"Alright then, gentlemen. I believe we've come to an arrangement." Jacques's voice carried a tone of smug satisfaction, echoing through the walls of his private study.
His office was lined on all sides with towering bookshelves, each one packed with volumes of business law, company history, and personal interests.
Here and there, glowing digital displays of the world map replaced traditional paintings.
Several shelves held framed photographs—not of his family, but of pivotal milestones in his career. Most notably, a large photo captured the moment he took full control of the Schnee Dust Company.
On the couch beside him, Weiss sat silently. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, posture flawless—every inch the poised heiress. Yet the stillness in her expression was cold, unreadable.
Across from them, seated in two high-backed armchairs on the other side of an oval glass table, were two men: current board members of another company that had been long-time business partners with the Schnee Dust Company.
"That's good to hear," said the man on the right.
"I don't know what the Atlas military and the police think they're doing, but their involvement lately has been nothing short of disruptive. Nearly half our executive team has been summoned to court. Someone clearly leaked an enormous amount of internal data—enough to fuel a full legal case. How, or who, we still don't know..." His words trailed off as he clicked his tongue in frustration.
The second man gave a thin, tight-lipped smile.
"Naturally, we're not defending corruption," he added.
"But letting outside forces meddle in our internal affairs? That's unacceptable. They're undercutting our command structure by dragging this into a courtroom instead of the boardroom."
Weiss's gaze drifted from one man to the other, then to her father. Her expression didn't shift, but there was a quiet sharpness in her eyes—a growing impatience that hadn't been there in the past, back when she used to accompany Jacques more willingly.
Jacques, for his part, remained unfazed.
Rising to his feet with calculated ease, he replied, "Of course. We're partners. It's only right that I lend my support when you're under pressure. If anything, I hope this strengthens our relationship moving forward—be it through broader access to our customer base or adjustments to upcoming contract terms."
The two board members shared a brief glance before standing. The man on the left extended his hand.
"We'll bring it up with the rest of the board. See where we can take this."
Jacques nodded, clearly pleased.
"Wonderful, wonderful. In that case, I won't keep you. Please—enjoy the party."
"Oh, we most certainly will."
With that, the two businessmen exited the study. The door clicked open, then shut quietly behind them.
With the guests gone, Jacques stepped toward the far end of the study and turned a small mirror sitting on his desk to face himself. He began adjusting the collar and tie of his suit, the mirror giving him a clear view—not just of his reflection, but also of Weiss standing quietly behind him.
"I'm glad to see my dear daughter has finally come around. No more wasting time on fruitless pursuits," he said smoothly, eyes flicking between his tie and her reflection.
"You're behind on several of your lessons, but I'm confident you'll catch up soon enough."
Weiss's expression hardened.
"I haven't given up on becoming a Huntress," she said quietly.
"And my training wasn't fruitless. I just realized I could do more for Atlas—and for our family name—if I stayed."
Her eyes drifted to the floor as she spoke.
Jacques exhaled, almost amused, and turned to face her directly, his stare cold and impassive.
"Yes, well, regardless of the reason, you're finally fulfilling your role as my heir. That alone brings me great satisfaction. Although..." His gaze narrowed.
"That look on your face. It's the same one your mother used to wear whenever she disapproved of something I'd done. It's a habit I've grown to despise. So—what is it?" His tone sharpened with the last sentence, turning it from a question into a veiled demand.
Weiss's fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as she hesitated, then asked, "Are we really going to help them?"
Jacques paused, then gave a scoffing laugh.
"That's your concern? Of course we are. A bit of money is a small price to pay for the returns we'll gain in the long run."
"But the executives under investigation... they're guilty," she pressed.
"I reviewed the evidence myself. Shouldn't we want them out of the company? Especially if we're planning to work with them?"
Jacques blinked at her like she'd asked whether the sun rose in the west.
"Oh, don't be so naive. We're not aligning ourselves with them permanently. We're tossing them a raft to keep them afloat just long enough to get what we want. Once they've served their purpose, we'll let them drown and buy out what's left—for pennies on the lien."
Weiss looked stunned.
"But if we do that, they'll be ruined—and all their employees will-"
"Will be replaced, yes," he interrupted flatly.
"Even if only the top brass are on trial, the whole company's reputation will be damaged. After we take control, we'll need to make a show of internal reform, and that starts by clearing house." He stepped past her toward the door, pausing only to place a hand on her shoulder.
"You need to learn to set your sympathies aside if you're going to run our family's empire one day. Compassion has its uses, but fools who lead with their hearts don't last long in business. Your brother seems to have figured that out faster than you, so learn from him. Understood?"
"...Y-Yes, Father," Weiss murmured, forcing the words out.
Jacques smiled faintly to himself and walked out, leaving her standing alone in the study.
"Good. Now let's go." With those words, Jacques turned and led the way out of the study, walking down the hallway toward the foyer. Weiss followed a few steps behind, keeping her distance.
He moved with the same unbothered stride as always, as if nothing they'd just discussed weighed on him in the slightest. But Weiss was buried in thought.
She didn't hate him.
Even after everything—how she was raised, what he had told her mother, the things she'd seen behind closed doors—she had never truly hated her father. Or at least, not enough for it to be called that. She'd always known about the rumors surrounding the Schnee Dust Company.
The company's damaged image, the shady deals, the whispers of corruption.
She and Whitley had overheard enough over the years to know the truth behind many of them.
That was why, for the longest time, she thought she understood her family's situation. That she understood why people looked at them with such disdain. But recently—after everything that had happened, after growing closer to Whitley and meeting Asher—that belief started to crack.
It was like she'd spent her whole life thinking she was seeing clearly, only to realize she'd still been looking through rose-tinted glass.
The truth she thought she understood had been shallow. And now she finally had something to compare it to.
She knew Asher had help. But even so, he was an heir to his own family's legacy—just like her—and their lives couldn't have been more different. At first, she had envied him. Envied the way his family treated each other, how they worked together, how small they were but still whole.
Over time, though, that envy didn't fester—it softened. It turned into something else.
Admiration.
What would Asher do? What would he say? How would he handle this?
If he were in charge of the Schnee Dust Company, how would he rebuild it? What would he think of Father's actions?
She asked herself these questions more and more. She wanted to understand him, wanted to act like him, think like him. Be more like him. And eventually, somewhere between all those questions, that admiration turned into love.
She knew she couldn't become him. As much as she wanted to, they were too different.
Their lives had taken paths that could never truly overlap. But what she could do—what she chose to do—was support him. To try and become the version of herself that not just he would believe in, but also herself.
And to do that, the Schnee Dust Company needed to change. Not from the outside.
From within.
By her hands.
Even if it meant temporarily letting go of her dream to become a Huntress, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.
"Huh?" Weiss stopped walking, her steps slowing as she and her father passed a split in the hallway. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of two familiar figures: her brother, standing beside someone she'd gotten very used to seeing lately—Asher.
"Hmm?" Noticing her pause, Jacques followed her line of sight and spotted Whitley as well.
"What is he doing here?" Jacques muttered under his breath, irritation flickering across his face at the sight of Whitley not stationed at the foyer greeting guests. But as soon as his eyes landed on Asher, that irritation melted into a more pleasant expression.
"The Frostvale heir, is it?" Without missing a beat, Jacques turned and began striding toward them.
Caught off guard, Weiss quickly moved to follow him.
Asher and Whitley, who had been in mid-conversation, immediately noticed the two approaching. Whitley's posture straightened instinctively, and his tone shifted into something more formal the moment his father came into view.
"Father," he greeted.
"Did you already finish your meeting?"
"We did," Jacques replied smoothly, his eyes briefly passing over Weiss before settling on Asher.
"We were just making our way back to the foyer when I saw you both."
Asher, ever composed, stepped back politely and offered a small, courteous bow—practiced, but not stiff.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Schnee."
Jacques gave a light chuckle, raising a hand in an almost dismissive gesture.
"Please, no need for the extra formality. Your parents and I are business partners, after all—and not just them, if I recall correctly."
Jacques's last words carried a subtle implication—one that Asher immediately picked up on.
"Oh? Are you referring to the deal between Whitley and me?" Asher asked casually.
Jacques nodded.
"Indeed. Imagine my surprise when my youngest came to me asking for authorization to sell some of our higher-tier dust crystals. I'll admit, I was skeptical at first—he's still so young—but I saw it as a potential learning opportunity." He gave Whitley a brief, pointed glance before turning his focus back to Asher.
"But according to the reports I've been getting, you're the one making those purchases—and in rather notable quantities, at that. I never expected my children's friendships to turn into such a profitable business."
Asher smiled politely, keeping his tone modest.
"I doubt it's worth much attention, really. The amount I've been buying probably doesn't even move a decimal in the Schnee Dust Company's revenue."
Jacques seemed pleased by the humility. He stroked his mustache thoughtfully.
"Perhaps not in terms of profit. But 'lucrative' doesn't always mean money. We've been sitting on excess A- and S-tier inventory for a while now. Not many buyers have the infrastructure—or need—for them. Being able to offload that stock without compromising price integrity is valuable in itself."
"I see," Asher said with a nod.
"Well, I'd be a fool to turn down such a well-structured offer, especially considering the pricing. In fact, with the launch of my new company, I expect I'll be buying in even larger quantities soon."
That got Jacques's full attention. He raised an eyebrow.
"New company? Are Vance and Nillia putting you in charge of a new branch?"
Asher shook his head.
"No. It's my own. I founded it recently—Karatheon. Its primary focus is on developing and distributing new technology, so naturally, a steady supply of dust crystals is essential. Funding was tight at the start, but recent contracts have taken care of that."
That piece of news visibly caught Jacques off guard. Whitley and Weiss already knew about Karatheon, but neither had mentioned it to their father. Which meant this was the first he'd heard of it—and it clearly hadn't come from Asher's parents either.
Had it been any other child, Jacques might have dismissed the whole thing as a child playing business with their family's money. But Asher wasn't just anyone—and Jacques held a surprisingly high opinion of the boy. As high as someone like Jacques could, at least, for a child he considered intelligent and well-groomed.
And Asher had said "contracts."
"Contracts, already? That's quite impressive," Jacques said, his tone casually curious—but with a clear undertone, baiting for more.
And Asher didn't hesitate to offer it.
"Thank you. Right now, the projections are looking solid. Our current net worth is upwards of Ⱡ200 million, and if growth stays consistent, we're on track to hit Ⱡ2.05 billion by the end of the year. That's assuming everything goes according to plan, or that we don't make even more progress—something I'm hoping for, obviously."
This time, it wasn't just Jacques who looked surprised. Weiss and Whitley both turned toward Asher with wide eyes.
The shock on their faces practically screamed "Since when!?"—though neither said it aloud, not while their father was standing there.
Jacques, to his credit, was genuinely taken aback. But he recovered quickly and gave a polite nod.
"That's quite an accomplishment—especially for your first company. I'm sure your parents are proud."
Asher kept his smile pleasant and tone even.
"They've told me as much. But thank you."
Of course, they were the ones who signed that billion-lien contract with me to begin with, so their pride probably looks a little different than yours. Still… until those military contracts are finalized, I'd rather keep that part to myself. No reason to give anyone the idea I'm just playing with my parents' money.
For what Asher was building, reputation and optics were everything.
"Actually," he continued, "speaking of the company—I was just talking to Whitley about an offer I made him last year."
Weiss blinked in surprise, her eyes darting toward him.
Why would he bring that up now, in front of Father?
But when she turned to Whitley, he didn't seem surprised at all—just still reeling from Asher's earlier financial bombshell.
"Oh? Is that so..." Jacques turned to his son.
Whitley met his father's gaze and nodded slowly.
"It was early last year. Asher told me he planned to start a company, and he asked if I wanted to be part of it. At the time, I wasn't sure... and honestly, I didn't think you would approve, Father."
It was a delicate subject. The son of the current CEO of the Schnee Dust Company—and brother to the company's future heiress—joining another company, even as a partner or advisor? That kind of move, if not managed properly, could easily spark public backlash or investor panic.
Whitley had known that from the start. He'd been raised to know better.
As for Whitley's personal feelings on the matter, he and Asher had talked about him joining the company before. And if Whitley was being honest, even back then, he already knew he'd likely say yes. He just needed time to sort through his thoughts and weigh the implications.
Now that Karatheon was taking shape, he'd finally come to a decision—mostly, at least.
In fact, that was exactly what he and Asher had been discussing just before Weiss and their father showed up.
Right after Whitley had gone to put away his birthday present, they'd resumed talking over the topic. Which, of course, explained why Asher was now bringing it up so directly—and why he wasn't just talking about his company, but practically advertising it in front of Jacques.
Jacques gave a short hum, folding his hands behind his back as he eyed Asher with something between amusement and curiosity.
"I must admit, you're quite the quiet tactician for someone so young. Getting close to my children and trying to hire them," he said with a faint smile.
"I admire it. Still, I have standards—especially when it comes to my son. If he's going to join a company, I need to ensure the position offered is worthy of his name." Behind his smile, the weight of the message was clear.
Asher's eyes glinted—but he didn't need to say a word.
Whitley stepped in without missing a beat.
"I'd be joining as a strategic partner and Chief Operations Officer," he explained.
"Asher's offered a share of annual net profits—exact percentage to be determined—along with several additional benefits." He spoke with precision, calmly listing out the terms they had discussed: equity, an executive role, and a permanent seat on the board.
Given that Asher was currently the sole and major shareholder of Karatheon, that equity alone would make Whitley the second-largest stakeholder by default—a significant position by any standard.
Jacques listened in silence, his expression shifting from polite curiosity to full business mode.
"I believe that's everything we've covered so far," Whitley finished, glancing to Asher for confirmation.
Asher gave a confident nod, then both turned their attention back to Jacques—who still hadn't said a word, his mind clearly running through the implications.
Nearly a full minute passed in silence before Jacques finally spoke.
"Well, that is a very tempting offer," he said thoughtfully.
"Given that I already work closely with your parents, a partnership between the two of you could be quite marketable. And from what I've heard so far, your company's exclusivity and margins are impressive."
Then he smiled at Asher, warm but calculated.
"Very well. You have a deal. I'll need to have my people look into your company, of course—verify that everything you've said is indeed true. But assuming that all holds... I see no reason not to let my son join you. At the very least, it will be an experience he can't get simply by shadowing me."
The last part was a lie, thinly veiled beneath a facade of paternal care. But no one called him on it.
For Whitley and even Weiss, hearing their father actually give approval felt like a small shockwave. It made sense—especially after the terms Asher laid out—but hearing it aloud, hearing him agree to let one of his children work outside the Schnee Dust Company?
It was something else entirely.
Asher, of course, only smiled a little wider.
"That's great to hear," he replied smoothly.
"Naturally, I'll be more than willing to cooperate if your team needs anything during the review process."
Jacques let out a short laugh, now clearly looking at Asher in an entirely new light.
"You really are impressive for your age. If only my eldest daughter were like you, I might've retired in just a few years. But—oh well." With that, he turned and began walking off, giving a parting glance to Weiss and Whitley.
"I'm sure you three have plenty to discuss, so I'll be taking my leave. Just make sure you two don't miss any of the events tonight. Understood?"
Both siblings nodded in sync.
"Yes, Father."
"Good."
Jacques gave Asher one final glance, then continued down the hallway and disappeared around a corner. Only once he was fully gone did the siblings finally exhale—like they'd both been holding their breath.
"I can't believe it," Whitley muttered.
"I don't believe it," Weiss added, still stunned.
"You're really going to be working with Asher. And speaking of which—two billion? That's insane." Sure, the Schnee Dust Company earned far more—trillions, easily—but they were the largest corporate entity in the world, built over generations. For a startup to even project a net worth in the billions, this early?
That was something else entirely.
It felt like the prelude to something far bigger.
Which made it all the more jarring when Asher asked a simple, pointed question seemingly out of nowhere.
"Tell me something. If something were to happen to your father… who would take over the Schnee Dust Company?"