Chapter 67: A Fiery Kiss and a Cold Response

The conversation in the grand hall ended quickly. Elias and Adrian made an excuse to leave, giving the space to Alia and Marcellus. The atmosphere instantly grew subtle. Sunlight streamed through the towering floor-to-ceiling windows, falling between them. Despite their close proximity, an invisible barrier seemed to stretch between them.

Alia was about to speak when Marcellus suddenly approached her. Without warning, his hand gently cupped her cheek, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.

His actions were decisive, tinged with a hint of urgency, as if emotions pent up for too long were now spilling over. The warmth of his touch conveyed a tumult of feelings—possession, hesitation, and a faint trace of tenderness.

Alia froze for a moment, her heartbeat accelerating rapidly. But she quickly regained her composure. She neither resisted nor pulled away, yet her response lacked enthusiasm. Her posture remained stiff, and though her lips parted slightly, she didn't truly reciprocate, as if deliberately maintaining a boundary.

Marcellus's kiss slowed after a few seconds, his movements growing gentler, as he seemed to sense her lack of engagement. His hand slid away from her cheek, and his gaze locked onto hers. His voice dropped low, carrying a trace of concern. "What's wrong?"

Lowering her eyes, Alia tried to conceal the turmoil within her. She replied in an even tone, "Nothing… It's just that I'm not used to this in someone else's home."

Her voice was soft, devoid of any discernible emotion. Yet such a vague answer couldn't completely ease Marcellus's doubts. His brows furrowed slightly, a glimmer of curiosity flashing in his eyes. However, he chose not to press further. Instead, he stepped back, creating distance between them.

"What are you thinking about?" His deep voice carried an unmistakable note of concern.

"What could I be thinking about? Just everything that's been happening recently." Alia raised her head and met his gaze directly, her eyes revealing a faint trace of detachment and wariness.

Inside, Alia was a storm of confusion. On one hand, her rational mind warned her not to reveal too much of her true feelings to Marcellus. After all, she had only just uncovered his secret and still didn't fully understand his stance on Livia and the Holy Grail. Acting impulsively would only put her in greater danger.

On the other hand, her heart had quivered under his kiss, stirring emotions she didn't want to acknowledge. It seemed to tell her that she wasn't entirely indifferent to Marcellus.

"No, I can't let him see my hesitation or changes," Alia reminded herself firmly, suppressing the complicated feelings swirling in her chest.

Marcellus studied her silently for a few moments, then let out a faint sigh. His hand seemed to waver as if wanting to touch her again but stopped midway before falling back to his side.

"If you're tired, you should rest," he said, his deep voice tinged with restrained helplessness.

Alia offered an apologetic smile, masking her true thoughts. She gave a slight nod and turned to leave, heading toward the far end of the hall without looking back. She could feel his gaze lingering on her until she disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Back in her room, Alia shut the door softly and leaned against it, exhaling deeply. Everything that had just transpired felt like a test, and she had barely managed to pass this unspoken confrontation.

She walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, her fingers brushing her lips, where his warmth still lingered.

"Why does it have to be like this…" she murmured, her eyes reflecting a mix of conflict and bewilderment.

She couldn't deny the ripple Marcellus's kiss had caused in her heart. Yet she also understood that, until the truth was fully revealed, she couldn't allow her emotions to take over.

"I need to stay calm. All of this is an illusion—the Holy Grail is what truly matters." Alia steeled herself, though the faint ache in her heart left her feeling even more exhausted.

As the sunlight dimmed in the hall, the long windows cast the first hues of twilight across the room, bathing the space in a soft, serene glow. Yet the tranquil setting couldn't quell the turmoil within Marcellus.

Seated on the couch, his gaze lingered on a glass of untouched red wine before him, his brows drawn tightly together. The recent encounter replayed in his mind over and over.

Her indifference had been subtle but unmistakable to someone who knew her as well as he did. "We've already faced so many challenges together. That night, we shared such intimacy. I thought there were no walls left between us…"

Marcellus ran his fingers lightly along the rim of his wine glass, as if trying to organize his thoughts. Closing his eyes, he was confronted by memories he'd long tried to bury.

Was her coldness merely due to exhaustion, or had she subconsciously sensed something? If the day came when her memories returned, and the painful truths surfaced like a rising tide, would she distance herself from him once more? Would she even come to hate him?

His gaze drifted toward the direction of her room. Even through the thick door, it felt as if he could see her quiet figure inside. Was she lost in thought as well, or had she already surrendered to sleep?

One thing was clear—he couldn't afford to delay any longer. The secrets, the unanswered questions, they all needed to be resolved before she remembered everything. Only by doing so could he preserve the fragile peace between them. Perhaps it was even his only chance to keep her by his side.

Raising his glass, he drained it in one decisive gulp. Then, rising to his feet, his eyes burned with determination.

"If everything started with that, then I'll be the one to end it."