I don't like clocks, especially the ones with hands. They always remind me of things I don't want to do, with their irritating ticking.
Tick-tock... Tick-tock...
Just thinking about it makes me angry. "Master Whitley!"
I heard from the other side of my bedroom door.
"Your sister's concert starts in ten minutes!"
I know... the clock reminded me.
When I finished getting ready, I stood before the mirror and came face-to-face with a mini Jacques Schnee: white hair, blue eyes, and a suit imported from Mistral. I've spent my entire life trying to imitate him, seeking even the smallest scrap of recognition... which is almost tragic, when you stop to think about it.
In the end, I consider myself an expert at being a Schnee, from the arrogant demeanor to the way I walk.
Everyone needs a role model to look up to. I simply imitated the wealthiest man present.
As I opened the door, I bumped into Klein Sieben, the head butler: a plump, nearly bald man, saved only by the stubborn brown strands that defied time.
His brown eyes scanned me from head to toe until they landed on my bow tie, abruptly shifting to a vivid shade of red.
He raised his hands and adjusted the tie at my neck with a small, precise movement, his eyes returning to their usual light brown.
"There! All done," he said, satisfied.
"The guests are already in the main hall, waiting for you," he added before turning and heading down the opposite corridor.
"Aren't you coming with me?" I asked, confused.
"Ah! My apologies, Master Whitley! But I still need to find Master Schnee. After all, it's her daughter who will be singing."
"You know it's pointless. She's probably passed out from drinking in her room or the garden. I don't understand why you people still bother with that woman."
"Master Whitley... It's not proper to speak of your mother that way," the butler murmured.
"But..." Before I could protest further, he turned and walked away.
Rude.
I was left alone in the long, silent corridor of the mansion. Perhaps I had gotten upset—but I hadn't lied. And maybe I just wanted some company. I turned and continued on my way.
These corridors are getting on my nerves. When I walk through them, the only thing I can hear is the echo of my own footsteps.
The walls are so stark white and ornate that it hurts to look at them. The thousands of paintings by my father don't help either—they all seem to be staring at me.
Every now and then, there's a photograph or painting of the Schnee family or my grandfather, Nicholas Schnee.
I don't remember him very well. It's been over twelve years since he passed away, so I must have been only two or three years old when he died. I've heard he was a good man, the son of a miner who built the Schnee Empire from the ground up. And... that's about it. My sisters probably remember him better than I do.
The further I walk through this hall, the louder the piano music becomes. I think Weiss is already on stage, preparing to enter.
I looked up from the floor to see someone standing between me and my destination.
Behind the hall door, in her impeccable military uniform with her white hair neatly pinned up, stood one of my sisters: Winter.
This is... interesting. She's been serving in Atlas for several years now and rarely visits the mansion. I think the last time we saw each other was when Weiss turned twelve. She seems hesitant to enter.
"Winter," a voice called out.
The sound seemed to snap her out of her thoughts.
She turned almost instantly toward me, her gaze sweeping over me as if trying to determine who I was. Her eyes finally settled on my white hair.
"Whitley?"
Her expression was difficult to interpret, but I think she was surprised.
"You've grown..."
Not as much as I'd like. I'm still the shortest person in this mansion.
"How old are you now?"
"Fifteen." I cut straight to what I wanted to know:
"Why did you come?"
She seemed to have to think hard before answering.
"It's an important event for our family. Besides, our sister will be singing."
Just like countless other times, but that's fine. I'll pretend to believe her.
"Okay."
There's nothing more to say; we're practically strangers who happen to share the same blood. Years of silence can't be resolved in a single conversation.
The atmosphere is so heavy I feel like I could cut it with a knife.
To end this torture, I fake a cough and say:
"Ahem! Well, it was great seeing you. Enjoy the concert."
Before she could say anything, I brushed past her, opened the door, and closed it almost immediately.
The door must have made a noise. Some guests looked at me with surprise. I smiled and waved, which seemed to satisfy them, and they went back to their own affairs.
I squeezed through the crowd toward the buffet table. I think they're serving pancakes today.
... _ ... _ …
It's been a while since I started eating in the corner of the room.
Weiss finished singing a few minutes ago; any moment now, my father should take the stage to deliver the speech I heard him rehearsing behind the office door.
"I would like to thank everyone who came to this event. I know some of you had to cancel other commitments to be here tonight."
It began.
"...this beautiful song, composed and sung by my daughter, is undoubtedly one of the finest performances in all of Atlas! After all, she was taught only by the very best. It even moves me to recall that it was I—Jacques Schnee!—who insisted she continue with her music. I remember her as a tiny child in my arms..."
He even stepped away from the microphone, paused dramatically, and brought his hand to his eye as if wiping away a tear.
This drew affectionate sighs from the audience.
I, on the other hand, could only grimace. It was strange to see my father being so sentimental—and even funnier to see Weiss's indignant expression in the corner of the stage.
"But the main reason for this event is to celebrate the new Dust mining facility in Mistral! We at the Schnee Dust Company have always strived to support the Hunters—the protectors of humanity, the barrier between the Grimm and us! The Schnees have always been at the forefront, ensuring the future of Atlas and all of Remnant!"
He raises his fist, and the hall erupts in applause. I clap twice out of politeness before returning to cutting my pancake.
As he leaves the stage, a white blur rushes past him and seizes the microphone.
"Weiss?!" Jacques nearly shouts, his surprise too great to conceal.
She doesn't respond, merely straightens her posture, her dress still trembling from the movement, and faces the audience.
"Good evening," she begins, her voice polished with years of training, the tone of someone who has been forced to speak elegantly since childhood. "I hope everyone enjoyed my performance."
The entire hall falls silent. Even the clinking of glasses ceases.
"I'd like to take this opportunity to share some important news."
Her smile is light, but her eyes... her eyes are as unwavering as ice.
"I've been accepted into Beacon Academy."
A murmur swept through the hall as the guests exchanged glances, some applauding reflexively. Weiss continued:
"And it's an honor to represent Atlas and the Schnee family there."
She turned to face her father.
"With my father's support, of course."
Jacques stood just a few steps from the stage, his smile frozen in place, as if someone had paused his face mid-advertisement.
"M-my daughter," he said, his voice faltering almost imperceptibly, "of course you have my support. The Schnee family will always stand behind you."
The applause resumed, louder than before, but now tinged with confusion following the announcement.
A wide smile spread across Weiss's face as I noticed her gazing at someone across the corner of the room:
It was Winter.
Wearing a smile just as radiant as her sister's.
Ah... so that's why she came.