Morning light leaked through the curtains, slicing his room into narrow bands of gold and shadow.
Jaune Arc stirred, blinking awake to the quiet hum of his alarm. No shrill beeping — he'd switched it off a while ago, preferring the low, soft tone that faded in gradually. Besides, it didn't really matter if the alarm was loud or not, any more. He'd wake up after eight hours anyway, no matter what, due to the nature of how time functioned in the Dream realm. But that was a story for another time.
Right now, it was a weekend. A Saturday. No school today and, thankfully, no meeting in the LUCID base until night.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Jaune almost felt like he could just… breathe and relax.
He lay there for a minute, staring at the ceiling, letting the weight of sleep slide off him. Then he sat up, pushing back his messy blond hair with both hands. While his stats didn't transfer over from the dream, his body still felt loose and light from the lingering effects of his advanced workouts. He rolled his shoulders, joints popping.
Then he swung his legs off the bed, stood, and shuffled toward the bathroom.
The house was quiet. A comfortable stillness that only a weekend morning carried. The smell of fresh coffee drifted faintly through the air from the kitchen.
He flicked the bathroom light on, squinting at his reflection. Bed hair. Of course. He grabbed his toothbrush and started scrubbing, half-lidded eyes staring blankly into the mirror as he went through the familiar motions. Brush, rinse, wash face. Wake up.
By the time he padded into the kitchen, towel still slung around his shoulders, he felt vaguely human again.
His dad was at the table, already dressed for the day in a neat button-up and slacks, glasses perched low on his nose as he scanned something on his tablet. A mug of steaming coffee sat by his elbow, the faint smell of cinnamon mingling with the roast.
"Morning, Dad," Jaune said, heading for the cupboard.
Nicholas Arc looked up, eyes crinkling with quiet warmth. "Morning, son. Sleep well?"
"Yeah." Jaune grabbed a bowl, poured cereal, and sat across from him. "You?"
"Mm. Decent enough." His father set the tablet aside and stretched his fingers, flexing them like they were sore. "Had a few long... meetings yesterday."
Jaune dug into his cereal, milk dripping from the spoon. "Operations stuff?"
"Yes," his father said, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "We've been having some scheduling issues between distribution sectors. Nothing critical, but… inefficient. And inefficiency," he said, tapping his mug lightly, "is how small problems grow into large ones."
Jaune grinned faintly. "Sounds thrilling."
His father chuckled under his breath. "Not thrilling, no. But important. Operations Management isn't glamorous work, but someone has to make sure the entire system keeps running."
"I know." Jaune chewed another bite, then asked, "So what exactly do you… do? Day-to-day, I mean. Besides meetings."
His dad raised an eyebrow. "Haven't we had this conversation before?"
"I dunno," Jaune said with a shrug. "Guess I forgot."
His dad leaned back slightly, thinking. "Well… it depends on the week. Most days, it's overseeing logistical flow — making sure supply chains are meeting quotas, rerouting resources if there's a bottleneck. Sometimes it's human resources — resolving department conflicts, making sure the younger staff have mentorship. And occasionally… it's just putting out fires."
"Literal fires?"
"Not usually." His father smiled faintly. "Figurative ones. There's always something that isn't going according to plan."
Jaune smirked. "Sounds like a pain in the ass."
"In its own way," his father admitted. "Just got to get used to it."
They both chuckled quietly at that.
For a while, they just ate in companionable silence — Jaune with his cereal, his dad with his coffee. The sunlight had crept further across the kitchen floor, turning the pale tile a soft gold.
Eventually, his father set his mug down and glanced at the clock. "You're meeting your sister today, yes?"
"Yeah," Jaune said. "She's finally got a free day. We're gonna grab lunch."
"That's very good," his dad said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "It's good for you two to keep in touch. She's been busy."
"Understatement," Jaune muttered, remembering the few half-sent messages he'd gotten from Vale University over the past few months. "But yeah. I'm looking forward to it."
Nicholas nodded, then paused and seemed to think of something. "Do me a favor, will you?"
"Sure."
"Pick up some onions on your way home. I want to... make that roast tonight."
Jaune blinked. "Didn't you... uh... burn that last time?"
"How dare you," his dad said with mock offense. "It was crispy, not burnt. I can cook."
"Right..."
"Well," his father said, standing and carrying his mug to the sink, "no one is forcing you to eat it."
Jaune grinned. "Alright. Onions, I got it."
"Thanks," his dad said, rinsing his mug. "And enjoy your time with your sister."
"I will."
Nicholas dried his hands, grabbed his coat from the hook by the door, and paused. "Jaune, I'll be out for a few hours... running some errands. Don't burn the house down, alright?"
Jaune raised his spoon in mock salute. "No promises."
His dad snorted, shook his head, and walked out. Jaune barely caught him muttering about preparing… something or other.
—
Later, Jaune stood in the backyard, barefoot on the cool grass, Crocea Mors gripped in his hands.
The morning air was crisp and clear, sunlight warming the back of his neck as he moved. His breath came steady, controlled. He shifted from stance to stance, each motion smooth and deliberate. Jaune had come far. But he was still nowhere close to where he needed to be.
Not yet.
Swing. Recover. Reset. Swing.
He focused on his footwork, on the way his weight shifted through each pivot. He pictured invisible dream creatures around him, imagined their strikes, their angles and their rhythm. He parried them, countered them and moved through the dance again and again, until his arms hummed with exertion.
There was something calming about this. About the repetition. The control. The clean simplicity of blade against phantom foe.
It was nothing like the chaotic brutality of the Dream. Out here, in his yard, it was just him and the quiet rustle of leaves.
Eventually, sweat slicked his skin, his shirt sticking faintly to his back. His breathing had grown heavier, more forceful. He ended the last sequence with a sharp strike, then let Crocea Mors lower to his side, chest rising and falling.
A glance at the clock on the porch told him it was getting close to the time he needed to leave.
Jaune exhaled, rolling his shoulders. Enough training for now. He'd pick it back up later tonight — maybe before patrol.
For now… it was time to get ready.
—
The hot shower felt heavenly, washing away the thin layer of sweat and grass dust from training. He stood under the spray a little longer than he probably should have, letting the heat loosen his muscles until they stopped aching.
Then he dressed — not his usual casual hoodie-and-jeans combo, but something nicer. A dark button-up, clean slacks, and polished shoes. He even combed his hair properly for once, taming the stubborn cowlick that usually stuck out like a flag of rebellion.
When he checked himself in the mirror, he almost didn't look like himself.
Which, he supposed, was the point.
Jade was going to be wearing something nice, probably. The restaurant they'd agreed to go to was fancy enough that he didn't want to walk in looking like some half-asleep student who had rolled out of bed.
Jaune slung his wallet into his pocket, grabbed his phone, and gave himself one last once-over.
Not bad.
He smiled faintly at his reflection, then headed out the door.
The bullet train hummed like a sleek silver arrow through the city, blurring buildings and trees into streaks of white and green beyond the wide window. Jaune sat by himself in a forward-facing seat, phone resting on his lap, hands folded loosely as the faint vibration of the train pulsed up through the soles of his shoes.
It had been a while since he'd ridden into downtown Vale alone like this. Sometimes, Jaune went with friends — or more accurately, got dragged along by Nora and Ren — so the quiet felt almost strange. There was no constant chatter of Nora trying to convince him to try questionable snacks from the train's vending machine or even her urging to see the weird places in Vale. Just silence, and the low, rhythmic hum of the magnetic rails.
He didn't mind it. It gave him time to gather his thoughts.
He glanced down at his clothes. It felt strange to be this dressed up, but considering where they were going… yeah. Probably necessary.
The restaurant name was Glacier's Crest. It a was famously upscale place — Atlesian in design, which was a word that carried certain connotations: clean symmetry, white marble, glass walls, pale steel, minimalist beauty. The sort of place that usually had a valet and a string quartet playing softly in the corner, and where the cheapest dish still cost more than a normal person's weekly lunch allowance.
Jaune had chosen it, he had some money now so he figured it would be nice to splurge a little today, to treat Jade.
Jaune leaned his head against the window, watching the horizon roll closer. It was still surreal, thinking of her living out here. Vale had always felt like another world when they were younger — distant, towering, impossibly adult. But Jade had slipped into it like it was nothing. University, city life, responsibilities. She'd always been like that — clever, confident, already thinking three steps ahead when he was still trying to remember his locker combination.
She was only a year older than him, but it had always felt like more. Like she had skipped a few rungs on the ladder of growing up while he was still figuring out how to climb.
Jaune straightened as the train began to slow, the skyline of Vale rising like steel and glass teeth ahead of him. Sunlight gleamed off the windows of tall buildings, catching in a thousand fractured reflections. The station's automated voice chimed overhead, announcing their approach.
Time to go.
—
The station was all polished tile and soft announcements, bustling without feeling chaotic. Jaune followed the flow of people through the turnstiles and out into the city streets.
The streets were alive, busy but precise. Atlesian-inspired architecture dominated this district — clean lines, smooth pale stone, sharp glass towers trimmed in silver. It felt… ordered and controlled. Like everything had been carefully measured and placed according to some invisible blueprint.
Jaune checked his phone, pulling up the message from Jade that had the restaurant's location pinned. It wasn't far. He set off down the street, weaving through the neat press of well-dressed professionals, café-goers, and tourists.
And there it was, tucked between two glass-fronted office towers: Glacier's Crest.
It was exactly what he'd imagined — white marble facade, tall arched windows, a subtle banner of blue silk above the entrance with the restaurant's name stitched in silver thread. Through the glass, he could see a soft glow of light, shimmering water features, and the hint of an aquarium wall filled with slow, graceful fish.
Fancy. Definitely fancy.
He hesitated for half a second, then squared his shoulders and walked toward the entrance.
—
Jade was waiting just off to the side, leaning lightly against the pale stone wall with her phone in hand.
Jaune slowed when he saw her. She looked… different, but also the same. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a neat twist, catching the sunlight with a faint sheen. She wore a slim navy dress that fit the upscale atmosphere perfectly, heels clicking softly on the marble. She looked poised. Grown-up. Effortlessly so.
And then she looked up from her phone, and her eyes widened.
"Jaune?"
He grinned, lifting a hand in greeting. "Hey."
Jade blinked like she was trying to process what she was seeing. Then her eyes flicked up and down, taking in his outfit, his posture — him. "Wow," she said. "You… look different."
"Different good, or different bad?"
"Good," she said, sounding almost amused. "Very good. Does practicing the sword really change a person this much?"
"A bit," Jaune said, scratching the back of his neck, feeling oddly self-conscious under her gaze.
"A bit," she echoed, and then her brow furrowed. "Have you… gotten taller?"
Jaune shrugged. "Maybe? I dunno."
"Hmm." She stepped closer, like she needed to see him from a different angle to confirm it. She was shorter than him before, but now it was a lot more obvious. There was maybe an entire palm's length between their heights now. Three months ago there had been less.
Interesting, her eyes seemed to say. Very interesting.
She smiled faintly. "You look… healthy. Athletic, even. It's a little surreal."
"Guess all that training paid off," he said lightly.
Jade tilted her head, studying him for a moment longer, then gave a soft laugh. "Alright. Let's go in, before they give away our reservation."
"Lead the way."
—
Inside, Glacier's Crest was like stepping into another world.
Cool air whispered across his skin, carrying the faint scent of sea salt and citrus. The floor was smooth white stone veined with silver, and the ceiling soared high above, supported by pale marble pillars etched with delicate wave patterns. Soft blue lighting filtered down through translucent panels overhead, mimicking the shifting glow of sunlight through water.
A glass wall ran along the far side of the room, beyond which an entire vertical aquarium stretched floor to ceiling. Silver-scaled fish glided like ribbons of moonlight, casting fragmented shadows across the tables.
It was silent in the way only expensive places were — a hush that made every sound feel deliberate, like the gentle clink of fine cutlery or the faint rustle of napkins. A string quartet played somewhere off to the side, their music blending seamlessly with the ambiance.
Jaune tried not to stare too obviously as they followed the maître d' to their table.
They were seated near the aquarium wall. The tablecloth was immaculate white, the silverware gleaming, glasses catching the blue glow from the water. Jaune settled into his chair, feeling distinctly like a kid who had wandered into the grown-up world by accident.
Jade, on the other hand, looked like she belonged here.
"So," she said once they were settled, setting her phone aside. "How have you been?"
"Good," Jaune said, then realized how vague that sounded. "School's been… busy, but good."
She nodded. "And… training?"
Jaune blinked. "Hmm. yeah, the sword arts club is... quite fun. It keeps me... focused, I guess."
"Well," she said, tilting her glass of water slightly, "it shows. It's impressive."
"Thanks," he said, feeling heat creep faintly up his neck.
The waiter arrived then, placing menus before them with a polite bow. The dishes were elegantly printed in looping silver script, each one accompanied by a minimalist illustration of the fish it featured. Most of the words meant nothing to Jaune, though they sounded expensive.
He pretended to read while sneaking glances at Jade. She looked… comfortable. Confident in this setting in a way he couldn't imagine ever being. She'd always been like that. Even back home, she had felt like she belonged to a bigger world than the one they lived in.
"So how's Vale University, life?" Jaune asked, trying to sound casual.
"Mm-hm," she hummed without looking up. "Well, it's not bad. Kind of fun to get to know a lot of new people. Gotta finish up my degree, however. You know how it goes."
"In… psychology, right?"
Jade's lips curved faintly. "Still can't remember?"
"Hey, it's confusing," Jaune said defensively. "You say a lot of smart-sounding words."
"Psychology," she confirmed, eyes flicking up to him. "And no, it's not confusing. You just don't listen."
Jaune grinned sheepishly. "Fair."
She shook her head, amused. "Honestly…"
They placed their orders after some gentle guidance from Jade ("No, don't get that, it's tiny. You'll still be hungry."), and soon after, their drinks arrived.
For a while, they just talked — about home, about their parents, about little mundane things. Jade teased him about his old clumsy habits, and Jaune countered by reminding her of the time she'd tripped over a cat and nearly faceplanted into a bookshelf. She laughed — really laughed — and something in Jaune's chest eased.
It felt good. Familiar. And yet… new.
Because for the first time, sitting across from her, he didn't feel like just her little brother trailing behind.
He felt like her equal. Or at least, closer than he had ever been before.
It was… nice.
He was just lifting his glass when a flicker of white caught his eye near the entrance.
Weiss Schnee had just stepped into Glacier's Crest.
She looked the same and yet not — her posture and movements precise, dressed in a pristine white ensemble with faint silver trim that mirrored the restaurant's style almost too perfectly. Elegant, beautiful and untouchable. A pale shadow followed at her side, another young woman with the same white hair pulled into a loose braid and a sharper older poise to her expression. She had that same regal beauty that Weiss had.
Her sister, Jaune guessed.
They were led toward a table not far from his and Jade's.
Weiss's eyes swept the room as they walked, assessing — and then froze, just for a fraction of a second, when they met his.
Recognition flared there and surprise broke briefly through her composure.
Jaune blinked back at her, just as caught off guard.
Then Weiss's face smoothed back to its usual cool mask. She gave the smallest, most polite of nods — an acknowledgment, nothing more — and turned away, following the host without another glance.
Jaune exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair.
Of all the people to run into here.
.
.
AN: Advanced chapters are available on patreon.