The black town car glided through the towering wrought-iron gates of the Dover estate, the tires crunching softly against the crushed white gravel of the circular driveway.
Airis stepped out of the vehicle, offering a polite nod of thanks to Arthur before turning toward the grand entrance.
The late afternoon sun painted the mansion's stone facade in warm, honeyed tones.It was a picture of absolute, unshakeable stability.
As she pushed open the heavy mahogany front doors, the familiar scent of fresh lemon polish and expensive floral arrangements was unexpectedly undercut by something sharper—the distinct, earthy aroma of linseed oil, turpentine, and rich oil paints.
"Miss Airis," Mrs. Gable said, appearing from the hallway with a pleased smile.
"Your mother has finally emerged from her studio. She's waiting for you in the sunroom."
A sudden, cold spike of panic shot through Airis's chest, completely bypassing the System's passive calming effects.
Mother.
In the frantic rush of adapting to her new body, dealing with the System, and managing the psychological fallout of seeing her past self, Lin Ye had almost entirely compartmentalized the existence of Airis Dover's parents.
The inherited memories told her that her father, Alexander, was a multi-billionaire tech and real estate magnate currently expanding his empire in Europe.
Her mother, Victoria, was a fiercely talented, slightly eccentric contemporary artist who often locked herself away in her private wing for days during a burst of inspiration.
As the sole heir to the Dover fortune, Airis was the absolute center of their universe.
She was doted upon with a level of wealth and affection that bordered on the astronomical.
But Lin Ye had been an orphan since he was fifteen. The twenty-seven-year-old man inside hadn't spoken to a parent in over a decade.
He had forgotten the cadence of familial intimacy, the casual touch, the expected emotional vulnerability.
How do teenage girls talk to their mothers?
Airis thought frantically, her perfectly manicured fingernails digging slightly into the leather strap of her tote bag.
Do I hug her?
Kiss her cheek?
What if I act too mature?
What if my tone is wrong?
"If something is wrong, admit it in time and never repent,"
she muttered her mantra under her breath, forcing her shoulders to relax. She was a master of corporate adaptation.
She could handle a mother-daughter tea time.
She walked down the wide, sunlit corridor, her loafers clicking softly against the marble floors, and stepped into the sunroom.
The room was a breathtaking expanse of glass and trailing exotic plants. Sitting on a plush, cream-colored sofa was Victoria Dover.
She was a strikingly beautiful woman in her early forties, possessing the same sapphire blue eyes and delicate bone structure as Airis, though her hair was a rich, dark chestnut.
She wore an elegant, oversized silk blouse that was casually smudged with cerulean and ochre paint, her hair pinned up in a messy, effortless twist.
The moment Victoria saw her, her face lit up with an expression of such pure, unadulterated adoration that it physically took Airis's breath away.
"My darling!" Victoria set her teacup down with a clatter and stood up, crossing the room in three graceful strides.
Before Airis could formulate a response, she was enveloped in a crushing, suffocatingly warm embrace.
The scent of expensive jasmine perfume mixed with oil paint surrounded her. Victoria's soft hands stroked her golden-blonde hair, pulling her close.
Airis froze. Every instinct of the solitary, hardened salaryman screamed at the sudden intrusion of personal space.
His body went rigid for a fraction of a second. But then, the absolute, unconditional warmth of the gesture seeped through the Aegis Bioskin.
It wasn't an attack; it was a sanctuary.
Hesitantly, awkwardly, Airis raised her delicate arms and returned the hug, burying her face slightly in her mother's shoulder.
"Hi, Mom,"
she whispered, her melodic voice trembling just a fraction.
Victoria pulled back, keeping her hands on Airis's shoulders.
She tilted her head, her sharp, artist's eyes scanning her daughter's face with microscopic intensity.
The silence stretched for three agonizing seconds. Airis mentally checked the System.
The Aesthetic Dampener was firmly locked at 65%. She was safe from blinding her mother with divine perfection.
"You look..." Victoria murmured, her perfectly arched eyebrows drawing together in a slight frown.
"I look like what?" Airis asked, forcing a light, breezy tone.
"Different," Victoria declared, her thumbs gently tracing the line of Airis's collarbones.
"You had that terrible fever on Sunday. I was so worried I almost called your father to fly back from Geneva. But now... Airis, you're positively glowing."
Victoria stepped back, taking in the full picture. The 'Perfected Cellular Vitality' had corrected years of imperceptible slouching.
Airis stood with the effortless, sweeping grace of a prima ballerina.
Her skin, even dampened by the filter, possessed a flawless, healthy radiance that no amount of expensive skincare could replicate.
"Did you change your makeup? No, you're not wearing any foundation,"
Victoria mused, tapping her chin.
"It's your aura. You seem so... grounded. And your hair is incredible. Did you finally try that caviar hair mask I imported from Milan?"
"Yes,"
Airis lied smoothly, flashing a perfect, sweet smile.
"I slept off the fever, used the mask, and just... feel really good today. The weather is nice."
Victoria let out a musical laugh, shaking her head.
"Well, whatever it is, keep doing it. My beautiful girl."
She linked her arm through Airis's—another casual intimacy that Airis was slowly learning to endure without flinching—and led her toward the sofa.
"Sit, sit. Mrs. Gable brought up some macarons,"
Victoria said, pouring a second cup of tea.
"Tell me everything. How was school?
Are the Gala preparations stressing you out?
If that Sterling girl is causing you any grief over the theme, I'll just have my assistant buy out the event space and we can host our own masquerade."
Airis blinked, momentarily stunned by the casual deployment of billionaire financial warfare over a high school dance.
"No, Mom, it's fine. Chloe and I are handling it,"
Airis said, taking a delicate sip of the tea.
"School was... quiet. Peaceful."
"Good," Victoria sighed, leaning back against the cushions. She rubbed her temples, a shadow of exhaustion crossing her features.
"I've been in the studio for forty-eight hours straight. The gallery wants three new pieces by next month, and the inspiration just wasn't flowing. I was feeling so terribly anxious."
Suddenly, Victoria paused. She dropped her hands from her temples, taking a deep, slow breath.
Her chest expanded, and the tight lines of stress around her eyes visibly smoothed out. She looked around the sunroom, a look of mild bewilderment on her face.
"Strange," Victoria murmured, a soft smile returning to her lips.
"The headache is completely gone. Actually, sitting here with you... I feel incredibly relaxed. It's so peaceful right now."
Airis took another bite of a raspberry macaron to hide her smirk.
The System's passive skill, [Aura of Serenity], was working flawlessly. The ten-meter radius of absolute calm had washed over her mother, instantly dampening the frantic, artistic anxiety and inducing a state of profound relaxation.
"I'm glad you're feeling better," Airis said softly.
"You're my little good luck charm,"
Victoria sighed happily, reaching over to squeeze Airis's hand.
"Oh! Speaking of the Gala, your father called this morning. He wants to know if you need a new dress.
He offered to fly over a lead designer from Paris next weekend for a custom fitting.
Or we could take the jet to New York and do some shopping?"
Lin Ye's mind reeled. A private jet to New York just to buy a dress for a high school dance.
The sheer scale of the Dover fortune was incomprehensible. It was a stark, jarring contrast to the boy who had just wept over a box of frozen groceries twelve miles away.
"I don't think we need to go to New York,"
Airis replied, her tone pragmatic, drawing on her years of adult maturity.
"I have several dresses in my closet that I've never even worn. It seems wasteful to fly a designer out for a single evening when we already have beautiful options here."
Victoria stopped, her teacup hovering halfway to her mouth. She stared at her daughter, her blue eyes wide with surprise.
Usually, the original Airis Dover would have jumped at the chance to fly to New York or commission a custom Parisian gown.
She was a teenager, after all, and prone to the frivolous indulgences of her wealth.
"Wasteful?"
Victoria repeated, as if tasting a foreign word. A slow, deeply impressed smile spread across her face.
"My goodness, Airis. Listen to you. So mature.
So grounded.
Your father is going to be so proud when I tell him you're starting to think practically. You're really growing up, sweetheart."
Airis felt a strange, dual pang of emotion. On one hand, she was relieved her corporate pragmatism had been interpreted as maturity rather than suspicious behavior.
On the other hand, the sheer pride and love radiating from Victoria hit her like a physical blow.
Lin Ye had craved this exact look from his own phantom parents.
He had spent years staring at their cheap, framed photograph in his freezing apartment, wondering if they would have been proud of him for surviving, for working the night shifts, for studying until his eyes bled.
And now, here was a mother, looking at him—looking at her—with an ocean of unconditional love, simply because she had decided not to buy an unnecessary dress.
The awkwardness and the dissonance began to melt away, washed out by the gentle, persistent warmth of the Aura of Serenity and the undeniable comfort of the sunroom.
"Thanks, Mom,"
Airis said, and for the first time since the rebirth, the word didn't feel like a lie on her tongue.
She wasn't going to reject this. She had the Aegis Bioskin to protect her body, but this—this family, this wealth, this mother—was the armor that would protect her soul.
They spent the next hour simply talking. Victoria spoke about her art, her colorful friends in the gallery world, and her husband's stressful mergers.
Airis listened, offering calm, insightful nods and gentle smiles.
She didn't have to pretend to be a bubbly teenager; her newly discovered "maturity" gave her the perfect excuse to act exactly as she wanted—quiet, slow-paced, and unbothered.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sunroom in twilight, Victoria kissed Airis's forehead.
"I'm going to take a long bath and then go to sleep,"
Victoria said, looking more rested than she had in days.
"I love you to the moon and back, my darling."
"Love you too," Airis replied softly.
Watching her mother walk away, Airis Dover leaned back into the plush sofa.
The ghost of Lin Ye, the hardened, traumatized orphan, finally closed his eyes and let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief.
He was safe. He was loved. He was home.
And across the city, his past self was eating a warm meal.
For the first time in twenty-seven years, every single piece of the universe felt like it was perfectly, flawlessly in place.