𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 (English)

Chapter 53

There was next to nothing to find on Tyrian Callows other than brief mentions that implied the man had existed, and that he'd been lost in a sudden fire at a psychiatric facility. Further reading into that from Ren revealed that the facility had been something of a dumping ground for lost causes, with the expectation that they were so ill they couldn't function in everyday society, and so far gone that there would be no coming back.

A hospice in all but name.

It was crushing to see proof his dream was real, and he was glad that everyone was too busy training for the festival to notice his mood. Team RWBY especially. He just knew Yang would want to know what was up with him, and Ruby would nudge and needle in an attempt to help him. Right now, he was in a bad enough mood that he might have snapped at them for it. It was different with his team, and he was once again thankful he could be honest with them and just tell them what he'd seen and how it was affecting him.

They knew more than even Oobleck did now and were closer than before – even if the Nora and Ren relationship issues were probably never going to get solved, and even if Pyrrha still had feelings for him that he couldn't reciprocate.

It was better than nothing.

In the end, there was only one person he could go to for answers, even if he knew they wouldn't be forthcoming. It was late in the evening when Ozpin made time for him in his new office. Glynda had taken over his old one and Ozpin had stolen hers, converting it to suit his tastes. It had an almost medieval look and feel to it, with a suit of armour and heraldry on the walls alongside racks of weapons.

Ozpin – or Oswald – was balancing on one hand on his desk when Jaune arrived, somehow supporting his whole body in the air, legs spread. Calisthenics, Jaune thought it was called, but he couldn't help but think the old man was just showing off. That or enjoying his newfound youth a little too much.

"Mr Arc. Good evening." Ozpin pushed off the desk and flipped to his feet. "What brings you to my humble abode? You haven't altered anything, have you?"

"No."

"Good. Good." Ozpin swept out a chair with one foot then another for himself. He sat. "Take a seat. My door is always open – more so now Glynda has taken most of the paperwork off my plate." He chuckled. "I'm not sure she quite appreciates the bump in pay now she's seen what it comes with."

Jaune's smile was weak as he took a seat. "Sir, do you know of a Hazel Rainart?"

"I'm afraid the name isn't ringing any bells."

"Because he knows you, sir."

Ozpin, sensing the change in tone, raised a hand in a placating gesture. "I'm not trying to deceive you, Mr Arc. I've been alive for a very, very long time. Throwing a name at me out the blue isn't going to jog my memory. Whether you believe what you saw in my dream or not, I've lived for millennia."

Jaune didn't believe him.

"Hazel Rainart had a sister. A Gretchen Rainart."

"Gretchen, Gretchen." Ozpin's eyes widened. "Oh." Those eyes slowly closed. "Yes. Yes, I remember him now. And her. One of just another series of mistakes on my part. She was a student of mine, and one with a vast amount of potential. Potential that my enemies saw as a threat."

"You covered up her death," Jaune accused.

"I did no such thing," Ozpin argued back. "Miss Gretchen died on a personal mission from myself, that much is true, but what would there be for me to cover up? The purpose of that mission was private, yes, and kept confidential as a result..." He trailed off. "But— Ah." His eyes widened. "Is that how Mr. Rainart took it?"