Chapter 10: Pink Tumblers & Purgatory Sparks

"The Ravenscroft villa is passable," Lucian Drayden remarked with exaggerated seriousness, before pivoting to his signature arrogance. "But it's still no match for my residence." 

The car slowed as it entered a sprawling modern European-style mansion. 

Eon raised an eyebrow. "Same neighborhood?" 

They'd left the Ravenscroft estate mere minutes ago, and Lucian had driven at a leisurely pace the entire way. 

"Correct." The man steered with one hand, his handsome face still radiating smugness. "Moved in this morning. I own more properties than I can occupy." 

Eon could only sigh. Karma truly is a wheel, and now it's her turn to be the pauper. 

As the car stopped, Eon glanced outside. A swarm of uniformed staff rushed toward them. She turned to Lucian. "Since when do you care about pomp?" 

Her lips accidentally brushed his cheek as he leaned over to unbuckle her seatbelt. The fleeting warmth froze them both. 

… 

Eon braced for the cringe of social annihilation, but then noticed the blush creeping up Lucian's neck. 

Him? **This* *flustered? Her mind raced. Apologize? Explain? Or… propose marriage? 

"Eon," Lucian coughed, already exiting the car to open her door with exaggerated chivalry. "We're here." 

She stepped out, determined to address the incident. "About earlier—" 

"Master Lucian, welcome back!" 

A butler-led entourage swarmed them, their enthusiasm laser-focused on Eon. "Lady Ravenscroft! What an honor to host you!" 

Eon blinked at the inexplicable fervor but nodded politely. "Hello." 

"Is Xander here?" Lucian gestured to a silver Ferrari in the driveway, his tone casual. 

The butler bowed. "Yes, sir. Mr. Thorne arrived five minutes ago. He awaits you in the parlor." 

Lucian slid a hand into his trouser pocket and casually grasped Eon's. "Let's go." 

The staff's gazes burned hotter. 

Eon: "…" 

Tugging his hand as they walked, she whispered, "What exactly did you tell them?" 

Lucian avoided eye contact, clearing his throat. "Just that you're my best friend in the entire world. Wanted them to recognize you in case you ever need refuge from your family. My doors—and my dozen other estates—are always open." He softened. "There's even a manor called Celestial Bastion No. 1, designed like our old Eon Sanctum courtyards. You'd love it." 

Eon wasn't oblivious. Warmth bloomed in her chest as she tightened her grip on his hand. "Thank you." 

Lucian slowed to walk beside her, all traces of guilt replaced by playful confidence. "Since when do we stand on ceremony? We're best friends." He swung their clasped hands lightly. "Besides, my frail constitution still needs your miracle cure." 

The joke hung awkwardly—neither was adept at sincerity. 

Eon matched his tone. "I'll prioritize your medicine." 

"No rush." He led her into a parlor dominated by a two-story opulent crystal chandelier. The space screamed decadence: gilded moldings, exotic patterned carpets, and velvet drapes framing floor-to-ceiling windows. 

On a leather sofa sat Xander Thorne, sprawled like a mob boss. He glanced up—and choked on his scotch. 

Lucian and Eon entered hand-in-hand, the latter clutching a bubblegum-pink children's tumbler. 

Xander: "…What fresh hell is this?" 

"Sit," Lucian ordered, ignoring his friend's stare. "What? Never seen beauty and brilliance incarnate?" 

"Ha!" Xander slammed his glass down, ready to retaliate—but paused. 

D*mn it. They **are* *ridiculously attractive. 

After mentally cursing ten generations of Draydens, Xander turned to Eon. "So you're the—" 

A server arrived with tea and petit fours, drowning the table. 

Lucian poured tea into Xander's half-empty cup. "Yes, she's the miracle-working herbalist I mentioned." 

Xander's eyes widened. The Thorne and Drayden families had been allies for generations—he knew Lucian's coded language. His expression now screamed: You're **pining?** 

"Drink," Lucian ordered. 

Xander relented. If this was genuine love, he'd play along. He straightened, offering Eon a nod. "Xander Thorne." 

"Eon Ravenscroft." She smiled politely, lifting her teacup. 

Lucian added, "The true Ravenscroft heiress. There'll be a debutante ball soon—you'll attend." 

Xander raised a brow. Switched at birth? In our circles? But the subtext was clear: Lucian wanted the elite to recognize Eon's status. 

Hell's bells. The man's gone full simp. 

Eon, having confirmed Xander's "chronic fatigue" (a.k.a. hedonistic burnout), handed him the pink tumbler. "Your tonic." 

Xander stared at the monstrosity. "This holds my medicine?!" 

--- Meanwhile, at Ravenscroft Manor… 

A CEO of a top entertainment conglomerate arrived with a truckload of gifts—only to screech in despair: 

"Where's my sister?! WHERE'S MY GIANT-*SS, STOLEN SISTER?!"

"Portable containers optimize medicinal delivery," Eon stated, oblivious to Caelan's existential crisis back at Ravenscroft Manor. Her focus remained on pacifying her skeptical patient. "Aesthetics are irrelevant to efficacy." 

A lie. 

Pills refined through celestial flames far surpassed crude herbal brews—but for mortal ailments, this neon-hued sludge sufficed. Mostly. 

Xander Thorne stared at the bubblegum-pink tumbler. "Why does my life-saving elixir look like Lisa Frank vomited in a Chernobyl puddle?" 

Lucian's fingers twitched against Eon's hair—currently being braided around his knuckles as they lounged. "Drink." 

The command held lethal cheer. 

Xander's jaw tightened. This is how emperors got poisoned. Still, he chugged the swirling violet-green sludge—and promptly resembled a gargoyle mid-seizure. 

Eon observed clinically. "Palatal discomfort indicates potent bioactive compounds." 

"Tastes like Satan's foot fungus fermented in battery acid," Xander rasped, death-glaring his traitorous best friend. "You try this!" 

Lucian obliged with two delicate sips. His eyelashes fluttered—a telltale tremor Eon recognized from their Eon Sanctum days, when he'd choked down her first alchemical disaster claiming it "had character." 

"Perfectly drinkable," Lucian declared, Adam's apple bobbing. 

Xander's middle finger salute could've pierced titanium. Yet as the concoction's spiritual energy surged through his veins—years of whiskey-and-stress-induced fatigue dissolving like sugar in acid—his fury morphed into reverent horror. 

"Christ. This... works." 

Lucian kicked Xander's shin under the table. "Told you she's divine." 

--- Three Floors Above, Neo-Gothic Château 

"Your apothecary garden," Lucian announced, flinging open double doors. 

Eon froze. 

Where she'd expected hydroponic labs stood terraces of moon-blessed soil, celestial-grade watering systems, and— 

"Are those Starbloom Orchids?" Her voice cracked. "Those went extinct three millennia ago!" 

Lucian shrugged, fingers still tangled in her hair. "Had my acquisitions team reverse-engineer them from your old cultivation manuals." 

Xander snorted behind them. "Translation: Drayden Industries' biotech division burned eight figures to simp." 

A thrown paperweight narrowly missed his head. 

--- Epiphany Chamber 

The vault door hissed open. 

Primordial qi flooded the corridor—the kind that once fueled Eon's ascension rituals. Her golden core remnants screamed to life. 

Lucian's breath warmed her ear. "Welcome home, Shijie." 

On the altar glowed: 

• Her shattered Frostshadow Blade, reforged in quantum alloy 

• The Voidspark Tribulation's lightning, captured in a Dyson sphere generator 

• And a neon-pink tumbler labeled EON'S HYDRATION - DO NOT TOUCH 

Xander's delayed screech echoed up the stairs: "YOU TURNED A BILLION-DOLLAR LAB INTO HER MAN CAVE?!"