As Livia's words spilled forth in an unbroken stream, Edgar's once-tense expression began to shift. The storm that had gathered in his features—the readiness to erupt into fury at any provocation—slowly eased. It was as though each syllable she uttered chipped away at the armor of his anger. What seeped into its place was something quieter, subtler: curiosity. His hand, which had been clenched in restrained agitation, lifted faintly, gesturing for her to go on.
"I want the same thing you want, Father. I want to bring Mother back."
Livia's voice carried a steady conviction, but beneath it pulsed the raw vulnerability of someone laying bare the deepest, most dangerous secret in her heart.
"Oh?"
The single syllable left Edgar like the crack of a whip. His pupils constricted, and for the first time, genuine shock etched itself across his face. The man who so rarely revealed his inner turbulence leaned forward in his chair, posture taut, eyes fixed on his daughter as though he could pierce straight into her soul.
"And how do you intend to do that? What do you have to offer?" His voice was gravelly, restrained, but beneath the iron was an urgency he could not entirely disguise.
"I have Marcellus."
Livia bit her lip, her gaze wavering only for a heartbeat before hardening with resolve. A flush colored her cheeks, a mixture of shyness and determination, as though the words themselves were both a confession and a vow.
"Marcellus once worked alongside you—yes, for the Grail. But he has told me everything now. His pursuit of the Grail was never about power, not in the way you feared. It was… his attempt to mend what was broken between us."
Her breath quickened, her chest rising with emotion. A faint tremor passed through her voice, but she pressed on.
"These past days—the trials, the dangers, the betrayals—they opened my eyes. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I realized something I hadn't dared admit to myself: I have fallen in love with him again. Yes, Father, even though he once betrayed my trust. But betrayal is not the same as unforgivable sin. I see now that his choices were complicated, tangled in pain and fear. And I—" Her eyes gleamed, bright with a mixture of tenderness and resolve. "I choose to forgive him."
Her hands clasped tightly in front of her chest, as though she could hold her racing heart still.
"More than that—he has promised me that he will help me bring Mother back. That is his vow to me. And if he can fulfill it… then I will forgive everything. No matter what lies in the past, I will place my faith in him."
By the end, her words had taken on a fervent, almost devotional tone. She glowed with a fierce, radiant passion that seemed to fill the room, lighting the shadows with the sheer force of her conviction.
Edgar's eyes narrowed slightly, lifting to study her face as though searching for cracks. But the intensity of her emotions, the sincerity blazing through her expression—those things could not be faked. What he saw mirrored the love he himself had once borne for Celesta: overwhelming, undeniable, incapable of disguise. His chest ached with a complicated tremor, but reason rose like a wall, straining to suppress the stirrings of his heart.
"And yet—"
His fingertip began to drum softly, deliberately against the desk. Each tap was like the tolling of suspicion, slow and inexorable. His voice, when it came, was ironbound, restrained with cold clarity:
"How am I to trust him? How do I know this isn't another game, another deception? He has asked nothing of you? No conditions at all?"
Livia's lips pressed together, weighing every word with care before she spoke. Her eyes, glimmering with candlelight, carried a steadiness that did not falter.
"He has conditions, yes. He does not entirely trust you either—that is why I became the bridge between you. His proposal is simple: that we each continue searching for the remaining fragments separately. Only when it is certain that the Grail can be pieced together will we reunite. Then, with each of us holding our share of the fragments, we will complete the Grail together, and speak the wish aloud."
Her voice was not loud, but it struck like a blade into the silence, sharp and ringing, each syllable leaving its weight imprinted in the stillness of the room.
Edgar leaned back slowly, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, thick and oppressive, broken only by the soft hiss of the candle flames. Shadows wavered across his features as his thoughts churned in silence. The plan was sound—practical, even. Yet suspicion gnawed at him, twined with a calculation that never fully ceased.
Even if they deceived him, he still held his own cards, his own safeguards. He was not without leverage. That truth steadied him, though it did not banish the unease.
At last, his voice came, cold and unyielding as tempered steel:
"Then tell me this—how many fragments do the two of you already possess?"