— — — — — —
New York, 1:00 PM
Tom's plane touched down right on schedule.
The only reason he even came to America the regular non-magical way was because Newt had already bought the ticket for him. It would've been a waste not to use it.
Tom would also be staying in Newt's house this time.
The old couple had gathered decades' worth of belongings, many of which they couldn't bear to leave behind. The house was basically empty now.
Still, that made Tom realize something important… he was kind of poor in Muggle society.
He didn't even have the ability to keep one house per country.
Sure, his Muggle investments had multiplied several times, but the starting amount had been too small. Buying a decent place in New York—where every square meter was priced like gold—would wipe him out instantly.
He couldn't be relying on borrowed houses or hotels every time he visited New York or any other city.
Looks like he needed to earn more Muggle money. The coming internet bubble was going to be the perfect opportunity.
"Riddle!"
While he was mentally flipping through key events from his past life's news reports, a crisp voice called out behind him. He turned instinctively. Beyond the crowd rushing back and forth, he immediately spotted the bright golden hair and pretty face.
Cassandra strode toward him with confident steps, confusion written plain on her face. She stopped right in front of him and asked, "The exit was back there. Why are you still walking forward?"
Tom blinked, equally confused. "Why are you here?"
"I'm here to pick you up," she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"But I never told you when I'd land."
"You're the type who moves fast. You'd never choose a midday flight; it wastes an entire day. So all I had to do was check when the earliest flight arrived."
Tom: "…"
Miss, you're amazing. Maybe use that brain for magic research instead of my life deduction?
Still… he felt a little warm inside. Getting Cassandra, that proud bundle of tsundere chaos, to take the initiative like this wasn't easy.
He sighed, and just when Cassandra was about to ask why, he said, "If I'd known you were this considerate, I wouldn't have hung you on the wall."
Cassandra almost blacked out on the spot. "Can you not bring that up again!"
"I'm touched, that's all."
"You are not touched. You're just messing with me!" She looked ready to leap at him and bite him, but there were too many people around. A noble young lady couldn't throw away her image like that.
Tom shook his head righteously. "I was being sincere. Definitely not teasing you."
"You say it again and I'll fight you," she whispered through gritted teeth. Then her golden hair drew a graceful arc as she turned and walked toward the exit. "Come on. I already booked the restaurant."
Tom laughed and hurried to catch up, walking beside her. It had only been one term since they'd last seen each other, yet her features had grown even prettier. She was taller too, slimmer—
Sigh… why is everyone so malnourished?
Cassandra had no idea what he was thinking and instead asked, "What were you thinking about earlier? You looked completely zoned out."
Tom answered honestly, "How to make money."
"Money, money, money. That's all you think about." Cassandra sighed helplessly. "You already have more Galleons than I can count—what are you even after at this point?"
"No." Tom shook his head. "I mean green, crispy dollars. Muggle money."
Cassandra blinked. "Then just exchange Galleons."
"That's like throwing money into the ocean." Tom snorted. "Actually no—my handful of Galleons wouldn't even make a splash in the Muggle world."
"Alright, forget that." Tom climbed into a taxi. "Where's this restaurant?"
Cassandra gave the address.
The car left the airport and drove for over an hour… before stopping in front of a luxuriously decorated… burger joint.
Tom's expression went stiff. "You're taking me out for a welcome meal… at a burger place?"
"What's wrong with that?" Cassandra looked genuinely puzzled. "This is North American tradition. You eat pizza before departure and burgers after landing."
Tom nodded numbly. Clearly he expected too much.
Still, Cassandra had put thought into it. At least the burger wasn't fast-food trash—soft bun, good-quality beef patty, pretty decent overall.
"I heard you beat up Mr. Graves?" Cassandra asked as she watched him eat.
Good news may never spread, but bad news outruns the wind. It hadn't even been that long, and word had already made it back to North America.
Tom took a big bite, nodded. "Technically, that's the second Graves I've beaten."
"Do you have a personal feud with American wizards or something?"
Cassandra thought back to Frank's miserable state back then. First Tom wrecked him, then Laos stole his fiancée.
The once-proud prodigy had collapsed into a pathetic mess. This semester he missed class every other day. Rumor was Ilvermorny was considering firing him.
Tom thought for a moment and nodded. "Honestly? Yeah, I don't like American wizards very much."
"What about me?"
"Before you started making money for me? You were just some random passerby."
Cassandra shot him a glare but didn't argue. Instead she updated him on sales in North America. In short: demand massively exceeded supply.
Every time Usaki delivered stock, both the regular and deluxe editions sold out within two days.
By now almost every Ilvermorny student had at least one Codex—some two or three. No matter the world, there will always be people who love making alternate accounts. The deluxe edition was the most scarce; plenty of wizards didn't care about the price but simply couldn't get one, so they made do with the regular version.
Cassandra had also recruited a bunch of students as sub-distributors. They sold to relatives and friends, earning a small commission each time—basically pocket money. Her status among students skyrocketed, and she'd become the unquestioned "Queen."
Tom nodded repeatedly. He could tell just from how often she asked for new stock that business was booming. What he cared about was how much he could take back this time.
"I've earned six hundred thousand Galleons total," Cassandra said. "Most of it from consumables and the deluxe editions. Especially the deluxes—I'm selling them at four hundred Galleons each now."
"I'll give you half that, so three hundred thousand."
"That much?" Tom was genuinely shocked.
"That's nothing." She lifted her chin out of habit. "I don't get why you priced them so low. Your product is a complete monopoly. No competition. You could absolutely set different prices based on each country's purchasing power."
Tom chuckled and shook his head. "Money is only part of it. I also want influence. If I price it too high, how am I supposed to change the way wizards communicate?"
"You think my price is low because you're surrounded by similar people. Your friends are mostly pure-blood kids with comfortable family incomes. Of course they'd choose quality and go straight for the deluxe edition…"
"But what about normal families? I promise you, even raising the price by one Galleon would make some people hesitate, or reduce how often they use it to save paper."
"That's why I won't raise prices. When production is high enough, I'll lower them. I want my product in every wizard's hands."
Cassandra stared at him. He looked ridiculous, biting into a burger with sauce on his cheek, but she could still feel the ambition under the surface—and suddenly she felt small in comparison.
Power and vision… she was far behind Tom in both.
And she knew very well: she wasn't qualified to think about changing the world yet. She didn't have the talent to match. No matter how perfect her ideas sounded, they were just daydreams.
"So… after we eat, we go pick up the money?" Tom asked, mouth full, sauce still on his lips.
Cassandra: "…"
Was everything she just felt an illusion?
"We'll go to Gringotts after we eat, alright?" She let out a defeated sigh and used a handkerchief to wipe the corner of his mouth.
"But…" A conflicted expression flashed across her pretty face. She wasn't sure if she should continue.
"Just say it. Wait—don't tell me the money's gone." Tom's expression tightened.
Cassandra shook her head. "Honestly… your money is untouched. It's… something else."
In the end, she decided to be honest.
Her little side business had grown huge. From small-time sales to practically every Ilvermorny student and their parents owning a copy. Naturally, people started eyeing the profit.
She ignored everyone else, but her father had taken notice—and his ambitions went even further. He wanted to become the official distributor for all of Tom's products in North America. When he heard Tom was coming to collect revenue, Andrew Vole ordered Cassandra to arrange a meeting.
"That's it?" Tom didn't even blink. He stirred his drink lazily. "What about you? Do you want to keep building your own network, or hand the business over to your family?"
"I…" Cassandra took a deep breath. "My father is more capable than I am. And I still have school—time and energy are limited. Giving it to him is objectively the better choice. He—"
"Stop." Tom cut her off mid-sentence.
"I'm asking you what you want. Not what's convenient. Not what other people expect."
Cassandra fell into a long silence. Only after Tom finished the last of his juice did she finally lift her head, eyes firm.
"I want to do it myself."
"There we go." Tom smiled. "Then tell your father no… actually, forget it. I'll meet him. There are things you can't say as his daughter, but I can. I'll make sure he gives up completely."
"Oh, right. Didn't you say he hates me? Said he wanted to 'deal with me'? If I… accidentally hit him too hard, you won't blame me, right?"
Cassandra: "…"
What should she do if Tom ended up stuffing her dad into a wall? Jump in to protect him? Or pretend she didn't see it?
Being hung on a wall was traumatizing enough once. Even in nightmares, she never wanted to experience it a second time…
.
.
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