Alia took a deep breath, pushing aside irrelevant thoughts. The most important matter now was preparing for the ball. She looked up at Elise and asked, "Before Marcellus left, did he leave any instructions for you?"
Elise nodded, handing over a list. With a gentle tone, she said, "Master specifically asked me to give you this guest list so you could familiarize yourself with it in advance. These are the important attendees of the ball, and he hopes it will help you navigate the event with ease."
Taking the list, Alia's gaze swept across the names. Her hand froze for a moment when she saw a familiar name—her "father."
Since rebirth, she hadn't sought out this "father," and he hadn't visited her either. Their relationship, evidently, was distant at best. What shocked her even more was the name of a woman listed beside his, marked as "wife."
This wasn't Livia's mother but another woman altogether.
Alia's brows furrowed slightly as she recalled what Elise had mentioned before: after Livia's mother passed away, her father remarried quickly, choosing the daughter of a powerful figure from the capital. The marriage was clearly for political gain, but it had completely fractured the father-daughter relationship, leaving them estranged.
She sighed softly, a mix of emotions welling up in her heart. The world of the elite is a sea of intrigue. True family bonds hardly exist; it's all about schemes and power plays.
Turning to Elise, Alia's expression grew complex. "Elise, can you tell me more about the people on this list?"
Elise seemed momentarily surprised but soon smiled warmly. "Of course. Feel free to ask—I'll tell you everything I know."
Alia nodded, silently resolving to appear as if she was well-acquainted with these individuals despite having no memory of them. Elise, she realized, was her most reliable source of information.
As she prepared to ask more questions, her eyes landed on another name on the list—one that felt both familiar and unfamiliar.
Her finger hovered over the name as her heart skipped a beat. This name belonged to no one other than her former mentor in thievery—the one who had taught her everything about advanced stealing, stealth, and disguise. A mysterious figure whose past she had never truly known.
The title next to the name made her breath catch. It read: The General of the Second Army Group.
Alia's pupils constricted, unable to mask her shock. How could this be? Her mentor, a shadowy master thief, was now listed as a high-ranking military head of the Second Army Group?
She shook her head quickly, reassuring herself. It must be a coincidence. My mentor couldn't possibly be a military general.
Everything her mentor had taught her had been about evading the army and the police. He had even helped her escape military pursuit on several occasions. How could such a man now hold an esteemed position in the regiment?
Despite her reasoning, an unease lingered. If this wasn't just a coincidence, then who was her mentor, really?
"Livia?" Elise's voice pulled Alia back to reality. "Is there someone in particular you're looking at?"
"Oh, it's nothing." Alia quickly masked her reaction and said casually, "This name just feels a bit familiar."
Elise didn't probe further, smiling as she replied, "The people on this list are indeed among the most prominent in the city. Even if you've lost your memory, it's natural that some names might still seem familiar."
Alia nodded absently, but inwardly she resolved to uncover the truth behind the name.
Her eyes returned to the name, her gaze unfocused as her thoughts drifted back to her past—those bleak and turbulent days.
Back then, she had been nothing more than a street rat, scraping by through petty theft, living on the fringes of society. She stole small coins from market stalls and silk scarves from wealthy women, barely managing to survive.
Then came the day she made a bold but foolish decision—to rob a Genral's house.
The house was grand, not quite on par with a noble's castle but luxurious by ordinary standards. Street whispers claimed the owner was often away, leaving behind valuables and cash. For Alia, it was an irresistible opportunity.
"This is worth the risk," she had whispered to herself, suppressing her anxiety as she steeled herself to break into the house.
Under the moonlight, Alia slipped into the residence, moving with the stealth of a cat. She pushed open a window, her movements slow but precise.
Landing softly on the floor, she took in the faint scent of polished wood. The furniture was arranged meticulously, and a portrait on the wall caught her eye—a young man in a military uniform, his expression stern. Clearly, this was the house's owner.
"So, it's true. He's a soldier," Alia muttered, her unease growing. But the lure of riches outweighed her fear. Taking a deep breath, she began to explore the lavish home.
The room was eerily silent, save for her measured breaths and the occasional creak of the floorboards. She moved nimbly, stepping only on the edges of the boards to minimize noise.
Her eyes landed on a writing desk, its drawers slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of cash inside. Her heart raced at the sight of the neatly stacked bills. For her, this was a treasure trove.
"I'll start with this," she murmured, swiftly stuffing the money into her bag.
But she wasn't satisfied. Her gaze shifted to a safe nearby. Though its contents were a mystery, anything locked away had to be valuable.
She crouched by the safe, inspecting its mechanical dial. As a thief, she was no stranger to such locks. The challenge lay in cracking the code without clues.
Pressing her ear to the safe, she began to turn the dial slowly, listening intently for subtle clicks. Minutes ticked by, sweat dampening her palms as her unease grew.
Clack, clack, clack.
Just then, a faint noise broke the stillness—a sound that wasn't coming from the safe.