The doors to the event hall opened with a measured grace.
Warm light spilled outward in golds and whites that reflected off polished marble and towering columns wrapped in translucent fabric. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, their glow softened by drifting motes of light projected through the air. Music flowed quietly through the space, a live ensemble positioned along the far wall, their instruments weaving something elegant and restrained.
Jaune stepped inside and immediately understood something.
This was exactly what he had expected a rich ball to be.
Tables lined the edges of the hall, draped in pristine cloth and adorned with intricate centerpieces that blended Schnee iconography with Atlesian minimalism. Servers moved like ghosts between guests, trays balanced effortlessly as glasses were refilled before they were even empty. Every detail had been calculated and every inch of space existed to communicate wealth.
Then came a man's voice.
"Lady Marrow-Lance of the Northern Industrial Consortium, accompanied by her family."
Jaune turned towards it.
An announcer stood near the entrance, dressed sharply and holding a slender data slate. Each arrival was introduced with clear projection, the names carrying across the hall as heads turned in polite acknowledgment.
Jaune leaned slightly toward Weiss. "Isn't this a little… old fashioned?"
Weiss didn't look surprised. "Atlas has a habit of clinging to ceremonial traditions, especially when it wants to remind people of hierarchy."
Jaune hummed softly. Victorian nobles would have loved this.
He pushed the thought aside as more guests arrived.
What surprised him was not the extravagance but the ages of the people coming through.
Teenagers.
Young men and women not much older than himself stepped into the hall alongside their parents, dressed in tailored suits and elegant gowns that mirrored adult fashion with unsettling precision. Their postures were trained and their smiles were practiced. They laughed easily, but their eyes were sharp.
Jaune frowned slightly. "Odd. Why are there so many people our age here?"
Weiss glanced at him, then back toward the crowd. "A lot of these are heirs," she explained. "Children of council members, corporate magnates or senior military contractors. Some will enter politics and others will inherit companies or seats on advisory boards."
Blake's gaze lingered on a group laughing near a marble pillar. "And all of them know about LUCID."
Weiss nodded. "In some capacity. Either through their families or through private briefings. Though, several of them are awakened who haven't joined LUCID."
She gestured to some of the people at the far end.
As the announcer continued, names began to stack atop one another.
"Councilor Greymark of Mantle City."
"Director Voss of the Northern Trade Coalition."
"Senator Robyn Hill, accompanied by her associates."
That one made Jaune pause.
Robyn Hill entered with a seductive stride, dressed in a sharp green ensemble that balanced formality with personality. She looked entirely at ease, smiling as she greeted familiar faces, her presence drawing attention without demanding it. Her entourage followed close behind, a mix of aides and supporters who clearly knew how to operate in rooms like this.
Jaune recognized her instantly.
"Even she's here?" he murmured.
Blake followed his gaze. "A senator attending a Schnee event tied to LUCID? That tracks."
Jaune did not answer right away.
As more names were announced, more pieces began to fall into place. Delegates from various cities. Councilors from other kingdoms. Industrial leaders whose companies supplied technology to operations. Military officials who spoke softly and moved with purpose.
It dawned on him slowly, like a realization settling into bone rather than mind.
LUCID was not as hidden as he had thought.
It was secret, yes, but only to a point.
Among the elite, among those with money or influence or both, it was an open secret. Conversations flowed easily around terms like containment protocols and Nightmare zone stabilization operations, spoken in veiled language but with shared understanding.
The common people did not know.
Not because the information was impossible to find, but because it had been carefully buried. Filtered and redirected.
Sanitized.
Jaune had believed LUCID was a shield. A quiet, unseen line of defense standing between the world and something monstrous. He had believed that secrecy was protection.
But this was something else.
This was straight up compartmentalization.
The ultra rich and the powerful knew. Those with connections were a head above the rest. Everyone else was kept in the dark, allowed to live normal lives while decisions were made above them without their knowledge.
Jaune exhaled slowly.
It didn't matter, he told himself.
He had learned long ago that the world was unfair. That power collected itself in predictable places. This did not change what needed to be done. People were still dying in the dream realm and the various Nightmare zones still needed to be contained. Strength still mattered.
He pushed the discomfort down.
Weiss glanced at him briefly, her expression unreadable. She said nothing.
The music swelled slightly as the last of the announced guests entered. Conversations rose into a steady hum, laughter blending with clinking glassware. The ball had fully begun.
Groups formed naturally.
Political figures clustered together. Business magnates exchanged measured pleasantries. Teenagers drifted between them, some clearly bored, others eager to prove themselves. A few glanced toward Jaune's group with curious eyes, whispers passing quietly as their presence was noted.
Blake leaned closer. "We're being noticed."
Jaune raised a brow. "They're probably wondering who we are and why we're standing with Weiss."
"Relax," Weiss said calmly. "Tonight is about appearances. No one's going to push you unless you invite it."
As if summoned by her words, a pair of young men approached, their movements confident. Both wore tailored suits, with respective insignias that Jaune didn't recognize. They were awakened.
"Hello Ms. Schnee," one of them said with a polite nod. "It has been a while."
Weiss smiled smoothly. "Indeed. I trust your family is well, Mellow?"
"Very," he replied, then glanced at Jaune. "And this must be your... friend?"
Jaune met his gaze evenly.
"Hey."
"From the looks of it," the other added. "You are also an operative? My name is Selt and this is Mellow."
Jaune nodded. "I'm Jaune, nice to meet you."
The two exchanged glances, clearly amused. Then, they ignored him and started chatting up Blake and Weiss.
He felt a brief prickle of annoyance in his chest. Just the faint irritation of being dismissed like an afterthought. It was the kind of thing that would have bothered him deeply once.
Now, it barely lingered.
It was obvious enough what had caught their interest. Weiss and Blake stood out even in a room like this. Weiss carried herself with elegance, and she was beautiful to a degree that was practically unfair. And... Blake? Well, she was pretty much a hot goth girl. Nothing else to be said about that.
Anyone with eyes would be drawn to them.
While the two looked poised, Jaune could still tell they were uncomfortable from his weakness sense. Yet, Jaune decided not to butt in. They were big girls, both of them. Fully capable of handling themselves. He had no intention of stepping in like some territorial guard dog. That was not his role and not his style.
While watching them chat, a stray though parsed its way into his mind. Arranged marriages.
He had that some Atlas families banded alliances through contracts disguised as romance. It would make sense in rooms like this. Power preserving itself. Wealth folding inward.
He glanced at Weiss.
Jaune wondered, not for the first time, whether expectations like that waited for her. Whether one day she would be expected to stand beside someone like Mellow or Selt, smiling for cameras and councilors alike.
The idea left a faint sour taste in his mouth.
Before he could explore that feeling further, his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket.
Jaune's thoughts halted for half a second.
That was odd.
He was certain he had put it on silent. LUCID issued devices were exceedingly reliable about obeying user settings. He slipped it out discreetly and glanced down.
The screen was, once again, filled with orange static.
Jaune frowned.
Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, scree stabilizing and returning to his message interface as if nothing had happened.
He stared at it for a moment longer than necessary, thumb hovering but unmoving.
"Oookay...?" he muttered quietly.
That was the second time today.
He locked the screen and slid the phone back into his pocket, making a mental note to get it checked as soon as possible once he was back in Vale. LUCID tech was not supposed to behave like that. Even interference from hacking should have triggered a system warning.
The announcer was mid introduction, voice carrying smoothly across the hall, but Jaune had no idea who had just been announced.
Mellow and Selt had already drifted away with the same smooth confidence they had arrived with, redirecting their attention toward another pair of well dressed girls across the hall. Their laughter came easy.
Weiss and Blake were no longer watching the departing pair of social climbers. Their attention was fixed on the entrance.
Jaune followed their gaze. Another group had arrived.
The announcer's voice rang out clearly now, each name weighted with significance.
"General James Ironwood of the Atlesian Military."
Jaune felt a subtle shift ripple through the room.
Conversations softened and postures straightened. Heads turned with a little more care than before. Ironwood stepped into the hall with the quiet authority of someone accustomed to command. His uniform was immaculate, his presence unmistakable.
Beside him rolled a familiar figure.
Pietro Pollendina.
Jaune recognized the wild white hair instantly, along with the wheelchair and the warm expression that contrasted sharply with the severity of his surroundings. Pietro seemed relaxed, even cheerful, nodding to acquaintances as they passed.
To Pietro's other side walked Winter Schnee.
Her posture was stiff and she wore her outfit well, dressed in military fatigues rather than a dress. She looked every inch the Atlesian officer, chin lifted, eyes sharp. When she spotted Weiss, something softened briefly in her expression before she masked it.
And then there was the fourth man.
Jaune's eyes lingered on him.
He was tall and lean, dressed in a sharply tailored suit that favored dark reds and blacks rather than Atlesian white. His hair was neatly combed back and his posture was precise, almost stiff. His face had a thick mustache and his gaze swept the room with cool detachment, calculating rather than curious.
Jaune did not recognize him. It was clear that he had missed this man's introduction while checking his phone.
The group approached Jacques Schnee, who stood near the center of the hall beside a woman with soft features and tired eyes.
Willow Schnee.
Jaune had only seen her from the photos in the Schnee manor, before. Tonight, she looked beautiful and composed all at once, a practiced smile fixed in place as she stood beside her husband.
Jacques extended his hand, greeting Ironwood first with a polished smile.
"General," he said warmly. "An honor, as always."
Ironwood returned the gesture with a firm handshake. "Mr. Schnee. Thank you for the invitation."
Pietro was next, greeted with polite familiarity, followed by Winter, who exchanged a brief, restrained embrace with her sister before returning to formality.
The fourth man stepped forward last.
His handshake with Jacques was brief, businesslike.
Jaune watched him carefully.
Something about the man prickled at the edge of his weakness perception. It was odd. Jaune had a hard time understanding what his sense was telling him. But if he could put it to words, it would be… dissonance. There was an odd absence to the man's eyes.
Jaune leaned slightly toward Weiss.
"That man," he murmured. "Who is he?"
Her eyes flicked toward the group, then back to him.
"You missed it?" she asked quietly. "Well, remember how I said that there were two lead researchers for the Centurion project? Alongside Pietro Pollendina, he's the second one."
Jaune's brows rose a fraction.
"He is?"
"Yes," Weiss replied. "He doesn't attend many public events but this one must be important enough. His name is Arthur Watts."
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AN: Advanced chapters are available on patreon