After much debate, the group finally reached a consensus: they would let Alia be the one to act.
Adrian's expression was conflicted, his brows drawn together in protest. He seemed as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end, only a sigh escaped him. Turning away, he quietly left the ward. He knew his sister's decision was already made, and with Elias and Marcellus showing no intention of stopping her, any words from him would be useless.
The room grew still, leaving only the faint rhythm of breathing between the three who remained. Elias's eyes settled on Alia, his tone carrying a trace of hesitation so subtle it was almost hidden. "Be careful… don't push yourself too hard." His gaze lingered, heavy with unsaid words that he ultimately swallowed back.
Marcellus sat at the edge of the bed, fingers drumming softly on the railing. At last, he spoke, voice low, colored with something far more fragile than his usual composure. "We'll support you from behind the scenes. But you must guard your own safety." Concern tinged his words, layered and uncharacteristic, betraying emotions he rarely revealed.
Alia offered no elaborate explanation. She merely pressed her lips together and gave a faint smile, her expression resolute. The light in her eyes was not one of easy confidence, but of a will that refused to retreat, even knowing full well the dangers ahead.
Days later, night descended, heavy and thick. The sky was smothered in clouds, hiding the moon, while the streetlamps along the road flickered with a faint yellow glow. Alia walked alone through a silent alley, fingers tightening around the hem of her cloak. Every footstep echoed against the empty walls.
Her heart was not free of doubt—Elias's and Marcellus's restrained worry still lingered in her ears. She knew this meeting was no simple exchange, but a gamble, a test. One wrong move, and she could lose her life. Even if death did not come, one mistake could unravel all their carefully laid plans. Yet if she did not go, how could she ever uncover Jim's true intentions? That stubborn defiance within her—the refusal to be controlled, the refusal to be anyone's pawn—drove her forward into the dark.
She pushed open the rusted iron door. The warehouse air was damp and metallic, thick with the scent of iron and mold. Under the dim yellow light of a hanging lamp, Jim stood waiting, motionless, as if he had known she would come.
He spared no greeting, his eyes sharp and cold, his voice cutting straight to the heart. "You've come again. What do you plan to bring me this time? What are you really trying to do?" The weight in his tone left no space for evasion.
Alia steadied her breath, meeting his gaze without flinching. Her words came calm, measured, edged with subtle blades. "Of course, I'll bring you something of value. But the real question is—what do you intend to do?" Her voice did not rise, but each syllable carried hidden force. "I have my reasons. A woman surviving in this world has little choice but to gather whatever means she can. But you… you're already the king of the underground. You can take whatever you want. Why fixate on the Grail?"
For an instant, Jim looked startled. Then, suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed. The sound rolled through the warehouse, echoing madly, filled with arrogance and mockery. "Why? Underground king?" His laughter broke off sharply, his expression shifting like a blade catching the light. "In the end, that's all it is—the king of shadows, nothing more." His eyes snapped onto Alia, sharp and merciless. "What I'll do with the Grail is none of your concern. But—" His lips curved into a smile, thin and dangerous. "If your wishes are so small, then I give you my word. Once I claim the Grail, I'll see your desires fulfilled. Between you and me, there is no conflict."
The words were a promise only on the surface. Beneath them lay the cold edge of control, a reminder that all power remained in his hands.
Alia listened in silence, her face calm, betraying nothing. But within, her thoughts tightened into sharper focus. Jim's words confirmed what she had begun to suspect: he was no longer content with ruling from the shadows. What he craved was not merely the throne beneath the earth, but the stage under the sun—true dominion, visible and absolute.
Yet how far did that ambition stretch? Would he settle for dominion over one city, one kingdom—or did he dream of swallowing the entire world?
Her chest tightened with unease, but at the same time, a new certainty crystallized in her mind. She finally had a clearer glimpse of Jim's purpose—and with it, a new direction for their plan.