The grand dining room of the Emmerich estate glowed with the soft amber light of crystal chandeliers. The long table was set immaculately—silver gleaming, fine porcelain plates nestled among neatly folded napkins. The scent of roasted duck and truffle risotto hung in the air, warm and inviting.
Luna entered in a quiet rush, brushing strands of hair behind her ear, still in her casual hoodie and jeans from the sushi bar outing. She blinked, already lifting her hand apologetically as she approached the head of the table.
"I'm sorry I'm late—"
"Luna," Emmerich stood with a smile that made her heart sting a little—patient and proud like he hadn't been waiting more than an hour. "Just in time."
She smiled softly, guilt bubbling beneath her ribs as she took her seat to his left.
Before the butlers could lift the silver domes off the dishes, the tall doors at the end of the dining hall opened with a low creak.
The head butler cleared his throat discreetly. "Apologies, Master Emmerich. Mister Edward Sola has arrived."
Luna froze for a second, fork halfway to her plate.
Edward?
Now?
Emmerich only chuckled, completely unbothered. "Perfect timing. Please, show him in—and prepare another setting."
Luna was about to whisper to her father that she wasn't exactly dressed for company—especially that kind of company—but before she could, footsteps echoed softly across the marble floor.
Edward entered with the smooth grace of someone who could wear casual and class like dual coats. His tailored charcoal coat had been shrugged off, revealing a relaxed white shirt, sleeves rolled just so, the collar undone enough to say he wasn't here on business—at least not formally.
"Good evening," Edward said with a pleasant smile, inclining his head first to Emmerich, then to Luna. "Thank you for having me on such short notice."
"Always a pleasure," Emmerich gestured to the seat across from Luna. "Join us. The duck's excellent tonight."
As Edward sat, Luna instinctively pulled at her hoodie's sleeve, feeling painfully underdressed. She gave him a brief nod, and he smiled at her, warm and nonchalant like he hadn't noticed—or was too polite to mention it.
Dinner began smoothly, with Emmerich and Edward talking about the recent renewable tech summit, a topic Luna only half-followed at first as she tried to disappear into her soup.
Then, almost imperceptibly, Edward steered the conversation.
"It's rare to see domestic tech so elegantly integrated into culture," he said to Emmerich before glancing at Luna. "Take the VelEcho phenomenon, for instance—some say it's not just music but a form of social pulse. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Luna?"
Luna blinked.
It took her half a second to realize he was speaking to her. She looked up, slightly flustered, her spoon paused above her bowl.
"Uhm… I suppose it is," she said carefully. "It's not just the music—it's the timing, the message, the way it hits people when they need it."
Edward's smile grew a touch more curious, pleased. "Beautifully said."
Emmerich chuckled. "My daughter has a way with words—and timing, when she chooses to show up."
"Clearly," Edward said with a quiet laugh, and Luna wasn't sure if it was praise, a tease, or both.
As the conversation flowed, Luna found herself pulled in more and more—drawn by Edward's natural ability to include her with a light hand. He'd make a comment to Emmerich, then turn to her for her take. He never forced her to speak, but each time she did, he listened—really listened. His eyes didn't wander, his expression remained engaged.
And before she realized it, she wasn't hiding anymore. She was arguing about the ethical design of autonomous drones in agriculture.
Halfway through the main course, Emmerich leaned back with a smile, sipping his wine as he watched his daughter and their guest trade thoughts with a rhythm both unexpected and… oddly familiar.
He caught Edward's subtle glance toward Luna, not intense, but not idle either.
And he hummed quietly in thought.
The dinner plates were cleared away with the quiet clinking of porcelain and silver, replaced swiftly by delicate platters of desserts—matcha mille crepe, fruit tarts, and flan with a caramel drizzle. The scent of roasted oolong tea and rich chocolate wafted softly between them.
But Luna barely noticed the arrival of sweets. She was too deep in conversation—her eyes bright, hands animated as she spoke.
"So while nanomachines could help deliver targeted meds at a cellular level, especially for degenerative diseases, the problem is their ethical deployment," she said, lifting her teacup without breaking stride. "We're still leagues behind in public education on the risks of invasive biotech."
Edward nodded, the corner of his mouth curled in admiration. "And we're outsourcing that education to platforms that profit from fear and misinformation. Not exactly the scientific literacy dream we all hoped for."
"It's like trying to put out a fire with gasoline," Luna replied dryly.
Across the table, Emmerich slowly placed his fork down. He didn't say a word, but his brow twitched slightly as he watched the easy rhythm between the two. The way Edward leaned just slightly forward when Luna spoke. The way Luna's wariness had dissolved into something natural, relaxed.
Too natural.
"And about AI in agri-tech?" Edward pivoted. "I saw that local farmers in the outskirts of South Malen are being offered substandard integration packages. Their yield predictions are now algorithm-restricted, and that impacts their loan approvals."
Luna frowned. "That's a corporate chokehold. It's packaging dependency as progress."
Edward smiled. "You've been reading the regional reports?"
Luna raised a brow. "I used to work with a friend who helped me translate policy documents for fun."
"I like your idea of fun," Edward said with a soft chuckle, and then smoothly added, "Let me guess—you're also a firm believer in the long-term benefits of cat-assisted therapy?"
Luna laughed, leaning back into her chair. "Okay, that one I can say with confidence. Cats lower cortisol. There's data. Not just emotional comfort, but real physiological benefits—especially in trauma care units."
"Oh, so Baozi is doing actual work at the café?"
"He's the head of the healing division," Luna said with mock pride. "Though mostly he just sits on laps."
Edward leaned on one arm, amusement dancing in his gaze. "Speaking of the café…"
Emmerich sipped his wine with mild suspicion now.
"…I hear," Edward began, tone teasing, "that Madam Mu, my godmother, keeps an entire journal of the men who flirt with you at the cat café."
Luna choked on her tea. "What?!"
"Oh yes," he said innocently. "From her notes, it seems you have a small legion of admirers. She's very protective. Tracks names. Traits. Probabilities."
"She calls it 'surveillance of emotionally unstable males,'" Emmerich muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Edward burst into laughter. "That sounds about right."
"I—Madam Mu is a menace," Luna said, flustered but grinning, cheeks warm. "She literally interrogated one guy over whether he had a cat allergy or a girlfriend."
"And the verdict?"
"He had both," Luna said, deadpan. "She pestered him for three months."
Edward covered his mouth in a laugh, eyes sparkling. "You run a fortress disguised as a café."
Emmerich watched the way Luna's smile lingered longer than usual. How her shoulders had relaxed. And how Edward seemed to note every microreaction like it meant something more.
He cleared his throat pointedly.
"Dessert's getting cold," he said.
Luna blinked, then picked up her fork again. Edward just gave Emmerich a charming, harmless smile and took a bite of his tart.
But Emmerich's eyes narrowed, just slightly.
He'd seen this sort of attention before. It wasn't just charm—it was intent.
And Luna, sharp as she was, hadn't noticed.
Or worse, she might had—and didn't mind.
The hallway was warm with amber light, the soft glow from sconces casting a calm shimmer across the marble floor as the dinner came to a gentle end. A butler retrieved the plates wordlessly while the sweet aroma of oolong and flan lingered faintly in the air.
"Thank you for the lovely evening," Edward said as he rose from his seat, voice dipped in easy politeness. His chair moved back with a quiet scrape, and Luna instinctively mirrored him, placing her napkin down and smoothing her skirt.
"I'll walk up," Luna said with a small smile, not looking at anyone in particular.
Emmerich nodded, standing with his usual composed grace. "Sleep well, Luna."
"Good night, Dad," she murmured before glancing briefly toward Edward.
"Good night, Miss Luna," Edward said, and though the words were formal, his voice dipped just slightly—low, smooth, soft.
When Luna lifted her eyes, she found Edward already watching her, just for a heartbeat too long. It wasn't intense enough to be rude. No—just enough to stir something… fluttery.
She turned quickly, clearing her throat as she stepped out of the dining room and started up the stairs, acutely aware of the quiet footsteps behind her—Edward's heavier, Emmerich's more deliberate.
When they reached the intersection where her hallway branched off, Emmerich's voice, low and certain, cut through the air like a gentle command: "This way, Edward."
Luna paused as her hand rested on the banister, half-turned toward them.
Edward glanced back—just briefly—as Emmerich walked ahead. His gaze met Luna's, and in that moment, something unspoken flickered between them. A slight raise of his brow. A subtle tilt of his head. His lips curved—not in a smirk, not quite a smile—something quieter.
Warm. Meant just for her.
Then he turned and followed Emmerich, his figure disappearing around the corner.
Luna exhaled as soon as they were gone.
She stepped into her room, removed her shoes by the door, and padded across the floor with the kind of quiet tiredness that didn't quite ache. She tossed her phone onto her bed and stood by the window, staring out into the inky garden below.
Today was… a day.
The bath was hot when she slipped into it, steam fogging the antique mirror across the room. She sank lower, letting the heat cradle her sore limbs, her muscles gradually relaxing. Her thoughts drifted and eddied like water around her.
Emilio.
She remembered his teasing, the way he tried to fluster her at the café, the scent of his cologne clinging to the air. His laughter when she stepped on his foot. He had a charm that could command a room—but it wasn't the kind of charm that stayed quietly with her when she was alone.
Then there was Leroy—his worried eyes, that scratch behind his ear, his guilty little smile when she scolded him for not taking care of himself. She'd offered him food, warmth, kindness. He reminded her of a wounded stray she couldn't help but patch up.
Her heart tightened a little at that thought.
But then—Edward.
He had smiled at her like she was an intellectual equal, not just a charming enigma to tease. He matched her wit with conversation that wasn't shallow—actually listened to her views and challenged them, made her want to talk more.
And that look—when he turned back before leaving with her father. That subtle connection in his eyes that made her stomach do something… traitorous.
Luna blinked, cheeks flushed despite the heat of the bath.
"Ugh," she muttered, sinking deeper until only her nose and eyes peeked above the water.
Later, wrapped in her oversized hoodie and her softest pajamas, Luna curled up in bed. Milo, her tabby, yawned widely and stretched over her stomach like a spoiled royal. Luna scratched his chin and whispered, "At least you don't make my heart stutter, huh?"
Milo purred in reply.
She turned off the bedside lamp, phone buzzing faintly with an unread message from Kana—but she ignored it for now.
Sleep came slowly, but not unkindly.
And just before Luna drifted off, Edward's smile slipped into her thoughts again—quiet, sure, and a little too real.
In the quiet of the manor's old study, with its tall shelves lined in dark, timeworn wood and the faint scent of leather and parchment in the air, Emmerich poured himself a glass of wine—deep red, almost black in the firelight. He offered one to Edward, who declined with a soft shake of his head, adjusting his gloves instead.
Outside the wide-paneled windows, the garden was veiled in shadow, moonlight caught only in the silver-lined clouds drifting by. A calm night—but only on the surface.
"I want everything you've got, Edward," Emmerich said at last, turning away from the decanter and facing the man seated across from him. "All the details and findings. Tell me you found some traces, so were you able to track her whereabouts?"
Edward, always composed, met Emmerich's steady gaze and nodded once. "I found traces of Lin. Not recent—but old, nearly covered by time and weather. You were right—she was moving through the deserted towns on the edge of the lawless lands. Left behind a few burnt secure data caches and minimal genetic residue, hidden inside an old MediCore outpost, completely dismantled."
Emmerich gripped the armrest of his chair, fingers tightening. "…So she really was there."
Edward continued, voice calm but low, laced with gravity. "Yes. She's been running carefully, making sure not to leave enough to follow. But I pieced together the most recent trail… and what worries me more is who else seems to be following it."
Emmerich's eyes narrowed. "They found her, too?"
"Some of them," Edward replied. "Private military contractors, AI syndicate agents, even a few loose zealots from the Cult of Divine Mind. But most disturbing… I found encoded contracts tying multiple factions to a new client—a phantom entity funding search ops specifically for Lin's AI research. No name, but the scale of funding is vast."
Emmerich slowly sat down, the wine forgotten. "Her generative AI…"
Edward nodded. "It's not just a stolen blueprint anymore. What she designed could surpass anything we've built today. It learns from humans in real-time, adapts to emotional stimuli, and can even process grief and memory into predictive cognitive restoration. It's close to sentient modeling."
"And they want to control it."
Edward leaned forward slightly. "I already made arrangements. I leave at dawn. I've hired an escort team—ex-special forces, cyber-enhanced, deeply loyal. I'll confront the factions we've identified—cut off their interest, scare the rest into backing down. Lin's still alive. She has to be. But she won't survive much longer if too many trails converge."
Emmerich's jaw tightened. "…You're sure about this team?"
Edward gave a faint smile. "They're not cheap, and not saints. But they're good. One of them already turned down a higher-paying merc job because he heard who I was protecting. Apparently, Lin's name still carries weight in some old circles."
"Of course it does." Emmerich looked away, voice softer now. "She didn't just build things. She gave people hope in their worst moments."
Edward stood, rolling his shoulders with that quiet precision of someone always ready to move. "I'll send updates every twelve hours. And Sir Emmerich… you need to keep Luna out of this. If these people think she's connected to Lin—"
"They won't," Emmerich interrupted, firm. "They won't touch my daughter."
Edward gave a respectful nod, then stepped toward the door.
Just before he left, Emmerich added quietly, "Protect her no matter what, Edward. I don't care how many strings you have to pull. Just make sure she's safe and sound."
Edward didn't smile, but his voice held an unusual warmth as he said, "I'll do everything I can. For her. For you."
And then he was gone, his footsteps silent in the corridor, the door closing with a click behind him.
Emmerich sat alone in the study for a moment longer, the firelight flickering across the old photo tucked into the corner of his desk—an image of a younger Emmerich, arms around Lin, Luna both smiling at each other lovingly.
He reached for it, thumb brushing gently over Lin's smile.
"Stay safe, my love," he whispered into the dark.