Chapter 175 Dreamed of You
Emory had never been the kind of man to lower himself easily. Pride was woven into the fabric of his character, and it was rare for him to step down from that height in front of anyone.
And yet here he was, offering a warm handshake and heartfelt thanks to a girl barely eighteen, still in high school. The sincerity behind that gesture spoke volumes.
"Mr. Buckner, you flatter me," Amelia said, returning the handshake with steady composure. "I only did what any Celestrian should do. It's nothing extraordinary."
She glanced toward Rocco. "Compared to my skill in the ring, it was Rocco's willingness to risk himself for the artifact that deserves far greater respect."
Emory hadn't expected such poise from someone so young. Her first instinct under praise was neither to boast nor deflect—it was to highlight the patriotism and sacrifice of his grandson. That alone deepened his impression of her.
In this age, people like her—grounded, humble, capable—were rare.
"Come on," Rocco muttered, scratching the back of his head, embarrassed. "With my build, I couldn't have won a single match. If you hadn't been there, there's no way that artifact would have made it home."
He hesitated, then added, "Back then you always wore that panda mask. I couldn't tell your age. I knew you were young, but… I didn't expect you were still in your final year of high school."
"You're in your last year?" Emory's brows lifted slightly. "In a school here in River City?"
"Yes," Amelia nodded.
"Have you thought about which university you want to attend in the future?" Emory pressed.
He was a senior professor in the archaeology department at Aurora College—a department that remained one of the least popular in any university, even in Celestria's most prestigious institution. Fewer than twenty students filled its ranks, and even fewer had the patience and dedication to truly pursue archaeology.
Every lecture reminded Emory of what he lacked: a final, worthy apprentice. Someone who could commit without chasing instant rewards.
The moment Amelia mentioned she was still in high school, the thought took root. He didn't know her grades, but her demeanor alone told him she had integrity and a strong sense of responsibility toward cultural preservation.
Archaeology didn't demand perfect scores—it demanded patience, steadiness, and the ability to look beyond personal gain.
The college's special talent admissions were approaching, and he had one recommendation slot left. He wasn't about to let someone like her slip away.
"Amelia, would you consider studying at Aurora College?" he asked directly. "I'm a professor in the archaeology department. Do you have any interest in the field?"
Aurora College was a dream for most Celestrian students, a place only the nation's top few could hope to enter. For many, such an offer would prompt an immediate yes. Amelia, however, paused to think.
"Aurora College… it's definitely my dream school," she admitted. "But I have a lot of interests, and I haven't decided which major I'll choose yet."
"I see." Emory's voice carried a trace of disappointment, but also understanding.
"Rocco and I are in River City for a reason. Tomorrow morning we're heading to a small town on the outskirts to examine an old building. Let's exchange contact information. If you ever decide to pursue archaeology, reach out to me."
He pulled out his phone, saved her number, and after a few more words of parting, Amelia left them behind, returning to the Martinez mansion before nine.
Inside, life carried on as if nothing had happened. Kevin was buried in work. Chris never used Instagram. Ryan, despite being in the entertainment industry, didn't care about trending topics—he barely remembered his own account password. Zander had no interest in social media at all, and Tobias was too absorbed in gaming to even have Instagram installed.
So while the outside world buzzed with heated discussions about Amelia's identity as the Bald Eagle—blowing up enough to hit trending—inside the Martinez family, it was as if the revelation had never occurred.
Kevin asked if her evening had gone smoothly. She nodded, and he told her to get some rest.
Celestria was four hours ahead of Sulien. By the time Amelia finished her shower and lay down, it was ten o'clock here, past two in the morning there.
An hour ago, Michael had sent her a message saying he was going to sleep. By now, he'd be deep in it.
Since they met, they had never been apart for this long. Normally, all she had to do was say, "I want to see you," and Michael would reply, "Wait for me," then drop whatever he was doing, come to her, hold her, kiss her.
Now, three days without seeing him, staring at the words on her screen, the ache in her chest was unbearable.
If she wanted to see him… she would.
Most people were bound by circumstances, unable to act on a whim. But she wasn't most people.
She had the means to cross any distance, if she chose.
She switched off the light, letting darkness settle over the room. Shadow curled up beside her arm, breathing evenly.
Amelia lifted her hand. On her ring finger, the ruby glinted faintly in the dark—a brief, muted red shimmer.
Far away, in a hotel room in Sulien, another ring—its design an intricate weave of thorns and wings—worn on Michael's finger, answered with the same glow. He didn't notice.
It was his third day in Sulien, and his grandmother was still missing. He hadn't truly rested in all that time. The local sheriff was doing his best, but finding an elderly woman in a country of millions, with no trace and erased surveillance footage, wasn't a matter of days.
Where she was, who had taken her, whether her illness had flared up again, how many more times her body could endure… these thoughts haunted him even in sleep.
When Amelia appeared, she saw him frowning even with his eyes closed.
Michael's face was as flawless as ever—strong brows, a straight nose, a jaw cut in clean lines. But unlike the gentleness he showed her, tonight his features carried a sharpness, a steel edge.
He looked thinner. She didn't need to guess why—poor sleep, poor meals, constant strain.
She reached out, intending to smooth the crease between his brows.
Before her fingertips could touch him, his eyes snapped open. In that instant, cold vigilance flared in his gaze… but when he saw her face, he froze.
For a heartbeat, confusion clouded his features. Then recognition settled in, and his expression shifted.
"Baby?" His voice was tentative, his hand closing around hers.
The steel melted from his eyes, replaced with warmth so deep it threatened to spill over.
"I can't believe I'm dreaming about you…"