?Chapter 2787:


    Once Joy drifted off to sleep, Eric slipped out of the Crimson House and made his way back to the main residence. The foyer lights still glowed, and there stood Ernest, waiting.


    “Ernest.”


    “Joy’s asleep?”


    “Yes.”


    A faint sigh left Ernest.


    “You haven’t had dinner, have you? Come on—let’s get you something to eat.”


    Before Eric could argue, Ernest turned and walked toward the dining room, leaving no room for refusal.


    They sat across from one another, a te already prepared in front of Eric.


    “Eat.”


    “Alright,” Eric agreed with a nod.


    Even without hunger, he lifted his utensils and forced himself to chew in silence.


    Ernest kept watching him, his frown deepening, until he suddenly asked, “How about a drink?”


    After a short pause, he added, “I’ll drink with you.”


    Eric’s throat tightened, and his voice nearly cracked.


    Did Ernest mean to suggest that he should drown his feelings with a ss of liquor after seeing the state he was in?


    Comforting people had never been Ernest’s strength. For someone like him, inviting Eric to drink was already a rare attempt at kindness.


    “Thank you, Ernest.” Eric gave a small smile but shook his head.


    “I’ll pass.”


    “You’re certain?” Ernest asked, his tone uncertain.


    “A drink might help you loosen up a bit.”


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    They were, after all, inside thefort of their own home.


    He couldn’t undo what had happened between Eric and Hadley. Still, he could at least sit by Eric’s side for as long as he needed.


    “Honestly, I’m alright,” Eric insisted once more.


    “Joy and I have to be up early tomorrow, and drinking will just make it harder for me to get out of bed.”


    That answer caught Ernest slightly off guard.


    Eric seemed like a different man now. Even with his emotions stirred, he still managed to keep his mind clear, already considering Joy and the duties waiting for him.


    “Fine then.” Ernest gave a small nod and chose not to press the issue.


    From his pocket, he pulled something out, set it on the table, and pushed it across to Eric.


    “Take this.”


    “What’s that?” Eric raised his eyes, curiosity flickering across his face.


    Inside the bag was a peach pit whistle, its shape familiar.


    “This…?” Eric quickly reached for it, lifting the bag in his hand. Memories of the kidnapping flooded back, for he had thought it had been lost then.


    “How did you manage to get this?”


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