Emma's expression froze slightly, a trace of complex emotions flickering in her eyes. She was not naive—she could sense the subtle probing in Livia's question. Livia seemed to be using her mother's story to test Emma's feelings toward Celesta, to determine whether she could be trusted.
It wasn't a particularly clever tactic, but… after all, she was Celesta's daughter.
Emma's lips curled into a faint smile, yet her gaze softened. She felt no guilt—because she had none to feel.
She spoke slowly, her voice tinged with reminiscence. "Yes, your mother saved me out of kindness. But it wasn't just about giving me food and clothes. She gave me direction, hope, at a time when I had nothing left."
She let out a quiet sigh, her gaze drifting as if piercing through the walls of the room, reaching back into a past filled with hardship and suffering.
"Can you imagine?" she said softly, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "I was a street rat, a child with no home, no family, no one to rely on. I lived like a mouse, hiding in the shadows, surviving by begging, stealing, or worse. But I was a girl—a young girl, all alone. How could I possibly survive in a world like that and still remain… whole?"
She paused, her lips curving into a self-deprecating smile. "I thought that was my fate. One day, I might have food; the next, I could be dead in some alley—sold off by traffickers, killed in a gang fight, or worse… I wondered so many times, if I died, would anyone even care?"
Emma lowered her gaze, shaking her head slightly. She already knew the answer back then.
"And then, in the midst of all that… your mother appeared."
At this, her eyes lit up as if recalling a memory filled with warmth.
"She didn't ask for anything. No conditions, no demands. She simply… gave. She fed me, clothed me, taught me how to live, how to stand on my own two feet—not as some scavenging dog, but as a person."
Her voice grew more impassioned, emotions surging in her eyes. It was as if she had returned to that filthy, broken street corner—to that desperate version of herself, and to the woman who had stepped into her life like a ray of light.
"She was my angel," Emma whispered, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "She didn't just let me live—she gave me a reason to want to."
Livia listened in silence, watching the woman before her with a complicated gaze.
She had never met this mother of hers. And yet, through Emma's words, Celesta's image became clearer—not as a cold family leader, not as a warrior on the battlefield, but as a woman who had once, with gentle hands, saved a lost girl from despair.
A tremor ran through Livia's heart. Her initial probing had turned into genuine listening.
She suddenly realized that Emma's loyalty to her mother might be deeper and stronger than she had imagined.
Emma's voice trembled slightly, her emotions swirling beneath the surface. She was immersed in her memories, her hands clenching into fists as if trying to grasp onto the past, refusing to let it slip away.
Her lips curled into a bittersweet smile. "Without her… I don't even want to think about what I would have become."
Livia watched her, but inside, waves were crashing.
How could she not understand Emma's feelings?
Had she not lived through the same kind of suffering in her previous life?
In that world, she too had been alone, struggling to survive, enduring the cold, the hunger, the constant threat of death. She had brushed shoulders with it countless times… If not for her master, she wouldn't even know where her body would have ended up.
But while Emma had met her mother, she had met him.
Her master…
Livia's heart clenched, her thoughts drifting far away.
It had been a long time since she had thought about this.
Why had he saved her? Had it been kindness, or something else?
She had never truly questioned it before. Back then, all she had cared about was survival. Even if he had a motive, it didn't matter. But looking back now, his presence was like a shroud of mist, an enigma lingering in her memories.
He had taught her everything. He had lifted her from the dirt, made her strong, given her a new name, a new identity. But he himself… he had never truly let her see him.
And now, she had been reborn—but what about him? Was he still somewhere in this world?
If they met again… would he still be her teacher? Or would they become enemies?
She took a slow breath, reeling her thoughts back in, refocusing on Emma.
Whatever the past may hold, right now, she needed to understand more—about Emma, and about her mother's past.