Eden was from Volk. She stood at 178 cm, with shoulder-length white hair and a sharp gaze to match. She’d known Emma since she was twelve—back when Emma was already eighteen. At the time, Eden had been a quiet, reserved child. Now, fifteen years later, things had changed. Eden towered a full foot over Emma, her once-quiet demeanor replaced by a confident, borderline cocky charm. She never missed a chance to flirt with Emma, though the gestures never seemed to land. Emma still saw her the same way she always had—not as a lover, but as the kid she once knew. Emma sat slouched in a chair across from Eden’s desk, skimming through the news. Eden leaned back in her chair, a cigar between her fingers, dressed—like always—in a sharp tailored suit. Her office was more a command post than a workspace.