บททั้งหมดของ Reborn as the Wife He Killed: บทที่ 291 - บทที่ 300

Livia did not return directly to the hospital.Instead, she wandered alone into the narrow veins of the city, where crooked alleys twisted into darkness. The lamps here were dim and flickering, their glow warped by the mist of damp stone. Rainwater lingered in shallow pools upon the cobblestones, reflecting shards of light like broken glass. A chill clung to the air, carrying with it the scent of mildew and smoke.From the shadows of a corner came the faint mutterings of a beggar, his words fractured and indistinct. Beneath a tattered cloth tent, a weary mother huddled with her infant, clutching the child so tightly one could almost feel her desperation. The baby’s cries, muffled against her chest, seeped through the night. Not far away, several children lurked behind passing strangers, their thin fingers trembling as they reached for scraps—bread crusts, half-eaten apples, anything that might mean another day alive.All of this… it was a scene she knew all too well.It was the world

Having sorted out her thoughts, Alia gently pushed open the hospital room door and stepped inside. The room was bathed in soft light; white curtains swayed lightly in the breeze drifting in from the window, bringing a faint chill with them. Marcellus sat on the edge of the bed, and upon seeing Livia standing there—her expression clear, her gaze firm—he couldn’t help squinting slightly, as if trying to confirm whether the person before him was still the same flighty girl he had known.“You seem… different. Has something happened?” His voice carried a trace of curiosity, tempered with cautious probing.Alia shook her head softly, her eyes catching the light in a way that seemed to carry a clarity that had replaced all former fog. She took a deep breath, as if releasing all the emotions she had suppressed within her chest at once. Her voice trembled faintly, yet every word was sincere and unwavering:“No… nothing happened. I’ve just figured some things out. Marcellus, I want to tell you

“These fragments of memory… I truly hadn’t recalled them before. It feels as though something had sealed them away from me.” Marcellus’s voice was low, threaded with strain. His brows furrowed tightly, and his fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm against the table—as though the sound itself could pry open the locked chamber of his mind. “But lately, they’ve begun to resurface. Perhaps it is because we’ve gathered more shards… their resonance is stirring something within me. Or perhaps,” his gaze grew distant, heavy, “the Grail itself longs to be restored.”Alia watched him intently. The sharp irony that had colored her eyes moments ago slowly receded. Her vigilance remained, but deep down, she sensed that his words were not a fabrication. The Grail’s strangeness was something she knew too well. She merely inclined her head, faint and measured, withholding further scorn.The room fell into a thick, weighted silence. Candlelight trembled at the draft, stretching their shadows long and thin

“My love… what’s wrong?”Livia stirred in her sleep, unease tugging at her heart. She felt Marcellus’s hand tighten unconsciously around her wrist—cold, stiff, trembling with some invisible strain. In the pale wash of moonlight, his face twisted into a faint grimace, yet his lips curved with an eerie trace of satisfaction, as though he were trapped in a dream that mingled both ecstasy and torment.A chill ran through her veins. Fear struck her, sharp and cold. She reached out and shook him.“Marcellus! Wake up!”He jerked awake, his chest heaving, beads of sweat shining on his forehead. His eyes darted about before finally focusing on her face.“It’s nothing,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice soft yet weary, wrapping his arms tightly around her trembling shoulders. “Just a nightmare… You don’t have to worry.”His fingers threaded gently through her hair, smoothing it back from her damp brow. He pressed a kiss there, lingering, then trailed lower—along the bridge of her nose, her cheek

On the other hand, Marcellus frequented the secret chamber with increasing intensity, each visit consumed by an almost obsessive focus. He would approach the two faintly glowing handles, letting his fingers trace over the smooth metal, as if every touch could awaken some hidden memory. Each time, he felt a familiar pulse, a subtle call that seemed to respond to him, hinting at the location of the missing fragments. Somewhere in the shadowed corners of the chamber, a clue seemed to lie in wait—he could almost sense the fragments’ presence, and every time his chest tightened with urgency.Yet merely tracing the handles no longer sufficed. He began to feel, instinctively, that only his own blood could truly activate the fragments, coaxing them into a more complete form. Thoughts of cutting himself, letting his lifeblood flow over the metal, even began to surface.But reason had not entirely abandoned him. He restrained himself, suppressing the madness. Deep within, he knew he had not ful