Chapter 52: “Would You Like a Drink?”

The car was steeped in silence. Marcellus seemed to ponder for a moment before speaking slowly. "The reason I brought Elias here is that I'm preparing to let him start handling some things for me." His voice was calm, yet it carried an undeniable firmness. "No matter how many conflicts exist between us, he is still my brother, one of the few people I can trust."

He paused, his gaze shifting to the window, as if recalling Elias's earlier outburst. His tone softened slightly. "As for why he was so angry… perhaps he was worried about you. This place is cold, and the climate isn't great. He might be afraid you'll get sick. He doesn't say it outright, but he does care about you."

Marcellus's expression grew subtle, and a trace of mockery crept into his tone. "Though his 'concern' seems a bit excessive."

Alia listened to his words, a cold sneer rising in her heart. That tone—it's jealousy, plain and simple. While she found it amusing, a trace of annoyance also surfaced.

"Why is he so angry?" she thought to herself. "Elias's attitude is his own issue. Even if he and Livia had some affair in the past, that's between them. What does it have to do with me, Alia? Now Elias is acting overly attentive, but I didn't provoke him. So why is Marcellus taking it out on me?"

Her brow furrowed slightly as a mix of grievance and irritation bubbled within her. Reflecting further on Elias's behavior earlier, she grew more convinced that Marcellus's explanation wasn't the whole truth. Elias wasn't an idiot. His anger couldn't simply stem from 'caring' about her. There had to be something more, which was why Elias didn't want her to be there. But instead of delving deeper, Marcellus chose to brush it off lightly, even hinting that she was to blame.

The thought made Alia even angrier, her expression growing colder. And to think "I was planning to cook for him and take care of him. How ungrateful. He's always doubting me."

The atmosphere between them grew tense. Alia turned her head to gaze out the window, refusing to speak. Marcellus seemed to sense her displeasure but chose not to press the matter. The car was enveloped in silence once more.

The journey continued wordlessly until the car slowed to a stop at the castle entrance.

Alia was the first to push open the door and step out, her movements brisk yet tinged with a faint impatience. Marcellus followed, asking in a low voice, "Are you still angry?" His tone was unusually gentle, but Alia refused to engage, replying coldly, "No." She then strode directly into the castle.

Marcellus stood there, watching her retreating figure. He shook his head helplessly and sighed.

Inside the castle, Marcellus stood in the foyer, handing his coat to a servant. He glanced at Alia ahead and said with his usual composed air, "I'll head to the study to sort some things. You should rest."

His words seemed casual, but they struck a chord in Alia. She froze momentarily, her earlier annoyance dissipating in an instant. The study? Her mind raced. Marcellus rarely did anything without purpose. Why would his first instinct upon returning to the castle be to go to the study?

If there's nothing hidden in the study, why rush there right away? A sense of urgency gripped her. The Grail—it must be there.

Her gaze followed Marcellus's back, her eyes growing sharp. She had visited the castle's study before, but each time she found only ordinary books, maps, and deliberately placed trinkets that served no real purpose. The more it seemed mundane, the more convinced she became that the study concealed something extraordinary. But for now, she had no choice but to return to her room.

Back in her bedroom, Alia quickly freshened up, yet she found herself at a loss. Standing before the mirror, she ran her fingers through her damp hair, her mind replaying the day's events. She resolved to find an opportunity to search the study.

Just then, the door creaked open.

Marcellus entered, dressed in a tailored black silk pajama set. The slightly open collar revealed his toned chest, and his damp hair hinted that he had just bathed in the bathroom near the study. In his hands, he carried a fine bottle of wine and two glasses. With an air of ease, he approached the sofa at the side of the room, setting the wine and glasses on the coffee table with a graceful motion.

Alia turned to observe the scene, momentarily stunned. The warm light bathed Marcellus in a soft glow, highlighting his refined elegance. Every movement exuded a quiet confidence and sophistication. As he uncorked the bottle, his slender fingers and fluid motions seemed almost like a work of art.

This man really is captivating, Alia thought, her eyes lingering on his face. His chiseled jawline and slightly furrowed brows radiated a charm that was impossible to ignore. Even during her past life as a thief, breaking into countless mansions and encountering countless wealthy individuals, she had never met a man as striking and elegant as Marcellus. For a moment, she found herself mesmerized, unaware of the soft pop as the cork came free and the faint sound of wine pouring into glasses.

The rich aroma of the wine filled the air, carrying notes of fruit and spices that were both delicate and intoxicating. Marcellus swirled the glass skillfully, the crimson liquid catching the light like a moving gem. He glanced at Alia, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Noticing her distraction, he didn't call attention to it but instead handed her a glass, his voice low and inviting:

"Would you like a drink?"