Alia held her breath, straining to listen to the faintest hint of footsteps. Her instincts screamed in alarm. She recognized that gait all too well—light as a feather, yet with a precise rhythm, characteristic of a thief in action.
"This isn't something a servant or guard could manage. It must be a professional." Her brows furrowed as she swiftly reviewed the estate's security arrangements in her mind. With Marcellus's level of caution, it should be nearly impossible to infiltrate this place. Unless there was a mole—or this thief was extraordinary.
Lowering her body, she slipped into the shadows cast by a nearby bookshelf. Her movements were fluid, a result of years of training. As she hid, a flicker of humor crossed her mind. "Why is it always the study? Seems like I'm here hiding more often than reading. It's becoming a tradition."
In the darkness, Alia kept her breathing shallow and focused her gaze on the faint glow under the study door. The light was dim, but it was enough to catch the movement of a figure. A man slipped silently into the room, hugging the wall as he moved with the swiftness of a nocturnal predator.
Under the faint glimmer of the study's night lamp, Alia observed every detail of the man's actions. His movements were light, precise, and devoid of unnecessary sound or motion. His fingers skimmed across objects, meticulously replacing everything he touched, even aligning the edges of papers to their exact angles.
"That habit…" Alia's pupils contracted slightly, and a wave of familiarity washed over her.
The man's seemingly casual movements were, in fact, calculated and methodical, as though following an unspoken code. His steps, hand movements, and even his breathing rhythm while searching adhered perfectly to advanced thief training techniques. The more Alia watched, the more her heart raced—because these movements mirrored the style of her mentor.
She bit her lip to keep herself from making any noise, her heart pounding like a drum. Fixing her gaze on the figure, she scrutinized every detail. Although the man's physique differed significantly from her mentor's, that overwhelming sense of familiarity was undeniable.
"It can't be." She shook her head, trying to dispel the chaotic thoughts crowding her mind.
But each time he restored an item to its original position, the undeniable realization struck her again: "This man is from the same lineage as me. Whoever he is, he's deeply connected to my mentor."
Just then, the man turned, his gaze sweeping sharply across the room, like a hawk searching for prey. In the dim light, his eyes gleamed with a chilling intensity, sending a shiver down Alia's spine.
She pressed herself tightly against the corner of the wall, holding her breath.
The man seemed to find nothing amiss and returned to his search. This time, he focused on a particular bookshelf, his fingers moving swiftly between the spines of the books, as though searching for a specific mark or hidden mechanism.
Alia's initial confusion hardened into determination. Her eyes narrowed. "If he's truly connected to my mentor, I have to uncover his purpose here."
While she was absorbed in her observations, the man suddenly paused mid-action, as if sensing something. He spun around abruptly.
In that instant, under the faint light, Alia finally saw his face clearly—he was none other than the General of the Second Army Group she had met at the ball earlier that day!
The revelation hit her like a thunderclap, leaving her stunned and speechless. Her mind raced with questions: "How can it be him? Why would the General of the Second Army Group possess such advanced thief techniques?"
Alia fought to steady her breathing, taking deep breaths to calm her thoughts. Memories of her past life and her mentor flooded her mind. The man who had taught her every thief technique was etched into her memory, down to his smallest habits. Yet the movements of the General of the Second Army Group bore an uncanny resemblance to her mentor's style—and even their names were the same!
But she quickly dismissed the thought. "No, he's not my mentor."
Despite the similarities in movement and technique, their physiques were vastly different. Her mentor had been lean and agile, his build perfect for a thief. In contrast, the General of the Second Army Group had the robust and muscular frame of a soldier, making such a transformation nearly impossible.
"Facial features can be disguised, but body types can't change so drastically," she reasoned. As a thief, agility and lightness of build were essential. A significant change in physique would compromise the execution of many advanced techniques. Yet the man before her performed each movement with flawless precision, as if trained to the highest standard.
A more complex thought crossed her mind: "What is his connection to my mentor?"
Had her mentor trained him? Or were they from the same organization? These questions swirled in her head like a tangled web.
As she pondered, the man resumed searching the bookshelf, his sharp gaze scanning each item with purpose. He seemed desperate, as though whatever he was seeking was of utmost importance.
Alia bit her lip, struggling with indecision. "Should I confront him now?"
If he truly had ties to her mentor, this could be her chance to unravel the mysteries surrounding her past life. But if she acted rashly, she might startle him and expose herself.
"Not yet. I'll wait. Let him show more of his hand." She made her decision.
The study grew increasingly tense, the dim lighting adding to the heavy atmosphere. Alia kept her eyes fixed on the man's every move, while her mind churned with thoughts:
"Is this a mere coincidence? Or the start of a grand conspiracy?"