The two of them continued their discussion for a while, but gradually, the conversation drifted into silence. The room seemed to shrink around them, leaving only the soft rustle of papers brushing against the table and the faint sigh of air moving through the chamber. Their thoughts felt heavy, cocooned in the night, pressing down quietly in the depths of their hearts.
Elias turned his gaze toward Alia, eyes probing yet gentle, laced with both concern and curiosity. "So… what exactly are you planning to do? If everything goes according to plan?"
Alia lowered her head slightly, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the blank space of the table, as if drumming out the knots in her thoughts. Slowly, she lifted her eyes, her voice soft and almost fragile, like wind whispering through the leaves. "If everything goes smoothly… me? I don't know yet. We'll have to see when it comes to that."
Elias remained silent for a moment, then nodded slowly, his voice warm, calm, and steady. "No matter what, I want Livia to come back. But I also don't want you to get hurt." With that, he turned and left the inner chamber, his steps light but carrying a resolute weight that could not be ignored.
Alia watched his retreating figure, a wave of mixed emotions rising in her chest—respect, concern, and a quiet, almost unnameable sense of loss. She recalled her earlier conversation with Marcellus and let out a soft, knowing sigh, lips curling into a faint, rueful smile. "Men…" she murmured under her breath.
Her gaze returned to the empty room. Her fingers brushed along the surface of the table, lingering as though she could still feel the faint trace of Elias's presence. Silence stretched through the night, heavy yet strangely warm, carrying an unspoken intimacy and weight.
A few days later, the group reconvened in the hospital room. The air was thick with a mixture of antiseptic and medicine, sharp yet familiar. Elias and Marcellus maintained a quiet understanding between them: they would say nothing to the others about Alia's true identity.
Attention soon returned to pressing matters—designing a trap to lure Jim into a controlled situation. After all, Jim's unpredictability was too great, whereas other factions could at least be anticipated and managed.
Alia lifted her head slightly, her voice calm yet resolute. "I think… I should reach out to Jim again, try to gain his trust." Her eyes held a flicker of calculated thought, weighing risks and opportunities with meticulous precision.
Elias nodded, a tone of agreement in his voice. "I think that's wise." Marcellus also inclined his head slightly, his expression thoughtful, signaling his concurrence.
Adrian watched silently, curiosity and slight unease flickering across his features. He glanced at Alia, measuring her, thinking that given his brother-in-law and Elias's usual caution, they wouldn't normally allow her to take such a risk. Yet seeing the unspoken accord among the three, he refrained from further comment, quietly setting aside his doubts.
Marcellus cleared his throat, breaking the short silence. "So… how do you intend to do this?"
Alia's gaze sharpened, her tone calm but edged with determination. "I'll find a way to keep earning his trust, while gathering information about him." Her fingers tapped lightly on the tabletop, as if marking out the outlines of a strategy in her mind.
Marcellus raised an eyebrow, prompting further. "And how will you earn that trust?"
A faint, confident curve appeared on Alia's lips, her eyes glinting with a steely resolve. "Perhaps… by using a mixture of truths and lies." Every word carried deliberate weight, carefully measured, revealing her skill, foresight, and the quiet decisiveness of someone who had walked dangerous paths before.
Silence fell again. Only the rhythmic beeping of medical instruments and the faint murmur of the wind outside could be heard. The air in the room felt taut, almost electric—danger had yet to arrive, yet everyone understood that a delicate contest of trust, deception, and strategy was quietly unfolding.