained clarity, realizing Marcellus's true nature and refocusing on her mission, yet a simple act of affection from him had thrown her off balance. She hated her own weakness, even as she understood that this body—Livia's—held its own influence over her, just as it had with Elias.

Bitterly, she muttered to herself, "This delicate young lady seems fragile and sheltered, but she's surprisingly entangled with both brothers."

Marcellus, watching Alia's shy expression, felt a rare sense of joy. It had been so long since he'd seen her like this—the faint blush on her cheeks, her pursed lips, and her evasive gaze all made him feel as though fate had granted him a second chance.

Yet as he basked in the warmth of the moment, memories of that event surfaced unbidden in his mind. The smile on his face gradually faded, replaced by a deep, sorrowful melancholy. He looked down at Alia, a wave of bitterness surging within him.

"If only that hadn't happened…" Marcellus sighed silently, closing his eyes briefly to suppress the painful memories.

There was no turning back now. Whether it was divine punishment or mercy, he couldn't tell. But he knew one thing—this time, he couldn't let her slip away. This was his chance, his destiny.

"No matter what, I will make Livia fall in love with me again," Marcellus vowed silently. His gaze returned to Alia, his deep eyes now filled with a mixture of tender warmth and unwavering determination.

As Alia slowly regained her composure, Marcellus softened his expression further. He straightened and stepped back slightly.

"Next weekend," he began, his tone light but serious, "I'll be hosting a ball here at the house. I'm inviting all the prominent figures in town."

He paused, his eyes fixed on Alia's face, watching for her reaction. Then he added,

"And of course, your father."

The word father made Alia's brow twitch slightly, but she quickly masked her emotions, lowering her head as she adjusted the hem of her dress.

Marcellus appeared not to notice her subtle reaction. His voice remained warm, tinged with a hint of expectation as he continued,

"You always handled these events in the past. So this time, I'd like you to take charge again and make sure the ball is perfect."

"Me???"