Emma looked at Silas, her brows furrowing. "When you say Frostveil's people, do you mean Marcus actually came?" She hesitated. "And what about Drake? Why is he back?" Her chest tightened. He couldn't possibly be here to stir up trouble after last night. Silas pressed his lips together. "Yes. Frostveil brought Marcus." He didn't mention whether Marcus was alive or not. That part hung in the air like smoke. "As for Drake…" Silas' tone turned odd, almost hesitant. "He said he offended you last night. He came to apologize." Emma blinked at him. "Apologize? For what?"Her disbelief was sharp. After the mess he made last night, she was amazed he hadn't come demanding payback. Drake? Apologizing? That man would rather choke than admit he was wrong. If he said he was here to apologize, it was just an excuse to start something new. Silas shook his head. "I asked him what he meant. He wouldn't tell me." His expression grew tense. "And his face… it looked strange. I couldn't read him." "Emma," he said gently, "don't worry. I won't let him get near you." Lucien straightened up, his voice full of remorse. "He's right. Emma, I swear I'll never touch alcohol again. I'm so sorry about last night." He sounded miserable. He'd acted like an idiot and failed to protect her.Edric nodded quickly. "Same here. Never again." Just the thought made him cringe. If Silas hadn't given him and Lucien one of his leaves that morning, they wouldn't have remembered anything. And honestly, they wished they hadn't. Edric's face burned. He was sure Silas had given them those leaves on purpose—just to make them remember every humiliating thing they'd done. Still, drunken chaos wasn't the end of the world. No one got hurt, and Emma hadn't yelled. "It's fine," Emma said calmly. "Let's just forget about it." Losing control wasn't the worst part. The real nightmare was the morning after, when someone reminded you. Emma was merciful enough not to. She gave them a small smile. "But I'm not giving either of you another drink again." Her eyes softened as she looked at Edric."Although, Edric, you did look pretty cute crawling away as a tiny snake." Then she turned to Lucien. "And you, as that little red bird—adorable. Your feathers were beautiful." Edric's face went blank. Lucien's jaw clenched. Didn't she just say they weren't talking about it? … In the front hall, Thero stood stiffly beside Frostveil's entourage, his expression sour enough to curdle milk. This day couldn't get worse. He must've stepped out under the wrong star because running into Frostveil's people was bad luck itself. Every single one of them looked like they'd stepped out of the same snowstorm—white hair, white coats, white boots. But what really made his skin crawl was the sight of the ice crystal coffin they carried in front.Behind it came dozens of black boxes lined in perfect rows. It didn't look like a delegation. It looked like a funeral march. They looked like pallbearers, not guests. And they had the nerve to show up at someone's house dressed like that? Were they not afraid of cursing the place with their bad luck? Emma walked in with Lucien, Edric, and Silas. The moment she stepped into the grand hall, her gaze caught on the giant crystal coffin in the center. Outside, the white marble walkway was lined with more than twenty pitch-black boxes. Two rows of people stood in formation, motionless. Each one wore a spotless white coat, white pants, and white boots. Their hair was white too—every last strand. If someone had lifted a funeral banner, the scene would've been complete.Beside the coffin stood an old man with snow-white hair, beard, and eyebrows. He leaned over the coffin, muttering under his breath. His face was twisted like he was mourning. He looked seconds away from crying. Emma slowed her steps, confusion flickering in her eyes. Could Marcus… really be dead? Had Frostveil actually dragged her match's corpse here? Were they trying to prove that even in death, Marcus still belonged to her? Her thoughts tangled, and her eyes stayed locked on the coffin's glittering surface. She didn't notice Drake sitting quietly across the room. From the second she appeared, his gaze snapped to her—and never left. He couldn't stop staring. His mind kept replaying flashes from last night. That haze. That heat. That mess. He'd gone to find her, but she had been busy searching for Lucien and Edric.So he'd waited. That's when he'd smelled it—a scent so sweet and heady it made his pulse pound. It came from a bottle sitting on her table. He knew it wasn't his to touch. But the smell was too tempting, too addictive. He tried to resist. He really did. But she didn't come back right away, and his self-control cracked. He told himself one sip wouldn't hurt. Then another. Then another. Until the world started spinning, and everything went black. The next thing he remembered was Emma.