Chapter 55: He Loves Livia, Not Alia

The next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the carved window panes and spilled gently into the room, painting Alia's face with a golden warmth. Her brows furrowed slightly as she rubbed her sleepy eyes, consciousness slowly pulling her from slumber.

Suddenly, as if recalling something, she abruptly flung back the blanket and looked down at herself—her bare skin exposed to the cool morning air. The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning, and her cheeks burned bright red. She turned her head quickly to the side, only to find the spot next to her empty. The pillow retained a faint trace of warmth, but the man who had been there was gone.

With a soft "thud," Alia flopped back onto the bed and curled herself tightly into the blanket, memories of last night flooding her mind—Marcellus's deep voice, his tender and resolute gaze, the way he touched and held her… and those unspeakable moments she could barely fathom. Such intimacy was something entirely foreign to her. In her past life as a thief, she had lived a life of sharp blades and vengeance, a life where there was no room for moments like these. But last night had turned her world upside down. A mix of shyness and lingering sensations swirled inside her, leaving her face so red she could almost bleed from embarrassment. She curled deeper into the blanket like a frightened little animal.

Just then, a low, magnetic voice sounded from above her head:

"We have already been married for many years. There's no need to be shy."

Alia froze, still processing the words, when she felt someone gently tugging at the corner of the blanket. A sliver of light crept in, revealing her flushed face. Standing at the bedside was Marcellus, dressed in a perfectly tailored black shirt and trousers, his hair immaculately styled. He looked even more strikingly handsome than usual. His gaze was deep and tender, as though he were savoring her expression in this moment.

"Dear," Marcellus said softly, his lips curving into a gentle, indulgent smile, "last night made me even more certain that everything I'm doing is worthwhile. I will protect you, no matter the cost. I know you may feel I've kept things from you, but please trust me—everything I do is for the good of us."

His words carried a sincerity that felt like a vow, one that etched itself deeply into Alia's heart. But her mind was still a jumble of confusion. She stared blankly at him, nodding stiffly and muttering a soft, "Mm."

Seeing her so adorably flustered, Marcellus couldn't resist bending down to plant a light kiss on her rosy cheek. With a teasing smile, he murmured, "If you keep being this cute, I just might lose control. I won't be leaving the house today."

"Leaving the house?" Alia blinked, suddenly looking up at him with confusion. She clearly remembered her father saying that Marcellus would stay home with her for a few days. Why was he talking about leaving now?

Noticing her bewilderment, Marcellus offered an apologetic smile and reached out to gently smooth her tousled hair. "I'm sorry, Edgar just sent word that there's an unexpected issue with the expansion project. I have to go deal with it immediately. I wanted to spend more time with you, but this can't wait. I'll try to come back as soon as I can to be with you more."

With that, he leaned down again, pressing a lingering, affectionate kiss to her lips, as if making a promise.

"I love you," Marcellus whispered near her ear before straightening and leaving the room.

The soft sound of the door closing echoed in her ears, leaving the room silent once more. Alia sat on the bed, dazed and unable to calm her turbulent emotions.

She lay back down, staring blankly at the ceiling. What was it that she felt toward Marcellus now? Was it love? Maybe not. She still remembered that night—how he killed Livia, and killed her too. The pain from that moment was real, whether or not there was more to the story.

Gripping the bedsheet tightly, she turned her gaze toward the window, unsure if her feelings were embarrassment, guilt, or something else. Last night… why did I let myself give in? Was it the exhaustion she'd been carrying? Marcellus's tender care and protectiveness? Or was it this body's natural reaction?

She closed her eyes tightly, frustration swirling inside her like a storm.

"This body's reactions to Marcellus… but that's not me. That's not Alia! I'm only borrowing Livia's body. The one he loves has always been her."

Alia took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. The unease, the fear of losing herself in this false warmth, irritated her. But she quickly reminded herself:

"I can't allow myself to fall for this illusion of tenderness. There are still too many mysteries waiting for me to unravel. The 'Grail' is my true goal. I am Alia, not Livia. Feelings like these are too much of a luxury. Still… last night wasn't bad. I suppose even I deserve a bit of pleasure now and then."

Her face flushed again at the thought, and she gave herself a gentle slap on the cheeks, trying to shake off the lingering emotions. She threw back the blanket and got out of bed, starting to wash up.

Standing before the mirror, Alia stared at the reflection—a face that was familiar, yet not her own. The knowledge that Marcellus's love was directed at Livia, not her, felt like a thorn lodged deep in her heart.

But her gaze gradually sharpened with resolve.

"With Marcellus gone, I need to seize this opportunity to see Elias and find out what happened yesterday—and uncover the secrets behind the city expansion."

She murmured to herself, determination written across her face.