The golden imperial seal glowed softly under the lamplight.

Nine coiled dragons adorned its surface, their eyes gleaming with life, every scale meticulously carved as if they might take flight at any moment. At its center pulsed a pigeon-blood ruby, its crimson depths swirling with an eerie radiance.

"Nine Dragons Embracing the Pearl..." Sophia Laurent traced the intricate patterns with her fingertips. "This isn't a motif just anyone would dare to use."

Kyle Grant stood beside her, his gaze lingering on her focused profile. "The seller claimed it was recovered from the Jiangkou shipwrecks."

Her head snapped up. "Zhang Xianzhong's sunken treasure?"

"You know of it?"

"Of course." A spark of excitement flashed in her eyes. "'Stone dragon faces stone tiger, silver and gold beyond measure'—that folk rhyme has followed me since childhood."

The corner of Kyle's mouth lifted. "Which is why I thought you might uncover something about this seal."

Sophia raised the artifact toward the light, examining it closely. "I did discover the treasure map in Mr. Vanderbilt's collection, but that was because there were clues to follow. This seal..."

Her fingers stilled against the base.

"What is it?" Kyle stepped closer.

"Nothing." She shook her head. "Just an unusual carving technique." Returning the seal to the table, she asked, "May I keep it for a few days?"

"Of course."

Silence settled between them.

Kyle's Adam's apple bobbed. "That night—"

"Hmm?"

"I drank too much." His voice lowered.

Sophia blinked. "What did you say? I don't remember any of it."

The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. "Good."

As she moved to prepare tea, Kyle stood. "I should go. I made a detour here before returning home—still need to visit Mr. Vanderbilt."

After seeing him out, Sophia remained by the window, lost in thought. Outside, a bodyguard discreetly pulled out his phone.

At dawn, a notification chime startled her awake.

A transfer of 220 million glared from her screen.

Sender: Ethan Sullivan.

Her fingers turned icy against the display. She dialed the familiar number, answered on the third ring.

"Was this your doing?" Her voice tightened.

"Yes." Ethan's tone carried through the receiver, distant.

"Why disappear without a word? Why ignore my calls?" Her grip on the phone whitened her knuckles. "If you want to end things, just say so."

Static filled the pause.

"I needed space." His words sounded oceans away.

Her chest constricted. "What couldn't you tell me?"

"Nothing."

"Then we're done." The words tumbled out. "We were never from the same world to begin with."

"Sophia—"

She ended the call, tears splashing against the glass before she could stop them.

Meanwhile, Ethan stood beneath a magnolia tree.

The memory of a figure planting saplings three years ago surfaced—each shovel strike had etched itself into his bones.

But now...

His bitter laugh faded against the bark. He'd only ever been a stand-in, a pathetic "doppelgänger."

"La Belle Époque. Now." He called Oliver Granger, his voice glacial.

Thirty minutes later, the private room swirled with liquor's perfume.

Ethan downed shots of baijiu in relentless succession until Oliver's concern spiked.

"Easy there. This isn't beer."

Ignoring him, Ethan drained another glass.

"Fight with Sophia?" Oliver ventured.

The crystal tumbler slammed onto lacquered wood, amber liquid splashing over the rim. Ethan lifted bloodshot eyes.