Emma noticed. The way he was looking at her, and the heat radiating from the hand still holding her wrist, made everything painfully clear. She frowned, her tone turning sharp. "Get a hold of yourself. Keep going, and you'll drain me dry," she said coldly. "That's bad for me, and bad for you." Emma pulled her wrist free from his hand. "I need to rest. Please make sure my payment gets transferred to my Lightcore star coin account. Thanks." A deal was a deal. She had no intention of letting a transaction blur on the first day. Without another glance, she staggered upstairs. As soon as she left, Sebastian hurried back inside with the others. "Your Majesty, why did Ms. Emma Tibarn go upstairs? Has she finished comforting you?" Drake leaned back on the couch, looking even more relaxed than before, his eyes half-lidded. "Mm." Sebastian frowned, uneasy. "Your Majesty, how do you feel now?" Was her mental comfort effective on him? From Rank 1 to Rank 15—such was the Etherian scale. It was said that Rank 15 could rival the Beast God himself. Yet no Rank 15 Etherian had emerged in millions of years. Currently, the strongest across the Interstellar Empire were four Rank 11s—one of them Drake, another the Wolf King of Frostveil, with the other two on the Central Planet. By rights, a male of Drake's level shouldn't have been matched to a Rank 4 female. But the Beastmate System never erred. Sebastian had always believed this was the Beast God's will, which was why he had pushed Drake to try. Drake slowly lifted his eyelids, his gaze meeting Sebastian's anxious ones. His voice was slow, lazy. "Never felt this relaxed in my life." The sensation was so new, so relaxing. It almost had him hooked.... "Really?" The 600-year-old elder actually bounced to his feet at the answer, looking like a kid at Christmas. "That's wonderful. That means Ms. Emma Tibarn's mental comfort is effective on you." Sebastian immediately opened his lightcore and transferred 50 million star coins to Emma. "Thank the Beast God for guiding His Majesty to the lady who can provide mental comfort to him." … Upstairs, Emma stumbled back into her bedroom. Too drained to even make breakfast, she pulled out a nutrient fluid, downed it, and then crawled straight into bed, falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Her mental power had been so thoroughly depleted that she slept like a rock. Her lightcore chimed several times during her sleep, but she didn't hear a thing. … Far off-world, on an unnamed barren planet, a man with deep violet eyes glared at the lightcore's flickering signal, frustration etched into his brow. He had been on this planet for a month now, hunting for Level 8 beasts. The place was a technological dead zone—his lightcore barely ever connected to the network. Even when it did, he only got a few seconds of signal before it cut out again. Today, Edric had finally caught a stable signal, and he saw the Consort Pavilion's Beastmate System notification pop up on his screen. Cold-blooded therian males had it rough. Their beast forms were too intimidating, and most female Etherians wanted nothing to do with them. Even when matched with a lady, the moment she learned her match was a cold-blooded therian, her first instinct was usually to dissolve the match. That was why, after a match, cold-blooded therian males usually rushed to their lady's side, doing everything they could to win her over. But Edric? It had been three days since the match. He hadn't gone to her, hadn't even sent a single message. Great. Ms. Tibarn must be furious by now. Taking advantage of his moment of signal, Edric tapped Emma's contact and initiated a lightcall projection. The call rang several times but went unanswered. His stomach dropped. Perfect. Ms. Tibarn was definitely mad. He tried again—but the signal died. Edric stared at the dead screen, speechless. He shot up from his perch at the top of a tree, leaping down and striding to his team still hunting for Level 8 beasts. "The mission's on hold. Pack it up. We're leaving within the hour." Just getting back from this barren planet would take at least 20 days. Cold-blooded therian males weren't exactly popular. By the time he got back… would Ms. Tibarn even still want him? … Emma slept straight through until the next morning. When she woke, her mental power had fully recovered, her body feeling strong again. She got up, washed, changed, and—before heading downstairs—checked her lightcore. Her usually quiet match list had lit up. Aside from Damian, the one always scheming to get her money, there was another name blinking. Edric had tried to call her via lightcall projection. She'd been too deep asleep to hear it. Nine matches. One whom she had already dissolved the match with and unfriended. Another had turned into a paid arrangement. A third was always trying to hit her up for money. As the saying went, lightning never strikes the same place twice. But here she was, with three eccentric matches in a row. Surely, the fourth wouldn't turn out to be a mess too, right? She eyed the three missed projection calls and hesitated before calling back. A second later, the system responded, 'Lightcore System: The account you have dialed is currently out of the coverage zone.' Emma stared at the message. The lightcore network covered more than 10,000 planets across the interstellar realm. This guy wasn't even in the coverage zone? Was he off-world? No wonder he hadn't reached out. Forget it. He probably wouldn't be able to contact her anytime soon anyway. Closing Edric's chat window, Emma noticed a string of messages from Damian. He texted, 'Ms. Tibarn, I miss you so much. I can't wait to see you, but I don't have any star coins right now to take the starrail to you.' He sent her a pouting emoji.'Ms. Tibarn, why aren't you replying? Don't you like me?' 'Ms. Tibarn, I've thought of a great way to earn star coins. I'm going to the Dark Forest south of the Central Planet to hunt beasts.' 'Once I kill enough beasts and earn the star coins, I'll come find you.' 'Ms. Tibarn, wait for me!' He sent another emoji of an obedient boy. Then, hours later, another batch of messages from Damian. He first sent a photo of a Rank 3 beast. Then, he texted, 'Look, Ms. Tibarn, I killed a beast. Unfortunately, I'm injured right now. I can't handle high-tier beasts. Only ones on Rank 3. Ms. Tibarn, wait for me. Once I kill a few more of them, I'll come to you.' And finally, this morning, an hour ago, he sent two more images, this time from a hospital. He sent a selfie from his hospital bed showing his injuries.Emma stared at the 6D projection. It was almost like he was standing in front of her. A man with long white hair sat propped against a hospital bed, dressed in a loose white interstellar patient gown. His face was pale, with two faint scratches across it. His vulpine red eyes glimmered with tears, his delicate, androgynous beauty shadowed by fragility and pain. His long white hair spilled messily over his gown, the blood-red tips like threads of crimson weaving into his weakness. Beautiful. Really beautiful. Strikingly so—without a trace of femininity despite the flawless features. If he weren't constantly trying to scam her out of money, if those vulpine red eyes weren't always full of calculation, Emma would probably have fallen for him at first sight. Star coins? Sure, he could have had as many as he wanted. Alas, his acting was terrible. Emma, burned one too many times, saw through his fake injuries instantly. Sometimes she hated how rational she was. But more than anything, she hated being lied to. Damian had sent the photos and, getting no response, had followed up with more messages. He texted, 'Ms. Tibarn, don't worry about me. I just got a little careless last night hunting beasts because of my injuries and got hurt again. Luckily, someone saved me. I'm receiving treatment now and will be out soon. It's just that all the star coins I earned went to my hospital bills. Now I have no way to come see you. What should I do?' He sent an emoji, trying to appear pitiful. He made no mention of money in every message—yet every message was about money. Emma pretended not to get the hint. She replied, 'How did you get hurt like that? My heart's breaking for you.' She added, 'Don't rush to see me. Since the Beast God matched you to me, we'll meet eventually.' Finally, she texted, 'Focus on healing. Once you're better, then come. Don't worry, I'm not going to dissolve the match just because you're late.' If he didn't want to tell the truth, she'd keep playing along. In the end, she wasn't the one who'd lose.