Reborn as the Wife He Killed のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 261 - チャプター 270

Chapter 262: The Fragment at LastA few days later, just before dawn, the sky was still painted with a faint grey-blue. Mist coiled between the mountain slopes and around the castle’s walls, and the air still clung to the damp scent of last night’s rain—rich with earth, wet stone, and fresh grass. On the tree-lined path outside the castle, Eryx walked alone. His boots stepped silently over the damp flagstones, each footfall softened by water.He wore a hood pulled low over his face, his posture discreet and deliberate. Every time he passed a corner or turned into a passageway, he paused for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows to make sure he wasn’t being followed.At last, approaching a secluded courtyard on the western side of the castle, his pace slowed. He silently entered a small stone outbuilding tucked beside an old, disused archive—the place was little known even among those closest to him. In fact, this entire mini-castle was one of Eryx’s best-kept secrets.Closing

For a moment, it was as if all the air in and around the hospital room had been sucked out. No one spoke, but every gaze shifted— Recognition. Shock. Suspicion. Calculation. “…It’s the real thing,” Elias was the first to break the silence with a hushed murmur. The auction house had left one condition— Not only must the highest bidder pay a considerable sum for the fragment, but they must also “tell them what it is.” This wasn’t a simple auction. It was a test—a vetting. “If you want it, prove you’re worthy of it.” That single postscript beneath the image read like bait from some ancient ritual—cold, clever, and deliberate. News of the fragment spread like wildfire. Marcellus stared at the

The auction continued, with all manner of exotic items making their appearance under the dazzling lights—jewelry, ancient paintings, rare alchemical instruments, and even taxidermied beasts from faraway lands. A feast for the eyes, stirring whispers among the crowd. But for Livia and Elias, these were mere illusions—glittering distractions with high price tags, utterly unrelated to their true objective. Livia sat near the back, her figure cloaked in shadows beneath a hood. Her eyes, however, never strayed from the auction stage. Her garments had been specially tailored—unremarkable to the eye, but suited for swift movement. A short dagger and pistol were concealed at her waist. These were habits from her previous life as Alia—skills honed over countless infiltrations into noble estates, ancient ruins, and clandestine markets in another world. She knew the rhythm of these events intimately—and she knew, danger always lurked in the corners that seemed saf

Livia returned to the hotel in silence. Only when the door clicked shut behind her did she finally let out a long breath, as if exhaling the weight of the day’s standoff and subtle maneuvering all at once. She slid down against the wall, sitting on the floor as her mind began racing, retracing every detail of the encounter.Jim’s appearance had been too sudden—too smooth. His calm dominance, the way he subtly controlled the tempo of the conversation, was unnerving. He asked no direct questions, yet each word had pierced toward their most guarded secrets. He hadn’t made any promises, but the more Livia thought about it, the more she felt he wasn’t truly offering anything.No, he was baiting them. Trying to lure the prey from the shadows.Perhaps he never intended to trade that Holy Grail fragment at all. He was waiting for someone to reveal too much, to make a wrong move—and then he’d strike.If that was true… then he hadn’t come to negotiate.He’d come to take.Her fingers clenched re

The moment Livia’s fingertips touched the Holy Grail shard, the world collapsed inward like a whirlpool.Time lost its color.Space turned upside down.Every sound receded like a vanishing tide—Until only memory remained, surging forward like a flood.And then, the images surfaced.It was that night.The night Livia had lived through… and spent years trying to forget.In the study of that familiar castle.Marcellus knelt on the floor, his back to her, shoulders trembling faintly—as though he were whispering to himself… or weeping.A short dagger was clutched in his hand, its blade buried deep in his palm. Blood dripped from between his fingers, falling onto the floor in slow, blooming drops like crimson flowers. His lips moved continuously, muttering something too low to hear clearly—somewhere between self-denial and a curse hurled at a phantom enemy.“She died… no, she’s still alive…She killed me… no, I killed her…”His voice was hoarse and fragmented, like a wounded beast gnawing