Seeing Emma gasping for breath, Silas finally snapped out of his frenzy and regained control of himself. Panic flickered in his eyes as he reached for her wrist, his fingers trembling slightly while he checked her pulse. Only when he confirmed she was fine—just winded from lack of air—did he let out a slow sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, Ms. Tibarn," he said softly. "I… lost control for a moment." He had only just regained consciousness, and his mental power was still unstable. D*mn it, he cursed inwardly. I almost hurt her because I couldn't keep myself in check. Emma wasn't exactly frightened—just wary. Beneath Silas' polished, refined exterior, she sensed the presence of a predator, something dangerous and untamed lurking just beneath the surface. If the phrase "wolf in sheep's clothing" had a face, it would be his."Did I scare you, Ms. Tibarn?" Silas asked gently when she didn't reply, his tone soft, coaxing. He leaned closer, his voice low and warm. "Don't be afraid. I promise it won't happen again." That gentle tone only made things worse. To Emma, he suddenly felt like the Big Bad Wolf sweet-talking Little Red Riding Hood—one word away from swallowing her whole. When she saw him inching closer again, Emma quickly pushed against his chest and forced a stern expression. "Behave yourself—and put your clothes back on." "Yes, ma'am." Silas adjusted his glasses, then calmly reached for the shirt he had discarded earlier and began buttoning it up one clasp at a time. Emma couldn't help watching. When he reached the final button, his fingers paused, his Adam's apple sliding against his fingertip as he swallowed. The motion was maddeningly sensual. Gulp. She actually heard the sound of her own throat. Ahhhhhhhhh! She was about to lose it. She could barely handle teasing a naive man like Edric—how was she supposed to withstand a walking temptation like Silas? No, no, stay calm. Breathe. You can't be distracted by a pretty face. The first one has to be Edric. It has to be Edric. Silas watched her expression shift and smirked faintly. He didn't need her to say a word; her thoughts were written all over her face. Out of all her suitors, Edric really got lucky. "All dressed," he said, fastening the last button. Then, with a composed grace, he knelt before her, like a wild beast tamed and waiting for its master's command. "Emy, may I call you that?" His voice was gentle and elegant, carrying a hint of humility and pleading. Emma couldn't bring herself to refuse. "You may," she said softly. Then, remembering her confusion, she frowned slightly. "But tell me—how did you even get into my room without triggering the defense system?" Every night, she always kept her cabin's protection grid active. Even Silas couldn't have slipped in unnoticed. Silas' consciousness was still fragile—he couldn't maintain this dream state for long. He reached out and caressed her cheek. "Because I've been here all along. I'm the Crescent Vine that Lucien brought back—the one you've been keeping in that flowerpot." Emma froze. "The flowerpot? The Crescent Vine?" Her eyes widened. "You mean… you're the Divine Tree?" Silas smiled faintly, a little helpless. "Not the Divine Tree—Crescent Vine. My true form is a mutated Crescent Vine. We may look similar, but we're not the same." Emma frowned. "But the data I found showed the Divine Tree looks exactly like you." He moved a little closer, his tone calm and patient. "That's because the Divine Tree's original form was also a mutated Crescent Vine. You can think of us as the same species, but not the same individual. The Divine Tree gained divinity after staying beside the Beast God for centuries—that's how it became what it is now." His explanation finally made sense to her. She blinked, curiosity softening her expression. "Then… can you bloom too?" She had been planning to wait for the Divine Tree to flower so she could gift one of its blossoms to Edric. "I can," Silas said with a smile, already guessing what she was thinking. "My blossoms may not be as potent as the Divine Tree's, but they're enough to save a life." He took her hand gently and lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the fingertip she had pricked earlier. His deep-blue eyes shimmered with guilt and affection. "Emy, don't feed me your blood anymore. Just put a few Rank 7 beast cores in the pot—that'll be enough." He didn't want her hurting herself for his sake again.Emma, however, knew his body reacted differently. Her blood had clearly triggered something within him—beast cores barely had any effect. She didn't say anything, but she had already made up her mind. If a few drops of her blood could heal him faster, why waste time waiting on beast cores?