The next few days were a whirlwind of activity for Alia. She, Elise, and Lianna were inseparable, spending every waking moment planning and fine-tuning the ball's details. Lianna brimmed with enthusiasm, often suggesting fanciful, romantic ideas, while Elise exhibited her impressive organizational skills, ensuring every detail was executed flawlessly. Alia gradually found her own rhythm amidst the flurry of tasks, and whenever her ideas were adopted or her suggestions praised, the approving smiles from her companions gave her a peculiar sense of satisfaction.
Yet, what truly stirred passion in her heart was the time she spent alone, honing her "skills." In the training room she had repurposed, Alia seized every free moment to reacquaint herself with her thief techniques. Her body was far more agile and responsive than she had anticipated, as if it had been crafted for such movements. She could now effortlessly perform complex maneuvers that had once required relentless practice.
Alia could sense the latent advantages of this body—greater strength, speed, and endurance than anything she had experienced before.
She couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected blessings of this second chance at life. In some ways, adapting to this body came far more naturally than maintaining the facade of being someone else.
Despite this, she remained cautious, refraining from lingering near the study too often. Alia understood that if the "Holy Grail" truly resided there, Marcellus or someone else would surely be on high alert for any suspicious behavior. For now, her training and the ball's preparations demanded her undivided attention, leaving little room for other risks.
Each time she passed the study, Alia would steal a glance at the door, mentally weighing the best time for her next move. She knew that acting rashly would only tip her hand.
"After the ball, when things have calmed down," she mused. Yet, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder if the ball itself might present the perfect opportunity to find a breakthrough under the guise of celebration.
Meanwhile, Elias had remained conspicuously absent, further stoking Alia's curiosity. The man's enigmatic presence lingered at the edges of her life, stirring her emotions only to vanish, leaving her inexplicably longing for his return.
In contrast, Marcellus's comings and goings were notably predictable. Every few days, he would return to the castle, though never for long. Without fail, the first thing he did upon arrival was seek her out, as if he couldn't wait to see her.
His actions, while natural, carried a faint undertone of intimacy. He would lightly place a hand on her shoulder under the pretense of concern or gently lift her chin to check if she looked well-rested. Occasionally, he would lean close, his low voice murmuring words laced with unmistakable tenderness.
During these moments, Alia maintained a calm exterior, even as she grew more accustomed to his touch. However, she constantly reminded herself of two truths: this man undoubtedly had his own hidden goal, one that might one day bring her harm, or even kill her; and no matter how convincing her role might be, she is not Livia.
To her surprise, Marcellus never stayed the night at the castle, even after several visits. After spending only a brief time with her, he would leave again, as if something more pressing demanded his attention. This elusive behavior brought Alia both relief and frustration—relief at the temporary reprieve from his proximity and frustration at her inability to decipher his true intentions.
The day of the ball arrived, transforming the castle into a dazzling spectacle. The grand hall seemed imbued with new life, its soaring vaulted ceilings adorned with twinkling decorations that mimicked a starry night sky. Elegant crystal chandeliers bathed the space in warm light, casting a radiant glow across every corner.
Luxurious silk banners draped the walls, their golden embroidery gleaming under the lights and whispering tales of the family's storied legacy and prominence.
A plush red velvet carpet stretched from the main entrance to the heart of the ballroom, forming a regal pathway that led guests toward the grand celebration.
Outside, the castle gardens were equally resplendent. Twinkling candelabras and glowing torches illuminated winding paths, while fountains scattered with rose petals filled the air with a gentle fragrance. The sound of trickling water mixed with the faint rustle of leaves, creating an enchanting and romantic atmosphere.
Guests arrived in droves, each dressed to the nines. The men donned tailored suits adorned with family crests, exuding a quiet pride in their heritage, while the women floated by in vibrant gowns, their every step setting off glittering jewels on their skirts like a cascade of moving gemstones.
The air was alive with the melody of a live orchestra, the harmonies of strings and harp weaving an atmosphere of sophistication and grace. Servants moved gracefully among the crowd, balancing trays of exquisite pastries and fine wines on gilded platters. Some bolder guests had already begun sipping their drinks, their confident smiles suggesting they reveled in the evening's opulence.
Every detail was a testament to Marcellus's impeccable taste and unrivaled stature.
Alia stood on the balcony overlooking the scene, a storm of emotions swirling within her. The ball was an undeniable success, every element meticulously arranged to perfection, and she couldn't help but feel a small sense of pride at the outcome. Yet, the fatigue weighed heavily on her, both physically and emotionally.
She found herself longing for the freedom of her previous life as a thief—days spent living on the edge, uncertain but unshackled. Though she had often struggled to make ends meet, there had been a richness to that life, a freedom she sorely missed.
Now, surrounded by the grandeur of the ball, she felt like a lifeless shell, trapped in a dazzling cage that only served to remind her of what she had lost.