Despite maintaining a calm facade, Alia's heartbeat skipped a beat.
She had deliberately refrained from using her true abilities to avoid exposing her identity, yet the person before her had still managed to suppress her movements with uncanny precision. That alone was enough to tell her that this was no ordinary assassin, but a highly trained expert. Alia clenched her teeth inwardly—given the current state of this body, even if she fought with all her might, she stood no chance.
But she had no intention of giving up so easily.
Slowly, she raised her hands, placing them obediently on her lap while discreetly glancing at the nearby desk. Fortunately, the handgun wasn't too far from her seat. As long as she found the right opportunity, she might still have a chance to fight back.
Yet, to her surprise, although the other person had immobilized her, there was no true killing intent. The dagger's blade pressed against her neck, but without exerting force—it was merely a threat. And within the movements of her assailant, she detected something unusual… restraint?
This person did not seem intent on actually harming her.
"Well, well, you're quite sharp." In the silent study, the opponent suddenly let out a light chuckle, their tone laced with amusement. "If not for your momentary disruption in breath just now, I wouldn't have realized that you had already sensed something was off."
Alia's eyes flickered as she rapidly replayed the moments before in her mind. Where had she given herself away? Was it in the instant she adjusted her steps? Or when she unconsciously held her breath? She had been cautious—flawless, even…
But what shocked her even more was the voice.
It was crisp and direct—a woman's voice. Full of confidence, brimming with a bold, unwavering presence, entirely different from the disguised tone she had heard earlier.
Alia's head jerked up, locking her gaze onto the person in front of her.
The figure slowly lifted a hand, removing the low-pressed military cap and casually running fingers through already slightly tousled hair.
Under the dim candlelight, a sharp yet strikingly handsome female face was revealed. She appeared no older than her early thirties, her brows carrying an air of effortless defiance, as though she had complete control over the situation.
"Hello." The woman smiled faintly, a trace of scrutiny in her eyes. "I am Emma."
Alia's heart jolted violently, her pupils constricting.
Emma.
That name was anything but unfamiliar to her.
The sheer shock steadied her.
Emma—the mastermind behind the scenes. The one responsible for orchestrating her kidnapping.
Alia had assumed it would take considerable time and effort to uncover the true figure pulling the strings, believing Emma to be hidden behind layers upon layers of shadows. Yet now, this woman had willingly stepped forward, standing before her so easily?
She quickly composed her thoughts, trying to decipher the meaning behind Emma's presence here. If Emma were truly working for another faction—perhaps one of Marcellus's enemies, or worse, Eryx—then her situation was far more perilous than she had imagined.
But the one before her was Emma.
That, oddly enough, made her lower her guard just a little.
Based on Edgar's descriptions of Emma's past ties to her mother, Celesta, and the information she had gathered about Emma's public history, Alia had reason to believe that Emma would not harm her.
If Emma truly was the mastermind behind the kidnapping, then perhaps… she had never actually intended for Alia to die.
Alia lifted her gaze slightly, meeting Emma's eyes with composed calmness, her mind already working at high speed.
If Emma had another purpose, she would inevitably attempt to talk. And as long as she was willing to talk, it meant that—for now—Alia was safe.
Her priority was to buy time. To gather as much information as possible before seizing the opportunity to escape. Whatever Emma's true motives were, meeting her in person might prove to be an invaluable opportunity.
But then, something unexpected happened.
After studying Alia for a moment, a flicker of something complex flashed through Emma's eyes—not simple assessment, but something closer to… nostalgia?
Her lashes quivered slightly, as though lost in a brief moment of recollection. Then, she murmured softly, almost inaudibly—
"You look like her."
Alia's brows furrowed.
She had caught the shift in Emma's tone—there was something layered in those words. But the voice had been so quiet, almost as if spoken to herself, that Alia couldn't make out the full intent.
"What did you say?" Alia probed, then cut straight to the point. "Why are you here?"
Emma's fleeting emotions vanished instantly. She regained her composure in a heartbeat, her lips curving into an unreadable smile.
"You hear my name, and yet you show no fear." She spoke slowly, a note of intrigue in her tone. "That surprises me."
Alia's expression remained unreadable.
"And judging from your reactions just now…" Emma continued, her gaze sharp as she scrutinized her, "you are far from being the fragile, sheltered noblewoman you appear to be."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, the corners of her lips curving a little further—there was an air of recognition in her expression, but also the faintest trace of… regret.
"I suppose that makes sense."
Emma suddenly sighed, as if stating an undeniable truth.
"Her daughter—how could she possibly be anything less?"
Alia's heart clenched.
Her… who?
A flood of possibilities surged through her mind, but only one name surfaced immediately—her mother.
Emma's lips curved slightly, as if confirming her suspicions.
"For a time, I was disappointed in you," she said. "I thought you were merely a pampered child, incapable of standing on your own."
She paused briefly, her gaze darkening.
"But now… I see I was entirely mistaken."
Taking a step back, Emma regarded her with an enigmatic expression, her voice low and certain.
"All these years… it seems you've been hiding your true self."
Alia's fingers curled slightly. On the surface, she remained composed, but the questions in her mind deepened.
She realized—more than ever—she needed to tread carefully.